Breaking News.

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I have thoughts about the big news last night that I’m not sure exactly how to express. There was a moment of relief, but I can’t say quite what I was being relieved of.

Followed by disgust at the pandering and celebration.

Followed by fear of the renewed group-mind sense of foreboding about the next shoe to fall. (If everyone is thinking it, are we manifesting it?)

I thought immediately of losing Michael Green. And missed him terribly. This doesn’t make his death any less awful. (Casualty shouldn’t have the word casual in it. That’s horrid.)

What really changed after the news last night? Did anything?

God Save the Queen

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I managed to wake up at 4 a.m. this morning to get my royal wedding on. This was my spread:

WF sold out of scones by the time I got there (I took a last-minute improv elective last night — SO WORTH IT) and in my post-playing butterflies and giddiness I went a little balls with my breakfast feast: (almost) scones (AKA cream biscuits), raspberry jam, Devon clotted cream, Lincolnshire cheddar, Branston Pickle, tiny bottle of champagne, OJ and sticky toffee pudding.

I didn’t share any of it with the asshole cat, who got angry with me for waking him up so early (I understand that timber of meow, thank you.) and made it all the way through half of a giant pot of tea and everything but the pudding. SO FULL at 6 a.m. Decided to do laundry.

THIS IS SUCH AN INTERESTING BLOG. Food! Laundry! Please tell me about brushing your teeth.

I might go back to sleep. Sleep would be good. I have to work at 9.

Friday, Friday, what’s good to do on this Friday night?

“Battle for Middle You”

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Last week I had an apicoectomy for my zombie tooth. Three root canals didn’t work, so this was the final option. I now have stitches in my gums and a pain in my face. Chipmunk cheek has subsided though. That’s nice.

I ironed my sheets on Friday. All the bedding, pillowcases and the duvet. Crawling into a clean, freshly ironed bed was divine. Luxurious, even. Chances it will happen again are slim to none. I blame the painkillers for the sudden surge of domesticity.

Tonight is the last class of the second session of improv at Coldtowne. People keep asking what I’m planning on doing and why I’m still taking these classes. As if there’s an end game. Is there? I’m not sure yet. All I know is that I want to keep laughing. Everything else is lagniappe.

Speech hipped me to this track today by Julio Bashmore. It’s fitting nicely in the holes of my brain.

Raxacoricofallapatorius

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I’m on self-imposed house arrest this weekend. This ridiculously! beautiful! weekend! so I can Spring Clean and social-media strategize until my floors are clean and my presentations primed.

What I would love to be doing, of course, is sleeping in, baking and having a Doctor Who marathon.

I mean … come on!

Hmm … okay I see how the initial “I want to be outsiiiiiiiide!” got completely eclipsed by the Tenth Doctor, but when stumbling across videos like this, it can’t be helped.

/12-year-old fangirl

*******

Editing this to say that since posting this, I’ve rewatched this ridiculous Doctor Who video more than I want to admit and EACH TIME I remember why Matt Smith will never be David Tennant *while also* reminding myself that women my age shouldn’t fangirl like this but a least it’s not fucking TWILIGHT.

Content! Content! Content!

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I’ve been completely immersed in Content Strategy/Social Media Marketing since SXSWi and allllllllll the books I’ve bought recently are the only thing filling my headspace (OK, and the occasional British tabloid about the upcoming nuptials, shut up.) and while all that is pretty motivating, I’m doing it everywhere else except HERE.

Long-form blogging is dead! Long live long-form blogging!

Curating

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Allegedly, I have too many magazine subscriptions. This statement comes from D, who has an issue with my leaving them in piles strewn around the house.

I disagree.

When I can catch a lazy Sunday, like today, I like to go through them all and snatch recipes I want to try and see what’s trending in print media.

Here’s what I’m starting with today.

20110320-021728.jpg

This is, somewhat alarmingly, only a portion of what comes in the house every month.

Magazine recaps! To be continued …

SXSICK

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So I got sick during the tail end of the SXSW Interactive conference. Didn’t I do this last year, too? UGH SO HARD.

I have so much recapping to do. There were amazing panels, kick-ass people and some hilarious comedy (also some not-so-hilarious comedy, but I’ll get to that) had by all, most especially this badge-carrying fool. (Fool, because I had the WORST NIGHTMARE BADGE EXPERIENCE EVER.)

But right now I’m working from home, sick as a dog, and hoping to get as much done before the amps kick-off next door and start with the Making of The Rock again (there are both ups and downs of living in an awesome East-Austin location).

*This post was brought to you (unofficially) by Mucinex, Puffs Plus and a bucket of DayQuil.

SXSW Recap … (or Rapping to Avril Lavigne)

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I’mma save all the educational recapping for my work posts, but I’ll share this:

When you’re hailing a cab to go home and a karaoke RV pulls up to pick you up, always get on.

RVIP SXSW 2011

If it’s freezing cold, don’t get on a pedicab.

Never follow up a nice cocktail at a fancy bar with a shitty well drink from a 6th street hole-in-the-wall.

Never go to 6th street hole-in-the-walls.

Also, 17 years of this and you’d think I’d remember to wear comfortable shoes. (Mental note — at some point in life, BUY COMFORTABLE SHOES.)

NGL, I spent a good chunk of my early morning soaking my feet and eating Cheetos. I’M CHANNELING BRITNEY SPEARS, SHUT UP.