Shit! What do you mean I have a blog? And I haven't posted anything in twenty days?????
Mea culpa.... My only defense is......a little too much holiday cheering, perhaps....
Anyway....a glimpse into the spirits that invade our holiday house:
My 26 year old neice showed up at the annual Holiday Hoe-down with a new man in tow... He looks about 14 years old...Think Harry Potter in the first movie!!!!!... Our little Harry even had the glasses to match!
He (the new boy toy, not the real Harry Potter) came over to me and asked ,""Do you mind if I make myself a drink?"
I said, "No," as I led him to the expansive bar that is my kitchen island in the off season....."What would you like?" I inquired....
But apparently Harry Potter the second? He must have forgotten his hearing aid, ' cause he heard "When were you born? " I hope....
Because when I asked "What would you like?"
He totally yelled out, "December 22, 1988!" Making him 21 legal drinking years old for all of four days!!!!!!!
Amateurs!!!!
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
Thursday, December 10, 2009
Stuff This In Your Stocking
Ah, that Christmas spirit!
***Note to our kids---This post involves your parents AND sex- --read at your own risk or risk stabbing your eyes out with a dull knife in an attempt to rid yourself of the images to follow :
Who am I kidding? They don't even read this!
It's time to stuff those stockings for the spawn of our loins, and quite frankly, what do you get for boys aged 13 to 22 that fits in an over sized fur lined sock? Now, step daughters (when I had some) were easy- lipstick, nail polish, emery boards....the list was endless. Boys? Not so much.
So I came back to what works best in our little clan....lottery tickets!!!!
I sprung my brilliant idea on the mountain man...
"I can get each of them a stack of lottery scratch offs, they don't even have to be wrapped! And I can shop at that little smoke filled cigar/lotto store where the people look like they haven't moved from in front of that Quick Pick machine in years! And it's right next to the liquor store! I can do our shopping too! Win! Win!"
"I don't know if lottery tickets is ideal for a thirteen year old, mysuestories", speaks the voice of Christmas Scrooge.
"Why ever not?" After all, I grew up doing my home work in bingo halls and bowling alleys. By the age of six, we all knew you couldn't yell "BINGO" yourself, but had to discreetly whisper to Mom that "Hey, MOM!!!!!I HAVE BINGO!!!!!!!" -Have you ever even heard a six year old whisper? Not possible!
Anyway, why not indeed? I turned out just fine, didn't I? Hmmm, maybe that's not the best selling point..
"Mountain man, is it because (((shudder))) you have suddenly developed an inner moral compass and think lottery tickets could lead our cherub to a future life of gambling?" Acquiring a moral compass at this point in our marriage would not be a good thing for mysuestories.
"Hell, no, mysuestories. It's not the gambling that bothers me. Can you imagine if he won millions of dollars? We'd never live it down. And we'd be at his mercy!!"
It's true. The only thing that keeps the gamester in line is that he depends on us, you know, for food, for shelter, to feed his video game addiction. If he were the one with all the cash.....
***
The gamester: "Mom, I'm taking the limo to Disneyland. See ya next week. And if you can't get the new video system for me while I'm away, I can always buy a mom who can...."
***
Mountain man: "Gamester, that grass needs to be cut."
The gamester: "I know. Mom's doing it for me. She needed some extra cash for a new pair of shoes, so I hired her."
***
mysuestories: "Gamester, did you shovel out your room yet?"
Gamester: "It's covered. My new maid will be in on Tuesday. Oh, and there's a homework guy coming in on Monday to finish that book report...."
***
Oh, the horror that would be this household! I guess I'll just stuff his stocking with fireworks instead. Less mayhem that way!
Oh, and that parental sex scene you were waiting for, oh faithful reader? That's one way to get my kids not read a Christmas spoiler!!!!
***Note to our kids---This post involves your parents AND sex- --read at your own risk or risk stabbing your eyes out with a dull knife in an attempt to rid yourself of the images to follow :
Who am I kidding? They don't even read this!
