My drug of choice is writing––writing, art, reading, inspiration, books, creativity, process, craft, blogging, grammar, linguistics, and did I mention writing?

Thursday, July 11, 2013

Good News, Other, More Different Good News, And Bad News

Bad news doesn't mean we have
to be Mr. Frownyfaces!
Hey y'all,

Chris here.

I have good news,  and I have good other, more different good news, and I have bad news.  And technically I have some other more different bad news.  And some third, other, much more differentish bad news that might only be sort of bad if you like that sort of thing.

Come to think of it, it's sort of like the Bad News Bears...during the robot apocalypse...after the nukes....with only spam to eat.  But why be a storm cloud when you can be a rainbow!

The good news is that Wibbly Wobbly time is over, so Writing About Writing's schedule should start to normalize.  I'll try to get the Mailbox up on Fridays and the main article up on Monday's again, and take the weekends off instead of T/W/Th.

The other, more different good news is that apparently Cedric pretty much kicked every guest bloggers ass up and down the WAW compound, and we can expect them to get their asses back in gear.  He even fought Leela Bruce to a standstill and got her to agree to start kicking the shit out of bad advice again.  So we can expect some good articles in the future.

So I guess that brings me to the bad news, of which there is much.

1- Cedric says Guy Goodman was passed out drunk and couldn't be asswhupped.  That's like four months in a row he's missed, and even though I'm paying him like 12 cents an article, I probably have to go talk to him about this.  This is the part of my job I hate.  I'd much rather lord over guest bloggers like a benevolent but all powerful dictator.

2- The SciGuy is doing time/space continuum experiments again trying to time travel and/or find a dimension in which Lt. Lambaste did not die.  This means he has been lax on firewall security and I have a bad feeling about this.

3- The last bad news is that I am missing the most epic film of all time, Sharknado.  Even as I sit here and write this, Twitter and Facebook are lighting up with Sharknado updates that I can't bear to see.  I am alone in my cold, empty Sharknadoless living room.  

Sharknado is clearly the best movie that ever was and ever will be--definitely including Snakes on a Plane, but possibly even rivaling Sharktapus. This means that the epic hard on I got last night for Sharknado will not be...satisfied.

See if I could have wild, unprotected sex with Sharknado, maybe you might have gotten a break from it while I blogged during my refractory period, and Writing About Writing would never know that I ran around the house all yesterday basically unable to see through the tears from laughing so hard at Sharknado, but since it is still an unmet desire, even just the fucking WORD Sharknado sends me into hysterics.

I'm not going to be over this obsession any time soon.  We can probably expect Sharknado appearances in upcoming entries.  So that's some pretty bad news right there.


So really it's more like The Bad News Bears meet Sharknado.

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