Bits and Bobs

I’m so tardy with blogging that I’m surprised any bugger visits here. Some random things from my life that may be of interest—though I doubt it. 1. The pipe under the sink hasn’t dripped since last fixed. This is groovy. 2. The ivy by the back door has been pared back, reducing the amount of loitering wasps. I murdered a wasp last evening. While I smoked in the garden, one crawled between the ajar back door and the doorframe. I slammed the door. I am not pleased about my heinous act but feel if I confess publicly then my sin will be forgiven. 3. I spent last Wednesday gardening and developed palm blisters from the use of heavy shears. As the grass and weeds had grown so high, I gained a delightful surprise when yanking them up to find last year’s strawberry plants had come back, complete with little flowers. So far, we have 6 imminent strawberries. How bloody exciting. 4. While suffering PMT/PMS, it really isn’t a good idea to make odd noises around me. I tend to get quite irate and grit my teeth until I can’t bear the sounds any longer. Then I yell, “Oh, for eff’s sake! Will you STOP that?” From after school yesterday until bedtime (and I nearly went to bed early just to escape the damn noises) I endured sitting back to back with someone who constantly sniffed, cleared the throat, said random “Ahhhs” and “Mmmmms”, breathed heavily through the nostrils, slurped drinks, and ate loudly. I wanted to scream after four hours. I nearly emailed my sister about said noises, as she understands and hates them too, but I feared she would laugh her head off and make me laugh as a result. I refrained from sharing my woes because in a perverse way I enjoyed floundering in angst. 5. “Mum, we have a cobweb in the bathroom with five spiders in it.” “Do we?” “Yes, one Daddy Long Legs, three little ones, and a fat one.” “Oh, right. I’ll have to hoover it up.” My arse. 6. A couple of weekends ago, I witnessed a rude act. Picture the scene. Three cats in my garden—one of them mine (male), the other two belong to neighbours, one male, one female. The female must have fancied a bit of How’s Your Father. She flaunted her catly bits while writhing on her back on the grass. Like a person, her front legs stretched above her head and her back legs splayed open in a rather rude fashion. Neighbour Male sauntered up to her and sniffed what she offered. My male—a voyeur, the pervert!—sat and watched. Female adopted the appropriate position, and Neighbour Male mounted. Being young, NM thrust about in an unsightly manner with his pencil-thin lipstick rubbing along her back. My male sat in obvious rapture, possibly sniggering that NM couldn’t find the hole. My male decided to show NM how it was done—and promptly made the same error. However, Female didn’t fancy my male and hissed at him. “Get the eff off, you Peeping Tom, you!” (I imagine that is what she said.) After several more attempts, the coupling didn’t finalise. By this time, two of my sons stood watching too. I thought about me thinking my cat was a pervert by watching and asked myself what that made me. I certainly didn’t derive any pervy feelings upon witnessing the orgy in my garden—more along the lines of laughing my head off. My sons found it amusing too—of course, they would. I wonder if I’m a bad parent allowing them to stare at three cats trying to have it off? 6. We dropped Middle Son off at army cadets on Monday night. A group of cadets sat on the grass shining their boots while waiting. Middle Son stepped out of the car to ask them what time he needed picking up. “Mortimer,” he said (and his name could have been Mortimer, but I don’t think it was. I know it began with an M). “What time do we need picking up?” Already MS has adopted the army way of addressing people by their surname. We drove away, and I said (with a lump in my throat), “Bless those boys.” They are our future army. A sobering thought. 7. I walked back from school yesterday morning with a neighbour. She only knows me as the person she thought I was. Another neighbour—who knows my mad side—asked me how I was. “Great!” I said and then in the voice of the diet lady in Little Britain, I shouted, “Man, I luuuuuuuv the sunshine!” Knows My Mad Side neighbour laughed, and Doesn’t Know My Mad Side then mentioned that she’d always thought I was quiet. On the way to school yesterday afternoon, I spotted Doesn’t Know ahead. I yelled, “You are my sunshine, my only sunshine….” She turned and laughed. Nervously. I caught up with her. “I could just roll around in those daisies,” I said and pointed to the abundance of flowers on the verge. I didn’t. Didn’t want to get covered in the dog’s shit that was almost certainly lurking amongst the flora and fauna. We walked on. The sudden urge to swing around a lamppost beset me. So I did. As I swung, I noted the previously unknown presence of another mother walking behind us. Oops. 8. I like flip flops. There’s nothing better than the sun coming out and having to choose between 4 different pairs. That’s an exciting moment. However, I don’t like flip flops when my children accidentally step on the back of them while I’m walking. The piece between the toes being yanked against the foot really does hurt. Is it frowned upon to commit murder in those instances? 9. I’ve moved the stereo into the kitchen. This enables me to blast out music while I clean up every morning. I’ve taken to dancing while doing the housework. A way to work out while doing the chores. The day I did the gardening, I instructed the children after school that if they came into the kitchen while the music was on, they must dance to do whatever it was they’d come into the kitchen to do. One danced while pouring Coke, which ended up slopped over the worktop. Funny. One danced in his seat while eating his dinner. Even funnier to watch the fork keep missing the mouth (and during this, I’m dancing while dishing up the other dinners). One danced his way through to the garden. I told the kids that this is a permanent fixture from now on. If the music is on, you dance while in the kitchen. No exceptions. Unless, of course, they suffer an affliction that doesn’t enable them to participate. I have yet to try cutting a loaf of bread in this manner. When I do, I hope to still be in possession of all my fingertips. 10. I used to like moustaches and beards. When they grew on other people’s faces.

