**Sob**

Ugh. Just looked over the first-twenty-nine pages of my latest work in progress…at some point, I must have been so hopped up on caffeine and sugar that I created another language, because I can’t read half of what I wrote.

Join Me

on Breakfast Television tomorrow, from 7-8 a.m.

Plots I Hate

Seriously, if I have to see one more “boy leaves girl because she had a relationship with his brother years before she met him,” I’m going to vomit.

So not kidding.

Who writes this crap?  I mean, really, she DIDN’T know the hero years ago—how the heck was she supposed to know she was dating his brother?!

This kind of premise always has a faintly misogynistic feel to me.  When’s the last time you saw a man being dumped by the girl because he dated her sister five years ago? Oh, right, NEVER.

What’s a woman to do?  Say, “Oh, Brad, I’d love to date you, but could I meet all of your family right now, just in case you have a brother/cousin/uncle that I might find more attractive than you, or that I may date in five years.  I’d hate to ruin that relationship by seeing you.”

*Grumble*

What kind of insecure twat puts a woman on the cross for decisions she made (in the name of love and happiness, no less!) years ago? Or months ago?

I could see the guy walking away if she was dating him and his brother at the same time, but really, when she didn’t know about the Hero?  Give me a break.

This just has too many shades of subtle repression, of woman as objects and not persons unto themselves for me to do anything but sneer in contempt.

You May Need to Call it a Day

…when you dial a number then forget who the heck you’re calling after three rings…

On Breakfast Television

Find me on Breakfast Television tomorrow, from 8:15-8:20, as I talk about dreams and their meaning.

I Think…

my trip to the library would have been faster if I hadn’t tried using my Shopper’s Drugstore card to check out at the self-service kiosk…

Why Do…

Why do my cats wait until my tea is hot and my food is ready, to throw up a hairball—right in front of me?

Why do my dogs choose the precise moment I’m falling asleep to hop on the bed and use me as a trampoline?

Why does a pharmaceutical company hawking their lasted medication (by using phrases like, “Now, they see me as a champion,” but never actually tell the viewer—1) What the medication is 2) What it does 3) What it's side-effects are) totally creep me out?

Why doesn’t the city call a snow day when the drifts on people’s lawns are higher than the people?

Why is it, in almost every cop show, it’ll be bright daylight, but as soon as they have to go an arrest the subject, it suddenly turns to night?

And why do they never turn on the lights but just use flashlights? I mean, doesn’t that totally make them a target?

Why can four cops take down fourteen bad guys (in these shows) and never have a fatality or a wound, but all the bad guys are dead?

Why does Jessica Fletcher never suffer from writer’s block, and why has no one really wondered about her being the common denominator in every murder?

Why does my Wii tell me my ideal weight is 3 kg heavier, then berate me when I gain weight?

And finally, why oh why,  won’t this latest manuscript just write itself?