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Archive for 'funnies'

Sunday, June 24th, 2012
No. Dishes do not magically wash themselves

Boy: Mom, we’re all out of clean spoons.
Me: So wash some.
Boy: Could we use forks?
Me: Use spoons. Wash them.
Boy: *confused*
Me: take the sponge, put soap on it, wash.
Boy: But they’re all in the dishwasher
Me: And?
Boy: This is disgusting
Me: *rolls eyes*

Friday, June 8th, 2012
one for the OMG file

I was Googling the Demon Lovers: Succubi antho, just to see if anyone had talked about it, and instead came across this, titled, Incubi and Succubi: Sexual Relations. It is, in a word, a primer on how to have sex with demons on an astral plane. This, it says, is particularly a good route for “those who are in prison or incarcerated in any way.” Well, that’s a no duh. Seriously. But anyhow, it goes on to explain how you go about having sex with a demon, from attracting and selecting one, to masturbating to help the process along. I’m not making this up.

Anyhow, as much as I laughed at this, it did spark an idea for a story. At least a the initial seeds of one. Just goes to show you can find stories anywhere.

On another note, I’ve been gutting Blood Winter and writing gobs more. It really isn’t the same book as before. It’s better, but I’m sad about losing some things.

Wanted pancakes today. Tried to find the local IHop but couldn’t. Didn’t want Denny’s. Guess I’ll have to get some stuff for making them.

Monday, May 21st, 2012
Of chickens and revision

Today I got a call from a friend who’d been attacked by a wooden chicken while cleaning and ended up with two broken bones, a chipped bone, and some ligament issues in one of her hands. This same friend is going to have significant surgery on Thursday. She tells me that it’s my fault. That my clod genes are catching, sort of like the flu. I’d like to tell her she’s totally wrong. Sadly, she might be right. Did I pass my clod cooties to her? Or was it a sign from above (it fell from above)? Or, did she make the singular and unholy mistake of cleaning? Was that the issue? I think maybe so. Anyhow, went to see her after the hospital visit, I gave her a bag of ice, wished her happy birthday, and laughed uproariously at her. I’m that way.

In the meantime, I’ve been revising. This is what it’s like. I am doing things to the front of the book, which, like cracks in a windshield, spread out through the book. Then I make more corrections, attempt to fix more cracks, and more cracks happen, digging further into the book. Rinse and repeat. (Am I madly mixing the metaphors or what?)

Anyhow, the process is a bit terrifying, since I’m not entirely certain that I’ll catch all the inconsistencies and cracks, or that the fixes I’m making are causing irreparable faults later in the manuscript. So what now crops up is a clash between getting the revisions done and terror of doing them wrong. I’m trying not to freeze solid.

In the meantime, hopefully I won’t be attacked by any wooden chickens.

Wednesday, May 16th, 2012
How a book is born

This is an infographic on how a book is born. Beverage warning.