I'm the worst present giver ever.
I blame my parents. They were awful about presents too. I inherited it honestly. I shop last minute, if I shop at all; I usually tell you what I got before you get to unwrap it; and that's if I wrap it and it's not in a Walmart shopping bag with the tags still attached.
This year, despite my love of Christmas (I do usually have to decorate and make Oreo truffles and give out one wrapped gift), I haven't done jack shit.
Oh, I've bought stuff for me. Dec 4, POTC: AWE came out on DVD, and you bet your sweet ass it was pre-ordered back in October. Dec 11, HP5 came out on DVD, and I ordered that before you could say, "Expelliarmus!" and blast me away from the keyboard.
This is frustrating for friends who want to buy me things they know I like, but I beat them to the punch. On the upside, if there is a pirate or HP reference whatsoever on the item, I will bounce up and down, screaming like a lunatic, announcing to the world: "This is the best gift ever!"--and my friend will point out. "They're just pencils. Have you even looked at the other items? I bought you a Ferrari!" "Look!" I'll scream, "Will Turner's face is right there! Isn't he dreamy?"
But enough about my gifts. It's December 14--and have I shopped?
Yes.
Finally.
After weeks and weeks of procrastinating. I ordered some stuff. Only one item for me (don't worry, it wasn't on anyone's radar that I even wanted it; nobody would ever guess), and the rest for friends.
Family gifts, yeah, I still have to do some actual shopping. But that's not the point--the point is: I might actually have to put up my tree now.
Of course, this is a given. I have to hang my new Hallmark Keepsake ornaments of Jack Sparrow on my tree. With any luck of my obsession, I might round up an even dozen before the holidays are over! Imagine a tree with a dozen Jack Sparrows hanging from it.
Friday, December 14, 2007
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
Soul Mates
When I was a kid, I wanted to grow up and marry a country singer. Specifically: Johnny Horton. It wasn't until I about 9 or 10 I even realize the man was DEAD and had been for 15 years prior to me showing up.
My luck entirely. I find my soul mate and he's dead.
Johnny Horton started my fascination with voices, though. My Dad's got the gruff somber Johnny Cash voice; and we all know what a sucker I am for Alan Rickman. Johnny Horton's got a voice to fall in love with. Deep, smooth, but within its cadence, a happy-go-lucky, wouldn't-we-have-fun tone that makes me want to ride around in a convertible with him and laugh.
My favorite ballad by him is called Miss Marcy. I *cannot* find the lyrics anywhere, but I remember being moved by the story as a kid. It's about a boy named Billy who's asked to recount what happened at the mill the night before (there was a dance)--and apparently Miss Marcy, who was his step-mom, was dancing a bit too close to "Uncle Will" and Billy's father killed or injured like three or four people. I'm trying to remember if he killed himself and Marcy too?--it was a DARK song, but boy, when I was 11, I knew EVERY word. *LOL*
My other favorite ballad by him: They'll Never Ever Take Her Love From Me. Difficult to find lyrics, but not totally impossible.
My luck entirely. I find my soul mate and he's dead.
Johnny Horton started my fascination with voices, though. My Dad's got the gruff somber Johnny Cash voice; and we all know what a sucker I am for Alan Rickman. Johnny Horton's got a voice to fall in love with. Deep, smooth, but within its cadence, a happy-go-lucky, wouldn't-we-have-fun tone that makes me want to ride around in a convertible with him and laugh.
My favorite ballad by him is called Miss Marcy. I *cannot* find the lyrics anywhere, but I remember being moved by the story as a kid. It's about a boy named Billy who's asked to recount what happened at the mill the night before (there was a dance)--and apparently Miss Marcy, who was his step-mom, was dancing a bit too close to "Uncle Will" and Billy's father killed or injured like three or four people. I'm trying to remember if he killed himself and Marcy too?--it was a DARK song, but boy, when I was 11, I knew EVERY word. *LOL*
My other favorite ballad by him: They'll Never Ever Take Her Love From Me. Difficult to find lyrics, but not totally impossible.
If today the sun should set on all my hopes and cares
There is one who's smiling face the Gods would see
Cause she'll walk along beside me up to golden stairs
Oh they'll never ever take her love from me
What a fool I was to go and break the trust she gave
And to see her love turn into sympathy
It's the one regret I'll carry with me to my grave
Oh they'll never ever take her love from me
[ strings ]
I'm so thankful for each golden hour of happiness
That we shared together in the used to be
Someone else's arms may hold her now in uncaress
But they'll never ever take her love from me
I thought I'd make her happy if I'd step aside
But I knew her love would never set me free
Even on the day that she became another's bride
Oh they'll never never take her love from me
Tuesday, November 06, 2007
Hellion Clothed
Ignore my hair. I didn't have a hat. But the duds are ones I sewed. I wish you could have seen the accessories: cat-o-nines, sword, gun (with real sound effects). I still need a hat. *sighs* But I'm not paying those prices for one! I'm not the only pirate on the internet.
Thursday, November 01, 2007
Post Halloween Highlights
I went to Pam & Chris' house to hang out Halloween night. I slurped down a bowl of hot and sour soup and had just settled in for some lo mein when the doorbell rang. The first trick or treater!
Chris has already spent time laughing at us because Pam and I had seen a little Harry Potter roaming the back street behind her house. Between houses we could catch glimpses of his red and gold scarf. We bounced around, squealing like we had seen glimpses of Brad Pitt.
Between the hours of 6 and 8, there must have been at least 50 trick or treaters. While some folks might find this a low turn out, I hail from the country--and we never got trick or treaters. I've never seen so many costumed children since I was in grade school.
Harry stopped by, and I squealed about him then. He did not seem nearly as excited to see me.
There was a young bride, no more than 6 years, her father standing quietly at the back of the yard. Her pretty blonde hair was scraped back with a white rose headband/veil, and her lovely bridal gown swept the sidewalk. Very beautiful, very bridal. Wow, I thought, her father must have broke out in hives seeing her in this outfit. It was a very Father of the Bride moment.
A little later, a trio of trick-or-treaters came up. One as a princess; one as Spongebob Squarepants (clever paint job on a box), and the cutest of all, a farmer boy with overalls and a hat, "driving" a John Deer tractor (a box also cleverly painted) that hung from black straps on his shoulders.
The trickiest costume I saw was a 1940s bomber pilot. All of 7, he wore a miniature bomber jacket and one of those skull caps of the era with goggles on his head. He wore a bomber single-engine plane, painted a sort of grayish-green army color around his waist. I think his father spent a lot of time working on that. He looked extremely authentic. He nearly had an accident trying to turn his plane around on the tiny concrete porch and navigate down the stairs again.
Easily the trick-or-treater we enjoyed most was the little pirate who couldn't be more than 4. He was bold for his age--after an entire evening of very shy children who seemed very confused by this ritual of free candy--and he swaggered up in his red and white striped trousers, a red skull cap on his head, a 12-in plastic sword waving fiercesomely, and a twinkle in his eye. He arrived with a group of less confident children, and as Chris calmly told all the children to take one piece of candy, Little Jack reached in with one hand, snagged a piece, then with a gimlet stare right at Chris, snagged a second piece with his other hand. We adults all sucked in a breath at this disobedience of Candy Courtesy. Then Jack grinned roguishly, spun on one heel, and leaped off the porch like a pirate swinging from one ship back to the other. He waved his sword maniacally, screaming as he ran down the walk: "I got it! I got it!"
Back in the house, we looked at Chris: "You just got pillaged, mate."
Happy Halloween all. Any good trick or treater stories where you lived?
Chris has already spent time laughing at us because Pam and I had seen a little Harry Potter roaming the back street behind her house. Between houses we could catch glimpses of his red and gold scarf. We bounced around, squealing like we had seen glimpses of Brad Pitt.
Between the hours of 6 and 8, there must have been at least 50 trick or treaters. While some folks might find this a low turn out, I hail from the country--and we never got trick or treaters. I've never seen so many costumed children since I was in grade school.
Harry stopped by, and I squealed about him then. He did not seem nearly as excited to see me.
There was a young bride, no more than 6 years, her father standing quietly at the back of the yard. Her pretty blonde hair was scraped back with a white rose headband/veil, and her lovely bridal gown swept the sidewalk. Very beautiful, very bridal. Wow, I thought, her father must have broke out in hives seeing her in this outfit. It was a very Father of the Bride moment.
A little later, a trio of trick-or-treaters came up. One as a princess; one as Spongebob Squarepants (clever paint job on a box), and the cutest of all, a farmer boy with overalls and a hat, "driving" a John Deer tractor (a box also cleverly painted) that hung from black straps on his shoulders.
The trickiest costume I saw was a 1940s bomber pilot. All of 7, he wore a miniature bomber jacket and one of those skull caps of the era with goggles on his head. He wore a bomber single-engine plane, painted a sort of grayish-green army color around his waist. I think his father spent a lot of time working on that. He looked extremely authentic. He nearly had an accident trying to turn his plane around on the tiny concrete porch and navigate down the stairs again.
Easily the trick-or-treater we enjoyed most was the little pirate who couldn't be more than 4. He was bold for his age--after an entire evening of very shy children who seemed very confused by this ritual of free candy--and he swaggered up in his red and white striped trousers, a red skull cap on his head, a 12-in plastic sword waving fiercesomely, and a twinkle in his eye. He arrived with a group of less confident children, and as Chris calmly told all the children to take one piece of candy, Little Jack reached in with one hand, snagged a piece, then with a gimlet stare right at Chris, snagged a second piece with his other hand. We adults all sucked in a breath at this disobedience of Candy Courtesy. Then Jack grinned roguishly, spun on one heel, and leaped off the porch like a pirate swinging from one ship back to the other. He waved his sword maniacally, screaming as he ran down the walk: "I got it! I got it!"
Back in the house, we looked at Chris: "You just got pillaged, mate."
Happy Halloween all. Any good trick or treater stories where you lived?
Friday, October 12, 2007
Daily Smile
It's Friday. I already started out the morning in a crank-fest--badly behaving applicants, my names misspelled by people who don't read, self-doubt about my writing--all vicious contributors.
But then my boss was standing at my window and said, "Hellion, come look."
I went and looked.
Three adults were herding a group of children, no older than four years old, across the street. Each child held a part of a rope, and the lead adult led the way, while another adult followed to make sure no one lagged and the third adult flanked them on the left to make sure no one bolted from the ranks. All the children were smiling and excited about the adventure they were on, all clutching one grubby hand on the white rope.
Once they made it to the sidewalk, the children filed where they were supposed to--though taking time to bounce up and down on all the man-hole covers and grills, with such obviously enthusiasm my boss and I could practically hear the rattle of the metal grates even though my closed window.
Leaves are falling off the trees, whipping around them; their hair is windblown and their cheeks are rosy--and not one of them looked like they had any concerns whatsoever. They were just as happy with the journey as they were with the prospect of the destination.
My boss and I have been grinning ever since.
But then my boss was standing at my window and said, "Hellion, come look."
I went and looked.
Three adults were herding a group of children, no older than four years old, across the street. Each child held a part of a rope, and the lead adult led the way, while another adult followed to make sure no one lagged and the third adult flanked them on the left to make sure no one bolted from the ranks. All the children were smiling and excited about the adventure they were on, all clutching one grubby hand on the white rope.
Once they made it to the sidewalk, the children filed where they were supposed to--though taking time to bounce up and down on all the man-hole covers and grills, with such obviously enthusiasm my boss and I could practically hear the rattle of the metal grates even though my closed window.
Leaves are falling off the trees, whipping around them; their hair is windblown and their cheeks are rosy--and not one of them looked like they had any concerns whatsoever. They were just as happy with the journey as they were with the prospect of the destination.
My boss and I have been grinning ever since.
Tuesday, October 02, 2007
Fall
There are many notable things about Fall. It's not so bleeping hot you can fry eggs on the sidewalk. The leaves turn and it's gorgeous with the sunlight reflecting off the trees. The students are back in town, so the driving is abysmal. People start talking about football like I actually care.
And the movies start getting better.
Now, you say, "Hellion, how can they get better than POTC: At World's End?" Right you are. It can't. And you'll be thrilled to note the third movie will be making it's way to DVD on December 4th, what, 2 months away? It IS on my Christmas list if anyone is looking to bequeath me with the normal gestures of goodwill and generosity.
But after all, summer releases are really all about the male ages 14-25. Wedding Crashers. Spiderman. Harry Potter. Yes, even my beloved Pirates is designed with the "male ages 14-25" in mind. Which I find quite unfortunate because all the males I've ever known between those ages have no taste whatsoever in what qualifies as a great movie, with the notable exceptions of Pirates and HP, obviously.
But finally these goobers go back to school come Fall, and Hollywood starts catering to the rest of us--those not male and between the ages of 14-25. And who probably don't care for football.
For instance, Oct 12: Elizabeth: The Golden Age. This has Cate Blanchett revisiting her role (of which she rocked) as Elizabeth I. This time instead of rocking the bedsheets with Joseph Fiennes (God, he's hot), she'll be rocking them with Clive Owen (who's hotter.) I don't see a lot of males between 14-25 going to see this movie, do you?
Further out is The Kite Runner. Based off a book I'm sure I should have read and didn't--and it looks like I'll be sobbing into my popcorn at the end.
Way out, Beowulf. Finally I can know what happened in the story I never read. Either in high school or college. Looks actiony enough to draw the boys.
Some low brow stuff to amuse me: The Comebacks, Fred Claus....
Love in the Time of Cholera! Hey, that sounds promising as an uber-chick flick!
And finally, Enchanted...which looks hysterical, even though predictable.
I also really want to see: Across the Universe, which features Beatles' music and has a character named Jude. It's out now...I need to see it ASAP.
