And breathing in smoke signs

Some news, rather than a teaser for you today, so everyone can be updated on my oh-so-fascinating life.

I saw the Hunger Games movie and cried and clapped and about died with joy and excitement. If you’ve read the book, they did an excellent job on the movie so you don’t have to be worried. If you haven’t, go read the book. Also amazing. I’m in love with Gale and Seneca – and Seneca’s beard – and though I dislike Peeta as a character, Josh Hutcherson did such a good job that he made me appreciate Peeta a little more.

So my plan, before going to real school for a useless degree in writing, I’m going to keep working at the bookstore as well as earn my bartending certificate and get tips for tits. Because if there’s one thing to know about me, it’s that my breasts are disproportionately large compared to the rest of me. Men like that. I will make a loooot of money, methinks. I signed up for the local bartending course last week, and today they emailed me with the tuition cost and course outline, so it seems that I’m in. Then come fall, or maybe next January’s course, I’m going to do real school. English courses and whatnot. Harder stuff. Stuff I’m going to hate and realize is useless, but there you go.

It’s too bad that a BA in English, or a BA at all, gets you nowhere these days.

I sent my manuscript away, as well! Here’s to hoping I’ll get published. Best possible situation: I’ll do the bartending course, make a bit of money, then find out that my novel was accepted, I’ll get rich quick, get a movie deal, not have to go to school and not have a real job again. More likely scenario: I’ll get rejected and have to keep trying, and maybe make a bit of money when all’s said and done, and have to do school and do a real job for the next fifty years.

But eh, I’m hoping.

If there’s one thing to know about me, other than my ample bosom, it’s that I love me a Scottish accent. Even an ugly dude with a Scotch accent is automatically sexy. This obsession with Scotland is proven by three of my all-time favourite men: Ewan McGregor, Craig Ferguson, and Gerard Butler. Also, to a lesser extent, James McAvoy. The four of them should just get together and talk. I’d melt.

So it was extremely nice when Bethany introduced me to The Twilight Sad, an indie rock band straight from Scotland.

This is a delectable number that she showed me, and I’m now in love with. I don’t know what this fellow looks like, but I’d climb that like a tree. I’m a girl of simple tastes: have a thick yet understandable Scottish accent, and I’m all yours. Which is why I love it when Ewan is on Craig’s show.

That started out as “Ewan is on Craig”, but that sounded naughty. And all right. Mm.

And for those who are at all interested in OtArb et al, this adoration for all things Scottish seeps into my story a bit: accents of those from the Wastes – like the villains, Cain and Arcana – are, in my head, Scottish. Vaguely typed Scots as well. Fun fact for you there!

Speaking of OtArb, I’m slowly creeping past my writer’s block for OtK. Which is great, because I conveniently hit a writer’s block in Changeling. It was due for one; I don’t even think I’ve had one for her yet.

Progress!

How’s everyone else doing?