LOL

You'll Groan But Laugh Anyway!

I met this bloke with a didgeridoo and he was playing Dancing Queen on it. I thought, 'That's Aboriginal.' ----------------------- This lorry full of tortoises collided with a van full of terrapins. It was a turtle disaster. ------------------------ I told my girlfriend I had a job in a bowling alley. She said, 'Tenpin?' I said, 'No, permanent.' ----------------------- I went into a pet shop. I said, 'Can I buy a goldfish?' The guy said, 'Do you want an aquarium?' I said, 'I don't care what star sign it is.' ---------------------------- I bought some Armageddon cheese today, and it said on the packet: Best before End --------------------------- I went to buy a watch, and the man in the shop said, 'Analogue?' I said, 'No, just a watch.' ------------------------------ I went into a shop and said, 'Can someone sell me a kettle?' The bloke said, 'Kenwood.' I said, 'Where is he then?' -------------------------- My mate is in love with two schoolbags. He's bi-satchel. ------------------------ I went to the doctor. I said to him, 'I'm frightened of lapels.' He said, 'You've got cholera.' --------------------------- I met the bloke who invented crosswords today. I can't remember his name. It’s P something T something R. ---------------------------- I was reading this book today, The History of Glue. I couldn't put it down. ---------------------------- I phoned the local ramblers club today, but the bloke who answered just went on and on. --------------------------- The recruitment consultant asked me, 'What do you think of voluntary work? I said, 'I wouldn't do it if you paid me.' -------------------------- I was in the jungle, and there was this monkey with a tin opener. I said, 'You don't need a tin opener to peel a banana.' He said, 'No, this is for the custard.' ---------------------- This policeman came up to me with a pencil and a piece of very thin paper. He said, 'I want you to trace someone for me.' -------------------------- I told my mum that I'd opened a theatre. She said, 'Are you having me on?' I said, 'Well, I'll give you an audition, but I'm not promising you anything.' ---------------------------- I phoned the local builders today. I said to them, 'Can I have a skip outside my house?' He said, 'I'm not stopping you!' -------------------------------- This cowboy walks in to a German car showroom and he says, 'Audi!' -------------------------- I fancied a game of darts with my mate. He said, 'Nearest the bull goes first.' He went 'Baah' and I went 'Moo'. He said, 'You're closest.' ------------------------------ I was driving up the motorway, and my boss phoned me and told me I'd been promoted. I was so shocked I swerved the car. He phoned me again to say I'd been promoted even higher, and I swerved again. He then made me Managing Director, and I went right off into a tree. The police came and asked me what had happened. I said, 'I careered off the road.' ---------------------- I visited the offices of the RSPCA today. It's tiny; you couldn't swing a cat in there. ------------------------- I was stealing things in the supermarket today while balanced on the shoulders of a couple of vampires. I was charged with shoplifting on two counts. ------------------------ I bought a train ticket to France, and the ticket seller said, 'Eurostar?' I said, 'Well, I've been on telly but I'm no Dean Martin. --------------------------- I phoned the local gym and asked if they could teach me how to do the splits. He said, 'How flexible are you?' I said, 'I can't make Tuesdays or Thursdays.' -------------------------------- I went to the local video shop and said, 'Can I borrow Batman Forever?' He said, 'No, you'll have to bring it back tomorrow.' -------------------------------- A waiter asks a man, 'May I take your order, sir?' 'Yes,' the man replies. 'I'm just wondering...exactly how do you prepare your chickens?' 'Nothing special, sir. We just tell them straight out that they're going to die.'

