See, the odd thing with me rushing to Google Reader every time I see you’ve made a new post is that I hate role-playing. It wasn’t always that way; I played White Wolf games for years. I just got tired of drama queens and attention whores, and because of all of those years, I can’t stand anything that has anything to do with Vampires. Keep in mind, the White Wolf stuff is good. Sometimes, it’s actually funny. But it’s part of my past, and I’m not looking back. So why am I still here?

Because you kick my ass. “I can’t find the time to write,” I say. Kick. “I’ll just let characters develop on the page.” Kick. “I don’t like oatmeal.” Apply steel-toe to gonads in a forceful fashion.

And now I realize that you’ve been kicking my ass for a while. After all, the game did poke and prod my writer-zit until it formed into the Whitehead of Creativity.  Before the word “blog” was ever coined, you were already poised to kick my ass.  And now you have, and I hope you continue doing it until I’m beaten, bloody, and published.

That’s the reason that my writing desk is getting moved to the bedroom of our small apartment rather than being three feet from the TV, with a baby gate sprouting from one of the legs.  The baby gate isn’t moving with it, either.  I will have writing time, and when it is writing time, I will write.  I will not watch TV, check on forums, or make sure my daughter isn’t eating the PS3 controller.  Obviously, this time will be best preserved for after said daughter is asleep, otherwise I’d be very quick to raise my wife’s ire.
 
So, thank you, Chuck, for fucking up my world.  Now I don’t have any excuses.  Damn it all to hell.

I do have one little thing to point out to you that you might find interesting: At United Way of Central Indiana, there is a woman there whose soul job and title is “Social Media Expert.” She gets paid big bucks to update Twitter, Facebook, and the main website just once a day!

How does that make you feel?

http://www.thestoryverse.com/go/
http://rpg.drivethrustuff.com/product_info.php?products_id=80217

That’s right, sir. You… and you’re beard… just got owned.

You are no longer allowed to comment here. Your consistent outfunnying of me is growing weary. I will now have you executed. The only way you’re ever touching the Butt Plugs of the Serengeti collection is when I bludgeon you with the Hippo.

And I won’t wash it first. God help me, I won’t.

– c.

Your job is to record those conversations and post them online.

Do it.

DO IT.

– c.

Glad to hear it, Spartacus. And thanks for inspiring this post!

– c.