Friday, June 22, 2012

In The Beginning - Nah, that sounds just too erudite. And stuffypants.

Hey there. So, yeah, I live on a hill. Hence, this blog title. And it is proving to be, um, a challenge for my Inner Imp. See, until nearly a year ago, I lived in Los Angeles, immersed in sunshine and traffic and people. PEOPLE. And places to go, such as the theater, the beach, the Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf. And my Inner Imp was calm and happily distracted. And tan. But now I live on a hill -- A FREAKIN' HILL! -- surrounded by trees and greenery and wild blackberry bushes in Washington state and there are days -- DAYS! -- where I don't even get into my car. Or see the sun. Or talk to a live person other than my husband, who, coincidentally, is a large part of why I am currently living on this hill and enjoying watching my skin turn an unnatural shade of pasty-white.

I thought I could tough it out, but you know what? It turns out, I am a wimp. I am not of the Hill People, just pretending to be. My Inner Imp is getting cabin fever and my brain is literally building it's own compound of cray-freakin'-zee. So here I am, attempting to keep it busy and placated enough to stop stockpiling canned goods and ammunition. Although what kind of guns my brain will be able to handle, I'm not really sure.

     "Maybe mind-controlled cold-laser ray-guns?" 

     "You think, Inner imp? If so, then I might just let it 'cause that actually sounds kinda cool."

So come along. Or not. You never know where this shite leads, but it could be fun. Or illegal. Or totally boring. Who knows?  I make no promises other than to not to let my brain turn the cold-laser ray-gun on you. AND when it does get a hold of one, as a faithful come-alonger, you may place one person on the "Official List of Jackholes to Annihilate In The Coolest Way Ever" as long as 1) that person isn't me and B) you do so with the knowledge that your person will be placed after Carrot Top. 'Cause that dude is just WRONG.

...aaaaand PUBLISH. //