Any movies you're looking forward to? Anyone seen Across and can recommend or not?
And the movies start getting better.
Now, you say, "Hellion, how can they get better than POTC: At World's End?" Right you are. It can't. And you'll be thrilled to note the third movie will be making it's way to DVD on December 4th, what, 2 months away? It IS on my Christmas list if anyone is looking to bequeath me with the normal gestures of goodwill and generosity.
But after all, summer releases are really all about the male ages 14-25. Wedding Crashers. Spiderman. Harry Potter. Yes, even my beloved Pirates is designed with the "male ages 14-25" in mind. Which I find quite unfortunate because all the males I've ever known between those ages have no taste whatsoever in what qualifies as a great movie, with the notable exceptions of Pirates and HP, obviously.
But finally these goobers go back to school come Fall, and Hollywood starts catering to the rest of us--those not male and between the ages of 14-25. And who probably don't care for football.
For instance, Oct 12: Elizabeth: The Golden Age. This has Cate Blanchett revisiting her role (of which she rocked) as Elizabeth I. This time instead of rocking the bedsheets with Joseph Fiennes (God, he's hot), she'll be rocking them with Clive Owen (who's hotter.) I don't see a lot of males between 14-25 going to see this movie, do you?
Further out is The Kite Runner. Based off a book I'm sure I should have read and didn't--and it looks like I'll be sobbing into my popcorn at the end.
Way out, Beowulf. Finally I can know what happened in the story I never read. Either in high school or college. Looks actiony enough to draw the boys.
Some low brow stuff to amuse me: The Comebacks, Fred Claus....
Love in the Time of Cholera! Hey, that sounds promising as an uber-chick flick!
And finally, Enchanted...which looks hysterical, even though predictable.
I also really want to see: Across the Universe, which features Beatles' music and has a character named Jude. It's out now...I need to see it ASAP.
Any movies you're looking forward to? Anyone seen Across and can recommend or not?
Monday, September 24, 2007
Anger Management
I had a long blog, but it got too revealing, so I'm going to summarize:
From Coyote Ugly:
From Coyote Ugly:
Lil: That's Rachel, you can learn a lot from her.
Violet: She just cut some guy's ponytail off.
Lil: Yeah, the court ordered her to take anger-management classes after she pummeled a customer for grabbing her ass. He pressed charges, I gave her a raise. Cheers!
Friday, September 21, 2007
Hellion: The Musical
In the movie, Singing in the Rain, there is this "musical within a musical" effect. The movie itself is a musical, but it also has a plot twist of actors who are moving from the silent screen to talking pictures--and get the bold idea of making a musical. (Of course, considering the lead actress can't even talk prettily, never mind sing, this gives Gene Kelly and Debbie Reynolds time to make moon eyes at each other as they sing and speak the talking parts of the "talking picture.") Great movie. Classic bit with the umbrella and the dancing in the rain. Donald O'Connor makes a particularly memorable sidekick.
In Anchors Aweigh, the first musical I watched outsid
e of the children classic standbys of Mary Poppins and Sound of Music, I fell in love with Gene Kelly. Madly. "Get there? Oh, darlin', you know I'll get there." And my soul soared at hearing Frank Sinatra sing that lullaby to the much adorable kid who would grow up to be the sidekick to the Quantam Leap guy. It was here I also met Kathryn Grayson, who also starred in my much favorite: Show Boat. Howard Keel and Kathryn fall in love on the river--and he's a roguish river gambler; and she's the innocent boat captain's daughter. There is a dark, sad angsty twist where the gorgeous Ava Gardner is exposed as a mulatto--and is forced to leave the ship (it was neither the captain's nor Ava's idea...but it was the time period, unfortunately.)Howard also does roguish pioneer man well too. Seven Brides for Seven Brothers is campy, fun, and as deep as a Arizona mudpuddle--but boy, it is a good time. When the six brothers are pining for the town girls and Howard comes in and says, "Well, why don't you do something about it? The Romans would have carried them off! It's right here in Millie's book!"--and what do they do? They kidnap the town girls. The movie is worth the barn-raising dance-off alone. (My friend Holler would beg to differ, but I think it's a great movie.)
Howard was a man of many musicals. I also loved him in Kiss Me, Kate--again, Kathryn Grayson--and he's ever so rakish as he sings, "Where lately is the life I led?" Though he's perhaps not half so rakish as Harve Presnell in The Unsinkable Molly Brown. That movie has some slow points...Holler would probably say they were all slow...but there is this scene where he's teaching her how to read, and he's watching her in such a way you know he's thinking of her naked. Which ironically he's already seen her naked, but...never mind, you'd have to watch the movie. So he sings this song to Molly called, "I'll never say no to you..." Dead sexy.
There are the more obscure musicals like The Pirate and Can-Can (Gene Kelly and Frank Sinatra respectively), which while not as memorable as Seven Brides or Singing are still wonderful...and fun.
And these are just the MGM Golden Era of Musicals...I haven't even gotten to Moulin Rouge, Chicago, et al, which have slowly been making their way into the film biz once more.
So I got to thinking (always a frightening pastime), and I wondered what would Hellion: The Musical look like. I mean, never mind the fact I can't sing. Would my childhood years feature songs from Hank Williams, Sr and Johnny Cash; then my pre-teen/teenage years have all 80s music and big hair bands; and the 90s, four hours of George Strait songs? Would I have Waylon's theme from The Dukes of Hazzard, or would I use his Never Could Toe The Mark? Would everyone be dressed in jeans and t-shirts, my obvious choice apparel, or would everyone be in pageant-themed looking outfits, lots of "Halloween" outfits, depending on the mood at the time? Perhaps a pirate theme, and a Medieval theme...and a Regency theme...and whatever else might fit my whimsy.
What do you think Hellion: The Musical would have in it? And what if your life was a musical, what songs do you think would make the list? Who would play you on Broadway? I'd have Kate Winslet play me, of course...ha, ha, Mike the Titanic would eat his words then....
Thursday, September 20, 2007
Can't Help Lovin' That Crazy WIP of Mine....
Oh, listen, sister,
I love my manuscript,
And I can't tell you why.
There ain’t no reason…
Why I should love this prose
It must be something that the devil only know…
Phones gotta ring, emails gotta fly,
I gotta write this manuscript till I die—<
Can’t help this crazy plot of mine….
Tell me it’s trite, tell me’s slow,
Tell me the dumb hero has got to go…
Can’t help this crazy plot of mine…
When I don’t write a line…
I near go out of my mind…
But when I sit with my pen and write—
That day is fine…those words do shine.
This plot can go to eternity,
Crazy and trite, I don’t care how it be.
Can’t help this crazy plot of mine.
*can anyone tell I have a thing for Howard Keel flicks? Man, was he HOT!
Monday, September 17, 2007
The Ultimate Exercise Equipment
Due to the very poor grades I received in my overall health, I have been endeavoring to exercise more. Here’s the problem: I hate exercising. I hate sweating. I hate being hot. I hate doing things I’m uncoordinated at, like walking. Sex also comes to mind here, but that’s a different blog.
Friday, I went to my friend Jackie’s house, who also hates sweating, being hot, and doing things that make her look uncoordinated. She is a good friend though, and doesn’t want me to croak quite yet, so we went for a brisk walk. 4000 steps for our little jaunt.
Yes, yes, I’ve got one of those dorky pedometers. Blue.
Saturday, we went to a Pirate Festival at the
After about 3 hours of wandering around the park, the 3-year-old misbehaved horribly and we had to leave. (So much for pirate hunting.) Once home, I dragged Jackie to a JoAnn’s, where I got the rest of my materials for my Halloween costume; and then we went to a Barnes & Noble, for no other reason than to sit in the squishy chairs and read books. Then Erica, Jackie’s little sister called.
She was going to take her dogs to the dog park. Did we want to go? Now let me just say she has the coolest dogs ever. Nakira and Monty are these cute, hilarious mutts. Nakira is the ham, and she’s always so excited to see you…and she smiles all the time. Monty is lower-keyed, but a lover. If you lay down, he’ll crawl up beside you, worm his way into your arms, and sigh in contentment as his head is resting on your chest. (Monty is proof males are the same no matter what species they are.) I love them both, so I’m game to the park.
I don’t jog, folks. If you ever see me running, it’s not “to” something because frankly “it” can wait until I can saunter to it or I just don’t need it. If I’m running, it’s from something, like snakes. A serial killer. One of my really bad dates. Monty, though, doesn’t know how to saunter, and unless I wanted to be dragged down the gravel road on my belly, I adapted immediately.
So I jogged. Panted. Gasped for air as I walked at an uber-fast clip when I could no longer jog. By the time we left, I was certain all-told, I must have walked/trotted at least 3 miles. Yes, of course, I’m counting the Jackie-Fran sauntering mile—but two miles of jog/trotting is quite a bit, thank you much.
I’ve decided the ultimate exercise device is not a pedometer but a dog. Not one of those sissy dogs though—a 40 pound mutt who doesn’t know what a saunter is and is very interested in trotting up and down roads. If he likes to also curl up with you as you watch TV and sigh against your chest, that’s just a bonus.
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
Mousetrap Part Deux
I shared a "Mousetrap" poem with you some months ago. I think. I'm pretty sure. So I wrote a part 2 to the poem.
Our moments have passed and the years have gone by
But still I find I’m intrigued by this Cocksure-ish Cat.
If he would but stay unmarried for the blink of an eye
I’m race him to the bedroom in six seconds flat
But this is a Feline who can’t be alone—
Thus I’m unable to allow him to make me his own.
My virtue has thwarted him time and again
As he sets to convince me it’s inevitable we’ll mate.
How could a passion as ours be considered a sin,
When it’s clear we’ve been marked by the Fickle Finger of Fate?
Oh, he’s persuasive and every glinting look beguiles.
I’m enchanted by the beast of his masculine wiles.
“Take me and kiss me,” he pleads against the curve of my lips;
His caress could cause a nun to recant to her vows.
I find I’m disabled, dishabille, and empty of quips,
Full of “yeses” instead of “back away nows.”
Good thing the faith of Christendom doesn’t depend upon me
For I find I’m ‘tween the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea.
Lies we have bantered, truths we have forsook;
We’re caught in the web we’ve created ourselves.
A tangled romance you’d find nowhere but in a book,
A love bartered in a circle of Hell.
Eternal Hope springs and refuses to wane
When I’m in the embrace of my favorite Bane.
Our moments have passed and the years have gone by
But still I find I’m intrigued by this Cocksure-ish Cat.
If he would but stay unmarried for the blink of an eye
I’m race him to the bedroom in six seconds flat
But this is a Feline who can’t be alone—
Thus I’m unable to allow him to make me his own.
My virtue has thwarted him time and again
As he sets to convince me it’s inevitable we’ll mate.
How could a passion as ours be considered a sin,
When it’s clear we’ve been marked by the Fickle Finger of Fate?
Oh, he’s persuasive and every glinting look beguiles.
I’m enchanted by the beast of his masculine wiles.
“Take me and kiss me,” he pleads against the curve of my lips;
His caress could cause a nun to recant to her vows.
I find I’m disabled, dishabille, and empty of quips,
Full of “yeses” instead of “back away nows.”
Good thing the faith of Christendom doesn’t depend upon me
For I find I’m ‘tween the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea.
Lies we have bantered, truths we have forsook;
We’re caught in the web we’ve created ourselves.
A tangled romance you’d find nowhere but in a book,
A love bartered in a circle of Hell.
Eternal Hope springs and refuses to wane
When I’m in the embrace of my favorite Bane.
Wednesday, September 05, 2007
Ode to Men
Men, thou art handsome savages,
With rakish grins to make me swoon;
Even the shyest of you are prone to ravages
And seductions under the light of the moon.
“Fancy a fuck?” or other such words,
Will command your attention like cannon fire blast.
If it weren’t so funny, it’d be for the birds—
Anything, I suppose, to get us to mount your mast.
Like dogs on collars, chained to a tree,
You forget and run to the end of the tether.
Hope springs eternal for a sex orgy spree,
Complete with whipped creams, cuffs, and a feather….
Oh, men, how I adore thee, thy simplistic motivation,
For why shouldn’t we screw instead of most anything?
Let’s then do as thy will—and call for a cessation,
And instead explore all the pleasures that sex can bring.
With rakish grins to make me swoon;
Even the shyest of you are prone to ravages
And seductions under the light of the moon.
“Fancy a fuck?” or other such words,
Will command your attention like cannon fire blast.
If it weren’t so funny, it’d be for the birds—
Anything, I suppose, to get us to mount your mast.
Like dogs on collars, chained to a tree,
You forget and run to the end of the tether.
Hope springs eternal for a sex orgy spree,
Complete with whipped creams, cuffs, and a feather….
Oh, men, how I adore thee, thy simplistic motivation,
For why shouldn’t we screw instead of most anything?
Let’s then do as thy will—and call for a cessation,
And instead explore all the pleasures that sex can bring.
Friday, August 31, 2007
Lunch With Friends
I don't think women leave their desks at work often enough and meet their friends for lunch. I don't sit at my desk and eat; but I do spend an ungodly amount of time in the breakroom, nose in a book, unthinkingly eating, enjoying little.
Today I went to meet Pam for lunch. This week was her birthday, and we've all been busy and haven't found the normal weekend time to celebrate her birthday. And if we try too hard, it's been known to get all complicated and nasty and very unenjoyable. Instead I was, "I'm going to buy her a book, damnit"--being Thank God, she likes to read more romances now--"and we'll go to lunch."
