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Sunday, October 12, 2014

Stuff, More Stuff, Random Stuff, Stuffity Stuff

Let's see.  Today I shall probably ramble.  Rambling is good for the soul.  I suspect that rambling is a way of dealing with mental issues.  If people could only ramble more we wouldn't need Prozac.  (Just an opinion.)
This doesn't work in my house because they both
talk about it, before, during, and after.
Life with adopted cat.  Cat number 1 thinks that Cat number 2 sucks.  Cat number 1 thinks that he will turn his nose up and slink off.  Cat number 1 also thinks that we suck for adopting Cat number 2.  Cat number 1 decided that he will now sleep on Cressy's bed in protest and never darken our bedroom doorstep again.  Fine by me, I like having my half of the king sized bed to myself.  If you haven't woken up drenched in sweat because a cat is draped over the lower half of your body, well, then you just haven't lived life to the fullest.  (This is also applicable to dogs, who know for a fact that the bed isn't just for humans.)
Not sure what happens when Cat number 1 bodyslams
Cat number 2, but it's like the WWE, cat style.
Sometimes it's like sumo wrestling.
I should really get the camera out next time.
We have inlaws visiting.  Cat number 2 thinks this means his life is over and goes and hides in the garage.  But he can't just hide.
He's not really this fat, but his tummy flaps when he runs.
No, Cat number 2 climbs up into the engine compartment of the 1954 Chevy truck in the garage and takes cover over the engine.  How he managed to get his chubbiness up there, I do not know.  (Don't tell the cat but the vet says he has to loose weight.  Don't tell the vet that I can tell she's looking at me suspiciously.  I can't help it if Cat number 2 hasn't learned that the food will not be yanked away if he doesn't eat it instantaneously.  Totally not my fault.)
I couldn't find one where the cat was in the engine compartment of a car.
Who knew?
HIM, the man to I'm married, went on a motorcycle trip with my FIL.  Cressy went to an overnight funfest with friends.  (I think their parents bit off more than they could chew.)  I watched cheesy horror movies on the Syfy channel all evening and then some The Walking Dead marathon.  (The Governor is cool; did you know he has a British accent in real life?  That didn't come out right.  He's British so he doesn't really talk like the Governor, which messes with my mind.  But then so is Rick and Maggie.  If Daryl had a British accent my mind would be totally blown.)
I love the Simpsons.
But then I also watched the cheesiest movie ever.  Chain Letter.  You remember about ten years ago when everyone emailed all the chain mails we got to everyone we ever knew or would ever know or met briefly at a convention and felt like we should know them?  Well, this movie decided that that still happens.  And the bad guy would keep track of everyone who deleted the chain letter, then go kill them in a horrid, gory fashion.  Well, dah-am.
This is the most messed up movie poster ever.
What the hell does the bar code mean?
I don't know because I fast-forwarded
through too much of the movie.
I would have noticed two chains coming from
the garage and I almost never back up my car,
because basically I can't back up very well.
In the beginning there's this girl all duct taped up and chained in the garage.  She opens her eyes and realizes she chained to...dadadah, the two cars in the driveway, which is bad news because they're pulled in backwards and her parents don't notice that there are chains coming from the rear going into the garage, which is open by about a foot and a half.  So off they drive, turning up their radios, because if they actually noticed anything, the movie would end.  And then I started fast-forwarding through the movie because it was beyond stupid.  It turns out that the girl in the garage is actually the end of the movie and we're forced to go back and see what happened first.  The first kid gets the chain letter, and his sister forwards it, then cinematic mayhem ensues in a bloody fashion and I can't figure out why all of these kids, beautiful, attractive, intelligent, are all alone in their big houses with a guy who likes to use chains.  Furthermore, I can't understand how the guy with the chains can keep up with all the people the chain letter will have been forwarded to.  I think the serial killer would have a mental breakdown because he missed some.  In fact, he probably had to hire an assistant to keep up.  (I'm trying to imagine the advertisement for assistant serial killer.) Anyway, that movie was about 90 minutes long.  It was about 20 minutes when I was done with it.
This doesn't have anything to do with the movie, but I thought it
was funny.
Of course I couldn't sleep in an empty house, not necessarily because I had been watching scary-ass movies all night, but because there was a rumble in the litter box.  Cat number 1 decided to bite Cat number 2's ass.  (He does.)  Cat number 2 takes it for a few minutes, then bites back because it doesn't feel good to have one's ass bitten.  (So I've heard.)  Then the shizz started to happen.  All the way down the stairs, through the living room, out on the porch, back from the porch, back through the living room, and back up the stairs.  Sound effects were included.  (Translation went like this.  "EFF YOU!"  "NO, EFF YOU!"  "NO, EFF YOU AND THE GERBIL YOU RODE IN ON!"  "I'LL NIP YOUR TUSHY!"  Etc.  It went on like that until I was wide awake.  (I think they wore each other out because there wasn't any blood around.)
This segues nicely into wanting ice cream at 2 am.
Then I get up to see if there's any ice cream left in the freezer and remember I can't eat it because I'm not supposed to eat at night at all.  Of course, I eat it anyway.  (It's ice cream, it's in my house, and no one is looking at me.  That's enough of an explanation.)  Then I spend half the night in the recliner watching more The Walking Dead episodes from the last season.  Man, those bitches at Terminus are in big trouble.

