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This is perfect. I bought a bunch of writer clothes and they suit me to a "T".
A black scoop neck top (I was going to get a turtleneck but it pushes the fat on my neck up too high) loads of turquoise jewellery topped with a loose flowy shirt.
I truly look like a writer.
I've got a ton of notes, and I've got Jayde pretty well figured out but I don't want to work on the plot because I figure it might get stale.
I think I will celebrate by drinking a bottle of wine and dashing off my author's bio.
Jenna Thompson knew at an early age she was destined for greatness. In grade 4 her essay "On the Mark" was named best of the week and hung in the hallway for all to see. She continued to write when she had time, but with all her other activities it was difficult, and then she had mononucleosis when she was in grade 6 and wasn't able to do much of anything for 2 months. Visionary, prophet, sage.
Jenna Thompson began her literary career
This is a little harder than I thought and the wine is a little tastier than I remembered.
Christine's having a Halloween party this Friday and I really don't want to go because I don't want to face her husband Paul. Eck. The last time I saw him I was mauling him at his wedding. What a creep. On the other hand, things are rather delicate between Christine and I now and I don't want to piss her off. Perhaps I can tell her I have food poisoning.
Thank God I remembered! I used the food poisoning excuse for her wedding. I will tell her I have glaucoma or something.
Damn. Conjunctivitis, not glaucoma. I always get those two mixed up.
Christine's party is tonight but I really want to get about fifty pages written, that way the book will be finished before the holidays so I can relax.
It's hard to sacrifice a good time but this is how it's going to be, baby. Work has to come first from now on.
Christine's party was a disaster and I'm still dealing with the fallout.
I met a guy. He was dressed as a pirate and I've always had a thing for pirates ever since I saw Hook. I wanted to go as a sexy nurse or a sexy vampire but the pickings at the costume store were pretty slim at 7:30 Halloween night, so I ended up being a zombie convict. (A sexy zombie convict once I made short-shorts out of the striped prison pants. It didn't make sense but I looked a lot better.)
When I arrived at 11:00 the party was in full swing. Paul was dressed as a mortician (big stretch) and thankfully kept his distance and Christine had dressed up as a sexy vampire and was very pleased with herself. She asked me if I liked her costume and I said I did (even though I didn't. It was such an obvious choice—where's the creativity?) and she rewarded my kindness by making me pass a tray of food around.
Wayne was standing by the bar looking handsome and ….piratey. I offered him the food and he said "Finally" took the whole tray from me and starting eating. I thought it was hilarious. We talked, we drank, we danced, we drank, we danced, we drank and then we drank some more.
At the end of the night we hopped in a cab and came back to my place.
Worse? He's still HERE.
Finally he's gone. He didn't get up until noon and his mascara was smeared all over his face and my pillowcases. He crept up behind me nuzzled my neck (ugh) and asked what was for breakfast. I told him he had a choice between ½ a lemon rind or an opened can of V8. He said we should go out for breakfast and thinking it would be a way to pry him out of the apartment I jumped at the chance. I loaned him a hoodie because he was all set to wear his pirate shirt and even with that I had to stop him from putting on his pirate hat.
Over a Grand Slam he told me more about himself and I was quite surprised, for he is even stupider than I suspected. His five-year plan ends with him living in a mansion in Forest Heights with a trophy wife. How is he going to get there? Wishcraft. Yes, wishcraft. What is he doing now? He is on unemployment insurance. Where does he live? With his mother. How long has he lived there? Forever.
He snapped his fingers at the waitress. He blew his nose in the napkin, he referred to the busboy as the "oriental guy" and if he'd had a bowel movement in the middle of the aisle I would not have been surprised.
I paid for breakfast.
What is wrong with me? I took a total stranger home and slept with him. Am I that desperate? I watch more than enough Lifetime TV to know that you just don't do that.
I know it has something to do with the holidays coming. I know it's about not wanting to be alone on Christmas—who does? Now I know what the saying "There are worse things than being alone" means.
I've got to bleach my sheets and if I have time, my brain.
Excerpt from Jayde An Extraordinary Woman in Ordinary Times
An Unathorized Autobiography By Jenna Thompson
Jayde pushed Special Agent Trent McClintock away. "No." she purred sexily. "I don't think of you that way." As she turned provocatively, away her cell phone rang and she saw that Prime Minister Rupal Bacon, People's Most Sexy Man for the the third year in a row was calling. "Ugh." She shrugged sexily and pressed "ignore" on the phone.
She strode purposefully to the elevator where she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirrored glass. Even she had to admit she was gorgeous. Long auburn tresses glinted with gold, flashing green eyes edged with thick black lashes that needed no mascara, long naturally tanned legs leading to a flat stomach and perky breast and great clothes.
This was her third assignment as a spy for the government and her devastating attractiveness was once again interfering with her work. Every city in every country of the world seemed to hold someone who had fallen for her at one time or another. If not for her job she would stop travelling.
"Being alone is not the same as being lonely" she said in the empty elevator as though to herself and smiled a secret smile.