Even though I'm working on too many things to count on one hand right now, right now, this very moment - wrapping the second half of Stir of Echoes and the Dean/Carmen piece, wading through the third act of the spec, cranking out the first chapter of my crazy, twisted scifi character drama would-be novel, slowly assembling bits and pieces of the myth-based BSG trilogy, starting the Peter/Niki future imperfect ficlet for ladygloria, and spitting out the Bailey piece for loveforthefolks - I'm still sorely tempted by the ataraxia prompt for Lucky Number Slevin at doitillegally. And by tempted, I mean that half the damn thing is already written in my head.
The uproar over the T&A Mary Jane statue drags on, and continues to make me mildly ill that I've given Sideshow money in the past (yeah, I'm one of those. *loves her LOTR polystones anyway*).
The Mummy 3 is pushing forward without Rachel Weisz, which isn't too surprising. What's shocking is how. I thought maybe they'd kill her (again) and have grieving Rick, Jonathan and Alex, not recast the damn role. Bleh. I love Maria Bello, but no. No, no, no. No Weisz. No Sommers. No Imhotep, no Ardeth, and a script from the Millar & Gough (aka the crack team behind Smallville). Yeah, if I wasn't going to pass before...
I slept through the last ten minutes of House, because I suck. Somebody tell me what happened, por favor. (I did, however, sit through American Idol, and have found that, since the destruction of Cake and young Mr. Lewis' butchering of a Robin Thicke song I loved when he was just Thicke, he just doesn't do it for me anymore. I can no longer support him in good faith, not when Jordin is talented beyond her years and adorable to boot, and Melinda so clearly wins at life. Nutbush City Limits, people. Nutbush City Limits. Victory should be hers for that alone.)
Ripped from a few different folks... If you had me under your command and could make me write anything, regardless of whether or not I know the fandom or if anybody even writes fic in that fandom and no matter how crack-addled it might be, what would you love to see me write?