Greeting Card Poems

My tire was thumping I thought it was flat When I looked at the tire... (open the card) I noticed your cat. Sorry! * * * Heard your wife left you, How upset you must be. But don't fret about it... (open the card) She moved in with me. * * * Looking back over the years that we've been together, I can't help but wonder... (open the card) "What the hell was I thinking?" * * * Congratulations on your wedding day! (open the card) Too bad no one likes your husband. * * * How could two people as beautiful as you… (open the card) Have such an ugly baby? * * * I've always wanted to have someone to hold, someone to love. After having met you… (open the card) I've changed my mind. * * * I must admit, you brought religion into my life… (open the card) I never believed in Hell until I met you. * * * As the days go by, I think of how lucky I am... (open the card) That you're not here to ruin it for me. (HAHAHAHAHAHAAH!) * * * Congratulations on your promotion. Before you go... (open the card) Would you like to take this knife out of my back? You'll probably need it again. * * * Happy Birthday… (open the card) Uncle Dad! (Available only in Tennessee, Kentucky & West Virginia) * * * Happy birthday! You look great for your age. (open the card) Almost Lifelike! * * * When we were together, you always said you'd die for me. Now that we've broken up… (open the card) I think it's time you kept your promise. * * * We have been friends for a very long time... (open the card) Let's say we stop? (HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!) * * * I'm so miserable without you (open the card) It's almost like you're here. * * * Congratulations on your new bundle of joy... (open the card) Did you ever find out who the father was? * * * Your friends and I wanted to do something special for your birthday... (open the card) So we're having you put to sleep. * * * So your daughter's a hooker, and it spoiled your day… (open the card) Look at the bright side, It's really good pay!

The Life of a Writer Isn't Easy (Thanks, Marva!)

The professor told his class one day: Today we will experiment with a new form called the tandem story. The process is simple. Each person will pair off with the person sitting to his or her immediate right. As homework tonight, one of you will write the first paragraph of a short story. You will e-mail your partner that paragraph and send another copy to me. The partner will read the first paragraph and then add another paragraph to the story and send it back, also sending another copy to me. The first person will then add a third paragraph, and so on back-and-forth. Remember to re-read what has been written each time in order to keep the story coherent. There is to be absolutely NO talking outside of the e-mails and anything you wish to say must be written in the e-mail. The story is over when both agree a conclusion has been reached. The following was actually turned in by two of his English students, Rebecca and Gary. THE STORY: (Rebecca) At first, Laurie couldn't decide which kind of tea she wanted. The chamomile, which used to be her favorite for lazy evenings at home, now reminded her too much of Carl, who once said, in happier times, that he liked chamomile. But she felt she must now, at all costs, keep her mind off Carl. His possessiveness was suffocating, and if she thought about him too much her asthma started acting up again. So chamomile was out of the question. (Gary) Meanwhile, Advance Sergeant Carl Harris, leader of the attack squadron now in orbit over Skylon 4, had more important things to think about than the neuroses of an air-headed asthmatic bimbo named Laurie with whom he had spent one sweaty night over a year ago. ’A.S. Harris to Geostation 17,' he said into his transgalactic communicator. 'Polar orbit established. No sign of resistance so far...' But before he could sign off a bluish particle beam flashed out of nowhere and blasted a hole through his ship's cargo bay. The jolt from the direct hit sent him flying out of his seat and across the cockpit. (Rebecca) He bumped his head and died almost immediately, but not before he felt one last pang of regret for psychically brutalizing the one woman who had ever feelings for him. Soon afterwards, Earth stopped its pointless hostilities towards the peaceful farmers of Skylon 4. 'Congress Passes Law Permanently Abolishing War and Space Travel,' Laurie read in her newspaper one morning. The news simultaneously excited her and bored her. She stared out the window, dreaming of her youth, when the days had passed unhurriedly and carefree, with no newspaper to read, no television to distract her from her sense of innocent wonder at all the beautiful things around her. 'Why must one lose one's innocence to become a woman?' she pondered wistfully. (Gary) Little did she know, but she had less than 10 seconds to live. Thousands of miles above the city, the Anu'udrian mothership launched the first of its lithium fusion missiles. The dim-witted wimpy peaceniks, who pushed the Unilateral Aerospace disarmament Treaty through the congress, had left Earth a defenseless target for the hostile alien empires who were determined to destroy the human race. Within two hours after the passage of the treaty the Anu'udrian ships were on course for Earth, carrying enough firepower to pulverize the entire planet. With no one to stop them, they swiftly initiated their diabolical plan. The lithium fusion missile entered the atmosphere unimpeded. The President, in his top-secret mobile submarine headquarters on the ocean floor off the coast of Guam, felt the inconceivably massive explosion, which vaporized poor, stupid Laurie. (Rebecca) This is absurd. I refuse to continue this mockery of literature. My writing partner is a violent, chauvinistic semi-literate adolescent. (Gary) Yeah? Well, my writing partner is a self-centered tedious neurotic whose attempts at writing are the literary equivalent of Valium. 'Oh, shall I have chamomile tea? Or shall I have some other sort of F--KING TEA??? Oh no, what am I to do? I'm such an air headed bimbo who reads too many Danielle Steele novels!' (Rebecca) As*h@le. (Gary) B*tch! (Rebecca) F**K YOU - YOU NEANDERTHAL!! (Gary) In your dreams, Ho. Go drink some tea. (TEACHER) A+ - I really liked this one

