In which I write about not wanting to write.

Come on... write m**her f***er.

For the last couple of days I've had no excuse. I had everything to write about (orphan black ending, Fargo ending, game of thrones ending, what the hell am I going watch next week?, holy hell Boss is pretty damn good, etc.)

I should be writing... why the hell aren't I writing? Do I think I'm hot sh*t because I got a fancy new press pass and relived that the people at the Herald Sun are welcoming, sweet, and generally supportive people? And if so, why should that take time out of the hilariously titled daily crackpot.
Just because I never thought I'd actually work for a newspaper doesn't change the fact that the crackpot is one of the best things I've ever done for myself, and I'm not walking away that easily.

I'm gonna stop pussy footing stop right now. Tomorrow an Orphan Black season review is going live and it's gonna be 1000 words minimum. I got this.
 

You don't want to see my forced smile and doll eyes. Seriously.