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Is it sad that as I work on one of my novels, I can't help but smile and be greatly amused at my own brilliance?

Especially considering that I never did get around to ask S. what her opinion of it was.


But it's just so funny.


I mean, come on, any time you have a corporate cubicle worker making comparisons between himself and a highschool cheerleader, doesn't it just scream "great writing"?



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