Review--The Dance by James Goodman

Now, if you love anything weird, then this is the book for you. It should come with a warning, though. Reading it ensures that when you pick up another book, it won't come close to The Dance. Oh, and you'll be lost when it's finished. I still am. Nothing on my bookshelf looks appealing anymore. Review: Kyle is an absolute nutter. Known to the public as The Puppeteer, he embarks on a spree of multiple murders in an attempt to create The Dance—a ritual enacted with his victims and his odd sidekick, Nina. Kyle positions his victims in a disturbing way after death, though what Kyle needs to do to them to position them this way is done while they are still alive…. Nina abets Kyle in all of his crimes—as far as creating the set up, the place, and the victims. Kyle, in love with Nina, doesn’t question her motives for wanting to join him on his quest for hearing the screams of those he tortures. After all, it must be a serial killer’s dream to find a woman who shares the same predilection. But Nina isn’t ‘all there’…. Detective Tom Wiley is on The Puppeteer’s trail once more after eight years pass since the last murder. The Puppeteer has upped the ante—his killings are more disturbing this time round. Why did the killer stop for so long? Why is he back? Tom intends to find out. Assigned a new partner, Anna Perez, Tom not only has to find a killer of despicable proportions, but also struggles to settle into a new work relationship. Tom’s ex wife, Sherry, throws more stress into the mix by messing with Tom’s emotions with regards to their children. Also, Sherry’s new partner, Dan, rattles Tom’s already fraught nerves (Dan got on mine too!). The Dance sated my yen for the macabre. Though Kyle’s acts are violent and despicable, I will admit to enjoying reading about his antics (am I sick?). I also felt a little sorry for him. Yes, insane to feel sympathy for a nutbag who goes round gouging people’s insides out and doing that…that thing he does to them, but, well, Kyle’s a lumbering dimwit really, and though there should be an inkling of remorse inside him, he doesn’t appear to know any better. This doesn’t excuse his actions, of course, but all the same…. Nina, it’s Nina’s fault! She encourages him! Now, if Nina were your average woman, Kyle, once he starts to sense something isn’t quite right with her, would probably be able to get rid of her in the same way he offs his victims. But Nina, like I said, isn’t all there, and Nina is on a higher mental plane than Kyle. Other forces attempt to help Kyle see the light with regards to what Nina is really up to, but the poor sap’s besotted with her. Nina is the only person who has truly loved him, you see…. The paranormal aspect of The Dance is truly believable. I didn’t question how Kyle and Nina got from one site to another—the explanation of how they travel seemed totally plausible. My favourite scene involved a botched up journey that Kyle took while still learning how to project himself. His altercation with a police officer made me laugh out loud. Kyle, though off his rocker, has a sharp wit that brings much dark humour to the tale. Overall, I thoroughly enjoyed The Dance and look forward to reading more from James Goodman. His warped characters are exactly the kind I like to read about. Sick, weird, and twisted.

