Wednesday, October 31, 2007

There are three rules for writing the novel. Unfortunately, no one knows what they are.

NANOWRIMO (National Novel Writing Month) begins at midnight. Oh, yeah, baby! It's on.

Now that the bravado is out of the way I think it's safe to tell you that I have no ideas. None. Not a one. Niente. Nada. Zip and DooDa. I'm sure that will pass. Right?


Anyway. Moving on.

If you don't want to be used for your character traits tell me now or you may be immortalized for the world (or, in this case, me and my editer a.k.a. Patherine) to see.

PS I refuse to spell check a post this short so you're on your own. If you are offended by my bad spelling you can suck it, Trebek!

Wednesday, October 24, 2007

The Misanthrope Goes To The Movies

"Particles of Truth" a Review of Total Crap
By Dark Fury

From the first shot you know that this is an art piece made by a woman who is totally and completely in love. With her own voice and face. It is about ninety minutes long and eighty minutes of that time is spent on close up shots of her looking pensive, sad, angry, etc. And, to make matters worse, the entire movie is shot with that oh so annoying "realistic" shaky camera work. I hate this like poison. I hate it, actually, more than poison. Poison has uses.

Have I ever mentioned why I hate C.S. Lewis? Well, in case I haven't, it's because he hits you over the head with the metaphore. This annoys me. A lot. Well, the broad who made this movie must love "The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe." Her character finally finds redemption through a death bed renconciliation with her father who looks like.....wait for it.....Jesus. Seriously? Did I need that little clue to realize that this was the turning point in her life? Probably not. Well, not if I had been paying attention at that point which I wasn't because I couldn't take her friggin' voice whining on and on and on and the close ups of her face (sans make-up for that, again, realistic look) that also go on and on and on.

This film, for it is art and must never be called a movie, is unbearable. Truly. Every character is a mess. Every character is barely a character because the artiste who made the film/art piece/piece of crap can't be bothered to flesh out anyone or thing but her own meandering, maudlin, decrepit, predictable, pure shite story line. If you can even call it that since nothing happens. I deep down hate this movie. I may even hate the woman who wrote, directed, starred in and, for all I know, edited the damn thing.

In conclusion, if ever you need to know that life is worth living rent this movie. Once it's over and done with life seems sweeter. It's like the old joke.

Person 1: Why are you hitting yourself with that hammer?
Person 2: Because it feels so good when I stop.*

* I didn't say it was a good joke. I said it was old.

Monday, October 22, 2007

Oh, sleep! It is a gentle thing, beloved from pole to pole.

I am an old woman. Old I say! Used to be that I could go and drink to the wee small hours of the morning and then trot off to work while, if not exactly smiling, not cursing all of G-d's creation. Those days have passed.

First of all, let me say that I had a blast Sunday night and it was well worth the agony of having to drag my sorry arse out of bed at six o'clock in the morning. What could have been better than getting slightly toasted with my best friends around a fire pit while eating s'mores? Nothing. I believe I can safely say that a good time was had by all. Well, possibly not the poor Englishman who went up a hill and came down in dirty talk town. But I don't think we scarred Jonathan's friend for life so, all in all, no harm no foul and he couldn't have been lovelier about it all (I was, I must admit, disappointed that he wasn't on display behind glass as had been previously discussed but you can't have everything in this life).

Getting up the next morning? Not lovely. Not at all. I was a miserable bitch the entire day. Luckily there was not a lot of interaction with others on the job today. So, everything was going well till I, like a total and complete moron, fucked it up! I had to deliver about twenty-three envelopes today around my quite large and many storied building. So, what did I think to myself? "Self," I thought "why not take the stairs? Why, yes! That's a great idea!" That was, needless to say, not a great idea. I did it but it almost killed me. I made it up all the stairs and around every floor (1-16) without passing out but I took the elevator down or I would have fallen down. Here is the question of the day. Why am i so damn dumb?

Friday, October 19, 2007


My Halloween costume arrived today and . . . . . . . . IT'S SHITE!!


So, I need a knew idea. Anyone? Anyone? Feel free to provide me with ideas. I may have to be a hippie. Which might work. I do find them scary. . . . What with the stink and everything. And I do have big hair so it may be my last option.

Again I'm begging for ideas here, people. Begging.

Wednesday, October 17, 2007

Things I Covet

This stationery is inspired by a 1920s British telegram. Printed on heavy weight baby blue paper and comes with official looking metal clasp envelopes. The light gray envelopes are perfectly sized so you can mail the telegram flat.