It's time to stuff those stockings for the spawn of our loins, and quite frankly, what do you get for boys aged 13 to 22 that fits in an over sized fur lined sock? Now, step daughters (when I had some) were easy- lipstick, nail polish, emery boards....the list was endless. Boys? Not so much.
So I came back to what works best in our little clan....lottery tickets!!!!
I sprung my brilliant idea on the mountain man...
"I can get each of them a stack of lottery scratch offs, they don't even have to be wrapped! And I can shop at that little smoke filled cigar/lotto store where the people look like they haven't moved from in front of that Quick Pick machine in years! And it's right next to the liquor store! I can do our shopping too! Win! Win!"
"I don't know if lottery tickets is ideal for a thirteen year old, mysuestories", speaks the voice of Christmas Scrooge.
"Why ever not?" After all, I grew up doing my home work in bingo halls and bowling alleys. By the age of six, we all knew you couldn't yell "BINGO" yourself, but had to discreetly whisper to Mom that "Hey, MOM!!!!!I HAVE BINGO!!!!!!!" -Have you ever even heard a six year old whisper? Not possible!
Anyway, why not indeed? I turned out just fine, didn't I? Hmmm, maybe that's not the best selling point..
"Mountain man, is it because (((shudder))) you have suddenly developed an inner moral compass and think lottery tickets could lead our cherub to a future life of gambling?" Acquiring a moral compass at this point in our marriage would not be a good thing for mysuestories.
"Hell, no, mysuestories. It's not the gambling that bothers me. Can you imagine if he won millions of dollars? We'd never live it down. And we'd be at his mercy!!"
It's true. The only thing that keeps the gamester in line is that he depends on us, you know, for food, for shelter, to feed his video game addiction. If he were the one with all the cash.....
***
The gamester: "Mom, I'm taking the limo to Disneyland. See ya next week. And if you can't get the new video system for me while I'm away, I can always buy a mom who can...."
***
Mountain man: "Gamester, that grass needs to be cut."
The gamester: "I know. Mom's doing it for me. She needed some extra cash for a new pair of shoes, so I hired her."
***
mysuestories: "Gamester, did you shovel out your room yet?"
Gamester: "It's covered. My new maid will be in on Tuesday. Oh, and there's a homework guy coming in on Monday to finish that book report...."
***
Oh, the horror that would be this household! I guess I'll just stuff his stocking with fireworks instead. Less mayhem that way!
Oh, and that parental sex scene you were waiting for, oh faithful reader? That's one way to get my kids not read a Christmas spoiler!!!!
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
World Aids Day- Or Ouch! Don't Stick Me With That Needle!
A mysuestories first, constant reader....I bring to you today a Public Service Announcement:
insert Law & Order theme music here-
Today, December 1st, is http://www.worldaidsday.org/ .
Now, we here at mysuestories manor are not crusaders (at least not in the blogosphere), nor do we(me) preach, protest, persuade, or beg for money. (OK, OK, I may beg for money on occasion. Sadly? It's not working so far-- If ever there is a particular chant or rant that inspires you in any way to actually send cash this way? Please do not hesitate to let me know. 'Cause I can be bought- and cheap, too.....Just sayin')
Anyway, back to World Aids Day....I find it a little sad that I had to learn of this day through blog reading at http://utterlyunpublishedauthor.blogspot.com/2009/12/expatriate-life-other-side-of-coin.html--- (Constant reader? She's real good...not mysuestories good, don't let her 1,500 plus readers sway you.....Just make sure you come back here when you're done clicking on her link...OK? Promise? I'll wait. Go ahead. Don't be afraid. Of course I am afraid. Afraid you'll flat leave me for her. Like the third friend at a fifth grade sleepover. But I am willing to take that chance. After all, hers is a good message.......But you will be back, won't you?- God, I hated the fifth grade)
Anyway, hopefully you came back to me. Otherwise, I may as well be typing on air here....Oh, well, it's not like I've ever stopped talked when people have clearly stopped listening, now is it?
