I haven't written too much. Edited my memoir. Sent out a few "queries". But I've lost the fever. Maybe it'll burn back soon. Til then I've got writer's block, dishwasher's block, sex block, and laundry folding block.
Well, "Ewoh Nairb", thanks for the heads up about the Zack & Miri flick. Wish I could say the same, but not 5 minutes into the movie and 1 of 3 teenage cuntflaps managed to fling gum on my arm. Aside from these douch(e)bags, Mysty and I were the only other human beings in the theater, so we knew it was them. I looked down at my arm where the gum had hit it's target and about puked. There was a small pool of drool on it, and staring at it wasn't going to get me any calmer. The rebel in Mysty confronted the 3 goons, asking "Did one of you just throw gum at us?" And then, "Cause if you did, I'll have you thrown out." A bunch of teenage bullshit spewed forth from their cocksucking wordholes, denying the whole thing, but throwing at blasphemies all at once, so I had the Hulk shakes and was ready to smash something. I called them the douch(e)bags that they were, and Mysty said she didn't mind going to jail tonight, but I didn't think that was neccessary, so Mysty and I just tried to enjoy the movie.
The more I kept thinking about it, the more Hulk smash I became, so I just knew that before the night was over Mysty and I would indeed end up in jail for pounding 3 little 16 year olds. So I told Mysty I was going to the bathroom and came back with the manager. He was very understanding and kind, and confronted the 3 douch(e)bags and again we're met with neck rolls and trash talk. So I told her that if she cussed at me again she was going to get 4 acrossed the forehead, emphasizing with my fist. She told me "Fuck you" and I told her to "Come here, and I will", and that's when the manager stepped in between us. Mysty had came over by that time and was ready to punch a bitch in the neck, so we decided to just leave.
The manager not only refunded Mysty's money (she paid, what a gent!!) but also gave us 2 tickets each to come back anytime, with a formal apology and called the kids assholes. All in all not a bad night, but everytime I remember that little pool of teenage drool sitting on my arm, I wanna puke in some tin foil and eat it.