Warning! Total Waffle

This is one of those blog posts that starts in one place, visits another, and ends where I least expected it to. Sometimes, I allow myself to write whatever comes into my head. These are usually saved as a short story and no one else reads them. However, today I’m posting it because, well, because I am. I played an hour and a half of tennis on the Wii last night, so this morning my muscles nag like a discontented wife. I’m glad, because it means I can enjoy myself now while exercising—and it doesn’t feel like I’m exercising. However, Big Brain Academy makes me feel very dim. I hope to enlarge my brain capacity with practise—not that working out how many balls dropped into the basket or which face appeared first is my idea of fun brain stimulation. It’s actually an annoying game—but I play it anyway. What’s that all about? And I know I’m an intelligent person, know a lot of things, so how does this game make me feel like I’m on the lower end of the clever person scale? I’ve had one of those lovely couple of weeks where I’m not too busy. This is nice in the respect that I’m not racing to get things done, but at the same time it makes my mind slow down. Then I start to think. This is ok—sometimes. I make my mind busy for a reason, though. Probably why I’m waffling now because I’m bored. Probably why I’ve been quiet in the gob department this week because my mind has been thinking, thinking, thinking. I finally read Aaran Lazar’s Tremolo (I think I’ve had that on my TBR pile for over two years—shocking!) and, as I said on another post, I finished IHV. I attempted to write on Wednesday (chick-lit for an anthology) but my chick-lit muse is in hiding. What a cow! I really do need to get my rear into gear on that one, but the words aren’t coming. I started two tales, got about 200 words in on each and abandoned them. Too much of a struggle—and when writing gets like that, it means my prose will be forced and stilted. Give me psychological horror any day. Fits me like a clichéd glove. What else has been going on? Not a lot. The kids have been off on spring break for two weeks. I must say, having them home all day is nice but frustrating at times. Due to their ages, they bicker about the most inconsequential things. I suppose we’ve all been there, but I find their arguments about who sat in that chair last a little tedious. “But you got out of the chair, so now I’m sitting on it.” “But I only went to the toilet. I was sitting there, and you know it.” “Well, you left the chair. Tough.” Affronted child turns to me. “But Muuuuuuuuuuuuuum! I only went to the toilet!” “I know.” I turn to child who insists on aggravating for fun. “Please can you sit somewhere else?” “But he left the chair.” “Yes, to go to the toilet.” “He still left it, though.” “But you knew he was going to the toilet, so please sit somewhere else.” “That’s so unfair. I’m comfortable here now.” “Please sit somewhere else.” “But he….” “Please sit somewhere else.” “But I’m….” “Please sit somewhere ELSE!” “But….” Anyone who has been here when this kind of thing happens knows that I am not exaggerating with the amount of times I ask the aggravator to please move or stop whatever it is they are doing. I may as well not speak, to be honest, and sometimes…d’you know what? It gets so wearing that I could cry at the total lack of respect. Sometimes, being a mother is a thankless task. But I knew that when I embarked on this mad ride—I just didn’t realise how, at times, my identity as a person is tested. Yup, I’m a mother, but, like the children, sometimes I get pissed off, feel tired, want space, want to yell and flop myself on the floor and throw my arms and legs about like a beetle who can’t right itself. Sometimes I don’t want to do something or go somewhere or speak to whoever decides to knock on the door. And if someone knocks on the door, who says I have to answer it? Even if the caller knows I am in—so what? Is there an unspoken rule that says I must see what they want? Same with text messages and phone calls. Do I have to reply or answer right that minute? There’s something about receiving a text message that makes me feel guilty if I don’t reply. Sometimes I don’t hear it bleep, but other times I do and I think, “Oh, fuck. I don’t want to read that, whoever it’s from!” Is that bad? I know what is bad—I’ve used the word ‘sometimes’ a lot here. Still, my sense of comparing my kids to the kids in some parts of our country who run riot brings me back to knowing my kids are good (lovely awkward sentence there, folks!). Speaking with Eldest yesterday was a prime example. She’d watched a programme on kids of similar ages to mine. It showed what they get up to. 12 year olds with guns and knives, stealing cars and all sorts. What the eff? These kids apparently do what they do ‘just to get by’. I thought about my kids and what they do to get by. Going to college/school, Play Station 2, Wii, Internet, reading, watching films, playing footy at the park. No, they aren’t bad kids. If being bad is ignoring me at times, then I’ll take that over gun wielding shitbags who mug people for enough money to buy cigarettes. And though my kids moan at times that this or that isn’t fair, then at least I know I’ve done right by my kids when I think of something Eldest witnessed the other day—and that my kids will know this when they look back on their childhoods. At 10 a.m. one day last week, a mother, pissed out of her head, unable to stand, was helped to stand and get to wherever she was going by her 5 year old. Eldest was disturbed by this for the rest of the day. I thought about that poor kid and what she faces on a daily basis. My 5 year old doesn’t have to do anything like that—neither do the others. What the hell is going on in the world? I’ve always said that kids should be kids for as long as possible. I don’t use my kids to clean the house (I mean, turning them upside down and using their hair as a mop is child abuse), but I do understand why some parents give their kids chores. I realise the importance of them understanding that a mess doesn’t clear itself up and that if they learn to do these things then they are able to do them when they fly the nest. But I can’t bring myself to get them doing housework. An example of this was when Eldest, around 15 at the time, had to do the washing up after dinner at her boyfriend’s house. His mother said, “What are you doing?” Eldest was washing up in a rather bizarre manner. She hadn’t had to do it before, see. She’d also never used an iron, a washing machine, a cooker, a tin opener…. But she soon learned when she moved into her own place. So me not making them do anything didn’t stop Eldest from learning to do it when she had to. Yeah, I let my kids lay in bed if they want to. After all, they’ll have a lifetime ahead of them with early mornings when they go to work. Yeah, I make their breakfast, lunch, and dinner (I’m supposed to do that, right?), but they do know how to make it themselves if they have to. Hmmm. I’m soft, I know that, but I have my reasons for being this way. A kid taking on the mantle of mother and cooking, cleaning, doing laundry, and shopping grates on my last nerve. Taking away a kid’s childhood is one thing that pisses me right off because the child can never get that time back. Probably why I’ve allowed my kids to have their childhoods. I feel like I’ve been an adult forever. I always feel ‘wrong’ for blogging about personal thoughts. I shouldn’t, because my blog is about my books, editing, and parts of my life. I tend to want to write about funny things, to make the time people have spent coming here worthwhile. Give them a good laugh to set them up for the day, shit like that. D’you know, while ironing the other day (don’t faint! I did indeed iron!) I played one of those games where you imagine what you would do if you were rich. I gave money away, bought hubby, Dad, brother and sister a brand new car. Paid off some of their mortgages. Bought my kids shit loads of clothes, toys, whatever they wanted. Bought a house. Bought Eldest a house and filled it with everything she needs. Bought Grandson a baby quad bike. Put money in banks for my nieces and nephews. Sent my two best online pals money. Donated to various charities. Guess what I bought myself? Nothing. I thought about that for a while. Why did I do that? Because doing for others makes me happier than doing for myself. Because if everyone else is happy then I’m happy. Because that’s who I am. And d’you know what? I like me. :o)