We met at Taj Mahal, an Indian restaurant. We hoped the food would be better than it had been at the other Indian restuarant. It was. It was awesome. It was beyond awesome. We talked, we laughed, we shared. She delighted in the fact I'd actually bothered to wrap her gift; and she cooed over the card I made her, even though I had shown her the card a couple weeks ago.
Then we started girl talking. You know the kind I mean. The kind you do out of earshot of boys because you'd get into massive trouble, especially if you're married to one of them. The talking that involves bad sex, bad dates, men who don't talk, romance novels, and on and on.
"I love my husband, but he does not talk like the men in these books." Pause. "Well, no man does...and it is fiction."
"You know, Christina Dodd says she writes men's dialogue by thinking of woman and then dumbing it down." Pam laughs so hard she covers her mouth--because I know her guilty Virgo butt is feeling bad she laughed.
"I love my husband, but he doesn't talk."
"Well, of course not. The man watches TV all the time. He has Eric for a brother. He never got a word in edgewise. He's quiet. You married the Quiet Man. This is not unusual."
"True. And don't get me started about him interrupting me while I read. He's watching the Chiefs play, so it's not like I can talk to him, but then he wants me to talk to him."
"You know why, right?" I say, ever the expert on men. "It's so he can tune you out while he watches the game. He's so used to doing that he can't watch the game without it." Pam's eyes widen at this new conspitorial truth.
"You're right!"
"So the solution," I say, "is to tape yourself talking, play that while he watches the game and you can read in peace. Plus if he says he didn't hear the last thing you said, you can just hit the rewind button. It's really a win-win."
"I like this tape recording idea."
"Oh! Oh! And in the bedroom, you can just have him read a script--and then you can play the recording as he does his thing." We fall over into hysterics. We're freaking hilarious, aren't we?
Then there is a discussion of a Geoduck. (If you don't know what it is, you need to Google it.) She had recently learned of what they are, but the guys at work explaining what they were couldn't do it--because in their words (the ones they COULDN'T say), it looks like a penis with a clam/oyster shell clamped on one end. Men. Everything looks like a dick.
I Googled this creature when I got back to work. I couldn't resist. You know what it looks like? It looks like an elephant trunk with an oyster shell clamped on the fat end of the trunk, or as I described to Pam later: it looks like an oyster swallowed an elephant but couldn't manage the trunk.
*Beevis and Butthead laugh* Heh-heh, I said swallow.
Pam said, "Well, the picture they showed, the trunk end was wrapped around the shell, that's why they thought penis."
"When in the history of penises have we ever known them to do that? In fact, I'm sure if I ever asked a man if he would or could wrap his penis around an oyster shell that would clamp down on the end--he would have bolted out of the room and called Men Abuse Hotline."
So the point of this blog is: go out and eat with your girlfriends. It's good for your health.
Today I went to meet Pam for lunch. This week was her birthday, and we've all been busy and haven't found the normal weekend time to celebrate her birthday. And if we try too hard, it's been known to get all complicated and nasty and very unenjoyable. Instead I was, "I'm going to buy her a book, damnit"--being Thank God, she likes to read more romances now--"and we'll go to lunch."
We met at Taj Mahal, an Indian restaurant. We hoped the food would be better than it had been at the other Indian restuarant. It was. It was awesome. It was beyond awesome. We talked, we laughed, we shared. She delighted in the fact I'd actually bothered to wrap her gift; and she cooed over the card I made her, even though I had shown her the card a couple weeks ago.
Then we started girl talking. You know the kind I mean. The kind you do out of earshot of boys because you'd get into massive trouble, especially if you're married to one of them. The talking that involves bad sex, bad dates, men who don't talk, romance novels, and on and on.
"I love my husband, but he does not talk like the men in these books." Pause. "Well, no man does...and it is fiction."
"You know, Christina Dodd says she writes men's dialogue by thinking of woman and then dumbing it down." Pam laughs so hard she covers her mouth--because I know her guilty Virgo butt is feeling bad she laughed.
"I love my husband, but he doesn't talk."
"Well, of course not. The man watches TV all the time. He has Eric for a brother. He never got a word in edgewise. He's quiet. You married the Quiet Man. This is not unusual."
"True. And don't get me started about him interrupting me while I read. He's watching the Chiefs play, so it's not like I can talk to him, but then he wants me to talk to him."
"You know why, right?" I say, ever the expert on men. "It's so he can tune you out while he watches the game. He's so used to doing that he can't watch the game without it." Pam's eyes widen at this new conspitorial truth.
"You're right!"
"So the solution," I say, "is to tape yourself talking, play that while he watches the game and you can read in peace. Plus if he says he didn't hear the last thing you said, you can just hit the rewind button. It's really a win-win."
"I like this tape recording idea."
"Oh! Oh! And in the bedroom, you can just have him read a script--and then you can play the recording as he does his thing." We fall over into hysterics. We're freaking hilarious, aren't we?
Then there is a discussion of a Geoduck. (If you don't know what it is, you need to Google it.) She had recently learned of what they are, but the guys at work explaining what they were couldn't do it--because in their words (the ones they COULDN'T say), it looks like a penis with a clam/oyster shell clamped on one end. Men. Everything looks like a dick.
I Googled this creature when I got back to work. I couldn't resist. You know what it looks like? It looks like an elephant trunk with an oyster shell clamped on the fat end of the trunk, or as I described to Pam later: it looks like an oyster swallowed an elephant but couldn't manage the trunk.
*Beevis and Butthead laugh* Heh-heh, I said swallow.
Pam said, "Well, the picture they showed, the trunk end was wrapped around the shell, that's why they thought penis."
"When in the history of penises have we ever known them to do that? In fact, I'm sure if I ever asked a man if he would or could wrap his penis around an oyster shell that would clamp down on the end--he would have bolted out of the room and called Men Abuse Hotline."
So the point of this blog is: go out and eat with your girlfriends. It's good for your health.
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
Ha! It arrived!
My Captain Jack Sparrow talking action doll arrived! He's so awesome and sounds just like him! Now if he would only STAND properly. Obviously he's drunk even by statuette.
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
Favorite Romantic "Forbidden" Movie
I usually want what I can't have. The more forbidden something is, the more enticing it is. I don't like apples, but I guarantee you if I'd been Eve and that was the fruit, I would have had a batch of them whipped up for supper, served with a side of caramel sauce. (Because everything is better with a side of caramel sauce.)
I think my interest in the Forbidden carries well into my whole obsessive side of my nature too--so really I enjoy having compatible parts of myself. (By the way, I ordered a Captain Jack Sparrow doll that speaks. I'm sure I'll be blogging about it soon.)
So last night, I tapped into my obsessive/forbidden side by watching The Scarlet Letter. This pushed buttons on about every level. It has Gary Oldman (who plays Sirius Black in Harry Potter films), who looks extremely hot in this film. (Those eyes. *swoons*) It has that FORBIDDEN romance between the married woman and her minister. (Normally I would never think of jumping my minister, but understandably, he looks nothing like Gary from this movie.) And because they "freely adapted" from the original story, it has an ending where they finally get together at the end (though it's said he dies before their child gets to be a teenager, et al, blah, blah, blah.)
Doesn't matter. They ride off triumphantly out of town, their adulterous love a victory at last.
Yes, yes, only in fiction, right? (Though I do know an amazing amount of adulterous affairs turned marriages that are hanging around, looking rather victorious. Funnily enough, they morph into regular old marriages where everyone is fighting about who left the toothpaste cap off the toothpaste.)
I also watched Dracula, and I'm pretty sure I'm the only person (except maybe Dracula) who went, "Oh, that's so romantic! He cursed God because he lost his true love...and then...and then...she broke the curse. Their love broke the curse!" Now mind you, there is about another hour and fifty minutes of non-romantic stuff...and some bestiality, but I was distilling it to its purest elements for you guys. Dracula is a love story.
You'll also notice that Gary Oldman was in Dracula. Yes, I know. I'm having a Gary month.
So what is your favorite forbidden? What is your favorite movie with a forbidden element? (Or do you prefer your movies slightly less "forbidden" and more sweet?)
Wednesday, August 22, 2007
A Francelot Parody
Writing Muse! Writing Muse!
At boring work I heard your cry.
Writing Muse! Writing Muse!
Here I am, ready to shoot the sky.
I know in my heart the book I should write,
And I shall publish it with all my might.
A writer of the Vagabonds should be creative,
Succeed where a less ingenious gypsy would flunk.
Write a sentence without a single gerund,
Compose a sex scene to leave the readers stunned,
Pen a book that no reader would dare refund.
No matter the struggle, she ought to be unflaggable,
Impossible scenerios should be as natural as air.
But where in the world
Is there in the world
A writer so *extraordinaire*?
C'est moi! C'est moi, I'm forced to confess.
'Tis I, I meekly reply.
That mortal who
These wonders can do,
C'est moi, c'est moi, 'tis I.
I've never lost
In penned prose or wit;
I'm simply the best by far.
When characters are crossed
'Tis always the same:
One keystroke and au revoir!
C'est moi! C'est moi! I am so blessed!
An Amish Nora Roberts unbound.
And here I sit, with wit audacious,
Exeption'ly corny, steamin’ly salacious,
To serve at the Gypsy campfire round!
The soul of a writer should be quite outstanding,
Her heart and her mind as brave as Will Ferrell.
With a force and resolve
Round all ideas do revolve
She could easily work a Happy Ending in Hell.
To love and desire she ought to be demanding,
The ways of the flesh should offer every allure.
But where in the world
Is there in the world
A writer so sexually secure?
(C'est moi!)
C'est moi! C'est moi, I blush to disclose.
I'm far too noble to lie.
That writer in whom
These qualities bloom,
C'est moi, c'est moi, 'tis I.
I've never procrastinated
From the book I am writing;
I'm blessed with a one-tracked mind.
Had I published
Far before now,
I’d still be on tours with fan lines.
C'est moi! C'est moi! The angels have chose
To write their love scenes in prose,
And here I stand, as wicked as Sodom,
Incredibly boastful, with ego to spare,
The conceitedest writer I know!
C'est moi!
Monday, August 20, 2007
Books, Banes, and Bast....
I've been drinking a lot lately, I admit. And last Saturday was no different. I stopped by Pam's house and realized they were going out, and they invited me. They even invited me knowing that a certain guy would be in the group. Pam's brother-in-law, who is this guy I share on-again, off-again witty banter (and occasionally more), and who also happens to be married. For a second time. "Unhappily."
I'll let everyone pause for a second to remember the plot of my current WIP and go "Holy Shit."
It's really not quite the same. Pam is far nicer. Her husband would NEVER do the things he does in my WIP. This guy is not Ben. He IS the inspiration for Ben though--and I can say that here, because he has absolutely no idea about this blog...or my writing (well, not much anyway)...or well, let's just say, I figure it's good odds he'll not figure it out. Unless the book gets published...and he buys it. But again, it's not really him. Oh, well, I'm done arguing with myself about this....
Any way at some point during the evening, he says to me, "Hellion, you've always been the bane of my existence." This is possibly in direct irritation of him asking a question I didn't want to answer and I said I plead the fifth.
Nice. I concurred he'd always been MY bane as well. We smile. We make our reluctant goodbyes, and he leaves.
Then I looked up bane today, just to be sure it was what I was thinking. It was.
He could have meant any of the following:
1. A person who ruins or spoils. (I have not ruined anything. I think we can mark this off the list.)
2. A deadly poison. (Flattering, but unlikely.)
3. Death, destruction or ruin. (This one has possibilities. I think we really would be the death of each other.)
4. A source of persistent annoyance or exasperation. (Ooh, I think we might have a winner. I'm annoying. Now there's a surprise.)
5. Something that causes misery or death. (Also a possibility.)
So question of the day: Has anyone inspired you to make them a character in your book? Do you have anyone you'd classify as a bane (and nobody better say me--I'm just saying)? And which definition was he shooting for? Annoying or misery?
I'll let everyone pause for a second to remember the plot of my current WIP and go "Holy Shit."
It's really not quite the same. Pam is far nicer. Her husband would NEVER do the things he does in my WIP. This guy is not Ben. He IS the inspiration for Ben though--and I can say that here, because he has absolutely no idea about this blog...or my writing (well, not much anyway)...or well, let's just say, I figure it's good odds he'll not figure it out. Unless the book gets published...and he buys it. But again, it's not really him. Oh, well, I'm done arguing with myself about this....
Any way at some point during the evening, he says to me, "Hellion, you've always been the bane of my existence." This is possibly in direct irritation of him asking a question I didn't want to answer and I said I plead the fifth.
Nice. I concurred he'd always been MY bane as well. We smile. We make our reluctant goodbyes, and he leaves.
Then I looked up bane today, just to be sure it was what I was thinking. It was.
He could have meant any of the following:
1. A person who ruins or spoils. (I have not ruined anything. I think we can mark this off the list.)
2. A deadly poison. (Flattering, but unlikely.)
3. Death, destruction or ruin. (This one has possibilities. I think we really would be the death of each other.)
4. A source of persistent annoyance or exasperation. (Ooh, I think we might have a winner. I'm annoying. Now there's a surprise.)
5. Something that causes misery or death. (Also a possibility.)
So question of the day: Has anyone inspired you to make them a character in your book? Do you have anyone you'd classify as a bane (and nobody better say me--I'm just saying)? And which definition was he shooting for? Annoying or misery?
Friday, August 17, 2007
Dumbo
I was sitting in traffic, at the last light I turn with on my way to work, and I was doing my usual routine at 7:54 am. Then the news comes on and makes an announcement about a new baby elephant born at St. Louis zoo, and weighing in at 236 pounds.
I then realized after all those years of saying the toss-away exaggerated statement of "I'm as big as an elephant", that I was indeed as big as an elephant. A pre-maturely born baby elephant. Quite humbling.
