"Dear Author," my ass.
Impersonal rejection letters really get my goat.
I spent some of my day today with friend Mike. I have many Mikes, so perhaps I should clarify here and mention that this is Mike who always wears a hat, and likes anime. I can't even call him Mike P. because another one of my friends is also Mike P.
What the hell, parents? Couldn't think of anything else to name your kid?
Of course, the other Mike P.'s real first name is George. If I were him I'd be Mike too. Or maybe Michael. Or Tom. Or Bert...
Anyway, Mike of the Hat and I ate food at Cracker Barrel and discussed the importance of communication between friends. Enlightening discussion to be sure.
I did some cleaning in my apartment, washing dishes and cleaning my bathroom's baseboards, which is today's Daily Chore™. (I have a stack of index cards with every chore to do in my apartment. Every day I'm supposed to do one, so that I NEVER have to do a full house cleaning. It doesn't work very well because I am not very good at making the voice in my head imitate my mother: "HEY YOU, CLEAN YOUR ROOM!") (Okay, in response to my mom's reply that she was never guilty of yelling at me to clean my room, that is quite true. However, I didn't mean Mom yelled that particular phrase; I just meant that I am not good at making the voice in my head give me imperative directions such as those issued by my mother when I was younger. She was generally quite nice about asking me to do things, but when she wanted something done, I knew it, and generally didn't have much of a choice except to obey her. Disappointing Mom was one of the items very high on the "do not do this" list.)
I watched a bunch of anime (Kodomo No Omocha) and then I got out my Writer's Market and brooded over which of the myriad magazine publishers would actually like something I wrote. Dammit, now I have to send this crap out again and hope for the best. Sometimes I hate hope, because it isn't results.
And sometimes hope's all I've got.
That was really amazingly cheesy. That horrid lump of cheese cannot end my diary entry. Perhaps someone should shoot me now.
I am not guilty of hollering at you to clean your room. Please clear my good name. little mom
Hello Kitty says: That reminds me...I have to clean my room.
I know what you mean about those Mikes. I know a lot of Mikes.