YES I'm going to the gym!

Yes friends, after much huffing and puffing (and bitching and moaning), I'm afraid the 6 a.m. writing sessions have gone the way of the dodo. (Clubbed over the head for sport by natives who took advantage of its trusting nature? Yes.) I'm a bit disappointed in myself, truth be told. It's sort of a thing in the writing community, this early morning thing, and I've always associated it with the mark of a "real" writer. (Susannah Clarkson and Stephen King both take it a step further rising at 5 a.m. just to piss me off. So does the Dalai Lama, but since he's praying for the future of the world I'll cut him some slack.) I did just learn that Neil Gaiman is a night writer and he's super prolific (not to mention hot. Did I mention hot?) which makes me feel a little better. But only a little.

Speaking of things I should not be doing instead of night writing, has anybody been watching Top Chef this season? I'm totally gunning for the underdog Marcel, mostly because he looks like a supervillan's slightly inffective henchman. (And for those who know, doesn't judge Tom Colicchio remind you of an older and rounder Baldandeffective?)