But then I got to thinking about Dumbo, a very cute baby elephant—and his big ears. (I did get to thinking about my ears as well. They are awful pointy. Everyone tells me this; Dumbo and I have so much in common, weight and ears.) But he can fly.
So I thought some more. And then I thought, well, his ears, that he was born with obviously, are his talent and/or ability. Writing is my talent—my elephant ears. And like Dumbo, I didn't think I could fly and was scared too. Now, I didn't have this really cool mouse mentor who handed me a feather and said, "Now you can fly" but I do realize I have used many types of feather talismans over the years to get liftoff. In fact, I use my English Major label as a sort of feather. It's why I went to college, to polish up my writing, to better refine my writing techniques.
But did I really need to go to college to learn to write? No. There are plenty of great and well-published writers who never got college degrees. In fact, there are also plenty of well-decorated, many-degree-carrying people who still can't write, though they may indeed be published.
Another famous feather many writers clutch is "The Muse". "Well, I can't write anything until I'm inspired, until the Muse tells me. I don't want to just write trite fiction; I want to create something brilliant." But any trite fiction writer will tell you it's impossible to fix a blank page. Edits are what makes trite writing something worth reading.
Writing books and writing classes are easy to come by if you have the money; and you always feel safer at your desk while writing if you have the latest book to help you plot or get past writer's block—but they aren't actually what makes you write. In fact, 90% of the time, I get a book, read it, get bored or frustrated, and say "Screw it, I'm writing it however I want" and then start writing. That, in and of itself, was worth the $13.95 to me, and it will come in handy another dozen times when I consult the book, but really, it didn't exactly tell me anything I haven't already heard a dozen times before. For free.
So should I ever lose all my feathers—my books, my degree ("What? What do you mean I needed one more hour of PE?"), my Muse—I should take a page from Dumbo and remember I don't need a feather to fly with to really fly.
How about you? What abilities/talents do you have and what feathers do you clutch?
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
Joke of the Day
We’ve all heard about people having guts or balls. But do you really know the difference between them? In an effort to keep you informed, the definition for each is listed below…
GUTS - is arriving home late after a night out with the guys, being met by your wife with a broom, and having the guts to ask: “Are you still cleaning, or are you flying somewhere?”
BALLS - is coming home late after a night out with the guys, smelling of perfume and beer, lipstick on your collar, slapping your wife on the butt and having the balls to say: “You’re next.”
I hope this clears up any confusion on the definitions.
Medically speaking, there is no difference in the outcome since both ultimately result in death.
It's Official
Summer is not over yet, it's true; and we've got at least two more weeks until Labor Day (and the whole "Summer's Over" is truly though)--but I have to say: This has been the best summer ever.
Summer 2007 started out with a bang: Pirates of the Caribbean 3 came out May 25, and I went to a sneak peek the night before of it. It was possibly my favorite movie of the three (though it's a close call, since I do adore the first movie so much and have watched it a hundred times.) I've only been able to watch POTC3 twice so far.
My next summer obsession was Harry Potter, both the 5th movie and the last and final installment in the books. My Harry Potter partners-in-crime went with me to a Harry Potter feast in Kansas City (which was admittedly lame, but fun because of the company). The movie rocked--and we think it might be the best movie of the series so far. My friend Pam and I now have unhealthy obsessions with characters from the movies: Pam (Lucius Malfoy) and me (Sirius Black). Admittedly I had a bit of a crush on Sirius in the book at first (I've always liked handsome, arrogant black-haired men)--but Gary Oldman does a good job. And he has tattoos!
I was quite relieved, when a week later, I got my book of the last Harry Potter, and I read it cover to cover. I was not going to have to burn my books in a fit of rage. All ended well.
Then a week after that I was set to go on vacation (my first real vacation in 6 years)--and I flew out to Virginia to meet fellow writers and Bon-Bons, Terri & Tiff. It was the best vacation ever! (The IPod 9th-Circle-of-Hell Incident notwithstanding.) Now I'm having to come off a high of where men actually know I exist...and flirt with me...and go back to work. *pouts* Oh, well, there is still a chance to look for jobs in Virginia. I've always liked Virginia, since I went to Washington, D.C./Arlington/Alexandria; and I love it even more now. It's beautiful like Missouri...but with an ocean. Plus there are sailors, which I find far more fascinating than farmers.
Now...it's back to the old grindstone. Edits to make on my novel. A query letter to write; and agents to beg. Oh, and my 8-5 job too. (And by the way, has anyone watched the extras on The Notebook and wanted to slap Nicholas Sparks? I mean, he's the NICEST guy...but I still want to slap him. Is it just me? AND has anyone seen the deleted scenes on The Notebook? HOLY COW. The alternate sex scenes are...OMG! I don't understand how I can love that movie, but not like the book. Does anyone else feel this way? I mean, aren't you supposed to like the book more? Maybe it's Ryan Gosling...Yeah...I think it's Ryan Gosling NAKED in the movie...)
I'm shallow. What can I say? Oh, and that bit where he yells at her that she's a pain in the ass but he wants to be with her anyway. *sighs longingly*
Summer 2007 started out with a bang: Pirates of the Caribbean 3 came out May 25, and I went to a sneak peek the night before of it. It was possibly my favorite movie of the three (though it's a close call, since I do adore the first movie so much and have watched it a hundred times.) I've only been able to watch POTC3 twice so far.
My next summer obsession was Harry Potter, both the 5th movie and the last and final installment in the books. My Harry Potter partners-in-crime went with me to a Harry Potter feast in Kansas City (which was admittedly lame, but fun because of the company). The movie rocked--and we think it might be the best movie of the series so far. My friend Pam and I now have unhealthy obsessions with characters from the movies: Pam (Lucius Malfoy) and me (Sirius Black). Admittedly I had a bit of a crush on Sirius in the book at first (I've always liked handsome, arrogant black-haired men)--but Gary Oldman does a good job. And he has tattoos!
I was quite relieved, when a week later, I got my book of the last Harry Potter, and I read it cover to cover. I was not going to have to burn my books in a fit of rage. All ended well.
Then a week after that I was set to go on vacation (my first real vacation in 6 years)--and I flew out to Virginia to meet fellow writers and Bon-Bons, Terri & Tiff. It was the best vacation ever! (The IPod 9th-Circle-of-Hell Incident notwithstanding.) Now I'm having to come off a high of where men actually know I exist...and flirt with me...and go back to work. *pouts* Oh, well, there is still a chance to look for jobs in Virginia. I've always liked Virginia, since I went to Washington, D.C./Arlington/Alexandria; and I love it even more now. It's beautiful like Missouri...but with an ocean. Plus there are sailors, which I find far more fascinating than farmers.
Now...it's back to the old grindstone. Edits to make on my novel. A query letter to write; and agents to beg. Oh, and my 8-5 job too. (And by the way, has anyone watched the extras on The Notebook and wanted to slap Nicholas Sparks? I mean, he's the NICEST guy...but I still want to slap him. Is it just me? AND has anyone seen the deleted scenes on The Notebook? HOLY COW. The alternate sex scenes are...OMG! I don't understand how I can love that movie, but not like the book. Does anyone else feel this way? I mean, aren't you supposed to like the book more? Maybe it's Ryan Gosling...Yeah...I think it's Ryan Gosling NAKED in the movie...)
I'm shallow. What can I say? Oh, and that bit where he yells at her that she's a pain in the ass but he wants to be with her anyway. *sighs longingly*
Friday, August 10, 2007
Flight of the Innuendo
Admittedly I was a bit depressed to be leaving Virginia and all its fine, fine scenery--and it was a very sad, Paxil popping Hellion who checked onto her flight to Missouri. I had "C" boarding, and I talked to this charming fellow who talked incessantly about the last flight he took that got struck by lightening three times and nearly crashed the plane.
I chose not to sit next to him.
However, since it was Southwest, and it was "general seating", I looked for a place to sit. Around the mid-part of the plane, there were two cute guys sitting, with the seat between them--and being I love cute guys, I asked if I could sit there. The aisle seat one jumped up obligingly and I sat.
They were not chatty. Enter more depression. I was thinking fondly of my Y108 guy...and Mark the Merchant Marine...and I thumbed through my magazine as I was ignored. Finally while up in the air (after I ran out of magazine--damnit), I broke down and talked to the young one on my right. (The guy on my left was very unchatty. I thought, well, maybe he doesn't want to be bothered.) So the young one and I talk for about 15 minutes or so. We get our snack and drink; the guy on my left doesn't even get a drink. How can you not get a drink?
The guy on my left SO doesn't want to chat, he brings out a crossword puzzle to ignore me. So I keep bothering the youngun on my right. Then finally I notice Crossword Guy is struggling...and I see a clue I know. I lean over, run my hand down the section of the page, and say, "This one is 'Grisham'."
He looks at me. I know. I've broken the cardinal rule, right, but I figure, well, screw it. He'll change planes and never have to see me again. "No, really, it's Grisham. See." He does.
"Thank you." He scribbles it in. And then it was on. We worked the crossword puzzle together. I've never had more fun working a game in my life. At the end, we're stuck...and I say, "Well the answers are on 230."
He gives me a horrified look. "We can't CHEAT." You would have thought I asked him to kill somebody.
"Yes, you can."
But we didn't cheat. We finish; we revel in our brilliance...and then because there is another 20 minutes of flight, I say, "Hey, let's start the next one."
"No, that's too hard."
"Oh, come on, what are we going to do for the rest of this flight? We can at least try...and if it's as hard as you say, we'll cheat."
And boy, did we ever cheat! We cheated like four times in as many minutes within the start of the puzzle. I started giggling madly. "OMG, cheating's bad. Once you start cheating, you just can't quit doing it."
Crossword Guy gaped at me. "I can't believe you just said that out loud!"
I laughed again. "I don't care. It's not what it sounds like..."
"I know!..."
And so it was on. The Flight of the Innuendo. We tossed back and forth really bad puns for the rest of the flight...and he decided, once he realized I too was flying to St. Louis he would take the magazine and we'd finish it on the next flight. He followed me off the plane. "I'm keeping close to you. You're the other half of my brain."
I know. I laughed hysterically too at that.
I go to the bathroom; I return to call Jackie--and I promptly tell her about Jack, from Colonial Williamsburg. "He was the best thing about this trip!" I gush, because, well, he was. I get off the phone, and Crossword Guy says, "You didn't hear me, did you?" I shook my head. "I'm the best thing to happen to you on this trip." Oh, boy.
"You're the best thing to happen to me today. I was living in the past, you see...what are we going to do now to kill time?"
THEN our flight gets delayed. Yes, Fate says, "Hey flirt with this guy..." and I do...like mad. He buys me some food and a drink. I even spit on him--which I've really got to stop doing to guys. He calls his buddy--and says he'll be late...but he doesn't tell the truth. He doesn't say, "Because our flight has been delayed..." No. He says:
"I met this redhead on the plane." There is a pause as the friend asks a question, and I'm blatantly listening...and Crossword Guy's eyes flick over me in this rake-Once-Over, then he grins and goes, "Yeah." OMG, he just told that guy I was hot! I've never been hot in my life! "Gotta go, I'm busy," he says and hangs up. Then he shares a laugh with me. "That's going to tear him up."
More innuendos. We line up for our flight--because we obviously want to sit together. We're standing next to this cute little chicky-poo who suddenly says, "You guys are so friendly and cute! How long have you been married?"
I know. I laughed hysterically at that too.
Finally after exchanging a look with him, I say, "We're not married. I'm returning from vacation; and he's returning from business. We met on the last flight--I don't even know his name."
Chicky-poo gapes at us. "You're kidding! You guys acted totally married!"
Crossword Guy grins. "I told you my name was George Jetson." I roll my eyes with Chicky-poo.
Then Chicky-poo, Bless Her Heart, says, "Hey, you're Jeff!"--and points to his boarding pass. Yes! Finally!
"And you're Cathy," I say, because I noticed hers earlier...and then I had to reveal my name...which Jeff then made a Stripes reference, in regards to my name. Nice.
So Cathy, Jeff, and I sit in the last row of the plane and finish the crossword...and Jeff & I still flirt...and it's 10 pm (an hour and a half PAST when I was supposed to come in), and...Jeff helps me collect my luggage...well, he takes me to the luggage...and I'm on the phone with my ride...and he bids me farewell. *coughs*
Did I get his number? No. Did I give him my number? No.
I should be taken out and shot. Seriously.
I chose not to sit next to him.
However, since it was Southwest, and it was "general seating", I looked for a place to sit. Around the mid-part of the plane, there were two cute guys sitting, with the seat between them--and being I love cute guys, I asked if I could sit there. The aisle seat one jumped up obligingly and I sat.
They were not chatty. Enter more depression. I was thinking fondly of my Y108 guy...and Mark the Merchant Marine...and I thumbed through my magazine as I was ignored. Finally while up in the air (after I ran out of magazine--damnit), I broke down and talked to the young one on my right. (The guy on my left was very unchatty. I thought, well, maybe he doesn't want to be bothered.) So the young one and I talk for about 15 minutes or so. We get our snack and drink; the guy on my left doesn't even get a drink. How can you not get a drink?
The guy on my left SO doesn't want to chat, he brings out a crossword puzzle to ignore me. So I keep bothering the youngun on my right. Then finally I notice Crossword Guy is struggling...and I see a clue I know. I lean over, run my hand down the section of the page, and say, "This one is 'Grisham'."
He looks at me. I know. I've broken the cardinal rule, right, but I figure, well, screw it. He'll change planes and never have to see me again. "No, really, it's Grisham. See." He does.
