Showing posts with label WHYYYYYY. Show all posts
Showing posts with label WHYYYYYY. Show all posts

7.7.08

I'm Confused

So, I was stalkinglooking at my stalkersreaders via Analytics, and most of my search hits are pretty normal. You know, stuff I type about. And hey! No new porn searches in the last week! I feel unsexy.

But . . . there was this search and . . . I don't even know what the h
ell it means:

"
my flow's make sense because i mention cras and i mention chicks"

. . . what's 'cras'. Um. Does anyone know? Is this hip lingo I'm not getting? What's . . . I have no idea. I'm . . . so confused and torn between just eyeing the screen and laughing.

Kirk's popped me up on his sidebar (all official and things, I'm qu
ite pleased) so I'll take a moment to toss all of you at his blog, Weekly Crisis, which is much more Marvel savvy (and consistent) than mine. And DC savvy as well, but my appreciation dedicates itself to the Marvel savvy, because I'm still completely lost wading through who everyone is and why I should be surprised at Secret Invasion. Or not surprised.

And to make this a somewhat relevant comics post:



Back with a vengeance.

Previews up tomorrow as my week gets back on track and all things Batman begin to consume my brain. Is it too geeky to put up a counter to count down days/hours/minutes/seconds until Dark Knight?

Maybe?

Also: I watched the Doctor Who finale. And . . . consider me thoroughly owned by it and all things Doctor. God, Sci-Fi, catch up so I can talk to my friends about it.


21.6.08

Dammit

I have a blessed two hours completely to myself and what do I waste my first half hour on? Not writing! Not reworking OLD writing! Not wrestling Maya around into something that makes sense! Not doing anything that could ever resemble anything productive for my wallet!

I spend it traveling around TWITTER and laughing at Ben Templesmith.

My time-floundering skills are fucking epic.

Let's try this again.


2.6.08

Er?

Me answering phone: Comic Stop.
Man: Er, can I talk to your Dad, please?
Me: . . . I'm sorry? What the hell?
Man: . . . Oh God! You're not a child! I'm so sorry, I thought you were!
Me: *thwaps forehead repeatedly on counter*


18.4.08

Dammit.

. . . I am SO CONFLICTED NOW. ::sob::

Also, am turning off the computer now. Four posts in one day = Too Much Time Spent Not Fiction Writing.