Anyway, I felt I had to get that out there. Although I am still not sure if it is a good thing that Aids has moved off the front pages of mainstream media or not. I'd like to think we have just about stamped this disease out, but after reading http://utterlyunpublishedauthor.blogspot.com/2009/12/expatriate-life-other-side-of-coin.html I am afraid that is just my own wishful thinking out loud.
And then I got depressed. And then I did what I always do when things get too deep and emotionally charged. I try to lighten the mood.
So, dear reader (if you are still with me), dear no one (if not)- here is mysuestories Aids Day story:
About fifteen years ago, the exes' (husband and step-children of the decade- some decades are better left forgotten, no?) and I all took a ride upstate to visit Great Uncle Hank. Now Hank was 97, his bride Gertie was a spry 89 (and she took great joy in sharing her youthful age with you!). They lived alone in the home in which they had raised their three Irish sons(good drinkers, all of them- twas a fine Irish parenting job, it was).
There had been some talk of moving them closer to their kids, and removing what independence they had left, but Hank and Gertie would hear none of it. We visited them in their home, and after pre-dinner cordials (hey, they were Irish, dammit!) we went out to dinner, where Hank and Gertie entertained us with tales of the past week:
The day before we had arrived, Hank woke up and couldn't find his car keys. He was a little upset, thinking that perhaps his kids and their constant badgering on about their folks needing more help as they aged might actually be right. He shrugged off such foolishness, and did what any individual looking for their keys would do...he retraced his steps...and lo and behold, he found them, right where he left them...In the ignition of his car, which he had left running all night long the night before!
Gas prices be damned! At least he had found the keys, and his kids would never be the wiser!!!!
Over the course of dinner (and three more calls of "Whiskey- Neat!" for Uncle Hank - He was Irish, remember? This was not elder-abuse!) Aunt Gertie was recounting a recent doctor's visit for Uncle Hank, in which he was pronounced "fit as a fiddle". Great news, we agreed, but Gertie also let on that Hank refused to allow the physician to draw routine blood samples.
"Why ever not?", we inquired diligently.
"Because, " Uncle Hank informed us, at his ripe old age of 97....He was not going to take a chance on being infected by a contaminated needle with the HIV virus, a virus that in the 1980's took twenty years to kill you..... Yep, old Uncle Hank wasn't taking any chances of befalling an ill fate at the hands of his physicians at the impossible age of one hundred and seventeen!!!
Anyway....you just had to love Uncle Hank's optimism, if not his medical ignorance!
Well, that's the best I can do. Besides make a donation at http://www.worldaidsday.org/ .
Because my stories may not cure much of anything, other than a bad day, but a donation to a good cause? Priceless!
insert Law & Order theme music here-
Today, December 1st, is http://www.worldaidsday.org/ .
Now, we here at mysuestories manor are not crusaders (at least not in the blogosphere), nor do we(me) preach, protest, persuade, or beg for money. (OK, OK, I may beg for money on occasion. Sadly? It's not working so far-- If ever there is a particular chant or rant that inspires you in any way to actually send cash this way? Please do not hesitate to let me know. 'Cause I can be bought- and cheap, too.....Just sayin')
Anyway, back to World Aids Day....I find it a little sad that I had to learn of this day through blog reading at http://utterlyunpublishedauthor.blogspot.com/2009/12/expatriate-life-other-side-of-coin.html--- (Constant reader? She's real good...not mysuestories good, don't let her 1,500 plus readers sway you.....Just make sure you come back here when you're done clicking on her link...OK? Promise? I'll wait. Go ahead. Don't be afraid. Of course I am afraid. Afraid you'll flat leave me for her. Like the third friend at a fifth grade sleepover. But I am willing to take that chance. After all, hers is a good message.......But you will be back, won't you?- God, I hated the fifth grade)
Anyway, hopefully you came back to me. Otherwise, I may as well be typing on air here....Oh, well, it's not like I've ever stopped talked when people have clearly stopped listening, now is it?
