I am lost in my fiction. It happens sometimes, and it's a good place to be. I've got some personal reasons for seeking this escape and I know you feel neglected, my smart, sexy readers. But you can feel some small consolation in knowing that you are not the only ones. My life this summer consists of two things apparently: writing and taking my kids to the pool. Bully for me.
Hence, I've little to say.
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That would be me, thinking of something to say...
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I am going to Warped Tour this weekend. I'm sure at my age I would feel more comfortable in the reverse-daycare tent, but there you are. I'm going and it's going to rock. I'm wearing very few, yet sexy clothes, and I'm going to hear the Offspring and My Chemical Romance and the Transplants and the venerable Billy Idol, among other nameless (I'm terrible at names) but equally good musicians. You know, just me and most of the under-twenty set of Denver, CO.
Maybe if I'm lucky I'll even get the chance to flirt with a skateboarder that's more than half my age.
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I'm dry. Fiction is flowing, but I've no ideas for a post. So, if you want to hear from me, ask me a question. Ask me whatever you want. Ask me a lot. Think up something shocking, or be mundane. Whatev. I'll do my best to answer honestly.
Baring that, I'll do my best to answer entertainingly.
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