Moving Sucks, Moving Sucks, Moving Sucks

Warning:  More complaining to come.  Also bitching, griping, snarking, and other words from the Thesaurus.  I may also switch subjects without warning as I have been wont to do.  (Is wont really a word?  Did you see that meteor?  I think Obama is going to start wearing a rainbow clown wig for fun.  What was I talking about?)

Let us discuss how many stupid, fracking things have to be done in a move.  (Do I need to remind anyone that HIM, upon telling me of his job acceptance, uttered these immortal words, which I shall repeat ad nauseum, "Don't worry.  I'll do everything."  Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha.  Not.)  Consequently, while he's doing "everything", I have taken all the paintings, wall hangings, stuff from the walls and I'm spot painting.  Some of these freaking holes are like the size of a meteor crater.  (Think Crater Lake in Oregon for reference.  Oh, hell, I'll just find a photo.)  (Whoops.  Small dichotomy here.  Crater Lake is NOT a meteor crater.  It is, instead, a volcano which popped its top a whole long time ago.  The big hole metaphor is the point, however.  Just go with it.)

The holes in my walls are just like this.  I swear!

There.  There ain't enough spackle on the face of the earth that's going to fill that hole.  So consequently one has to patch.  Patching is the art of cutting out a piece of dry wall and inserting it into the hole and using mesh, followed by a concrete like compound that sticks to everything but the walls.  This is concluded by sanding, sanding, coughing, sanding, hacking, sanding, and then painting.  What joy.  What fun.  What utter fun.  (Somewhere HIM's ears are burning.  HIM is likely headed for a bomb shelter at this very moment.  That rotten, cheese-eating surrender monkey.  That's a quote from the Simpsons, btw.  You have to say in your mind with a Scottish accent because Willie the Lawn Dude is the one who said it in the show.)  (Wandered, didn't I?)

Then something else happened.  Turns out that I can't keep my Verizon DSL service in Alabama for some, damn stupid reason, therefore I have to change my day to day email address.  (Don't worry the other emails stay the same.)  And anyone who knows about all the stuff we've signed up for and use on the Internet, knows that this means changing email addresses up the hooha.  (I used hooha in the last blog about Paranormal Activity 2 and I had a sudden urge to use it again.  I just like the way it sounds.  I might have to work it in fifty times.  I'll have hooha in the blog up the hooha.  Hooha!)  (I just made up a joke.  What does an owl sound like when he laughs?  He says hooha!  Bad, right?)  (Wandering again.  Warned ya.)  So HIM calls and says something like, "Too bad.  So sad.  Gotta go back to work, babe."  (No, HIM didn't really say that.  HIM is in a state of shock and isn't sure what to say to me.)  And HIM is so broken up that I have to spend hours updating and changing email addresses on all the things I do, that I can hear the crying in his voice.  (I just did a spelling check and the spell check does NOT like the word "hooha."  It suggests changing it to hookah or hooray or hooch.  Stupid spell check.)  (And let me tell you about sprending email around.  There are these cool ads on Facebook.  So when I click on them to go look at their stuff, they want me to sign up first with my email!  They dangle that carrot and then jerk it away.  I don't want to get junk email from them for the rest of my natural born life, or up the hooha, so I say eff them.)  What was my point?

Oh, yes, HIM having such a hard time once he's down there, sitting on his tookus (which is almost as good a word as hooha.) reading his Kindle in his room, watching HBO, wondering if he should have his laundry dry cleaned or have the motel service take care of it.  Oh, yes, life is horrible and wretched for HIM.  (I fork the sign of the devil up his hooha.  Oh, that didn't exactly work but I'm not changing it.)

Meanwhile I'm writing the exploits of Brownie as he has a mystifying mystery to solve and things happen to him and he experiences the rednecked thrill of Pegram County. 

Uh-oh, subject change.  Recently I asked Facebook fans about what kind of fans stuff would they want to see at a writer's convention.  Business cards, postcards, or something else.  I got some great ideas.  One suggested a USB business card, which is a little pricey but cool.  Then someone else suggested trading cards.  I just love the idea of the cover of Bubba and the Dead Woman on one side and a cartoony Bubba on the other with a brief description.  "Bubba Snoddy - good ol' boy and all around scapegoat."  Or something like that.  Anyway thanks to all those Facebook buddies who made suggestions.  They were all great.  So I did a kind of sample.  It looks pretty cool but I'm going to have to raid my daughter's Pokeman collection of trading cards for ideas.

Front of card

Back of card

And with a gentile note, I'm out to write more about Brownie and spot paint up the hooha.

I just checked, for those of you who are keeping count.  I used hooha 11 times.  12 if you count the last one.  So for continuity, hooha, hooha, hooha, hooha, hooha, hooha, hooha, hooha, and hooha.  (That owl joke is sounding funnier every minute isn't it?)