"Thank you." He scribbles it in. And then it was on. We worked the crossword puzzle together. I've never had more fun working a game in my life. At the end, we're stuck...and I say, "Well the answers are on 230."
He gives me a horrified look. "We can't CHEAT." You would have thought I asked him to kill somebody.
"Yes, you can."
But we didn't cheat. We finish; we revel in our brilliance...and then because there is another 20 minutes of flight, I say, "Hey, let's start the next one."
"No, that's too hard."
"Oh, come on, what are we going to do for the rest of this flight? We can at least try...and if it's as hard as you say, we'll cheat."
And boy, did we ever cheat! We cheated like four times in as many minutes within the start of the puzzle. I started giggling madly. "OMG, cheating's bad. Once you start cheating, you just can't quit doing it."
Crossword Guy gaped at me. "I can't believe you just said that out loud!"
I laughed again. "I don't care. It's not what it sounds like..."
"I know!..."
And so it was on. The Flight of the Innuendo. We tossed back and forth really bad puns for the rest of the flight...and he decided, once he realized I too was flying to St. Louis he would take the magazine and we'd finish it on the next flight. He followed me off the plane. "I'm keeping close to you. You're the other half of my brain."
I know. I laughed hysterically too at that.
I go to the bathroom; I return to call Jackie--and I promptly tell her about Jack, from Colonial Williamsburg. "He was the best thing about this trip!" I gush, because, well, he was. I get off the phone, and Crossword Guy says, "You didn't hear me, did you?" I shook my head. "I'm the best thing to happen to you on this trip." Oh, boy.
"You're the best thing to happen to me today. I was living in the past, you see...what are we going to do now to kill time?"
THEN our flight gets delayed. Yes, Fate says, "Hey flirt with this guy..." and I do...like mad. He buys me some food and a drink. I even spit on him--which I've really got to stop doing to guys. He calls his buddy--and says he'll be late...but he doesn't tell the truth. He doesn't say, "Because our flight has been delayed..." No. He says:
"I met this redhead on the plane." There is a pause as the friend asks a question, and I'm blatantly listening...and Crossword Guy's eyes flick over me in this rake-Once-Over, then he grins and goes, "Yeah." OMG, he just told that guy I was hot! I've never been hot in my life! "Gotta go, I'm busy," he says and hangs up. Then he shares a laugh with me. "That's going to tear him up."
More innuendos. We line up for our flight--because we obviously want to sit together. We're standing next to this cute little chicky-poo who suddenly says, "You guys are so friendly and cute! How long have you been married?"
I know. I laughed hysterically at that too.
Finally after exchanging a look with him, I say, "We're not married. I'm returning from vacation; and he's returning from business. We met on the last flight--I don't even know his name."
Chicky-poo gapes at us. "You're kidding! You guys acted totally married!"
Crossword Guy grins. "I told you my name was George Jetson." I roll my eyes with Chicky-poo.
Then Chicky-poo, Bless Her Heart, says, "Hey, you're Jeff!"--and points to his boarding pass. Yes! Finally!
"And you're Cathy," I say, because I noticed hers earlier...and then I had to reveal my name...which Jeff then made a Stripes reference, in regards to my name. Nice.
So Cathy, Jeff, and I sit in the last row of the plane and finish the crossword...and Jeff & I still flirt...and it's 10 pm (an hour and a half PAST when I was supposed to come in), and...Jeff helps me collect my luggage...well, he takes me to the luggage...and I'm on the phone with my ride...and he bids me farewell. *coughs*
Did I get his number? No. Did I give him my number? No.
I should be taken out and shot. Seriously.
Sunday, August 05, 2007
P.S. Weekend Update
I am *so* drunk.
How many of my stories have started with these infamous four words? Not nearly enough. It's 2:45 am, and I've had at least 4 rum runners (none of which I paid for), and I have to say:
1. I love Merchant Marines. *rebel yell* Go, sailors!
2. I love 108 FM. I think there was a "point" something too, but devil if I remember what his shirt said. I wasn't faced that way when we danced. *cough* Yes, danced. Damn, he was pretty. Dark eyes with killer lashes; short dark hair; cute, cute, cute!
3. Yeah, for the Vin Diesel look alike. Hell, it might have been Vin...but if so, he wasn't nearly as persuasive as 108 Guy. (NOT that was 108 Guy was totally persuasive. You can take the girl out of the church, but you can't take the church out of the girl. *pause* Damnit. Because if you COULD....)
4. I could swear I had four offers this evening. *moue pout* Yes, there was a blonde. He said his name was Chris...not that I believe anyone, really, let's be real, who gives their real name? Okay, I did, but I'd had a BUNCH of rum runners and I'm from several states over. Like they'll Google me. Ha! Merchant Marine guy had to ask me my name for a second time. *tsk, tsk* (He was multi-tasking.)
This was the best bar ever! Bar Norfolk! The line was long; the rum runners were crap, but fuck, did I have a blast! Buy me another round!
Listen to 108. He rocked. I mean, cute little Jack guy from Williamburg was HOT, but this one definitely gave him a run for his money. *thinks hard* *continues thinking hard*
Yeah, they were both damned hot. They are going in novels as soon as I sober up.
Enjoy this incriminating evidence while it lasts. I'll delete it as soon as I sober up.
Love, Hellion
How many of my stories have started with these infamous four words? Not nearly enough. It's 2:45 am, and I've had at least 4 rum runners (none of which I paid for), and I have to say:
1. I love Merchant Marines. *rebel yell* Go, sailors!
2. I love 108 FM. I think there was a "point" something too, but devil if I remember what his shirt said. I wasn't faced that way when we danced. *cough* Yes, danced. Damn, he was pretty. Dark eyes with killer lashes; short dark hair; cute, cute, cute!
3. Yeah, for the Vin Diesel look alike. Hell, it might have been Vin...but if so, he wasn't nearly as persuasive as 108 Guy. (NOT that was 108 Guy was totally persuasive. You can take the girl out of the church, but you can't take the church out of the girl. *pause* Damnit. Because if you COULD....)
4. I could swear I had four offers this evening. *moue pout* Yes, there was a blonde. He said his name was Chris...not that I believe anyone, really, let's be real, who gives their real name? Okay, I did, but I'd had a BUNCH of rum runners and I'm from several states over. Like they'll Google me. Ha! Merchant Marine guy had to ask me my name for a second time. *tsk, tsk* (He was multi-tasking.)
This was the best bar ever! Bar Norfolk! The line was long; the rum runners were crap, but fuck, did I have a blast! Buy me another round!
Listen to 108. He rocked. I mean, cute little Jack guy from Williamburg was HOT, but this one definitely gave him a run for his money. *thinks hard* *continues thinking hard*
Yeah, they were both damned hot. They are going in novels as soon as I sober up.
Enjoy this incriminating evidence while it lasts. I'll delete it as soon as I sober up.
Love, Hellion
Thursday, August 02, 2007
Vacation Update: With Hellion
Flight was perfect, slightly cramped--just further proof I need to lay off the freaking Doritos, but too late for the moment. I sauntered to the luggage claim, and upon whom do my twinkling eyes do see? Tiff & Terri, who if they had been any closer, they would have met me at the doorway of the plane. Hugs & giggling were exchanged, then we found my suitcase that weighs roughly the amount of a dead steer.
Wednesday night, we spent the better of the evening trying to get food. Terri tried to accommodate my "need" for batter-fried fish, but strangely a city located a stone's throw from the ocean doesn't serve mundane stuff like "fish & chips", so I went back to the house with a steak, because I really can't get a good steak where I live in Missouri. In cattle country.
The steak was delicious.
Then the boys came. With liquor, which honestly is how all men should show up--with gifts. (Only kidding. Partially.) So after about three shots of rum, I spent an inordinate amount of the evening showing my talent for balancing my ass on the tip end of a chair and sprawling with my feet above my head (not quite what you're probably thinking, but close) and draping off the other end of the chair, hanging on to either the table, the person next to me, my beer...whatever.
I didn't have a hangover. I don't know why either...I totally deserved one.
Thursday came...early. I didn't have curtains in my room, so the bright sun at 9:30 am tends to be distracting. We got up and ate (I had more steak; it was huge); then we ventured off to a bar. I don't remember because Tiff kept liquoring me up with beer. That's a friend. We arrived at the deadest bar ever, but yes, the boys noticed Tiff. (Let's be real.)
Summary: Drunk as a skunk. Predictable men. Pour ourselves in the car and drive to the nearest IHOP to sober up. Slept in till 11 am Friday.
Skip to today because that's my favorite: we were in Colonial Williamsburg. We're in Raleigh's Tavern, and I saw this man with the skinniest calves ever. I wanted a picture with him just to show everyone: Hey, there's this guy with incredibly skinny calves, but the guy goes, "So-and-so will take care of you" (as I'm going down the stairs)--and I say, "Who?"--and a new voice says, "Hello."
And I look down the stairs, and I kid you not: a cross between Will Turner and Jack Sparrow was standing at the bottom of the stairs, tall, handsome, and with a roguish, devilish grin. In my sedate feminine nature, I galloped down the stairs, "Oh! Yes, I must go!" and was at his side in a half-second.
His name was Jack. I got a couple pictures of him. If I could have brought him home as a souvenier, he'd be in my pocket for the rest of this trip.
We're going out now. More to report later. Meanwhile, I'm going to have some very delicious thoughts about "Jack" because he's going to make an excellent hero in one of my books. Oh, who am I kidding? All of my books.
Signing out.
Hellion
Wednesday night, we spent the better of the evening trying to get food. Terri tried to accommodate my "need" for batter-fried fish, but strangely a city located a stone's throw from the ocean doesn't serve mundane stuff like "fish & chips", so I went back to the house with a steak, because I really can't get a good steak where I live in Missouri. In cattle country.
The steak was delicious.
Then the boys came. With liquor, which honestly is how all men should show up--with gifts. (Only kidding. Partially.) So after about three shots of rum, I spent an inordinate amount of the evening showing my talent for balancing my ass on the tip end of a chair and sprawling with my feet above my head (not quite what you're probably thinking, but close) and draping off the other end of the chair, hanging on to either the table, the person next to me, my beer...whatever.
I didn't have a hangover. I don't know why either...I totally deserved one.
Thursday came...early. I didn't have curtains in my room, so the bright sun at 9:30 am tends to be distracting. We got up and ate (I had more steak; it was huge); then we ventured off to a bar. I don't remember because Tiff kept liquoring me up with beer. That's a friend. We arrived at the deadest bar ever, but yes, the boys noticed Tiff. (Let's be real.)
Summary: Drunk as a skunk. Predictable men. Pour ourselves in the car and drive to the nearest IHOP to sober up. Slept in till 11 am Friday.
Skip to today because that's my favorite: we were in Colonial Williamsburg. We're in Raleigh's Tavern, and I saw this man with the skinniest calves ever. I wanted a picture with him just to show everyone: Hey, there's this guy with incredibly skinny calves, but the guy goes, "So-and-so will take care of you" (as I'm going down the stairs)--and I say, "Who?"--and a new voice says, "Hello."
And I look down the stairs, and I kid you not: a cross between Will Turner and Jack Sparrow was standing at the bottom of the stairs, tall, handsome, and with a roguish, devilish grin. In my sedate feminine nature, I galloped down the stairs, "Oh! Yes, I must go!" and was at his side in a half-second.
His name was Jack. I got a couple pictures of him. If I could have brought him home as a souvenier, he'd be in my pocket for the rest of this trip.
We're going out now. More to report later. Meanwhile, I'm going to have some very delicious thoughts about "Jack" because he's going to make an excellent hero in one of my books. Oh, who am I kidding? All of my books.
Signing out.
Hellion
Tuesday, July 31, 2007
Last Post For Awhile
Because I'm going on Vacation!
That's right. Hellion is flying to Virginia (no, not on my broom) and meeting with Terri & Tiff, who will already be hanging out and doing all things indolent and vacationy.
Some interesting trivia before I go:
Sin has the ability to "scissor-kick" people in the back of the head. She told me so on the way up to meet our critique group, The Sassy Scribes, on Saturday. I nearly drove off the road, I was laughing so hard at her story about it.
"Russian Goggles" is a similar term to "Tea-Bagging", which I had interestingly enough HAD heard of before both terms were bandied about at the co-worker party Brad took me to Saturday night. His friend, Ted, brought it up, then left Brad to explain it to the rest of us ignorant females...and when he brought up "Tea-Bagging" as a frame of reference, a look of enlightenment must have skittered across my face because he looked rather priceless when he asked, "You know what that is?" "Yes, I know I've been told before what it is...but I'm not drawing a complete definition at the moment." At the moment, I was thinking, It was something Jack and Matty had yammered about--and it's probably as deviant as that whole donkey punch crap that Matty had to explain to me. If you don't know what the terms are, you can Wikipedia it. I'm not telling you.
I've discovered not all Mikes are bad. I know, I wouldn't believe it either. I have been emailing with this applicant/student for a couple months; and he really wanted in this summer. I told him it would take a miracle; I bugged the hell out of him; and he did everything I asked. I finally got to process him for summer, since I wanted to do it before I left on vacation and when I told him all was done, he wrote back he was "speechless." I had written I wasn't opposed to bribes of chocolate. He sent me this ostentatiously huge bouquet of flowers--and I stared at it for five minutes, couldn't sign my name to "receive" them I was so flummoxed and shaky, then nearly broke into tears at the card. "Thank you for saving me. Gratefully, Mike." Usually at best, I get a chocolate bar from a grateful student...and really, it IS my job, so why expect more? But this was awesome. I've taken about 6 pictures of it. I'm rather devastated I won't be able to enjoy it much more since I'll be on vacation (it arrived yesterday). P.S. Mike is engaged. I *did* ask; I mean, I had to, but I figured he'd at least be dating...anyone who follows a woman's directives that well without complaint or questioning...yeah, he's taken.
Anyway, if you ever want to make me cry: send flowers. And you know the totally kick-ass part--this bouquet is freaking gorgeous and not one carnation in the batch--and we all know I hate carnations. You didn't know? Oh.
I hate carnations. They are the flower of death. Can't stand them.
My luggage for the trip probably weighs as much as I do. I pack like Scarlett O'Hara. Although my boss (I adore the man) said, "I had a student once who brought four trunks with her for an overnight trip. The others never let her live it down." I'm not that bad. One big suitcase, one backpack and my purse. I tried to leave some room for souvenirs. I've brought 6 pairs of shoes; 2 pairs of which are flip-flops; 2 are high-heels; 1 pair tennis shoes; 1 pair leather sandals.
That's right. Hellion is flying to Virginia (no, not on my broom) and meeting with Terri & Tiff, who will already be hanging out and doing all things indolent and vacationy.
Some interesting trivia before I go:
Sin has the ability to "scissor-kick" people in the back of the head. She told me so on the way up to meet our critique group, The Sassy Scribes, on Saturday. I nearly drove off the road, I was laughing so hard at her story about it.
"Russian Goggles" is a similar term to "Tea-Bagging", which I had interestingly enough HAD heard of before both terms were bandied about at the co-worker party Brad took me to Saturday night. His friend, Ted, brought it up, then left Brad to explain it to the rest of us ignorant females...and when he brought up "Tea-Bagging" as a frame of reference, a look of enlightenment must have skittered across my face because he looked rather priceless when he asked, "You know what that is?" "Yes, I know I've been told before what it is...but I'm not drawing a complete definition at the moment." At the moment, I was thinking, It was something Jack and Matty had yammered about--and it's probably as deviant as that whole donkey punch crap that Matty had to explain to me. If you don't know what the terms are, you can Wikipedia it. I'm not telling you.
I've discovered not all Mikes are bad. I know, I wouldn't believe it either. I have been emailing with this applicant/student for a couple months; and he really wanted in this summer. I told him it would take a miracle; I bugged the hell out of him; and he did everything I asked. I finally got to process him for summer, since I wanted to do it before I left on vacation and when I told him all was done, he wrote back he was "speechless." I had written I wasn't opposed to bribes of chocolate. He sent me this ostentatiously huge bouquet of flowers--and I stared at it for five minutes, couldn't sign my name to "receive" them I was so flummoxed and shaky, then nearly broke into tears at the card. "Thank you for saving me. Gratefully, Mike." Usually at best, I get a chocolate bar from a grateful student...and really, it IS my job, so why expect more? But this was awesome. I've taken about 6 pictures of it. I'm rather devastated I won't be able to enjoy it much more since I'll be on vacation (it arrived yesterday). P.S. Mike is engaged. I *did* ask; I mean, I had to, but I figured he'd at least be dating...anyone who follows a woman's directives that well without complaint or questioning...yeah, he's taken.
Anyway, if you ever want to make me cry: send flowers. And you know the totally kick-ass part--this bouquet is freaking gorgeous and not one carnation in the batch--and we all know I hate carnations. You didn't know? Oh.
I hate carnations. They are the flower of death. Can't stand them.
My luggage for the trip probably weighs as much as I do. I pack like Scarlett O'Hara. Although my boss (I adore the man) said, "I had a student once who brought four trunks with her for an overnight trip. The others never let her live it down." I'm not that bad. One big suitcase, one backpack and my purse. I tried to leave some room for souvenirs. I've brought 6 pairs of shoes; 2 pairs of which are flip-flops; 2 are high-heels; 1 pair tennis shoes; 1 pair leather sandals.
Thursday, July 26, 2007
Quiz Results
Your Harry Potter Alter Ego Is...?
You scored as a Hermione Granger
You're one intelligent witch, but you have a hard time believing it and require constant reassurance. You are a very supportive friend who would do anything and everything to help her friends out.
Hermione Granger
85%
Ron Weasley
80%
Harry Potter
75%
Albus Dumbledore
75%
Sirius Black
70%
Severus Snape
65%
Remus Lupin
65%
Ginny Weasley
65%
Draco Malfoy
60%
Lord Voldemort
45%
You scored as a Hermione Granger
You're one intelligent witch, but you have a hard time believing it and require constant reassurance. You are a very supportive friend who would do anything and everything to help her friends out.
Hermione Granger
85%
Ron Weasley
80%
Harry Potter
75%
Albus Dumbledore
75%
Sirius Black
70%
Severus Snape
65%
Remus Lupin
65%
Ginny Weasley
65%
Draco Malfoy
60%
Lord Voldemort
45%
The Hero's Journey: A Rant
For those Potter readers without the benefit of a liberal college education and who somehow circumvented having to take a mythology class, a head's up: STAR WARS was not the original hero's journey, so therefore JK Rowling did not steal Spielburg's idea.
I can hear you croaking now, but it's true. "Snape is Hans Solo..."--blah, blah, blah. No. Spielburg stole it first. Actually he didn't exactly "steal it" because he simply used a story arc that has been used since the flipping beginning of time called: The Hero's Journey.
Stories, as you might not realize or understand if you think they're all supposed to mean something and change the world like Rushdie's Satanic Verses, are about the Human Experience. If you're writing something outside of the human experience, while you can gloat you actually wrote about an "original idea", no one will actually give a damn because no one will understand it since it sits outside the relevance of what we know and understand. We understand ambition, hate, greed, power, God or the Higher Being, jealousy, sloth, temptation, lust, goodness and charity, friendship, death, loss, fear, family, and love. We've all felt these, been captured by these...maybe fallen into hell by these...but I assure you, these aren't "original". They are Timeless though.
So if you want to say JK Rowling's writing voice is boring; that you just couldn't get into the world she's drawn--FINE. That's logical. I don't exactly get into Homer's voice either, but he tells a damn fine hero's journey too. But don't say she's unoriginal because she stole her ideas from STAR WARS because it's just not true. Nor did she steal them for Tolkien...or the other thousands of other fantasy writers who's penned a fantasy novel.
#1: The gray-bearded mentor ALWAYS dies because the hero must face the BIG BAD EVIL all by himself. That's how it's always been--since Beowulf. #2: The hero must always "die" (usually to save everyone)--but is then resurrected. Jesus comes to mind--I suppose you're going to say he stole it from somebody, Beowulf, perhaps?
And in the hero's journey, the hero returns to the "normal world" to live Happily Ever After, a reward for conquering all that was evil and unjust. The ultimate boon. Usually with the sassy redheaded girl he meets along his journey.
Thank you. And I will stop reading people's reviews of Deathly Hallows because it's obviously just pissing me off!
Mea culpa: So sorry--George Lucas rather than Steven Spielburg wrote and directed Star Wars--not that I give a f*ck.
I can hear you croaking now, but it's true. "Snape is Hans Solo..."--blah, blah, blah. No. Spielburg stole it first. Actually he didn't exactly "steal it" because he simply used a story arc that has been used since the flipping beginning of time called: The Hero's Journey.
Stories, as you might not realize or understand if you think they're all supposed to mean something and change the world like Rushdie's Satanic Verses, are about the Human Experience. If you're writing something outside of the human experience, while you can gloat you actually wrote about an "original idea", no one will actually give a damn because no one will understand it since it sits outside the relevance of what we know and understand. We understand ambition, hate, greed, power, God or the Higher Being, jealousy, sloth, temptation, lust, goodness and charity, friendship, death, loss, fear, family, and love. We've all felt these, been captured by these...maybe fallen into hell by these...but I assure you, these aren't "original". They are Timeless though.
So if you want to say JK Rowling's writing voice is boring; that you just couldn't get into the world she's drawn--FINE. That's logical. I don't exactly get into Homer's voice either, but he tells a damn fine hero's journey too. But don't say she's unoriginal because she stole her ideas from STAR WARS because it's just not true. Nor did she steal them for Tolkien...or the other thousands of other fantasy writers who's penned a fantasy novel.
#1: The gray-bearded mentor ALWAYS dies because the hero must face the BIG BAD EVIL all by himself. That's how it's always been--since Beowulf. #2: The hero must always "die" (usually to save everyone)--but is then resurrected. Jesus comes to mind--I suppose you're going to say he stole it from somebody, Beowulf, perhaps?
And in the hero's journey, the hero returns to the "normal world" to live Happily Ever After, a reward for conquering all that was evil and unjust. The ultimate boon. Usually with the sassy redheaded girl he meets along his journey.
Thank you. And I will stop reading people's reviews of Deathly Hallows because it's obviously just pissing me off!
Mea culpa: So sorry--George Lucas rather than Steven Spielburg wrote and directed Star Wars--not that I give a f*ck.
Wednesday, July 25, 2007
Brief Song Parody
I miss doing song parodies...so here's a brief, bad one. I'm working on one for "Camelot"--Cest Moi. I'll probably do it at the Vagabonds sometime.
There's just one wizard for me at Hogwart’s
Harry's his name, of that Potter fame
Why for every hero there must be a fan
I've found my mate, by fate of a bad date…
And now…
[Refrain]
I'm just wild about Harry
And Harry's wild about me
The dangerous larks with a Lord so Dark
Cause me and my friends to disagree!
He's brave like a Gryffindor lion
And like those schmucks on reality TV
Oh I'm just wild about Harry
And he's just wild about, cannot do without
He's just wild about me
There are some fellows that like all the girls
But Harry has no time to do manly crimes
He says he must vanquish Voldy before
Voldy kills us all, this is Total Recall!
There's just one wizard for me at Hogwart’s
Harry's his name, of that Potter fame
Why for every hero there must be a fan
I've found my mate, by fate of a bad date…
And now…
[Refrain]
I'm just wild about Harry
And Harry's wild about me
The dangerous larks with a Lord so Dark
Cause me and my friends to disagree!
He's brave like a Gryffindor lion
And like those schmucks on reality TV
Oh I'm just wild about Harry
And he's just wild about, cannot do without
He's just wild about me
There are some fellows that like all the girls
But Harry has no time to do manly crimes
He says he must vanquish Voldy before
Voldy kills us all, this is Total Recall!
Monday, July 23, 2007
Harry...
Well, I can't tell you. I'd probably he lynched by some Potterite who hadn't finished the book but was still bothering to patrol the net for spoilers...but it's ended. I can stop obsessing about it, just as soon as I read the book a second time, which I plan to do this week.
I will mention a couple of my favorite moments:
1) When Ron Returns: "You...complete...arse...Ronald...Weasley!" God, I love Ron & Hermione together. They are a riot.
2) When Ron Punches Draco: "That's the second time we're saved you, you two-faced git!"
3) When Severus Snapes Reveals All: OMG, Alan Rickman, can I please have your babies?
4) When Harry d... Oh, I said I was only going to mention a couple. Oh, well, then...carry on.
What did you all think of the book? The ending's a little crazy, right? Lots of stuff that didn't make sense? Did you love it or loathe it?
I will mention a couple of my favorite moments:
1) When Ron Returns: "You...complete...arse...Ronald...Weasley!" God, I love Ron & Hermione together. They are a riot.
2) When Ron Punches Draco: "That's the second time we're saved you, you two-faced git!"
3) When Severus Snapes Reveals All: OMG, Alan Rickman, can I please have your babies?
4) When Harry d... Oh, I said I was only going to mention a couple. Oh, well, then...carry on.
What did you all think of the book? The ending's a little crazy, right? Lots of stuff that didn't make sense? Did you love it or loathe it?
Friday, July 20, 2007
10 hours....
You know your obsession has gotten the better of you, when you can't hardly plan a date because you'll be too busy reading about what happens to Harry. "I'm really sorry. I promise I'll be a lot more fun once this book is read...and a lot more available." Sad, sad. Hell, my Captain Jack Sparrow fantasy life has been shunted aside for Harry. (Jack wasn't near as understanding.)
Tonight, I'm going to the movie again, then I'll have some butterbeer (1 cup cream soda and 2 tablespoons butterscotch schnapps), then we'll go stand in line (the Peasant line because we didn't preorder through B&N) to get our books. Mind you, my OTHER copy of the book is coming by owl...and I didn't want to take a chance on the owl getting lost on the way to my house. Or actually the far more likely prospect: being shot on the way to my house...or becoming a part of someone's truck grill. (That last one has actually happened.)
Pray Harry lives...we won't know what to do with me if he doesn't. (A Cheering Charm will not work.)
Thursday, July 19, 2007
1.55 days left until Harry...
Lives. Or at least, he damn well better. And in the famous words of Emerson at Mugglenet.com--make sweet, sweet love to Ginny and make lots of babies. *LOL*
*hopping up and down like on crack*
My normally practical friend and I spent an HOUR after yoga last night discussing Jason Isaacs (Luscious Lucius) in the parking lot of the gym. An HOUR. Just about Jason Isaacs--though I did rhapsodize a bit about Gary Oldman and we discussed my collection of DVDs and whether I should be renting them out since I have so many (egads). Pam thinks I have a good chance of being marketable--since I'd have movies that some places wouldn't have. Obscure period or British movies, I guess. *LOL* True. I have a LOT of period pieces.
Harry Potter, Harry Potter, Harry Potter.
*hopping up and down like on crack*
My normally practical friend and I spent an HOUR after yoga last night discussing Jason Isaacs (Luscious Lucius) in the parking lot of the gym. An HOUR. Just about Jason Isaacs--though I did rhapsodize a bit about Gary Oldman and we discussed my collection of DVDs and whether I should be renting them out since I have so many (egads). Pam thinks I have a good chance of being marketable--since I'd have movies that some places wouldn't have. Obscure period or British movies, I guess. *LOL* True. I have a LOT of period pieces.
