I come to you from the other side of madness! Or, you know, editing.
My eyeballs beg me to not stare at anything electronic for the next month. But, there's Dancing with the Stars to be watched tonight, and so help me if Bristol Palin makes it through this week I will lose all faith in America, that show and Zachary Quinto's eyebrows. I had a dream last night (again) that I was a contestant on the show, and one of the other stars on was Harry Shearer. How freaking sweet would that be?! I'd dance to some Spinal Tap.
So, my brain turned to tapioca this weekend. I've been restoring to its natural state with football, Paul Cornell's BRITISH SUMMERTIME and playing with a Steampunk Christmas short. Good times all around, except for the football part. With Kurt Warner gone (and on Dancing with the Stars, WOO!), I really don't give a shit about the Cardinals. But, why should I? I'm from Indianapolis. Home town girl has home town team spirit. Go Horse! But, seriously, NFL, why are you trying to kill all of our players?! (And yes, I use the interrobang.) Come on. Addai is out, Clark is out. Peyton is losing people to give the ball to. Reggie Wayne and Pierre Garcon are too hit or miss and they're covered constantly. PLUS! The Philadelphia Eagles tried to decapitate Austin Collie. Now, I don't think the player (Samuel?) who actually had helmet-to-helmet contact with Collie should be fined, BUT! I agree with the ref's call on the field. The fans who booed, the ones who cheered that Collie went down like a rag doll? Yeah, douchebaggery most foul.
That was a hard game to watch. *shudder*
I totally had something of merit to say here, but I can't remember. (See: brain tapioca.) At this point I'm just rambling. I could tell you about the dream I had last night where I found a lump in my breast only to wake up to find that I was getting to first with myself. My boob has hurt all damn day. Um, we could talk about... um... cartoons? Sci-fi television? Roller skating monkeys? My sheer happiness that my kiddo has her first Neil Gaiman book and loves it? That is pretty damn cool. Friends got her WOLVES IN THE WALLS for her 5th birthday, and she's been reading it a lot.
You know. I'm just going to quit while I'm ahead. My brain is running at about 40% capacity and improving, but my eyes say,"turn off the fucking computer, bitch."
And so, now is the time on Sprockets where we happy dance. Enjoy.