Put a Ring on it... or in it.

There is a stigma among thousands of American women. I honestly believe it's because we're not busy enough, so we concentrate instead on ourselves, and not primative or basic survival.

Today I noticed during my daily scouring of MSN, that "Thunder Thighs" had made it to their A-List search. Meaning that it's a hot topic, one typed into search engines often, or is of newsworthy merit. Take a look at this. How can Beyoncé even be mentioned in this segment?

Who searches for Thunder Thighs?

Goodness.

We all need a good swift kick to a third world country to shake us back to the core of evolution.

Throw in your Lots

I'm going to create a list of reason's why I should win the new HGTV Green home.

1. My whole entire family is out of work, with the exception of my sister and myself. We need a green-dream getaway.
2. I'm perky, and loveable, sweet and cuddly. I swear I'd act surprised.
3. I day dream constantly about winning something amazing, what it would mean to me and my family right now, and it would equal salvation.
4. I really need a break, and this would mean I would get an awesome vacation, real relaxation, and my 15 minutes of fame, which as of yet, I haven't gotten. (grumbles at the world)

I suppose these could also double for reasons why I should win the lottery. I'm a victim of the current economic crisis, and I'm probably going to be homeless soon, but don't feel sorry for me, because I'm tough.

I guess I just needed to get this out there, since no one cares anyhow.

Odd News

You can now purchase the perscription bottles of the king. The King of Rock-N-Roll. You can now, have a piece of his history, own a treasure of what helped him to his eventual demise.

How... kind of anti-fanish. I don't think if I were a fan of Elvis I could in good conscience purchase something that saw him to his death. How dark. In other news, you can purchase Marilyn Monroe's mink stole, and preserve the century old act of killing animals for the rich and famous. What icons do to the general public.

I wonder how many vegatarians adore Marilyn Monroe. I'm sure that it has to do with her charm and not her habit of wearing animal pelts.

You can learn more about their upcoming memoribilia auction here.

Hollywood eats it's Young.

I believe in my heart of hearts I'm more of an "inspirer" than a sit-down-and-write 24/7, but thus far 50 pages into my book, I'm at a stifling standstill. Is it good? Who decides what is good? I know it's definately not good to not be able to think.

Admittedly I've been gone from the writing scene for a while, at least on blogger, however, I have been blogging semi-daily on my myspace page. www.myspace.com/lovelyfacade

After my blunt rejection without comment to a magazine, for a not so good short story that I was trying too hard on, I'm settled with knowing that I should let the words come to me, instead of trying to fight for them. I have ideas, ideas that would surprise even the burley Leif Erikson that's appeared in my dreams lately. (yes, I have been having dreams about vikings)

One swift way to allow a blog to die, is to quit writing, and if one thing I do know, I have writing in my soul, so I needn't let this die. I write because it makes me happy, not because it makes me who I am, thus I am happy.

In other, non writing news, I spent the previous night at my boyfriend's house, where I'm assured that his family drama would make for good reading.

It's an idea. The title "What our parents leave us" or "The cannabalistic older generation". How confusing they do make life. Not saying our generation is any better, but, somehow, I'd like to believe it is, at least a little bit, more so in understanding and idealism, than theirs was previously. Advocating for change, and a heritage of our earth.

I am too idealistic.

Ahoy.

Chinchilla Spout.

I'm fairly much resigned to the fact that I'm never going to get published. However, as a starving un-artist, I would greatly appreciate anyone's donations to my wish-I-could-afford-to-be-a-starving-artist fund. Perhaps one day, I'll write something of substance, but so far, rejection has been my reality.

There are many who write better than I. Who pen things with greater umph, and better charisma.

So instead.

I'm going to re-name my blog.

To something more suitable, and less worrisome. Getting booked feels like someone is going to throw one in jail.

Instead, it's probably going to be something different. When I can think of it.

Beware of Dog

Dottie, my pet dachshund, likes to type on my keyboard when we're on the couch, and my laptop is the only thing managing my attention. While, she's sound asleep now, usually she's a ball of energy, or the obedient warmth at my feet.

Many writers have pets, Gaiman has a dog, even Charles Dickenson had a cat that would snuff out his candles to get his attention. Often times they're even inspiration for story concepts or a constant form of stress relief. People live longer if they have pets, and they even provide a form of therapy in various hospitals for the young and the old.

Whimsical displays provide laughter, smiles, and even a story to share with others. I once worked with a woman, and she talked so constantly about her dog, Jake, that I was under the impression that he was her husband until she mentioned getting him neutered.

Pets can make a huge difference in your life even if you don't write, even if you're allergic to the fuzzier or feathery type, there's always gold fish.

This blog was brought by the joy of letting sleeping dogs lie.

Don't Have Anything.

I've not been able to write much in the last two days or so, but chalk that up to having a job and a family that loves to wake me up during the day. (I work at night, oh joy)

I read too much and know too little.

No word on my submission, maybe that's a horrible sign, maybe it's a good sign. I'm unsure. I'm fairly hungry, tired, and silly.