$12, set of 6 telegrams & envelopesblack ink on baby blue heavy weight papertelegrams are 8.5" x 5", envelopes are 6" x 9"

Stardom isn’t a profession; it’s an accident.

Whatever happened to celebrities? Call me old if you will* but when I was a kid I seem to recall that people who were famous were famous for a reason. I mean if you were in a magazine or on TV there had to be a reason (except, obviously, in the event that you were on "The Love Boat". . . they'd take anybody). Either you were someone of note in the literary, political, theatrical or musical arena or you'd killed somebody. These were the options. Well, you could also save a small child from a well but, honestly, how often does a break like that come along?

Who are our celebrities now? No. Seriously. Who the fuck are these people? I don't know. Do you? Could you tell me? I doubt it. Because now we're barraged with the dregs of the Earth a.k.a. the children of famous people. We're deluged with "celebutantes" a.k.a. the rich bitch brigade. To quote Dorothy Parker, as I tend to do, "they make me sick. They make me tired."

Why do I, or anyone for that matter, need to know anything at all about Rod Stewarts kids? I barely care about Rod Stewart. He had, what? Two good songs a million years ago? So, naturally, I must care that his son is BFF's with three other brats of actual celebrities and that the kid spends more on fake spray tan in a week than I, or anybody I know, will make this year. Yeah. Sure I do. In who's world?

Where is the fascination in Paris Hilton? Jesus Herman Christ on a crutch, I can't wait till this broad od's. I mean that. On the day that she's found in an alley (but a very posh upper class alley) with a needle in her arm and an eight ball in her big fuck-off Fendi bag I will dance the dance of sheer joy. . . . With props. I'm not saying I want her to die. I just want her to go away and not come back. In fact it's better if she lives but people are just collectively tired of her bullshit.

How do we all manage to care so much about the privileged, spoiled, slutty, ignoramuses on MTV? I don't know. It baffles me. The only thing I know for sure is that come the revolution there will be no spray tan and Daddy's money won't be able to help you so you'd better learn a trade. Just ask Tori.


Monday, October 15, 2007

An E-Mail I Recieved Today

Dear -User Name Here-,

Well, you did it. You've gone and pledged your November to the pursuit of the month-long novel. Whether this is your first or ninth NaNoWriMo, we know you're going to have a great time, and we're thrilled to have you writing with us.In case you forget it, here are your author log-in and password for the NaNoWriMo site:

username: ------
password: --------

On November 1, we'll unlock the novel-excerpt and word-count area of your Author info area so you can post your escalating word-count, view your personal stats, and offer an excerpt of your work-in-progress to friends and fans. Before you head off to begin training those typing fingers, we wanted to offer a few bits of advice. You'll find many great tips in the forums, and we'll be sending pep talks directly to your inbox during November. But for now, here's a quick overview of the three-and-a-half things we wish we had known for our first NaNoWriMo.

1) It's okay to not know what you're doing. Really. You've read a lot of novels, so you're completely up to the challenge of writing one. No plot? No problem! If you feel more comfortable outlining your story ahead of time, absolutely do so. But it's also fine to just wing it. Write everyday, and a book-worthy story will appear, even if you're not sure what that story might be right now.

2) Do not edit as you go. Editing is for December (and Katherine!). Think of November as an experiment in pure output. Even if it's hard at first, leave ugly prose and poorly written passages on the page to be cleaned up later. Your inner editor will be very grumpy about this, but your inner editor is a nitpicky jerk who foolishly believes that it is possible to write a brilliant first draft if you write it slowly enough. It isn't. Every book you've ever loved started out as a beautifully flawed first draft. In November, embrace imperfection and see where it takes you.

3) Tell everyone you know that you're writing a novel in November (Done and done!). This will pay big dividends in Week Two, when the only thing keeping you from quitting is the fear of looking pathetic in front of all the people who've had to hear about your novel for the past month. Seriously. Email them now about your awesome new book. The looming specter of personal humiliation is a very reliable muse.

3.5) There will be times you'll want to quit during November. This is okay. Everyone who wins NaNoWriMo wanted to quit at some point in November. Stick it out. See it through. Week Two can be hard. Week Three is much better. Week Four will make you want to hug the world.

With great well wishes on the noveling month ahead,

The NaNoWriMo Team

P.S? I'm excited. No. Really. I know it's hard to tell when I don't use exclamation points but I'm trying to ween you off of them. It's for your own good, I promise.

Friday, October 12, 2007


Again I ask, why can't the people who come up with these things count?

40 Things You Have NOT Been Asked In A Survey

1. Do you know anyone in prison? I don’t think so but who friggin’ knows.

2. Have you ever logged onto a boyfriend/girlfriend/crush's myspace? Nope

3. When is the last time you ate peanut butter and jelly? Last year

4. Do you have a desk in your room? No

5. Have you ever gotten naked at a party? No

6. What kind of car do you have? Dirty

7. Are you named after one of your parents or grandparents? One of my middle names is my great grandmother’s maiden name and my great aunt’s first name. Welcome to the south.

8. Does your first significant other still live in the same town as you? No, thank G-d.

9. Do you throw up gang signs? EAST SIDE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Um, no.

10. Have you ever broken a rib? I chipped one once. Does that count?

11. Would you rather be a girl or a guy? I’m not trans-gendered so I’m gonna’ go with girl!

12. Who is the most spoiled person you know? I decline to answer that question on the grounds that it may cause trouble.

13. Would you rather have a million dollars or true love? Can I have both? No? Damn. I would take….wow. I’m shallow.

14. Have you ever been to church? Yes

15. Is your boyfriend/girlfriend a marine? No. My grandfather was one and warned me against it.

16. Do you watch the Grammys? No

17. Would you ever work for the border patrol? No

18. Which one word would describe your last relationship? Brief.

19. Would you rather date someone 2 years older then you or 20 years? Well, how old is George Clooney? I’m kidding! Maybe. 2 I suppose.

21. Do you have a porn collection? I think not.

22. How many proms have you been to in your life? Zero.

23. Have you ever been in a interracial relationship? No

25. Are you old enough to vote? Yep

26. Do you have any friends or family in the war right now? No, thank G-d.

28. Do you worry about global warming? Yes

29. Do you like polar bears? They’re my favorite wild animal actually.

30. Have you ever been cheated on? Not that I know of.

31. Do you have any gay/bi friends? No. I believe that gay people are going straight to he---oh, wait. Anne Coulter took over my body for a minute! Yick. Now I smell like crazy!
Yes, I have gay friends. Who doesn’t. If you say you don’t then you probably don’t know shit.

32. What kind of deodorant do you use? Secret

35. Did or do you think your childhood dreams will come true? Yes

37. What's your opinion on gold diggers? Why can‘t I be one? Why?!

38. Are you a country or city boy/girl? I like to be either in the city or in the country. The burbs are neither one thing nor the other. It’s annoying.

39. Is your car a 2002 or higher? No. Bite me.

40. Do you want to hit something? In what sense of the word?

Saturday, October 6, 2007

People (don't always) Make Me Sad

Some people delight and sadden me at the same time. What? I’m Bi-polar. Don’t judge me. Terry Pratchett is a prime example. He’s a brilliant and insane human being. He is, dare I say it, a genius. I wait with baited breath for each of his new books. I buy them in hard cover which I don’t do with any other author if only for the fact that they’re a bitch to lug around. I then buy them in paper back as well. Why? Portability is key. I read them in one sitting. They make me inordinately happy. They also depress me.

Every time I read one of his books I end up thinking the same thing. “Damn. I wish I’d written that.” The strange thing? I’m not a writer. Never have been. Don’t intend to be one. It’s just something about his structure and sense of humor that makes me mental. He’s got a laser beam in his head pointed directly at the weird and mockable in the world and he never misses. Well, I guess he wouldn’t what with the laser sight and all.

I feel the same way about Dorothy Parker. It’s like when you see a really good movie and you think, “Wow! I wish I’d been in that.” Wait. Other people think that right? It’s not just me. Can’t be. I refuse to believe it. The movie example is rare . . . . And getting rarer these days. In fact I can’t think of a recent example to give. Usually these days it’s not an entire movie so much as one good role. Which is sad. Are movies getting worse? I feel like they don’t deliver as they used to. But Mr. Pratchett? Every time. Every damn time.

“God does not play dice with the universe; He plays an ineffable game of his own devising, which might be compared, from the perspective of the players, (ie everybody), to being involved in an obscure and complex version of poker in a pitch-dark room, with blank cards, for infinite stakes, with a Dealer who won't tell you the rules, and who smiles all the time.”
--Terry Pratchett

"Everything starts somewhere, although many physicists disagree."
--Terry Pratchett