Truly. Deeply. Madly

* 3,000 words today. An entire action scene. I am exhausted, but I still rock.

* I officially adore Hairy Meg. I predict I may have trouble keeping her from upstaging the main characters if she keeps on being so very awesome.

* Cat piss flouresces AK green under blacklight. This has led to some innovative, and infuriating revelations around Mandala House this week.

* No, I have NOT checked to see what other bio-fluids flouresce, thanks, I've been writing, like a good girl!

* Forgot to remind Allyson to come and visit tonight. Woe. Although solitude did contribute to wordcount win, so... *shrug*

* saw Chiropractor. Made The Noise. Now have fierce adjustment headache. (And am planning to raid the final hold-outs from last year's broken-shoulder painkillers, so I'll be able to sleep through it while my neck and back get used to things being where they're meant to be again.)

* Am suspicious that the writers of Criminal Minds are setting out to deliberately nail each and every one of Clue's personal squick-triggers this season. *Huddles under the bed, shielding eyes with fists, and rocking quickly back and forth. There might be keening as well...*

* Brother Godric wishes it known that he is not a fan of NaNoWriMo, as it drastically cuts down the availability of lap and pettins.

* I have a venus flytrap. Alas, I no longer seem to have any fruit flies infesting my kitchen for said flytrap to trap. Hamburger will do for now, I suppose.

* And now, to bed. More words tomorrow. Avaunt.

Okay, so yeah. We went to see Zombieland tonight. I was 500 words shy of daily quota (but am still ahead by nearly half of tomorrow's, thanks to yesterday's push,) and I decided that I wanted a real, grown-up date, with dinner out, and nice drinks, and, apparently, zombies.

It was laugh out loud, ridiculously funny, that movie. Predictable leik whoa, and probably the closest America will ever get to a zombie movie in league with Sean of the Dead. Zombies come from eating mad cows, apparently. Who knew?

Look, this movie isn't gonna change anybody's life, but it will make you guffaw at Woody Harrelson fan-humping *Secret Stealth Celebrity Cameo who's name I am withholding*'s leg in an epic geek-out moment. Or the four-gun funeral salute, with pause in the middle to reload the double-barrel. Or the Purel scene. Or the squeaky nose.

I'm just sayin.

And I'm also sayin, for a movie in which The Rules Of Survival play such a prominent role, how the HELL is it that when the Hummer rolls up on the gates of Pacific Playland, and pushes gently through as twilight gives way to dusk, Dominus and I were the ones who leaned over to each other and murmured "Rule one: Don't go at night. Rule two: Don't go alone. Rule three: Save the last bullet for yourself." Sadly, none of those rules made an appearance in this film. Though they should have done, as they were all broken at one point or another.

Still, I believe I will officially add Zombieland's rule two to the list from now on, as it bears keeping in mind.
Double tap. Always double tap.