Author of the Queen City Boys books

Who has a safety deposit box full of… money and six passports and a gun?

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I am at work listening to Swinging Doors.  I am so ready for today to be OVER! At least the work part of it.  I have errands to run and my own work to do and while I know I should be focused on the job I am here being paid to do, I just simply am not.

Weekend was okay.  I was still sick for a good portion of it (and am still so, though it's just congestion now, without other symptoms, except maybe exhaustion).  I did get a lot done, I guess, though not as much as I'd hoped.  Perhaps I always have unreal expectations for the amount of work I can do?  I don't know, I do know I fucked around a bunch this weekend, and thus could conceivably have done more that wasn't fucking off.  

I did rewatch The Bourne Identity while I half-assedly cleaned the living room and put away some of my endless messy pile of craft-related things. The important question this movie has left lingering in me is, why doesn't Jason Bourne make out with me?  Good god, the man's arms are incredible. That scene where he and Marie get it on, and she sort of won't let him pass until he kisses her, and reaches up and cups her face and then she pulls off his shirt? Holy, good hotness, Batman. I felt like I might die from the heat rising in my face just from remembering it.  I think tonight I will watch The Bourne Supremacy, and then maybe The Bourne Ultimatum later this week.  I haven't seen the 3rd one yet, though I have high expectations, as my mom loved it, so I probably will too.  Still I remain disappointed that Matt Damon has never approched me at a low point in my life and offered me thousands of dollars to help him escape assassins. It's just proof that my life could be better than it is.

I look cute today: black knee-high boots, pleated wool skirt in cream and burgundy herringbone, white top, burgundy corduroy western jacket. My hair is fabulous and I think the outfit distracts from the dry, red, yuckiness that is my nose.

I'm sure I could find some more pointlessness to ramble on about, but I guess I should stop boring myself and go do some work.

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Author: Ajax Bell

Seattle author. Stops to smell the flowers. Amateur nerd (I wanna go pro but I haven't found anyone to pay me). Humble hippo enthusiast. queer/bi. they/them.

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