I freshened up
My archives just got a little skinnier.
Believe it or not, this was done without the aid of the Atkins Diet, the South Beach Diet, or the Buttplug Olympics Diet.
For various reasons (doesn't that sound nefarious?), I've un-published a significant number of my old posts. Some of them were taken down to respect the privacy of those who might be mentioned in the posts; this wasn't requested of me, but I thought it was the nice thing to do. Really, though, don't get used to "nice" from me, because it's not gonna happen again for another ten years or so. Until then, I'll be your usual cantankerous cunt.
The remainder of the ghost posts were taken down because the stories are being reworked, given the loving attention they deserved in the first place, instead of the "slap 'em down and hit 'Publish'" treatment they got. The revision and fine tuning are making me very happy so far. It feels good to untangle an awkward sentence structure. And in case you're wondering? Yes - that is my euphemism for masturbation as well.
Speaking of masturbation, I'm still painting; I didn't spend my whole load on the whore clown. For those who don't like clowns, you probably won't be fond of the new one either, as it's a companion piece to Whore clown in decline. Who the fuck knows why I went with the clown theme? I don't even like clowns. I guess the clown theme kinda decided on me. The clowns called and I answered. Because they just kept coming out of that little car, one after another after another...
Amazingly, in almost a week of my painting, Thirteen has only landed unceremoniously in the middle of my drafting table twice. Friday knows enough to just sit in my lap while I paint, but I always see Thirteen angling for some way to get up in the middle of whatever I'm doing. It's so hot here, you'd think he'd just wanna find himself a cool spot and plop down there. But that's not the Way of the Kitten, apparently. Wow, I guess I can't call 'em kittens for much longer. I figure they were born in late August last year, so they're almost full-grown boys. Guess it's time to import some more kittens.
Oh, dear...did I type that?
This post is going straight to nowhere, so I'll put a merciful end to it now. There's this awkward sentence structure, and I feel an urgent need to untangle it.
Believe it or not, this was done without the aid of the Atkins Diet, the South Beach Diet, or the Buttplug Olympics Diet.
For various reasons (doesn't that sound nefarious?), I've un-published a significant number of my old posts. Some of them were taken down to respect the privacy of those who might be mentioned in the posts; this wasn't requested of me, but I thought it was the nice thing to do. Really, though, don't get used to "nice" from me, because it's not gonna happen again for another ten years or so. Until then, I'll be your usual cantankerous cunt.
The remainder of the ghost posts were taken down because the stories are being reworked, given the loving attention they deserved in the first place, instead of the "slap 'em down and hit 'Publish'" treatment they got. The revision and fine tuning are making me very happy so far. It feels good to untangle an awkward sentence structure. And in case you're wondering? Yes - that is my euphemism for masturbation as well.
Speaking of masturbation, I'm still painting; I didn't spend my whole load on the whore clown. For those who don't like clowns, you probably won't be fond of the new one either, as it's a companion piece to Whore clown in decline. Who the fuck knows why I went with the clown theme? I don't even like clowns. I guess the clown theme kinda decided on me. The clowns called and I answered. Because they just kept coming out of that little car, one after another after another...
Amazingly, in almost a week of my painting, Thirteen has only landed unceremoniously in the middle of my drafting table twice. Friday knows enough to just sit in my lap while I paint, but I always see Thirteen angling for some way to get up in the middle of whatever I'm doing. It's so hot here, you'd think he'd just wanna find himself a cool spot and plop down there. But that's not the Way of the Kitten, apparently. Wow, I guess I can't call 'em kittens for much longer. I figure they were born in late August last year, so they're almost full-grown boys. Guess it's time to import some more kittens.
Oh, dear...did I type that?
This post is going straight to nowhere, so I'll put a merciful end to it now. There's this awkward sentence structure, and I feel an urgent need to untangle it.
Katy Barzedor proclaimed this to be so at 6:22 PM
8 of you felt the overwhelming need to say somethin':
The kittens will help you with your paintings and your posts. Just ask them, they'll tell you.
Yes, but will they help me untangle my awkward sentence structure?
Heeelllloooo Bucky!
You seem to be very busy of late, Bucky. Are you compensating for somethin’?
New kittens, new paintings...hmmmmmm.
Does the sentence have to be awkward? I mean, can't you tangle with a sentence that is comfortable with itself?
hey, bucky. there are brilliant comments in my head, but i'm tired and they're tangled. xoxox
OK, the brilliance has passed, but I wanted to say, I admire your ambition. There is only one post on my blog that I ever carefully crafted, and that was Booty Flies. I had written it for something before, and I did try to polish it up. The rest of mine are from the Al Bundy school of writing. Belching and scratching myself while I hurriedly crank something out. One thing that shames me (but not enough to bother editing) is the horrible tense disagreement that pervades my entire blog. Switching tenses within the same sentence, sometimes.
My name is Susie and I'm a lazy writer. Good luck with your reworking. I'm sure it will be worth the effort. I'll say I knew you when.
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