Anyway, I felt I had to get that out there. Although I am still not sure if it is a good thing that Aids has moved off the front pages of mainstream media or not. I'd like to think we have just about stamped this disease out, but after reading http://utterlyunpublishedauthor.blogspot.com/2009/12/expatriate-life-other-side-of-coin.html I am afraid that is just my own wishful thinking out loud.
And then I got depressed. And then I did what I always do when things get too deep and emotionally charged. I try to lighten the mood.
So, dear reader (if you are still with me), dear no one (if not)- here is mysuestories Aids Day story:
About fifteen years ago, the exes' (husband and step-children of the decade- some decades are better left forgotten, no?) and I all took a ride upstate to visit Great Uncle Hank. Now Hank was 97, his bride Gertie was a spry 89 (and she took great joy in sharing her youthful age with you!). They lived alone in the home in which they had raised their three Irish sons(good drinkers, all of them- twas a fine Irish parenting job, it was).
There had been some talk of moving them closer to their kids, and removing what independence they had left, but Hank and Gertie would hear none of it. We visited them in their home, and after pre-dinner cordials (hey, they were Irish, dammit!) we went out to dinner, where Hank and Gertie entertained us with tales of the past week:
The day before we had arrived, Hank woke up and couldn't find his car keys. He was a little upset, thinking that perhaps his kids and their constant badgering on about their folks needing more help as they aged might actually be right. He shrugged off such foolishness, and did what any individual looking for their keys would do...he retraced his steps...and lo and behold, he found them, right where he left them...In the ignition of his car, which he had left running all night long the night before!
Gas prices be damned! At least he had found the keys, and his kids would never be the wiser!!!!
Over the course of dinner (and three more calls of "Whiskey- Neat!" for Uncle Hank - He was Irish, remember? This was not elder-abuse!) Aunt Gertie was recounting a recent doctor's visit for Uncle Hank, in which he was pronounced "fit as a fiddle". Great news, we agreed, but Gertie also let on that Hank refused to allow the physician to draw routine blood samples.
"Why ever not?", we inquired diligently.
"Because, " Uncle Hank informed us, at his ripe old age of 97....He was not going to take a chance on being infected by a contaminated needle with the HIV virus, a virus that in the 1980's took twenty years to kill you..... Yep, old Uncle Hank wasn't taking any chances of befalling an ill fate at the hands of his physicians at the impossible age of one hundred and seventeen!!!
Anyway....you just had to love Uncle Hank's optimism, if not his medical ignorance!
Well, that's the best I can do. Besides make a donation at http://www.worldaidsday.org/ .
Because my stories may not cure much of anything, other than a bad day, but a donation to a good cause? Priceless!
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Pennies From Heaven, My Ass-
I'm not big on credit cards...And I kinda pride myself on not having an lot of credit card debt. (That's not to say my mountain man doesn't have A LOT of credit debt that I may or may not have had something to do with)--In any event, I don't really do the charging thing...
I actually only have three cards, one of which is linked to our checking account and which I've beenthreatened advised to not ever use, since I always fail to mention that tiny $300.00 purchase two days before the mortgage is due...(hey, it was one time, and it was for shoes, fortheloveofChrist----Let ye not judge till you've walked a mile in my new Jessica Simpson pumps!)
Anyway, that one card? Sits in my wallet, at the ready, should I ever get double proofed for buyingbeer, smokes, gin baby formula at the local 7-11.
It is strictly for identification purposes only. When my murdered corpse is found under an over pass (would that just be in the street, then, if I was under an over pass? -What if I was found on top of the over pass? Would that make me over the over pass Would 2 overs negate one another, and then I'd just be in the gutter? See- dear reader- this is the shit that keeps me from writing the World's Greatest F*cking Novel---Sometimes? I get stuck in stupid.)
Anyhow, when Lenny Briscoe from Law & Order shows up and finds my body, it will be solely because of my unused debit banking card that I am identified....(Yeh, I know Jerry Orbach is dead, but this is my episode--and no, I do not know how or why I was murdered----I haven't gotten to that part in the script yet!!!!)
