Fell asleep with a fever; woke up with it. Still, I dragged Sean off the couch and Jonathan to my vlogshow shoot (hopped up on theraflu) with Irina (much fun); now, a few hours later I’m sweating and on deadline for two manuscript edits, due tomorrow. Thoughts:
* No more Justin.tv please. Ever.
* Boy, some people really will do anything for their World of Warcraft habit — including trade sex for Warcraft loot on Craigslist (thanks, Sean! oh, wait, you’re on the couch next to me…)
* Last night after a glass of Madiera and before the theraflu, I read the ‘blogger code of conduct’ in bed with a friend for my videoblogging week day 5 video.
* Speaking of the, um, code, *do not miss* the Airbag Department of Security’s Blog Advisory System. “(…) prevent people from becoming victims of your freedom hating content.”
* Douchebaggery of the week award: The San Francisco Bay Guardian. In this week’s issue, there is a terrific article by Justin Juul about writing erotica — engaging, smart, funny, informative, sex-positive. However, in the print version of the article the Guardian (and not Juul) made the centerpiece photo of me, and captioned it saying sex sells, and identified me as a “smut peddler”. Cheap shot, Guardian. Nice way to devalue my work with a negative antiquated stereotype usually reserved as an insult for dirty bad sleazy pornographers. Why not call me an author or editor? Guardian: the rest of sex culture has grown up in this one-paper town — why can’t you?
* OMG: cupcakes! (thanks Chriso!)
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