Okey dokey. That pesky book has now been written and published. I feel like talking about food again, but can't seem to find the time to update Dietgirl and WNP as it is. Hmmm.
Rumours of my spectacular failure at this stinking food blogging caper are entirely true have been greatly exaggerated!
I am having to re-evaluate my Writing Goals at the moment, to phrase it in a wanky fashion. I started the year out with massive lists of ideas for all of my blogs, with the intention of ploughing through said lists like a MACHINE! But instead I seem to spend an average of six hours per blog entry on What's New Pussycat, faffing around and angsting over every word. Everything on Dietgirl is written in an awful, guilty rush, and poor Ginger falls by the wayside, and not helped by the fact I keep cooking lovely new dishes but bloody forgetting to take a picture before I scoff it all down!
Meanwhile, the idea list keeps growing and growing out of control. I am not getting anything done and getting stressed, which is bloody hilarious when you consider blogging has no deadlines and noone is putting pressure on you and/or cares about your blogs as much as you (cf. brilliant Blog Depression article).
The real problem is that I am not doing any of my other, non-blogging writing projects. A quarter of 2006 is gone, dammit! It's time to stop pissfarting around.
In terms of my blogs, I am attempting to recapture the good ol days, where I blogged quickly and unselfconsciously and with a big middle finger to perfection. This was meant to be fun, dammit. So you may see more typos and clumsy language, but I am going to give myself a time limit and just churn it out and enjoy it. Blogging needs to be toned down so I can focus on my other tasks. So it will be more of a fun diversion instead of an outright Avoidance Tactic. Woohoo!
Here's a few links I've wolfed down while I was busy with my Blogging Paralysis:
The Pheast has the dubious honour of being the place where Gareth and I dined immediately following our wedding(s) at Graceland Chapel. We were going to splash out on an overrated overpriced "proper" restaurant, but I got my head ripped off by a condescending wench at the Bellagio when making a simple enquiry the day before our connubials, and I was bloody fragile and FREAKED OUT as it was, since we'd just been to the courthouse to get our marriage licence and there were convicted felons wandering round in orange overalls, and everyone seemed to have a GUN and Vegas was so overwhelming and the portions were so huge and I thought my dress wasn't going to fit plus there was just general wedding nerves THEREFORE I never got round to finding us somewhere nice to eat after our spectacular elopment.
So that's how we ended up spending our first married meal at the Pharaoh's Pheast. I'd desperately wanted a meal to remember, not only for romances sake but because I'd been so vigilantly healthy to get into that damn wedding frock and now I wanted to celebrate. I ended up with was salmonella salads, questionable meats and painfully sweet desserts. Yet sitting there surrounded by faux-Egyptian decor and surly waitresses with my brand new husband was somehow so bloody perfect and hilarious considering the how the wedding turned out.
We were so full of bloat and regret after the Pheast that all we could do was slump on our hotel bed and moan in pain, as opposed to moan in the midst of consumating lovin'. We watched Judge Judy reruns then waddled out to see Tom Jones perform at the MGM Grand. Happy, happy day :)