Clowns to the left of me, jokers to my right

Here I am, stuck on I-35. I hate Dallas traffic, and pity all those poor cars. They are probably as noble and true as mine, but their innocent desire to go vroom is thwarted by idiot drivers.

Novel update for yesterday:
Words: 1017 (this was actually split between last night and this morning, but the gorilla can kiss my ass--I didn't hear him offering to get up at 6:30 this morning to take Steven to the airport.)
Words total: 47,772
Reason for stopping: My brain is dry and needs some sort of fluid changed.
Beverage: cinnamon vanilla nut coffee (this morning)
Mammalian interference: None at the moment, thank god.

Random booky thoughts for the day.

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I hope I can be word-productive at work today, because I really need to clean my kitchen when I get home. Whee...

Licenced to Cheese

Eureka! Long has my poor writer brain toiled trying to fix some cheesy dialogue in Chapter 6. Finally I have an answer--don't try to take the cheese out of the character, just give him a legitimate reason to use it. So I'm giving in to Jeremy's pleading and giving him a PI licence. (There'll be no living with him now.) And due to some plot tweaking to shore up another problem character, he now has a reason to stalk about the city with his trench coat and cheesy dialogue. Some of you may shudder, and rightly so, but I think I can pull this off. Don't worry, he will be mocked. (Take that, suck shark. Nyaah.)

My body is ruthless in its pogrom against unhealthy food. As of today, I cannot drink even small quantities of chocolate milk without becoming sugar-queasy. I'm running low on sources of processed sugar that don't make me sick. This is a good thing, I suppose, but the day I can't eat ice cream will be a sad day indeed.