So, back to my credit card finesse...or lack thereof......In addition to the cardI am not allowed to touch I do not use, we have a For Emergency Use Only credit card that I have personally never had an emergency to use for yet. I am thinking it is to be used in case of an untimely death (for mountain man, not me)and I need to hurry up and bury the body-probably before an autopsy linking me to the crime...oh, nevermind....
Suffice it to say, that's another piece of plastic collecting a lot of dust.
I also share a third shiny credit card with the mountain man..."Share" meaning I use it, he pays it, mostly! Sharing is good!
Now, generally, I use this card for every day errands; shopping, dry cleaners, gas...What mountain man charges? I've no idea. The bill comes in, he pays it, and life is good.
So, last week? I go to get gas one day, and I cannot locate the cardI am allowed to touch I need. It is not in my wallet next to old stand by card (see above), it is not in the cavernous abyss that is my pocket book...I am at a loss...
I very carefully extract my Do Not Touch card, and pay for the gas. I recall the last time I used the card IAm Allowed to Touch am missing, and it was at the dry cleaners two days earlier.
I tell the mountain man as soon as I get home that
A) I had to use the card of Do Not Touch legends, and
B) The crisis is about to be solved because I know where I left the Card I Can touch!
Immediately, there is a wrinkle in the mountain man's brow--Have I mentioned how incessantly precise and anal he is when it comes to anything to do with finances? Seriously? He won't even round out a $9.99 purchase in the checking register. Heaven forbid we end up with seven or eight errant pennies at the end of the month!
I ignore mountain man's rumblings and "tsk"ing and call the dry cleaners...
After explaining my plight, the owner of the cleaners tells me that "Yes, we find card outside store two day ago." (Obviously not a french cleaner, m'kay?)
Great, I am half way out the door to pick up mylost misplaced card, when Mr. Miyagi tells me.."oh, but we no have card any moe. You no called back (yes, he had left a message the day before, but mountain man doesn't return dry cleaner calls -nor does he tell me about them either-sigh)...."You no call back. I call cledit company. They say to destoy cald. I destoyed cald."
Shit! So much for improved relations with China.
Mountain man sees me sit at the table with a pout. I can actually hear his
eyes rolling over me. Of course, having been a champion eye roller my entire youth, I merely deflect them with a "Who me?" smile, and set about calling the credit card company where I will be able to realign the planets as well as mountain man's eyes!
The credit card company agreed, that they had told my own version of Mr Miyagi to "destoy cald", and that as a * Bonus *, they had rendered mountain man's card useless as well!!!!!!! Never fear....they promised....new cards were being issued and mailed as we spoke....
Three days (and a hellofa lot of dirty looks a la mountain man) later...the cards have still not arrived, and I've had to resort to using the Do Not Touch card for everyday purchases *gasp* I know, I know...Mountain man's eyes are bucking and rolling more than a hooker at Mardi Gras. He's grilling me every night for the exact amount of purchase. to. the. f*cking. penny. Have I mentioned I don't even pennies? It's a wonder we are both still
alive at this point, no less still married....But that just may come to an end today.
Today, the travel agent called my mountain man. Apparently there's been a change in flights for our long awaited upcoming vacation. Without children. (Did I mention there are no kids going? Just checking.) The agent cancelled one flight and booked another, but there was a problem charging the second flight to the original card. Er, no sh*t. That's the one that is MIA thanks to Mr. No Tickee No Shirtee.
Mountain man called to tell me the dilemma.
"So uses the For Emergency Use Only card," I told him.
" This is a vacation, mysuestories. It's really not an "Emergency", he replied.
At which point I told him that if he did not give up that sacred f*cking card to the travel agent Right. This. Minute., I would be using that very same card for a "real" emergency. His funeral. After which I, the bereaved widow? Was gonna take a nice quiet vacation. With all three cards.
Who needs Calgon to take me away, when I have American Express?