Book Review--Tremolo by Aaron Lazar

While out in a skiff with his friends, Siegfried and Elsbeth, Gus’s young heart hammers with fright as the fog rolls in. Their boat sunk, the three youngsters buoy up on cushions until rescue arrives. But not before a sinister occurrence frightens Gus silly. A missing girl, Sharon, runs through the woods, her mouth bloodied, a male pursuer in her wake who is intent on her return. Who is Sharon? And who is she running from? On another occasion, Gus is sure he sees a glimpse of white fabric in the woods—perhaps a nightshirt that flows due to the owner running? Or is it Sharon again? What is she doing in the woods? Does she always choose that place to run when the man chases? Gus leaves some bubble gum for Sharon. Later, with his focus on helping the running girl, Gus decides to leave more food for her beside the boulder where he left his last offering. While on a horse ride with the twins, Gus finds the boulder—and an empty bubble gum wrapper. Sharon had been there! So seeing her wasn’t his imagination…. Settling down for a picnic lunch at the boulder, the children wait and pray Sharon will appear. Elsbeth has written a note for Sharon in the hope that she will find it and realise that the trio are there to help, not hurt her. Siegfried leaves a pencil. Perhaps Sharon will write back? The trio meet up with William, an older boy, and plan to pick blueberries in the middle of the night. What an adventure! Though excited, Gus is scared—he shouldn’t be out at two a.m., nor should he be stealing from the fruit farm. While picking and eating the berries, a sound startles the foursome. Was that car tyres on a dirt road? Freaked, the children run, only to turn back and see the car’s headlights tracing their path. They hide behind a stone wall. Two men get out of the car. What was that they hefted out of the trunk…? After a visit to the fabric store, Gus realises that something isn’t quite right. He’d assumed the man chasing Sharon had been her father. It wasn’t, for Sharon’s father owned the fabric store. The man Gus had seen was someone else entirely. Gus tells his father, and later, the police arrive to question the trio on what they saw that terrible night. The children accompany the police to the boulder. Once again, Gus glimpses the white fabric. He shouts that he has seen Sharon and heads off in her direction, but someone else is waiting for him in the woods and carts him off to a cabin…. Alone, trapped and bound inside the now blazing cabin, Gus struggles to break his bonds, his captor long gone. Luckily, Gus’s father rescues him. While visiting the local fun fair, Gus’s captor presents himself again. Is he following Gus? And what is the man doing under the water when Gus and Siegfried dive down to retrieve stolen goods from beneath the lake? This man is surely on a mission to remove Gus from whatever equation he features in…. Will Sharon be found? And will the police apprehend the menacing man who intends on shutting Gus up? Sub-plots run through Tremolo that focus on a growing boy’s emotions. Not only does Gus have to contend with the frightening experiences regarding Sharon and the pursuing man, but also the revelation that his mother is pregnant. Gus has a crush on a young woman named Betsy, and while emotions rage through him that he tries to understand, his mother’s pregnancy brings thoughts to the fore that his parents ‘did it’. How does Gus feel about that—especially when his own feelings for the opposite sex are starting to feature in his life? Does he want to share his parents with another child? More to the point, how does a young boy cope with the guilty feelings that surface when something terrible happens? Gus is also told a secret of great importance that he must keep quiet. He’s bursting with the knowledge he has gained, yet he can’t utter a word to Siegfried and Elsbeth, his best friends, his ‘blood brothers’. Gus’s emotions are portrayed very well throughout Tremolo: the topsy-turvy arrival of hormones and the awakening of his maleness; learning to know when to keep quiet and when to reveal information; the fright and fear of seeing a missing girl when the police can’t find her; the encounters with the captor…Gus has experienced quite a summer, one which has shown him the twists and turns of life and given him growth and strength of character. Tremolo—an exciting and enjoyable read—that brings the happenings of the wider world into play as well as the drama playing out in Gus’s life.

Out Now!

Desperately seeking escape from what he deems a miserable existence, Michael Dougherty searches for an outlet. He finally gains the attention of his long time crush, Tiffany Tabor, only to discover that her past life eerily entwines with his. He fails to recognize the dangers of his situation--Tiffany's irresistibility charms him. Although his friends undertake their own quest to reveal the truth, they cannot persuade Michael to subsist. This fatal attraction has him enthralled, so Michael casts caution to the wind at the risk of his life. When his father tells of a family secret, Michael is thrown into further turmoil. With a burning desire to right wrongs, Tiffany confronts her past. Stopping at nothing, she faces her own demons and devises a plan of revenge. Will Tiffany succeed? Will Michael survive?

Can Cold Water Clean Dishes?

