I really hate my life sometimes.

When you think crappiness levels can't get any higher, they do. An hour stuck in traffic for no good reason because Best Buy doesn't have even one Samsung netbook when those are the ones I've spent hours looking at. Then I have to crash the car because some idiot keeps parking his truck at the top of a very iffy curve in which you need as much space as possible to make the turn (and is on top of a very steep slope). I smacked the bottom on an extremely sharp driveway (I don't even know how to describe that one) and nothing better be leaking because I need that tomorrow to go to a birthday party of one of the friends who I really need to be in extremely good footing right now and I have no idea what to get her. I've written 600 words in three days because I keep wondering if there's a point at all, got gastritis again last night and apparently really need to destress for the sake of both my mental and physical health, which is impossible because I'm always sin the house (I am not a sedentary person) and I have no career.

In short: my life sucks.

Where's a funny idea when I need one?

I've finally figured out why I'm so unwilling to write lately. Because I'm stuck in a funk and the story I'm working on right now is angst. There's not even gay smut to temper the angst. And I really don't want to write angst right now (something that only happens once every thousand years).

I shall entertain myself by making random observations:

Peter Jackson is looking a lot slimmer these days.

Dear press: I do not care what Tiger Woods is up to. Go away.

Reading Heroes spoilers does nothing for me these days. Mostly because a certain annoying person is going to stick around until the end of the season and hopefully no further.

Damn, is it hot here. It's not the heat itself that’s getting to me, but the humidity. I'm all sticky! I feel like Frodo in Shelob's lair.

I really, really hope the car works tomorrow. I definitely smacked it hard enough to puncture something, but I have two different places to go tomorrow and if I go back to depending on rides my precarious sanity might completely collapse.

Puerto Rican traffic jams are Sithly. I feel myself go over to the Dark Side every time. There’s probably enough negative energy crackling along Puerto Rican roads in one afternoon to power Hell for 500 years.