Musings while locked away from humanity during a LP productivity surge

Hello from New York City. I’m having a fantastically productive and enjoyable time trying to make the word a better place through literary genius and drinking excessive quantities of wine.

I’m about eight working hours away from being done with the Romania and Moldova guidebook project that I’ve been picking at since May. I just have to do some copying and pasting, some proofing and I gotta find someplace to stick in my signature word that I sneak into all my LP manuscripts (‘doo-doo’). A little over two weeks ago I decided enough was enough with my lollygagging, I wanted this LP job out of my life ASAP. I realized that the only way to do that was to crack the whip and sequester myself from all humanity. So I did.

For over two weeks I only left my building a handful of times that didn’t involve securing sustenance. I went to a wedding. Went to brunch and dinner once. That’s about it. I don’t know if this happens to everybody, but when I’m alone under these conditions with virtually no genuine face-to-face contact with humans for so long, I talk to inanimate objects, abuse sugar and caffeine (then wean off sugar and caffeine when my kidneys stop working) and my brain starts to do weird things as I lose connection with reality. I skip showers (Why? I didn’t sweat today.), my toothbrush goes untouched and my mind strays wildly. The following is a sampling of passing thoughts I’ve had during numerous profoundly lonely, coffee-enhanced moments:

•    I bet if I concentrate hard enough I can move the mouse with my mind. [Hrrrrrrugh!] Almost.

•    If I just cut the crap and blogged exclusively about Gossip Girl, I could earn a comfortable living on Adsense revenue alone.

•    “‘C’ is for cookie, that’s good enough for me…”

•    What kind of jail time am I looking at for taking paintball sniper shots at football tailgaters/Hummer drivers/RNC delegates?

•    Lauren Conrad gets a three-book deal with HarperCollins and I’ve just broken the world record for consuming frozen pizza. Et tu Buddha?

•    How effing badass would it be if I grew out my nose hair and braided it? We’re talking instant record deal.

•    If I Googled ‘Google’, would the universe implode?

•    What if cherry tomatoes were actually demon testicles? That’d be cool. [Hrowmph!] Take that demons!!!

•    It smells like hamburgers in here. No, it smells like charcoal. No, my pizza’s on fire.

•    Human nature can be distilled down to exactly three instincts: surviving, fornicating and eating chocolate truffles.

•    There simply aren’t enough opportunities in life to use the word ‘fornicate’.

•    How many times does something have to happen before it becomes clichéd? A hundred? Ten thousand? Does that mean poor spelling is clichéd? If so, the Cliché Police should be here any minute. I better put on some pants.

•    Why hasn’t anyone put one frozen pizza upside-down on top of another frozen pizza, called it a ‘Pizza Sandwich”? I’d buy that. Now I’m hungry.

•    I wonder if people still use, whatdoyoucallit, ‘cars’?

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