WRITING: Spent most of the week doing rewrites. Finally admitted to myself that there were some things still not working with issue #1 of my current project. They were mostly fiddly bits: bad jokes or good jokes not set up properly. It never fails to amaze just how long this last stage of rewrites takes, or how frustrating this process can be. Need to do one more pass this weekend to fix typos and clean up the scene descriptions. Overall, satisfied with results. Of course, I'll have to wait until the penciled pages start coming in to see if I've done my job right.
That means issue #2 begins in earnest next week.
Damn it.
TV and MOVIES: A frightening turn of events here at Stately Wickett Manor, people. The wife has figured how to update our Netflix queue.
Well, that's selling her a bit short. I never thought her to be incapable of completing such a simple task -- she has a doctorate in physics, you know -- but there's been a sort of peaceful Cold War about our DVD queue. The account is under my e-mail, and I do all the actual updating and ordering. Often, when we seal the envelope on a watched disc, she will ask me to add a particular movie or TV show, and I will of course do so...in my own good time. With three discs out at a time, I try to pick one DVD for me, one for her, and one for us to watch together.
Well, actually, that's the party line I give her -- or, I should say, gave her. I wanted her to think that we were living in a Netflix democracy, when we were, in fact, living in a Netflix dictatorship, ruled by yours truly. Like all wise dictators before me, I knew that presenting the people with the illusion of freedom and choice was essential, in order to eliminate dissonance before it could begin. This meant checking out and possibly watching her drivel now and again. If the actual ratio of DVDs for me and DVDs for her were closely scrutinized, it would become obvious that I was severely favoring myself.
I thought I was getting away with this, playing it cool while living high on the DVD hog, as it were. Instead, it was her that was truly playing it cool -- biding her time, sating herself with Netflix's "watch instantly" selections, and waiting for the right time to strike.
And strike she did...
Imagine my surprise this week when I checked my e-mail and received two messages from Netflix, informing me that That Touch of Mink and Love in the Afternoon would arrive shortly to my home. Confused, panicked, I quickly went to my Netflix account and checked my DVD queue. My top ten choices -- all my action movies, my sci-fi movies, my anime, my European softcore porn -- were gone, replaced by romantic comedies and musicals from the 50's and 60's.
It was, quite simply, an act of betrayal. And such betrayal must be dealt with swiftly, brutally.
Terribly.
First off, I'm going to change our Netflix password. If she cracks this password, a new, secret credit card will have to be ordered. Lastly, the queue will be fixed back to my obvious high standards. At that point, I will punish her with an onslaught of cheesy action movies.
Personally, I think she's ready for some Van Dammege? Don't you?
GAMES: Been taking it easy on games, so I concentrate on the writing. Put a few hours into Infamous this week, though. Still might be a post about it coming, since it's been a long time since I've played such a solid game with such atrocious writing and dialog.
BOOKS: Still need to finish Wanted. Reading a 40K novel at the moment, and I'm not ashamed to say that I'm enjoying it.
* * * *
Have a good weekend, people.
End of line.
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