This is for all the germ conscious folks that worry about using cold water to clean. John went to visit his 90 year old grandfather in a very secluded, rural area of West Virginia. After spending a great evening chatting the night away, John's grandfather prepared breakfast of bacon, eggs and toast. However, John noticed a film like substance on his plate and questioned his grandfather asking, 'Are these plates clean?' His grandfather replied, 'They're as clean as cold water can get em. Just you go ahead and finish your meal, sonny!' For lunch, the old man made hamburgers. Again, John was concerned about the plates as his appeared to have tiny specks around the edge that looked like dried egg and asked, 'Are you sure these plates are clean?' Without looking up the old man said, 'I told you before, sonny, those dishes are as clean as cold water can get them. Now don't you fret, I don't want to hear another word about it!' Later that afternoon, John was on his way to a nearby town. As he was leaving, his grandfather's dog started to growl and wouldn't let him pass. John yelled and said, 'Grandfather, your dog won't let me get to my car.' Without diverting his attention from the football game he was watching on TV, the old man shouted, 'COLDWATER, GO LAY DOWN NOW, YAH HEAR ME!'

Joy and Irritation Warning!

These inventions make for some funny family moments. They make you laugh, enjoy yourself, go through a range of emotions, and hurt people. Yes, you can injure someone while using one of these devices. Yesterday, I used the Wii for the first time and played bowling. Surprised myself at being good at it. I beat Hubby (sorry, dear….), and we played another tense game where we drew, which I found hilarious. Ahem. (Silly cow!) Anyway, when a 10 year old child beats you, that isn’t so funny, and when you continually beat your 5 year old and the fun goes out of the game for her, you play another game and let her win just so her spirit lights up again. Your shoulder begins to ache after about 10 games, but you continue to play…tennis. Nervous at making a dick of myself, I prepared to play. And again found myself good at it. Wow, I have a talent for Wii sports. Who would have thought it? Though Hubby only told me afterwards that you don’t have to play it as if you are actually on the court. You know, swooping forehands, cracking backhands…that make you smack your Smallest’s arm with a fist-held controller. Nor do you need to serve as if you’re playing Pete Sampras (which I did envision doing because I always hated the way his bottom lip hung slack while serving. BUG!) Anyway, I won many of my games through serving aces, though Smallest has developed the knack of sending spinning fastballs on her serves that you just can’t hit. She finds that hilarious and calls them her “special hit”. They are not amusing. Not amusing when you can’t do them yourself and can’t work out how she does them. Besides, they make your character fall over onto the ground. They also make you feel dumb as if you really did fall over. Still, though I’m aching like a bitch today, I’m up for another few games of tennis and bowling. Somehow, I don’t think I’d better try baseball. Or boxing. No, I’d better not do that. As I said, it makes you laugh, but most of all, it brings the family unit together to have much fun. Now, I need to better my bowling before Middle Son comes back from Italy tomorrow (he went skiing with the school). He’ll think, as with the other consoles, that Mum won’t play. Mum is boring like that. I’m looking forward to trouncing his arse. See? See how it gets you? It brings out the competitive streak—something I forgot I had. Anyway, there is a down side. Especially if you purchase—because you love your kids and know they would like this particular ‘game’—the High School Musical sing-a-long and microphone. If you dislike HSM already, you’ll detest it after playing this. Yesterday, I could have ripped that damn mic out of the machine and stomped on it, pulled the cord until it broke free, and strangled…something with it. Think karaoke from the drunkest man at the party. The man who mumbles and doesn’t sing. The man who doesn’t know the tune and can’t even see the words on the screen. And enduring it for three or four hours, along with yells of, “Hey, it’s my turn!” (Oh, no. Please. Not your turn….) Indeed, this is a painful experience. I’m limiting that game to one hour per day. It’s all my ears and nerves can take. Have a good weekend, all! :o) P.S With another surge of competitiveness, I would like to announce that I am the ONLY family member at pro-level bowling. AND I have a star-covered bowling ball. The others have…just regular ones. MWAHAHAHAHA!

Things to Ponder

As we grow up, we learn that even the one person that wasn't supposed to ever let you down probably will. You will have your heart broken probably more than once and it's harder every time. You'll break hearts too, so remember how it felt when yours was broken. You'll fight with your best friend. You'll blame a new love for things an old one did. You'll cry because time is passing too fast and you'll eventually lose someone you love. So take too many pictures, laugh too much, and love like you've never been hurt because every sixty seconds you spend upset is a minute of happiness you'll never get back.

Finally!

I finally did it. Just finished In Her Veins. :o)