Harry Potter, Harry Potter, Harry Potter.
Wednesday, July 18, 2007
For Terri
Here you go. Just for you. But not with MY pictures...I don't want him besmirching my photos.
And I cropped out his badger beard and dorky Captain Underpants underwear and cape.
Enjoy.
Continuation of Yesterday's Obsession
2 1/2 days until Harry's Fate is revealed. I had a long, exhaustive talk with the UPS guy about it. I think he's relieved he is not delivering my book on Saturday. Well, he might be sorry; I'll most likely kiss whoever delivers it.
Because Terri has no idea of the HAWTNESS of the characters we're talking about, I thought I'd post a few pictures. Seriously, the woman should obsess more like normal folk.
Here is a pic of Lucius Malfoy, or as I suspect my normally very practical friend is calling him in her mind: Lucious. I think there might a bit of the S&M about her and she doesn't know it, what with her fascination of his bitchy expression and big stick.
Me, I'm no better. I have a fascination with men old enough to have technically fathered me. *sighs* Or ones I could have almost given birth to. It's creepy in either direction.
Sirius Black:
But admittedly I preferred Gary Oldman in The Scarlett Letter:
Yeah, I think he's far hotter here too...but this was about 10 years ago. Give the guy some slack.
And then there is Snape. Not only does Alan Rickman have that delicious growl and snotty way of speaking, but...well, there's not really a but...the voice is truly enough, but the heavy-lidded eyelids that make you think of bedroom-matters even as he's obviously sneering at you is too delicious to pass up.
And because I couldn't resist, mate, I will include this final Snape shot I found on the net:
So...does this help the "jumpable" question from below? Oh, and I didn't include pics of Harry and Ron because all their pictures looked incestuous in comparison with these guys.
Because Terri has no idea of the HAWTNESS of the characters we're talking about, I thought I'd post a few pictures. Seriously, the woman should obsess more like normal folk.
Here is a pic of Lucius Malfoy, or as I suspect my normally very practical friend is calling him in her mind: Lucious. I think there might a bit of the S&M about her and she doesn't know it, what with her fascination of his bitchy expression and big stick.
Me, I'm no better. I have a fascination with men old enough to have technically fathered me. *sighs* Or ones I could have almost given birth to. It's creepy in either direction.
Sirius Black:
But admittedly I preferred Gary Oldman in The Scarlett Letter:
Yeah, I think he's far hotter here too...but this was about 10 years ago. Give the guy some slack.
And then there is Snape. Not only does Alan Rickman have that delicious growl and snotty way of speaking, but...well, there's not really a but...the voice is truly enough, but the heavy-lidded eyelids that make you think of bedroom-matters even as he's obviously sneering at you is too delicious to pass up.
And because I couldn't resist, mate, I will include this final Snape shot I found on the net:
So...does this help the "jumpable" question from below? Oh, and I didn't include pics of Harry and Ron because all their pictures looked incestuous in comparison with these guys.
Tuesday, July 17, 2007
Who Would You Jump?
After a scintillating conversation with my normally very practical girlfriend, I realized we share a secret obsession with “bad boy” villain characters. Of course, let’s be real, we always had an unhealthy fascination for bad boys. We both loved Bo Duke, and it’s gone downhill from there.
Then I pointed out that Lucius wouldn’t have anything to do with her anyway, since she’s a Muggle, she said she’d impress (actually I think her word was “dazzle”) him so much with her witching skills, he’d totally forget she wasn’t a pureblood. I said this was a great plan; then said I would work on giving Sirius a “cheering charm” (since he’s so depressed and broody) but that I’d probably start simply with a Muggle trick of “flashing first” to see if that had any effect. As Dumbledore said, start with the simple charm first—since it’s always best to go with the simple answer first.
So which character from the Harry Potter movies would you most like to jump and why? And how would you go about it? Okay, maybe not the last question…I’m sorta afraid of the responses I might get.
Monday, July 16, 2007
Hellion's Holiday
So I was gone Thursday & Friday. (Did you miss me? Of course, you did.)
There's too much to talk about what happened Thursday and Friday, so I'll just share some various conversation snippets of the last few days:
* * *
Holly: *handing a Bertie Bott's Bean to Pam* Here, try the earthworm flavor. It tastes like dirt, but with something a bit zesty.
Hellion: *chomping hers* Yes, it IS like dirt with something more. Something meaty. *casts look in rearview mirror at Pam, who looks positively disgusted*
Holly: Liver I think.
Hellion: Good one!
*Pam takes a dainty nibble off the end of the earthworm flavor, making gakking sounds*
Holly: *realizing we've tried all the flavors* Anyone else want another bean? We've gone through them all.
Pam: *still delicately gakking* Soap. Give me another soap.
Holly: Really? You liked the soap?
Pam: I'm trying to get the DIRT out of my mouth.
Holly: Oh, well, that'll do it.
* * *
While watching the lame magician at the Harry Potter feast, disturbed our $45 went toward paying for this guy.
Professor Snap: You know Harry Potter has that scar on his forehead; in high school I had a big L on my forehead so I could totally empathize...
Pam: *leaning over to whisper* You mean, it's not still there?
Hellion: *bursting into hysterical laughter, non-Snap related*
* * *
Several times during the day.
Hellion: Where did Holly go? I can't find her. We're going to be late [or: kicked out of the store because it's closing. or: really late...]
* * *
On the phone.
Pam: So do you think you'll want to go to happy hour?
Hellion: God, I have a headache...let me take something. *yawning* I did promise to go. *click, my phone hangs up* Son of a bitch.... *redials, gets Pam* Sorry, the phone's acting wonky.
Pam: Do we know where we want to go? *click, my phone hangs up again*
Hellion: Son of a bitch! *redials, apologizes to Pam a second time* No, I don't even feel like drinking at the moment. It's so hot. *click, the phone hangs up a third time* Arrggh!
* * *
At the bar. After three beers.
Brad: And then... *gestures, his arms swinging and accidentally a bowl goes flying off our tiny rickety table and crashes to the floor spectacularly; we stare in horror*
Waitress: I'm cutting you off.
Brad: *pointing at me* She did it.
Hellion: *wondering if I might have, can't really remember* Well, it was good of you to take the blame for my klutzy ways...
* * *
After the fourth beer.
Brad: *says something funny as I'm taking a drink of beer*
Hellion: *spits the beer all over Brad and Chris, coughs* I'm sorry, shit, I'm really sorry.
Brad: That's okay. I broke a bowl.
Ten minutes passes.
Brad: *says another funny thing; probably that he was Greek and that was why he broke the bowl--which is clearly untrue since he's fair complexed and freckled*
Hellion: *spits another mouthful of beer, really splashing both Chris and Brad* Oh fuc...
Brad: *laughing* It's okay...
Hellion: *mopping up with napkin* No, this is really bad manners. I usually swallow.
So I had a really fun holiday...and I didn't even talk about the cardmaking portion of my weekend. How was your weekend? What did you do?
There's too much to talk about what happened Thursday and Friday, so I'll just share some various conversation snippets of the last few days:
* * *
Holly: *handing a Bertie Bott's Bean to Pam* Here, try the earthworm flavor. It tastes like dirt, but with something a bit zesty.
Hellion: *chomping hers* Yes, it IS like dirt with something more. Something meaty. *casts look in rearview mirror at Pam, who looks positively disgusted*
Holly: Liver I think.
Hellion: Good one!
*Pam takes a dainty nibble off the end of the earthworm flavor, making gakking sounds*
Holly: *realizing we've tried all the flavors* Anyone else want another bean? We've gone through them all.
Pam: *still delicately gakking* Soap. Give me another soap.
Holly: Really? You liked the soap?
Pam: I'm trying to get the DIRT out of my mouth.
Holly: Oh, well, that'll do it.
* * *
While watching the lame magician at the Harry Potter feast, disturbed our $45 went toward paying for this guy.
Professor Snap: You know Harry Potter has that scar on his forehead; in high school I had a big L on my forehead so I could totally empathize...
Pam: *leaning over to whisper* You mean, it's not still there?
Hellion: *bursting into hysterical laughter, non-Snap related*
* * *
Several times during the day.
Hellion: Where did Holly go? I can't find her. We're going to be late [or: kicked out of the store because it's closing. or: really late...]
* * *
On the phone.
Pam: So do you think you'll want to go to happy hour?
Hellion: God, I have a headache...let me take something. *yawning* I did promise to go. *click, my phone hangs up* Son of a bitch.... *redials, gets Pam* Sorry, the phone's acting wonky.
Pam: Do we know where we want to go? *click, my phone hangs up again*
Hellion: Son of a bitch! *redials, apologizes to Pam a second time* No, I don't even feel like drinking at the moment. It's so hot. *click, the phone hangs up a third time* Arrggh!
* * *
At the bar. After three beers.
Brad: And then... *gestures, his arms swinging and accidentally a bowl goes flying off our tiny rickety table and crashes to the floor spectacularly; we stare in horror*
Waitress: I'm cutting you off.
Brad: *pointing at me* She did it.
Hellion: *wondering if I might have, can't really remember* Well, it was good of you to take the blame for my klutzy ways...
* * *
After the fourth beer.
Brad: *says something funny as I'm taking a drink of beer*
Hellion: *spits the beer all over Brad and Chris, coughs* I'm sorry, shit, I'm really sorry.
Brad: That's okay. I broke a bowl.
Ten minutes passes.
Brad: *says another funny thing; probably that he was Greek and that was why he broke the bowl--which is clearly untrue since he's fair complexed and freckled*
Hellion: *spits another mouthful of beer, really splashing both Chris and Brad* Oh fuc...
Brad: *laughing* It's okay...
Hellion: *mopping up with napkin* No, this is really bad manners. I usually swallow.
So I had a really fun holiday...and I didn't even talk about the cardmaking portion of my weekend. How was your weekend? What did you do?
Tuesday, July 10, 2007
Harry Update
Harry lives! Or at least he does for the next 10 days.
I'm halfway through book 6 (this is probably my second or third reading of the book--and I find myself devouring the book just as rapidly as I did the first time)--and wonder what the hell I'm going to do to bide my time between now and July 21.
Thursday, I will be gone all day. A Harry Potter feast in a castle AND to see the movie.
Friday, gone all day. Probably going to see the movie again (with the friend who can't go to KC with us to the feast & movie); and I'm probably going to get my hair cut. I might even go to a Happy Hour.
Saturday will be card-making--and I've got new Pirate stamps, so be prepared everyone. All Hellion gifts you may receive in the future will probably have a pirate stamp somewhere on it.
Sunday, I will probably sleep...though I really need to write. I'm such a schmuck. I haven't written anything on Ben in weeks! (Though I did write a bit on Adam & Eve & Lizzie & Lucy.)
THEN it will be a WEEK of waiting until the book is released. I foolishly ordered my book through Amazon--super saving shipping--so I probably won't even get it until the 25th...and then I'll have a critique group meeting the Saturday of the 28th; and the week after I'm going to Virginia. Oh, well, there's always the plane rides. It IS the last book. I suppose I can "savor" it.
How many betting I'm going to cave on Saturday, July 21st, if it doesn't arrive by mail and drive to B&N and BUY a copy to read that day?
I'm halfway through book 6 (this is probably my second or third reading of the book--and I find myself devouring the book just as rapidly as I did the first time)--and wonder what the hell I'm going to do to bide my time between now and July 21.
Thursday, I will be gone all day. A Harry Potter feast in a castle AND to see the movie.
Friday, gone all day. Probably going to see the movie again (with the friend who can't go to KC with us to the feast & movie); and I'm probably going to get my hair cut. I might even go to a Happy Hour.
Saturday will be card-making--and I've got new Pirate stamps, so be prepared everyone. All Hellion gifts you may receive in the future will probably have a pirate stamp somewhere on it.
Sunday, I will probably sleep...though I really need to write. I'm such a schmuck. I haven't written anything on Ben in weeks! (Though I did write a bit on Adam & Eve & Lizzie & Lucy.)
THEN it will be a WEEK of waiting until the book is released. I foolishly ordered my book through Amazon--super saving shipping--so I probably won't even get it until the 25th...and then I'll have a critique group meeting the Saturday of the 28th; and the week after I'm going to Virginia. Oh, well, there's always the plane rides. It IS the last book. I suppose I can "savor" it.
How many betting I'm going to cave on Saturday, July 21st, if it doesn't arrive by mail and drive to B&N and BUY a copy to read that day?
Friday, July 06, 2007
I Saw This On Sin's Site and Totally Hijacked It (Pirate)
Body: Finish the sentences. [Hellion: okay, I'll try] Some may be uncomfortable, but you'll manage. [Hellion: *snickering*]
1. I've come to realize that my last kiss was..
way too long ago. I need to work on that.
2. I am listening to...
POTC3 Soundtrack…I’m so predictable.
3. I talk...
when I want, all the time, loudly, with very little censorship. I can also be very quiet. If I am quiet, someone probably needs to hand me a Pepsi.
4. I love...
Captain Jack Sparrow.
5. My best friends are...
wicked, brilliant, funny, fun, loving, loveable, and unmitigated pains. I wouldn’t change a thing about them.
6. My Car is...
a fast brilliant piece of machinery, cleverly disguised as a boring sedan
7. My love life...
is the gas station on a remote route of Route 66—self-service if it’s in service at all.
8. I hate it when people ask..
“So you’re an English major—you must be a teacher, right? Do you teach?” Nope, hate kids. That shuts them up pretty quickly.
9. Love is...
the root of all power. It corrupts; and it corrupts absolutely.
