but I can never think of a title

A distraction: Put your playlist on "shuffle," take the first 20 songs, and add "In My Pants" to their titles. Now with silly commentary so you don't have to!

1. "Watching the Detectives In My Pants," Elvis Costello (what are the detectives looking for in my pants?)
2. "Drip Drip Drip In My Pants," Chumbawamba (cranberry juice and penicillin work for that)
3. "Heroin In My Pants," Lou Reed (I thought it went in your veins, not your pants)
4. "Shake Your Hips In My Pants," the Rolling Stones (assuming you aren't wearing those silly hip-hugger things)
5. "You've Got To Hide Your Love Away In My Pants," the Beatles (otherwise you'd get arrested for being a flasher)
6. "Beds Are Burning In My Pants," Madness (that must be uncomfortable and cramped)
7. "I Kill Children In My Pants," the Dead Kennedys (but do you get off on it?)
8. "Howl At the Moon In My Pants," Cheryl Wheeler (insert "moon" joke here)
9. "Empty Spaces In My Pants," Pink Floyd (so you get a smaller pair)
10. "Pinhead In My Pants," the Ramones (at least you're honest about it)
11. "Are You Hung Up In My Pants?" Frank Zappa (no, that's a hanger)
12. "Hand Of Doom In My Pants," Black Sabbath (molested by death!)
13. "Madman Across the Water In My Pants," Elton John (you donated your clothes to an asylum? How nice)
14. "Dr. Worm In My Pants," They Might Be Giants (well, they might fit her, I don't know)
15. "Raining Blood In My Pants," Slayer (yeah, I have this problem every month)
16. "Starman In My Pants," David Bowie (I have no objection to David Bowie's pants)
17. "Black Dog In My Pants," Led Zeppelin (bad doggy, get out of my clothes)
18. "It's So Easy In My Pants," Guns 'N' Roses (Axl's leather pants are far too tight to be easy)
19. "Chain Lightning In My Pants," Steely Dan (throw some static-stick sheets in the wash)
20. "Gray Matter In My Pants," Oingo Boingo (you better hope it doesn't leave a stain)

Yeah, that was nonsensical. But at least you've been lulled into a sense of good humor and are in the mood to be amused now, so you have to read the rest of my whiny entry.

I was looking forward to an evening of pleasant fandomness: Watching "Re-Animator" with commentary, then working on freaky fanfic until sunrise. But nooo, that couldn't happen, could it? I left "Re-Animator" at Mom's, because I am dumb. And as for fic...not working. I'm in this terrible, grumpy, lazy mood. I just want to bitch and rant.
Which is odd, because I was in the perfect mood for fic last night, and I was in a terrible mood then. Actually, I was in a different terrible mood, which makes all the difference. I was feeling jealous and bitchy, which is a very good way to get me to write.
I actually wrote about 8 pages: two of my Lorraine fic, which is coming out not at all like I expected it (I wanted it to be much more perverted and much less faux-literary); three of my eye-in-the-sky fic, which has been proclaimed "freaky" by the one person who has read it so far. This is good, because I'd rather have someone think my fic is truly freaky than just febrile, which I feared it was. And three pages of an inexplicable Tim/Danny which stems from an unusually linear dream I had a few weeks ago after a night of reading about voodoo, and which involves 1) A "get-out-of-death-free" charm you wear around your neck to give to Death instead of your soul, and 2) Walter Fagen and Donald Becker in unnamed cameos as witch doctors who share a soul. So far I have only written the "unnamed cameo" part, and I have no idea what to make Danny and Tim do with their new death-free toys. I've also been trying to force Crispin Glover, Jhonen Vasquez, Neil Gaiman, and Tim-n-Danny into a really strange RPS fic. Why? Some half-baked idea about a witch stealing their mystical properties of creativity, and also because I want them to have an orgy. For the moment I am contenting myself with reading Nice Hair, a webcomic in which Neil, Tim, and a person who I think is the lead singer for the Cure live in the same house and have wacky adventures. Why are they living in the same house? Well, because it is a webcomic, and it is the magic of webcomics that you can put random people together and force them to interact for no good reason and nobody questions it. Because it's a webcomic. It's magic.
Oh, and I've got new ideas for original things, yes. I just need to get back into the swing of writing non-fanfics. Can I have permission from the universe to use my ex-girlfriend as a character, please? It's just that she'd be the perfect test subject character for this, is all. I promise I'll treat her sympathetically. If not, can I have permission to mercilessly mock other people? Because I'm going to write a story about zombies, dammit, whether it's appropriate or not.
It's not weird that I write the most when I'm jealous. I know why this is. When I'm jealous, it's because I feel like nobody's paying attention to me. My ex-girlfriend has a new girlfriend, or my friends are making nice with each other instead of me, or my brother won't hug me. Frustrating. So I write something that I think will impress people and make them pay attention to me.
Writers are introverted attention whores, anyway. All artists are. It's not the creativity, really--it's satisfying to just make up things, or keep them in your head, or keep them for yourself. It's the exposure--being published, being shown, getting comments and reviews. "Look at me! Look at me! No, wait, don't look at me, look what I can do. Look at this story I wrote. Isn't it great? Didn't it change your life? Oh, yup, I wrote it. Not that it's me...but it's a part of me, really. I'm so great. It's such a little, little story, do you really like it? Gawsh, I'm flattered. So when do I get my Pulitzer?" Because really, what do I have to offer? I'm not particularly witty (I can barely speak in real life) or sexy (I can count on one hand the number of times I've had anyone hit on me, and while I pretend as though I'm glad of that because I don't want to be considered pretty, it secretly bugs me once in a while) or capable (I can't fix things or handle people very well). So hey, here's this thing I made. Tell me how great it is. Tell me how great I am.

( So hey, here's this thing I made. Tell me how great it is. Tell me how great I am. )

Aforementioned TimDanny w/Steely Dan fanfic-snip above. Thoughts? Suggestions? Plotbunnies? Dunno if it's worth continuing, but it was fun to write. I do eventually want to write a Tim/Danny thing for real.