LOL

THINGS THAT IT TAKES OVER 50 YEARS TO LEARN by Dave Barry 1. Never, under any circumstances, take a sleeping pill and a laxative on the same night. 2. If you had to identify, in one word, the reason why the human race has not achieved, and never will achieve, its full potential, that word would be "meetings." 3. There is a very fine line between "hobby" and "mental illness." [M.E says: Yes, like those people who collect weird stuff, like beer bottle tops, and keep them in plastic bags until their obsession fills the house....] 4. People who want to share their religious views with you almost never want you to share yours with them. 5. You should not confuse your career with your life. 6. Nobody cares if you can't dance well. Just get up and dance. [Untrue. People rip the piss out of dancers at family discos all the time] 7. Never lick a steak knife. 10. You should never say anything to a woman that even remotely suggests that you think she's pregnant unless you can see an actual baby emerging from her at that moment. 11. There comes a time when you should stop expecting other people to make a big deal about your birthday. That time is age eleven. 12. The one thing that unites all human beings, regardless of age, gender, religion, economic status or ethnic background, is that, deep down inside, we ALL believe that we are above average drivers. 13. A person who is nice to their companions but rude to the waiter is not a nice person. (This is very important. Pay attention. It never fails.) 14. Your friends love you anyway. [Another untrue one.] 15. Never be afraid to try something new. Remember that a lone amateur built the Ark. A large group of professionals built the Titanic. [This one struck me quite a lot because I'm afraid of trying new things--silly afraid.] FINAL Thought for the day: Men are like a fine wine. They start out as grapes, and it's up to women to stomp the crap out of them until they turn into something acceptable to have dinner with.

Weekend Funnies

Question We Just Can't Answer Why do we press harder on a remote control when we know the batteries are flat? Why do banks charge a fee on 'insufficient funds' when they know there is not enough? Why do Kamikaze pilots wear helmets? Why does someone believe you when you say there are four billion stars, but check when you say the paint is wet? Whose idea was it to put an 'S' in the word 'lisp'? What is the speed of darkness? Why is it that people say they 'slept like a baby' when babies wake up every two hours? Are there specially reserved parking spaces for 'normal' people at the Special Olympics? If the temperature is zero outside today and it's going to be twice as cold tomorrow, how cold will it be? How is it that we put man on the moon before we figured out it would be a good idea to put wheels on luggage? Why do people pay to go up tall buildings and then put money in binoculars to look at things on the ground? Did you ever stop and wonder...... Who was the first person to look at a cow and say, 'I think I'll squeeze these pink dangly things here, and drink whatever comes out?' Who was the first person to say, 'See that chicken there... I'm gonna eat the next thing that comes outta it's bum.' Why do toasters always have a setting so high that could burn the toast to a horrible crisp, which no decent human being would eat? Why is there a light in the fridge and not in the freezer? Why do people point to their wrist when asking for the time, but don't point to their bum when they ask where the bathroom is? Why does your Obstetrician, Gynaecologist leave the room when you get undressed if they are going to look up there anyway? Why does Goofy stand erect while Pluto remains on all fours? They're both dogs ! If quizzes are quizzical, what are tests? If corn oil is made from corn, and vegetable oil is made from vegetables, then what is baby oil made from? If electricity comes from electrons, does morality come from morons? Why do the Alphabet song and Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star have the same tune? Stop humming and read on! Do illiterate people get the full effect of Alphabet Soup? Did you ever notice that when you blow in a dog's face, it gets mad at you, but when you take it on a car ride, it sticks its head out the window? Why do we think pushing the elevator button more than once make it arrive faster?

Podcasts/Can You Help?

Podcasts Last Tuesday, Marci interviewed Jack Maeby, author of The Thorazine Mirrorball for WCP's first inaugural podcast. As WCP will be at the Venice Abbot Kinney Memorial Library on Saturday, April 5, 2008, from 3 to 5 pm with two other authors, Marci thought it was timely. Jeff Sherratt and Deborah Grabien will be joining WCP to discuss large, conglomerate publishers vs. independent presses. Considering all that has been going down with Amazon lately, this could potentially be a very interesting discussion. So, tensions could be running high on Saturday. The presentation is free and open to the public. You can find the podcast at Wild Child and at Pod Show. Marci is still waiting on approval from iTunes, but she's sure that we will soon be there as well. Enjoy! Can You Help? Can anyone spare even a dollar/pound to send to Skylar and his wife, April? They have been struggling for a very long time now. Details HERE. Thank you! :o)

More Leaks

The pipe under the sink leaked some more. Dad came round again and replaced all the white piping that appeared to be wet, plus the piping that goes into the drain outside. “Drip now, ya ba***rd!” Dad said. It did. We sat on the floor and watched the water drip onto the base of the cupboard. “Where the eff is that coming from?” Dad asked. “Dunno,” I said. We finally found the source of the drip. It wasn’t any of the white piping at all, but the hot water copper pipe. The nut needed tightening. Easy once you know…. My brain is decidedly fried. Too much PC work. I retired early last night and feel better for it today. Yesterday, I received a credit card bill that said I hadn’t paid them. “I bloody well did!” I said and logged on to online banking. “I bloody didn’t. Oh, shit!” What I’d done was pay the other credit card twice. Still, luckily the one I didn’t pay was the ‘nice’ credit card people that don’t charge you an exorbitant sum for not paying. They also don’t accuse you in a nasty way of not paying. They ask: Did you forget your payment last month? Much better than the other ones: As you didn’t pay last month, your account has been suspended until you cough up, you bill-dodging bitch! I’m bored today. I have lots to do, but don’t feel like doing it. I will, though. