Okay, my WiP has crawled under the couch and died. It's starting to stink, so I left my daughter in the house with a full can of Lysol and have escaped to the backyard. She loves to spray that stuff, and I can't breathe with either smell, so it's a win/win.
Today, I bring you Whatev Wednesday. Warning: this might come off as a little rantish, but if you've been reading my blog at all, you know I'm a bit on the sarcastic side. Just the teeniest little bit. *snarftastic*
I wanna give a shout-out to the "Whatevers!" of aspiring author life. You know what I mean. You know how someone does or says something and you just can't believe it. And the word comes up like vomit and you can't stop it or the disdainful edge in your voice. "Whatever." Something so ridiculous you just have to dismiss it with a wave of your hand and a muttered, "Whatev."
This post is dedicated to you, my Whatever Friends. In honor of:
1. Waiting. I snub my nose at you, Mr. Wait. You are my number one, "Whatever." So anyone waiting for anything right now - the bus, an email, a phone call, just raise your hand and say, "Whatever, Mr. Wait. What. Ev." You do not rule my life. You do not own me. I will not be chained to my email because of you. I can go to Kohl's without having a panic attack. I will even stop at Office Max just to make
you wait for once. So there, Mr. Wait. What. Ev.
2. Rejections. Talk to the hand, Devastating Rejection lurking in my inbox. I don't want to read you. I don't want to see you around here again. Take your kind words and "just not for me" and quietly disappear into the rejection folder where I can obsess over you when I'm not so emotional. Or not. Whatever.
3. Social Networking. I can't keep up with you, Information Superhighway. I am in the slow lane, the one with the sputtering car and smoke pouring from the engine while you are roaring on at all hours of the day and night. I try to read blogs and comment. I try to get on twitter and facebook daily. You, Information Superhighway, yes you, are causing me to fail epically. So today, I'm doing the dismissive wave. Muttering, "Whatever," under my breath as I close the Internet browser and shut down the Tweetdeck. My heart may palpitate. My mind may race whilst thinking of what I might be missing. I may even miss you my fickle friend, but whatev.
4. Dieting. Come on in Mr. Half Pound of Bacon and Side of Doritos. I've been expecting you. Yes, I can hear that scale upstairs screaming. He stops after a few minutes, especially when you don't answer. I don't care about him anymore. He shrieks whenever I come near anyway, I might as well enjoy myself a little bit today. So there, Mr. Whoa-You-Weigh-How-Much?. Take your salad and no-fat ranch dressing and sho--
I think I better stop there. Someone please tell me I'm not the only one with a severe case of the Whatever's. Please. And for those of you who'd had this debilitating disease before, what's the cure? How do I get it to go away?
What do you have in your life that makes you hold up the finger-W and say, "Whatever, dude. What. Ev."? Anything? Everything?
Anything?
Yeah, I didn't even give you an intro. I just launched you right into the conversation I've been having with myself for days. Nay, weeks. (Did you like being inside my head? Did it freak you out? It's my brain, and I'm a little freaked out. 
)