I actually only have three cards, one of which is linked to our checking account and which I've been
Anyway, that one card? Sits in my wallet, at the ready, should I ever get double proofed for buying
It is strictly for identification purposes only. When my murdered corpse is found under an over pass (would that just be in the street, then, if I was under an over pass? -What if I was found on top of the over pass? Would that make me over the over pass Would 2 overs negate one another, and then I'd just be in the gutter? See- dear reader- this is the shit that keeps me from writing the World's Greatest F*cking Novel---Sometimes? I get stuck in stupid.)
Anyhow, when Lenny Briscoe from Law & Order shows up and finds my body, it will be solely because of my unused debit banking card that I am identified....(Yeh, I know Jerry Orbach is dead, but this is my episode--and no, I do not know how or why I was murdered----I haven't gotten to that part in the script yet!!!!)
So, back to my credit card finesse...or lack thereof......In addition to the card
Suffice it to say, that's another piece of plastic collecting a lot of dust.
I also share a third shiny credit card with the mountain man..."Share" meaning I use it, he pays it, mostly! Sharing is good!
Now, generally, I use this card for every day errands; shopping, dry cleaners, gas...What mountain man charges? I've no idea. The bill comes in, he pays it, and life is good.
So, last week? I go to get gas one day, and I cannot locate the card
I very carefully extract my Do Not Touch card, and pay for the gas. I recall the last time I used the card I
I tell the mountain man as soon as I get home that
A) I had to use the card of Do Not Touch legends, and
B) The crisis is about to be solved because I know where I left the Card I Can touch!
Immediately, there is a wrinkle in the mountain man's brow--Have I mentioned how incessantly precise and anal he is when it comes to anything to do with finances? Seriously? He won't even round out a $9.99 purchase in the checking register. Heaven forbid we end up with seven or eight errant pennies at the end of the month!
I ignore mountain man's rumblings and "tsk"ing and call the dry cleaners...
After explaining my plight, the owner of the cleaners tells me that "Yes, we find card outside store two day ago." (Obviously not a french cleaner, m'kay?)
Great, I am half way out the door to pick up my
Shit! So much for improved relations with China.
Mountain man sees me sit at the table with a pout. I can actually hear his
eyes rolling over me. Of course, having been a champion eye roller my entire youth, I merely deflect them with a "Who me?" smile, and set about calling the credit card company where I will be able to realign the planets as well as mountain man's eyes!
The credit card company agreed, that they had told my own version of Mr Miyagi to "destoy cald", and that as a * Bonus *, they had rendered mountain man's card useless as well!!!!!!! Never fear....they promised....new cards were being issued and mailed as we spoke....
Three days (and a hellofa lot of dirty looks a la mountain man) later...the cards have still not arrived, and I've had to resort to using the Do Not Touch card for everyday purchases *gasp* I know, I know...Mountain man's eyes are bucking and rolling more than a hooker at Mardi Gras. He's grilling me every night for the exact amount of purchase. to. the. f*cking. penny. Have I mentioned I don't even pennies? It's a wonder we are both still
alive at this point, no less still married....But that just may come to an end today.
Today, the travel agent called my mountain man. Apparently there's been a change in flights for our long awaited upcoming vacation. Without children. (Did I mention there are no kids going? Just checking.) The agent cancelled one flight and booked another, but there was a problem charging the second flight to the original card. Er, no sh*t. That's the one that is MIA thanks to Mr. No Tickee No Shirtee.
Mountain man called to tell me the dilemma.
"So uses the For Emergency Use Only card," I told him.
" This is a vacation, mysuestories. It's really not an "Emergency", he replied.
At which point I told him that if he did not give up that sacred f*cking card to the travel agent Right. This. Minute., I would be using that very same card for a "real" emergency. His funeral. After which I, the bereaved widow? Was gonna take a nice quiet vacation. With all three cards.
Who needs Calgon to take me away, when I have American Express?
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
Write a Book in A Month Update
What the f*ck could I have possibly been thinking? Fifty THOUSAND words in a month? That's over 1600 words per day. Did I mention I started on Day 2? I'm already 1600 words behind. Shit.
