So, my lovely wife bought me a book for Father's Day called White Line Fever, the autobiography of Lemmy. If you don't know who Lemmy is you've probably been living under a rock or are a complete square (which is fine -- to each their own, you know).
Anyway, I've been plowing through the book and it's great. Can't put it down (well, I suppose I just did to screw around on the net and post this post). Point is, when I read one of these rock n roll autobiographies I get sucked in. They're like crack to a junkie. I can't get enough. Therefor I haven't written a word in three days, haven't read a submission, haven't edited anything...
When I'm finished reading about the craziness of Lemmy and Motorhead, then I'll get back to writing. Now, back to my binge...
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