So Much To Write, So Little Time…

Okay, so I’ve been doing all of these different posts in my head–I’ve got one on the absurdity of R-ratings–I saw Die Hard 4–loved it shamelessly–and have been cracking up continuously because the only difference between the PG-13 rating and the R rating was the word *fuck*–and I’m like, “Hello, people, you had a *fucking* body count of five hundred bajillion, but it’s a PG-13 movie because you left out a four letter word that my kids have known since the 2nd grade?” But, that’s another post…

I’ve got one running around from something I read on Smart Bitches/Trashy Books about how romance books are ruining the American Family (Julie can back me up on this one–I’m only exaggerating a little teen-tiny bit here)and I’d love to go off on a rant about how completely shitsational that idea is, and that would be fun too!

I won a contest at Louiz‘ place, and I’m all a-giggle over that–she’s got some blue lace-weight there that might have me casting on one more project that I cannot possibly finish on deadline, but it’s so gorgeous that I don’t think I’ll care. I could write about how much I want to make something out of lace, because I’m so not-delicate, and I think a lace project would tickle me fragile–hey, I even like the expression! (Thanks Louiz!!!)

And it seems to be my day on the net, because Mother of Chaos has tagged me for a meme, and it comes with a button (I so suck at getting buttons on my blog…I need Mate’s help, and in addition to an excellent and nurturing ‘taking care of children’ function, Mate also comes with the ‘sardonic eyebrow of you-can’t-do-this? knob’, and I dread that particular function because I don’t know how to turn it off.) but apparently I am a girl that rocks! (Yes, yes I do–I’ve got Coldplay on the i-Pod right now, I’m rocking right along…) and thanks, Mama-C–right backatcha–you totally rock out loud and I’m so totally honored! So, see–I need to write that post, and the one that Netter tagged me with a week back when I was feeling cranky but that I’d love to respond to now…

Hey, if I was really hard-up for material I could share with you the icky and potentially painful medical procedure that I’ve got gearing up at the end of the week, a leftover from my “mysterious fever of potential scary-word death” days a month or two back… I mean, that always makes for good blogging, right?

I’d love to write about ALL of these things, plus a few more things–like the fact that there is an endcap in Texas right now with my books on it and the very idea makes me want to jump up and down like Bruce Willis in DieHard pick-a-number and scream “WOOOOOOOOHHHHHHOOOOOOOOOO!!!!” (That and “Yippee-Kai-Yay Motherfucker”–yes, the whole word and not the pistol shot at the end of it…) and I still can hardly believe it, and I’m terrified beyond shitless…I’m like terrified sweatless and terrified spitless and terrified brainless that this whole thing will backfire in this nice man’s face and everybody in Texas will hate me worse than plague… or, worse, that my books won’t sell at all. I mean, shit–that alone would make one of my best neurotic egomaniac narssicist posts EVER.

I could tell you all how the Ladybug and Cave Troll both conspired to turn my husband and I off of movie popcorn forEVER AND EVER AMEN. But that if we ever had any doubts that rats are smarter than people think, the movie Ratatouille has cured that too.

But I can’t write about all of this wonderful weirdness floating around my gray-matter sewer, because I have to write the world’s most bullshit lesson plan for the world’s mmost bullshit class for the state’s most bullshit idea in a history of bullshit meddling in things that bullshit politicians know purple yakshit about. Really, wouldn’t you rather have had another post about housewife porn? Yeah…me too…