Heh, heh. Yeah. About that deadline. Got an extension–till Tuesday the 20th.
I feel like I am in an unholy merger of “Project Runway” and “Supersize Me.” Like I’m running through Mood Fabrics with the clock ticking and the only thing I’ve ingested are coffee and whatever bread products they sell at Tea Lounge so I don’t have to leave. My liver probably looks like beef jerky by now. (In a funny aside, I actually saw Morgan Spurlock in here one day, and I thought it might be a sign from the universe that I needed to eat a vegetable. I didn’t actually eat a vegetable, but I thought about it. Doesn’t that count for something?)
The current page count on the book is 674 pages, but that’s because it’s in a neat, tidy Times Roman. (cheating) When I put it into Courier 12-pt. like I’m supposed to, it’s gonna clock in at well over 700. AAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!! Mood Fabrics! The chiffon or the leopard print! Make it work, people! Models to makeup! I’ll have fries with that! Supersize Me–SUPERSIZE ME!!!!
Yesterday (and the day before that…and the day before…well you get the idea) I sat at Tea Lounge from 8:30 until 6:30. My husband tried to make conversation with me last night and I just stared at him blankly. Sorry, all my words have been used up. It was like a game of charades. I was actually reduced to using my fingers to talk. “Where’s the…you know…that fuzzy who lives here…we feed her…whiskers, tail…” “Cat?” “Riiiight. Cat.”
I put the bag with the milk on the table and the bag with my gloves in the refrigerator. I made the mistake of having three cup of coffee which made me as paranoid as Al Pacino in “Scarface.” I was convinced I had given myself brain damage. (See how fun I am at the end of deadline? So, so fun. Big party in my brain. All the time.)
Okay, I left Gemma and Kartik in the middle of an argument. I should probably go back and see what happens. Wow, this bagel is good. Sorry, liver, but I must.
Thanks for all the well wishes–they really help. 🙂
And just think, next week I can discuss really important issues…like the new season of “American Idol.” I swore to myself I would not get sucked in this year. I lied. Sweet Jesus, I lied.