so, this is exciting! (for me)

I woke up today and felt almost entirely healthy. The muscle I pulled coughing (...yeah) miraculously does not hurt, I could breathe first thing in the morning without the requisite 20 minutes of hacking and wheezing and noseblowing, I can drink ice-water without needing some sort of throat-soothing intervention.

This means that rather than metaphorically drowning myself in soup and blankets and pictures of kittens and lots of games of solitaire, I can actually do some of the things that I intended to do two weeks ago. Sorry about that!

Yuletide is ticking along in disjointed outline form. I look forward to writing actual sentences now that my brain works again. I had a couple of days in there where it took me well over an hour to come up with 200 words for mini_nanowrimo. Like, I had nothing but time, and I couldn't even blatantly rip off a fairy tale or something to write a couple paragraphs of stupid AU. Welcome back, brain!

Smallfandomfest prompts go up for claiming in a day or two, and I did a lot of writing for the fall/winter fest last year, so I'm hoping to do that again.

There is apparently a reason why I've never watched the American Music Awards before

Is it sad that now when I see something and want to find out whether I saw what I thought I saw, the first thing I do is search on twitter? It's like wikipedia-lite. Its the worst idea ever.

I had a whole entry of stupid rambling whatever about the AMAs which were sort of horrible, but I watched them anyway. That's all behind the cut, but let's talk about what everyone's going to be talking about tomorrow, first.

I am not a huge fan of Adam Lambert. I like my music a little less theatrical, but I am all for a good performance. I'm not sure his closing act at the AMAs was... good? But it was certainly theatrical. It was also a prelude to bondage porn. It wasn't any more risque than your average Madonna performance, and certainly wasn't any weirder than Lady Gaga, but it did feature him shoving one of the (male) dancer's faces into his crotch, which the directors had apparently not planned for, since they first cut out the sound, then cut to a random wide-angle audience shot before returning.

I try to remember the days when we didn't have DVRs and Tivo and rewindable TV. We've been conditioned to not pay attention to things, I swear, because you can always rewind and watch it again. Except I can't, because I just have the same tv in this room that I've had since 1999. There's a DVD player, but it isn't plugged in. Oh, and a satellite tuner with the worlds least-useful program guide.

This thought brought to you by the fact that I have no idea why Kristen Bell was the co-presenter of whatever award Rascal Flatts won, or whether she said anything.

( less noteworthy AMA WTFEry )