For the wedding, I got fake nails. They were beautiful, and fun for the time needed, but then, they were completely in the way. I ripped them off after soaking them in acetone, them being, not all of them, but most of them, and most of my real nails. It’s a good thing I did it in the dark of my balcony in the evening, because in the light, they remind me of the girl’s nails from Silence of the lambs, after she clawed, or rather, attempted to claw her way out of Buffalo Bill’s pit.
After some severe neglect of my section of the Skirts Up Writers I am happy to say, I am back in action (cliche’,yes, touche). Writing for Maylanna’s Homeric journey from her homeland of Atoria to the mountains of, OH-MY-GOD-I-HAVE-TO-REREAD-MY-STORY-AGAIN-BECAUSE-I-FORGOT-WHAT-I-NAMED-EVERYONE-AND-EVERYTHING-IN-IT has been slow, and Hank just won’t perform how I want him to, isn’t that just like a man(cliche’,doubles). All bullshit aside though, it’s time to get serious about writing. It’s not about looking cool,it’s about being cool.So, typing with fake nails was a stupid experience, and it was standing in my way.So I ripped them off.
Time to shine.(Cliche’,triples ;p)