In my head I am adapting Twelfth night for the screen as a campy romantic comedy. Can I reasonably pull off being mistaken for a guy?
Last night I was completely distracted imagining myself as the girl with purple hair in the descent. That book mostly sucked, but I had fun casting her anonymous demon sex partner.
I love how I read a book and become obsessed with it.
I love how I see something good and can't get enough of it. I have no portion control. Anything that gives me a moment of joy becomes embarassingly all-consuming ad nauseum.