There's nothing going on this weekend. I had originally planned on attending my sister's wedding, since, well, I'm a groomsman, but I ended up just staying home...because I found out at almost the last minute that my sister's wedding wasn't until NEXT weekend.
I'm not smart.
I'm getting a black star on my arm next month with a blue "DEO" in the center. Any suggestions on Minneapolis tattoo parlors?
Also, this summer, the book finally comes out and frankly---I hope it just goes away. I'm so horrified that someone will come up to me and tell me how shitty the novel is and I don't know how many times I can use the excuse, "Oh, it was written when I was a melodramatic 20 year old, so that's why it's such poor quality..." The next book is in WordPerfect as I speak, a more general audience satire/fantasy novel, while a very black, black, adult fantasy novel is in the idea bin. I've decided to completely sell out.
I don't know why, but I'm obsessed with this picture:
She should be holding a Tommy gun or something.
I'm not smart.
I'm getting a black star on my arm next month with a blue "DEO" in the center. Any suggestions on Minneapolis tattoo parlors?
Also, this summer, the book finally comes out and frankly---I hope it just goes away. I'm so horrified that someone will come up to me and tell me how shitty the novel is and I don't know how many times I can use the excuse, "Oh, it was written when I was a melodramatic 20 year old, so that's why it's such poor quality..." The next book is in WordPerfect as I speak, a more general audience satire/fantasy novel, while a very black, black, adult fantasy novel is in the idea bin. I've decided to completely sell out.
I don't know why, but I'm obsessed with this picture:
She should be holding a Tommy gun or something.