Only five hours until season 5.  Whoopee.

Saturday, September 20, 2014

Myriad Stuff OR Myriad is Another Word for Lots

Warning: Author might randomly go off on a tangent.  Look, a squirrel.
It's Confessions of a Fat Woman so it has
a fat squirrel.  Go figure.
First off, it sucks that Longmire has been cancelled.  I want to know who got shot in the cliffhanger.  I want to call up Simon & Simon's guy and ask him if he knows.  I want to spit in A&E's general direction.  I generally don't want to do stuff like this but dammit, they didn't have to cancel after a cliffhanger.  Thffpt.
I couldn't find a funny Longmire meme, so I went with a cool one.
Wait.  I found one.  Wonder what people in Wyoming think of
Longmire.
Second, I've come to the conclusion that our household does not attract neurotic cats.  No, it's far more insidious.  Instead, the cats come to us normal and we make them neurotic.  That's why we have neurotic cats.  I think the new cat needs psychological help.  I think the old cat needs anger management therapy.  Telling the old cat, "Just use your indoor claws," doesn't work.  "Take a deep breath, Megaroy," doesn't work.  "The new cat is not a threat to your felininity," really doesn't work, plus I made up a word.  Somewhere there's probably a cat therapist who just said, "Oh."
Here kitt-ee, kitt-ee, kitt-ee.
This cat looks like he could chew through your arm.
Third, yes Bubba fans, I'm writing Bubba 6 or Bubba and the Ten Little Loonies.  It's happening.  I'm estimating around Christmas time for all the bubbaness to flow from me from my fingers down into the keyboard and onto the word processing program.  I'm not trying to be cute, but it's a little hard to do a series.  I want it to be right.  I want people to enjoy the book.  I don't want people to say, "It's just like all the rest," or "She has jumped the shark."  (I don't remember Fonzie jumping the shark, but hey, I don't think I watched that show that much.)
I haven't done a Bubba 6 cover yet, but
I found this one, which I need to look
up on imdb.com because I have
to watch a movie called Bubba the Redneck Werewolf.
I just have to.
Fourth, squee, The Walking Dead is coming soon.  Squee.  Squee.  Squee.  In case you didn't know I love The Walking Dead.  I'm not sure why.  It's a little more grim than my usual fare.  But the zombie jokes I get to tell.  Whee.
Okay, this was lame.  But he kind of looks
like a zombie.  That would have been a better
title.  Zombie Hobo with a Shotgun.
Yeah.
Why don't they come to me for
Hollywood titles?
I kick ass in making up titles.
(Bubba and the Dead Woman, right?)

Fifth, Deadsville isn't selling that well.  I'm disappointed but it happens.  I'm not sure exactly where I went wrong.  I tried to write something that I thought would sell.  It didn't happen.  Therefore I've come to a decision.  I'm going to write what I like to write.  That's the joy of being an independent writer.  I get to do what I want and have fun doing it.  Like writing a blog about how we make cats neurotic.
End with a joke.  (You have to imagine the drum roll.)
There ya go.

Friday, September 12, 2014

Deadsville is Out!

 
 
Deadsville is Available!


