Well, it's a slow day. Hell, it's a slow week. Fuck, it's a slow month.

So I might as well post my latest story, which ran B-1 in Sunday's edition of the Seattle Times/Post Intelligencer. The two rags combine on Sundays, almost doubling the readership, so I got that full exposure going for me. Which is nice. But that's about it.

The Saturday metro editor really dragged my feet through the coals on this one, though. I've been feeling like arse since Friday, and was asleep and heavily sedated when the metro desk called me on Saturday afternoon to make sure I'd be around for questions. So about a half-hour later, when they lobbed a barrage of inquiries, I was not exactly playing with a full deck - 'didn't even have a copy of the story to work with.

I had to picture the paragraphs in my head, for a story I wrote five days earlier, while this humorless lady picked and prodded at everything. And not in a good way, unfortunately.

Some questions were necessary, others were just annoying. But even the necessary ones suck on a Saturday afternoon at home when you're only halfway-coherent. Anyways, the story and I escaped relatively uscathed. Relatively...you'd think with the level of editing they do on the story they'd be able to spell my friggin' name right online! But no - just call me "Dickie Cronkit." (Thankfully they got it right in print.)

Mad props to RND for the heads-up on the story idea, way back when.

Further mad props to B&G, who, in addition to his slow intelligence reports, is now prone to bullshitting and saying a story's buried when it actually runs front-page. What a fucking kidder, that guy...