I'm working on a major post, people. I really am. I even set this evening as my personal deadline. But I'm struggling with it, because, well, I'm out of practice, and when you're the boss of yourself and you miss a deadline, it's not like you can get fired from being yourself. I try to do things like insist I can't have ice cream until the post is done, but then I just sit and stare at the computer and think "ice cream. ice cream. ice cream." and then I go get a bowl, and halfway through I remember I wasn't supposed to have any until the post I haven't started yet was completed. And I can't just let it melt, because that would be wasteful.
And by "major post" I don't mean to make you feel like I have any big news, because I don't. It's a book review of the Fifty Shades of Grey trilogy. There. Now I've told you, so you won't get all hot and bothered wondering what I'll write.
Or perhaps now you'll get more hot and bothered. I can't be responsible for what makes y'all hot and bothered.
I just said "hot and bothered" three times in a row. How fun.
For productive procrastination, I vacuumed the TV room, did five loads of laundry, and bathed the girl. And it's not even suppertime yet.
Meanwhile, enjoy this self-portraits, as I am trying to create a photo of myself for my profile picture here that isn't too lame. Since no one takes pictures of me but me, These are as good as they get. So far. Please offer your suggestions. Should I wear my hair down? Lose the orange shirt? (I mean change shirts, not go topless. This is a family blog). Or are you happy to look at one of these for the next six months?
Or this one, wherein I played with the color balance to give the illusion of liver failure and intensely blotchy skin. Here I think I'm more angry than tearful, though.
As always, I welcome your comments, positive or not, and your ads for Viagra. Now leave me be. I have a book review to write.