I go to my writing workshop. I need to provide 40 pages of material.
Oooo. Easy.
“Can I submit my blog?”
Yeah. That didn’t fly.
So I’m staring at a blank screen.
Nothing to talk about. Nothing to say. No words will come. And I have to go back and face a room full of budding authors, all more gifted than you could imagine. Wasn’t I just saying that writing was like breathing?
Ah, hubris. Isn’t that Greek for “total ass”?
So I write.
About the totally awesome coffee I got at Starbucks on my way to class: grande 2-pump vanilla breve latte with cinnamon-dolce sprinkles.
"The foam, it tastes like cinnamon. And vanilla."
I’ve got nothing.
Adventures in Cooking
- All I Want to Hear is That You Had a Good Time Strawberry Muffins
- Grandma's Potato Salad
- Grandpa's Apple Pie
- Great Aunt Bridget's Irish Soda Bread
- I Buy Way Too Much Food Pear Loaf Cake
- I'll Get to that Paper Later Peach Cobbler
- Just Let Me Die Already Chicken Soup
- Susie's Baked Potato Soup
- Tropical Ambrosia
- You're a Very Bad Dog Carrot Cake
Email me...
People who will admit to liking me...
Objects of My Affection
7 comments:
Ahhhhh.... grande two pump vanilla latte.... mouth melting heaven. To sip, to savor, and linger over. Linger.
Maybe you could get some ideas from this post
http://strangepilgram.blogspot.com/2008/11/absence-of-travel-mugs.html
While I'm glad they are not here, I miss Starbucks.
You've got Starbucks: be grateful for that. Or I'll come and kick your ass, with Vodka Mom.
Yeah, I do have Starbucks. And it's good...
I'm here to kick your ass. Am I late??????
Yeah, Braja beat you to it, VM.
I have NO Starbucks, so... well, you can guess what I'm about to say. :)
I better go before I say something that makes you call the bouncer. Heh.
Wendy, girl, it sounds like you've got yourself an untapped market. You need to bring Starbucks to your peeps!
Besides, we wouldn't want the poor bouncer to have to admit to his friends that he got his butt kicked by a girl. No Starbucks would bring out the mean in anyone.
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