I mean, who enters these friggin' things anyway? Don't these people have jobs? Families? Hungry goddamn dogs? I am three days in, and heaven forbid I have to actually go to the super market or something. Jesus H Christ! I am so afraid to waste time on anything not writing that damned novel, I have decided to only eat binding foods for the month of November. I can't afford weak constitution right now!
And what if I want to have a night out? Or a Thanksgiving dinner with all the trimmings? Do I just buy the family Boston Market take out and hope they don't notice? (Hmmmm-note to self- check out Boston Market holiday hours).....
I am at 4000 words.... a mere 1600 words behind schedule on Day 4.
Shit. It's gonna be a long month.
And damnit! I just wasted 197 words here. Fuck!
I mean, who enters these friggin' things anyway? Don't these people have jobs? Families? Hungry goddamn dogs? I am three days in, and heaven forbid I have to actually go to the super market or something. Jesus H Christ! I am so afraid to waste time on anything not writing that damned novel, I have decided to only eat binding foods for the month of November. I can't afford weak constitution right now!
And what if I want to have a night out? Or a Thanksgiving dinner with all the trimmings? Do I just buy the family Boston Market take out and hope they don't notice? (Hmmmm-note to self- check out Boston Market holiday hours).....
I am at 4000 words.... a mere 1600 words behind schedule on Day 4.
Shit. It's gonna be a long month.
And damnit! I just wasted 197 words here. Fuck!
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
Sexless Tuesday
I've been missing from this little space of mine ours, and it just may get worse before it gets better. You see, in all of my infinite wisdom, I've decided to commit to NaNoWriMo..which stands for something like I must be an asshole National Novel Writing Month...Anyway, I signed myself up for a 30 day crash exercise course in attempting to write a semi-coherent little tiny 50, 000 word novel in 30 days---OK...28 days. I blew off Day 1, and Day 2 (yesterday) was actually my Day 1.
As, you, dear reader, probably know already, writing is something that I enjoy. It is fun and I get to be funny. And even if you don't show up, I still get to write and pretend mynine massive following is hanging on my every word. So why wouldn't I take the one activity I savor simply for the pure enjoyment of it and turn it into the New York Marathon for one legged sprinters?
Now? I must punch out over 1700 words a night (did I mention EVERY NITE). I have to vomit write without any real thought as to plot and story line, 'because between working full time, commuting two hours. Every. Day. , cleaning, cooking, eating, having sex.........(What's that, constant reader? Oh, you caught that, did you? I just figured I could slip that one by. Boy, you are sharp) OK, OK... I don't actually cook.....but amongst all those other things I do, I figured, what's just a littlemorepressure!!!!!!!!
So, If I am sparse here, please be patient. But of course if you know anything about my commitment level (just ask my divorce attorneys) combined with my attention span (ohhh, twinkly lights!) I will most likely have scrapped the whole friggin idea, and I should probably see you Back here by Wednesday. This Wednesday. As in tomorrow.
Hey, a girl can only go so long withoutsex eating!
As, you, dear reader, probably know already, writing is something that I enjoy. It is fun and I get to be funny. And even if you don't show up, I still get to write and pretend my
Now? I must punch out over 1700 words a night (did I mention EVERY NITE). I have to vomit write without any real thought as to plot and story line, 'because between working full time, commuting two hours. Every. Day. , cleaning, cooking, eating, having sex.........(What's that, constant reader? Oh, you caught that, did you? I just figured I could slip that one by. Boy, you are sharp) OK, OK... I don't actually cook.....but amongst all those other things I do, I figured, what's just a littlemorepressure!!!!!!!!
So, If I am sparse here, please be patient. But of course if you know anything about my commitment level (just ask my divorce attorneys) combined with my attention span (ohhh, twinkly lights!) I will most likely have scrapped the whole friggin idea, and I should probably see you Back here by Wednesday. This Wednesday. As in tomorrow.
Hey, a girl can only go so long without
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