A Heads-Up for Any Emmanuelle Vaugier Fangirls

[laguera25]

We've been getting some much-needed rain in my neck of the woods, which is wonderful for the planet, but not so good for the writing mojo since I don't dare rev up the CPU when God runs His fingers through the sky. So History Lessons III has been stuck at 2,000 words for three days. The rain is slated to depart this afternoon--is probably already gone if I'm on the jalopy--so Hawkes and his aunt will finally be able to finish their stories.

In the meantime, I'm rocking out to All About the 80's. Some of the songs are as awesome as my teeny heart remembers, but some are not. "Power of Love" by Huey Lewis? Gold. Toto? Gold. Lisa Lisa and the Cult Jam and Hall and Oates? Not even iron pyrite. I keep getting visions of Hall, or maybe it's Oates, dancing lamely in a pair of white, nut-hugging Levis. He's bobbing and jerking like a sprinkler run amok, a sprinkler with a gelled poodle cut and accompanying French tickler mouth ornament. It's dreadfully disturbing.

After the rain had called it a night last night, I watched Unearthed, a horror flick from the After Dark Horrorfest 2007 collection. The 2006 collection was an unmitigated crapfest, so you'd think I'd learn, but I'm ever an optimist, wading through the brain bilge of pain masochists pretending to horror direction in search of the good old spooky story. Unearthed isn't good; it's a third-rate Alien retread couched in Anasazi legend, but it's not bad, either, and hey, Emmanuelle Vaugier got to run around the desert with a rifle, sweaty and badass and kicking ass. Any Vaugier fangirls faylinn_drake might want to toss it on the Netflix queue for a chance to see Flackwanna Tapthatticus in her native habitat.

Once the rain clears for good, it'll be bunny scritching and movie watching, either Sweeney Todd or Crazy Eights.

Right now, though, it's Starship and red Fanta.