10. Marriage is..
slightly less dangerous than house cleaning, but why chance doing either?
11. Somewhere, someone is thinking...
“If I had Hellion to myself for ten minutes, I could die a happy man”—Jack! How lovely to see you again!
12. I'm always...
procrastinating. Obviously.
13. I have a secret cheesy crush on...
just about everyone, really. Captain Jack Sparrow. Orlie. Richard…Ranger…really, the list is unmanageable.
15. My cell phone...
is somewhere in the bottom of my purse, dead, because I never remember to charge the damned thing—that is if I ever remember to turn it on.
16. When I wake up in the morning...
lay there until the last possible moment, then amble around like a chicken with its head cut off because I’m late.
17. When I go to bed at night...
I sleep like the dead.
18. Right now I am thinking about...
Sleep, now that you’ve mentioned the bed. I would love a nap, right about now.
19. Babies are...
tiny tyrants who smell funny, are largely demanding, and whose only saving grace is that they’re tiny and cute and therefore everyone wants to fawn over them.
20. I get on myspace....
and immediately book over to the superior facebook to talk to my friends.
21. Today I...
will work until 4:30, then run off to my friend’s house to eat Chinese and watch Pride & Prejudice. I’m very excited to learn what the ending will be…
22. Tonight I will..
try not to bite anyone’s head off…it will be a feat of accomplishment.
23. Tomorrow I will...
asleep, until it’s too hot to sleep, then I will read, then sleep some more. I’m really looking forward to it.
24. I really want to...
have sex with Captain Jack Sparrow…oh, I mean, sleep. I really want some sleep.
Woohooo
14 days until HP7 is released; 4 days until the movie's released (and 5 days until I actually get to see it and go to the Harry Potter Feast in KC). Everything is so close I can almost taste it.
Then about a week and a half after that, I'll be in Virginia, doing my damnest to not be Amish.
2007 is a great year. But I knew it would be. It has a 7 in it. 7's a great number; and if you add up 2007, it makes 9, which is 3 x 3, and 3 is an awesome number too.
Now I need to go write on Adam & Eve's story. I have to give Adam a makeover and turn him into Brad Pitt, which he kinda looks like. Eve is going to spit fire. It's going to be awesome.
What's your favorite number and what will you be doing today? In a few weeks?
Then about a week and a half after that, I'll be in Virginia, doing my damnest to not be Amish.
2007 is a great year. But I knew it would be. It has a 7 in it. 7's a great number; and if you add up 2007, it makes 9, which is 3 x 3, and 3 is an awesome number too.
Now I need to go write on Adam & Eve's story. I have to give Adam a makeover and turn him into Brad Pitt, which he kinda looks like. Eve is going to spit fire. It's going to be awesome.
What's your favorite number and what will you be doing today? In a few weeks?
Monday, July 02, 2007
What I Always Talk About
18 days until Harry Potter 7 is in stores. 18 days. I remember when it was 18 weeks and I didn't think July would ever get here.
I'm currently engrossed in book 5, in my bid to re-read the series again before the movie & book hit the theaters/stores. (A faculty member, upon realizing I wasn't just reading book 5 but all of them, blinked and said, "Okay. If that's how you want to spend your summer." I didn't take her to heart. Her idea of a great book involved a tortoise and a baby rhino, both victims of the tsunami in India. Whatever. I mean, it really doesn't compare to the life and death tension I'm facing with Harry and the gang.)
Last night I watched (after a day of "napping" so much I actually got a headache) Pride & Prejudice and Sense & Sensibility. I can't decide which one I like better. It used to be S&S, no contest, but the more I watch the new P&P, the more it grows on me. (I'm sorry, Colin. You'll always be Mr. Darcy to me.)
As usual with my Sundays, I read all day and didn't write anything on my WIP or my other WIP...or well, I didn't write some notes about a blog, but not for this blog.
And POTC3 was still listed in the top 10 movies. Hurrah. It was #8. :) I love you, Jack!
So what Sunday things did you do? The same as you always do? Anything new? Watch any favorite movies?
I'm currently engrossed in book 5, in my bid to re-read the series again before the movie & book hit the theaters/stores. (A faculty member, upon realizing I wasn't just reading book 5 but all of them, blinked and said, "Okay. If that's how you want to spend your summer." I didn't take her to heart. Her idea of a great book involved a tortoise and a baby rhino, both victims of the tsunami in India. Whatever. I mean, it really doesn't compare to the life and death tension I'm facing with Harry and the gang.)
Last night I watched (after a day of "napping" so much I actually got a headache) Pride & Prejudice and Sense & Sensibility. I can't decide which one I like better. It used to be S&S, no contest, but the more I watch the new P&P, the more it grows on me. (I'm sorry, Colin. You'll always be Mr. Darcy to me.)
As usual with my Sundays, I read all day and didn't write anything on my WIP or my other WIP...or well, I didn't write some notes about a blog, but not for this blog.
And POTC3 was still listed in the top 10 movies. Hurrah. It was #8. :) I love you, Jack!
So what Sunday things did you do? The same as you always do? Anything new? Watch any favorite movies?
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
Regression
So I was at the grocery store, looking at the books (there was one about Camelot I wanted to find, Camelot's Destiny?? I don't remember), and suddenly I see IT. I squeal, lunge at the shelves, and pick up the coloring book.
Harry Potter.
Pictures from all five movies.
Clearly I must have it. I gladly pay the $5 for it, though normally I would never pay that much for a coloring book. Any coloring book. I go home before I recall: I have no crayons.
So last night I wandered over to Wally World, a box of crayons at the top of my list. Just above a roasted chicken. I broke down and bought the 96 box of crayons. I was tempted to try the 120 box, since it came in what looks like a cigar box, but refrained. Then I wandered down a few more steps, and lo, a coloring book of Pirates of the Caribbean! Poster sized floor coloring sheets, it advertised...and lots of representations of Jack. It was mine. I threw it into the cart.
Once I got home and ate my roasted chicken (discounted, no less), I started on a picture of Jack, then put it away when his boots sucked up about half my brown crayon. I pulled out the Harry Potter book and flipped through it for twenty minutes, choosing carefully which page I wanted to color. I finally picked one with Harry & Ron, and I began to color to my heart's content as I watched Flags of Our Fathers.
So...are there any childhood toys or memories you have that you can't resist revisiting whenever you get the chance? Me, I liked to draw and color. Occasionally if I'm in a park, I'll find myself hanging upside down from the nearest gym bar and shrieking like a monkey. I like to blow bubbles with my gum and pop it next to someone's ear. And whenever I see a carosel I can actually ride on, I lose my mind picking out the right horse. (It's usually a fierce black one who looks like he's going at a full gallop....)
Harry Potter.
Pictures from all five movies.
Clearly I must have it. I gladly pay the $5 for it, though normally I would never pay that much for a coloring book. Any coloring book. I go home before I recall: I have no crayons.
So last night I wandered over to Wally World, a box of crayons at the top of my list. Just above a roasted chicken. I broke down and bought the 96 box of crayons. I was tempted to try the 120 box, since it came in what looks like a cigar box, but refrained. Then I wandered down a few more steps, and lo, a coloring book of Pirates of the Caribbean! Poster sized floor coloring sheets, it advertised...and lots of representations of Jack. It was mine. I threw it into the cart.
Once I got home and ate my roasted chicken (discounted, no less), I started on a picture of Jack, then put it away when his boots sucked up about half my brown crayon. I pulled out the Harry Potter book and flipped through it for twenty minutes, choosing carefully which page I wanted to color. I finally picked one with Harry & Ron, and I began to color to my heart's content as I watched Flags of Our Fathers.
So...are there any childhood toys or memories you have that you can't resist revisiting whenever you get the chance? Me, I liked to draw and color. Occasionally if I'm in a park, I'll find myself hanging upside down from the nearest gym bar and shrieking like a monkey. I like to blow bubbles with my gum and pop it next to someone's ear. And whenever I see a carosel I can actually ride on, I lose my mind picking out the right horse. (It's usually a fierce black one who looks like he's going at a full gallop....)
Thursday, June 21, 2007
All Things Harry Potter (warning: this blog may contain obsessive raves)
Today is June 21, and while to most people this only means: "hey, it's the first day of summer", for me (who shuns sunlight like a vampire), it means: in exactly one month, I'll have Harry Potter's newest (and last) book in my hot little hands and I will finally, finally have all the big questions answered.
Warning: if you write "Harry Potter is going to die" in the comments, as a dictator, I will delete it. Just saying. Cast your John the Baptist bits of doom on someone else's blog. I am obviously too narrow-minded to consider the possibility.
Okay. Per your request, I have come up with a short guide to dating a la Harry Potter. And it goes like this:
Number 10: Be moody, broody, and slightly mad. It worked for Lord Byron, and it probably helps if you’re also known as “mad, bad, and dangerous to know.” This worked well for Harry in book 5, where he finally got to snog a girl.
Number 9: Transfiguring your date into a supermodel will probably not get you a second date with them. Transfiguring yourself might. Swallowing some Polyjuice Potion might work for you, as well; however, keeping Orlando Bloom or Jude Law locked in a trunk so you can have access to stray hairs will most likely get you jail time for being a complete stalker/kidnapper. (Might just be cheaper, less law-breaking, to do a Hugh Grant.)
Number 8: Falling in love with yourself is the beginning of a life long affair. Ask Professor Lockhart.
Number 7: Be careful not to break your wand under stressful circumstances. “Making magic” with a broken wand is nie onto impossible.
Number 6: If you find yourself bickering with someone of the opposite sex all the time, you are in love with this person. You won’t know it though until she starts dating a complete prat because you live in complete denial.
Number 5: If blind adoration doesn’t work (and it never does), pretend to fall in love with someone else to make your Girl/Guy of Your Dream realize you’re a limited commodity. (Supply and demand has ruled since Eve and the apple.) Lead him on a merry chase as you happily date other idiots until GOYD kisses you in the middle of the Common Room.
Number 4: Fall in love immediately with someone who doesn’t know you exist. Wear your heart on your sleeve for years and blush profusely anytime he/she talks to you. Promptly get yourself possessed by the Evil Villain so he/she has to rescue you—at least that way he/she knows you exist.
Number 3: Tamp off jealous rages that the GOYD is dating a complete prat by accusing her/him of showing disloyalty to country, school, or common friends. Make something up if necessary. Guilt is a necessary and viable dating tool to get you to make out with GOYD.
Number 2: When asking a girl out to a dance, separate her from the “Pack”. This will be difficult since we all know women do everything in groups of two or more, even going to the bathroom—which is completely absurd since there is no such thing as two toilets in one stall.
Number 1: When you finally find the love of your life, break up with her to “protect her” from the bad guys and thereby let everyone in the world know that you’re just as much of an idiot as the next guy—because we all know this whole heroic ploy will have been useless when the villain kills her anyway and you wasted valuable time you could have been using to make out with her. Dumbass.
So what dating advice have you gleaned from Harry Potter? Or any movie really? I might be having another date again, eventually, I could use all the advice I can get.
Warning: if you write "Harry Potter is going to die" in the comments, as a dictator, I will delete it. Just saying. Cast your John the Baptist bits of doom on someone else's blog. I am obviously too narrow-minded to consider the possibility.
Okay. Per your request, I have come up with a short guide to dating a la Harry Potter. And it goes like this:
Number 10: Be moody, broody, and slightly mad. It worked for Lord Byron, and it probably helps if you’re also known as “mad, bad, and dangerous to know.” This worked well for Harry in book 5, where he finally got to snog a girl.
Number 9: Transfiguring your date into a supermodel will probably not get you a second date with them. Transfiguring yourself might. Swallowing some Polyjuice Potion might work for you, as well; however, keeping Orlando Bloom or Jude Law locked in a trunk so you can have access to stray hairs will most likely get you jail time for being a complete stalker/kidnapper. (Might just be cheaper, less law-breaking, to do a Hugh Grant.)
Number 8: Falling in love with yourself is the beginning of a life long affair. Ask Professor Lockhart.
Number 7: Be careful not to break your wand under stressful circumstances. “Making magic” with a broken wand is nie onto impossible.
Number 6: If you find yourself bickering with someone of the opposite sex all the time, you are in love with this person. You won’t know it though until she starts dating a complete prat because you live in complete denial.
Number 5: If blind adoration doesn’t work (and it never does), pretend to fall in love with someone else to make your Girl/Guy of Your Dream realize you’re a limited commodity. (Supply and demand has ruled since Eve and the apple.) Lead him on a merry chase as you happily date other idiots until GOYD kisses you in the middle of the Common Room.
Number 4: Fall in love immediately with someone who doesn’t know you exist. Wear your heart on your sleeve for years and blush profusely anytime he/she talks to you. Promptly get yourself possessed by the Evil Villain so he/she has to rescue you—at least that way he/she knows you exist.
Number 3: Tamp off jealous rages that the GOYD is dating a complete prat by accusing her/him of showing disloyalty to country, school, or common friends. Make something up if necessary. Guilt is a necessary and viable dating tool to get you to make out with GOYD.
Number 2: When asking a girl out to a dance, separate her from the “Pack”. This will be difficult since we all know women do everything in groups of two or more, even going to the bathroom—which is completely absurd since there is no such thing as two toilets in one stall.
Number 1: When you finally find the love of your life, break up with her to “protect her” from the bad guys and thereby let everyone in the world know that you’re just as much of an idiot as the next guy—because we all know this whole heroic ploy will have been useless when the villain kills her anyway and you wasted valuable time you could have been using to make out with her. Dumbass.
So what dating advice have you gleaned from Harry Potter? Or any movie really? I might be having another date again, eventually, I could use all the advice I can get.
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