What am I doing with my life?!

funny-cute-corgi-pup-look-fuzzy-butt-pics

Well, ladies and gents, I am slacking as hard as a horny toad on hashish.

We’ve reached that infuriating stage in the writing process I like to call, “The Long, Dark Teatime of the Soul” (Thank you, Douglas Adams). Every book, every time, I reach the third quarter of the writing and all manner of mental capacity shits the bed.

Shits it!

It Shits the bed!

So now I’m sitting here knee deep in a Youtube hole as I wait for 3:50PM so I can go see LOGAN in the theater and cry like a pregnant woman in the third trimester when she sees a tiger cub yawning.

“Seeing LOGAN isn’t writing, Michaela,” you say.
Oh, don’t I know, but let’s be honest – seeing LOGAN isn’t the least appropriate use of my procrastination time.

Things Michaela has done OTHER THAN WRITE this week –

1) Set up a sewing table in the dining room, despite not sewing in months.
2) Cleaned out the refrigerator.
3) Sat on my ass and contemplated the meaning of things.
4) Napped.
5) Apply Castor Oil to my scalp and eyebrows, and a charcoal blackhead strip to my nose.
6) Listened to the sound of frigid wind blowing outside, praise the gods that winter isn’t over and perhaps we’re a bit further from global catastrophe in the form of Climate Change while at the same time dreading the sheer notion of leaving the house and freezing my tits off!
7) Sat on my toilet while staring at my phone for a total period of two separate half hour sessions.

It’s bad, ladies and gents. It’s not good.

So as we grab boots and coats to head to the theater, I hereby vow to write 2k words before bed this evening, minimum.

Don’t believe me?! You sound like a levelheaded individual. Congratulations.

No matter! I vow to WRITE MOAR! And post a snippet for all to see. Wish me luck. And the strength to survive sobbing through LOGAN for the next two hours. WHEEEEE!!!

Subconscious Mawwiage

Don’t know why. I’ve never even really had a crush on this bastard, but over the past fifteen years, I have had multiple dreams where I was married to –

Topher Fucking Grace.

In the first dream, we were at the altar and he suddenly bust out in a wookie impression. I knew then he was the one.

Someone analyze that shit!

This Article is My Spirit Animal

Let Your Freak Flag Fly: 11 Struggles Of Being A Highly Sexual Woman

When you’re a woman who absolutely loves sex, you’re a minority among your female counterparts. You’re a bit like a unicorn, a woman whom men have heard of but have never seen.

To many, you are a myth. In fact, women being sexual creatures in any sense are a myth to most.

This article is my spirit animal.

There’s an interesting downfall to being a “Unicorn” as this article by Gigi Engle calls us, and it’s one that can really get us in trouble. It’s that a lot of men who would call us the “HOLY GRAIL” become intimidated by the notion of a woman with that much passion. Is it because they fear they can’t keep up with us, that we’re insatiable, that they won’t be able to please us, or is it that they themselves have oversold their own passions and lustful tendencies in their efforts to win our interest? Maybe both.

I don’t know, but either way it was a good read. Here’s hoping there are some male unicorns out there as well.

Why would anyone use this for anything else?

I’ve never understood the people who want to grow plants in such a space. I mean sure, let’s get some floral apocalypse going up in here, but what I want this room for – what I will use this room for when I buy my future house that will obviously have a conservatory is – well, it’s obvious.

I’m going to write in it. When I’m not shagging my true love in it, obviously.

113575221822940524_C7dJV8aX_c

Shagging and writing. Clearest of all winners. For those are the things that would make ME bloom. 😛