Tavie has just died, but that isn’t the end of her existence.  Instead, she ends up “living” in Deadsville, where the dead play games, look for entertainment, and wonder when they will move on.  Reapers walk the streets occasionally, taking “deadies” who are ready to move on.  All of that’s normal until two deadies are murdered in a way that the residents of Deadsville have never seen before.  They need someone to figure it out before more bad stuff happens.  They need Tavie, that is, Detective Tavie, as she was known in the living world.  Tavie isn’t exactly happy about the promotion to Deadsville Sheriff.  She sees gods of the dead, people who died in bizarre ways, and is presented with a mystery that requires unusual creativity to solve it.  And that’s all before the dust settles from her arrival in the land of the dead.  Nothing in Deadsville is ever boring.

Deadsville – An Urban Fantasy/Mystery
 


Monday, September 8, 2014

Random Stuff OR I'm Just Going to Blog Whatever

I'm polishing up Deadsville.  It's at the formatters and I have to fix stuff before it gets epublished, which happens.  In the meantime people keep asking and I'm all like, "Soon.  Soon.  Soon."  It's not that I mind people asking.  (I don't.)  It's just that it's a little frustrating for me because this part is out of my hands.  I would rather be all super uber controlling.  Anyway, soon.  Soon.  Soon.  Here's the teaser cover.
She reminds me of Kay Lenz from the 70s.  Who remembers
Kay Lenz?  I think she was most famous for being married to
David Cassidy for a few years.  I was totally
jealous because I thought David Cassidy was hot
stuff.  Shaun was pretty hot, too, but I don't
remember who he married.  Oh those preteen
hormones.
In other cat news, the new cat is all like "Pet me, pet me, pet me."  The old cat is like, "Why are you petting him, bee-yotch?  Now I have to eff him up."  Then the moron jumps on the cat with no name.  The cat with no name (who does have a name but it doesn't sound as cool as the cat with no name) decides he's had enough of the moron cat and swats him upside the head.  The moron cat decides his manhood has been insulted and jumps on the other cat again.  Hissing and yowling commence until they've had enough.  Usually the breakaway collar of the cat with no name is the only casualty.  Feline melodrama.

The cat with no name likes his food, I'll tell you that.  We've never owned a "fat" cat before.  The vet told us we need to put him on a kitty diet.  He weighs 15 pounds and he's supposed to be around 12.  (I haven't told the cat yet.)  When I get up at 3 am to pee because my beloved daughter broke my bladder when I was pregnant, the cat with no name assumes I'm getting up to feed him, because what else would humans be doing at 3 am?
It's a Westside Story thing.
He mmrrrrs at me, follows me into the bathroom, and I just adore (not) being watched while I take care of business, then he tries to trip me while he leads me out the bedroom door and down the stairs.  (If he can lead me downstairs I will go into the magical place where there is FOOD, and it will be dispensed unto the cat with no name who turns into Hoover Cat.)  Instead I go straight and climb back into bed.  Then the moron cat gets up to straighten out the cat with no name and more melodrama ensues.  This is concluded by me finding ear plugs to put in so I can go back to sleep for an hour or two.
I figure this is what is happening when I can't see.  I can hear it, though
even with ear plugs.
Let's see.  It's hot and humid in Alabama.  That sounds like the name of a bad country song.  I'm going to melt if I have to put up with this much longer.  I don't even think the cats like it that much.  They come in from the enclosed porch with their little ears back.  The moron cat is clearly pissed at the cat with no name for the high humidity and blames him accordingly.  ("You did this, asshamster.  I'll eff you up again.")  But the cat with no name weighs more than the moron cat.  (That weight is good for something.)  So it ends up being an acrimonious draw.
I know it doesn't really fit with hot and humid, but I liked how the cat
was ninjaing the dog.
Finally I have started writing Bubba 6 or otherwise known as Bubba and the Ten Little Loonies unless I come up with a better name.  But then I figure who else could I insult?  Say this out loud, "I yam sew wee todd did.  I yam sofa king wee todd did."  Say it faster.  There, I've probably insulted everyone else that I previously missed.  (I did that to my father-in-law once but it wasn't funny because he never got the joke.)

I read a recent review of Bubba and the Zigzaggery Zombies in which the reviewer complained that I had too much political commentary in it.  I might have to go back and re-read it again because as I recall I pretty much dun both dems and repubs equally.  I might have dinged the tea party, too.

Okay, I'm out of cute memes, so I'll leave you.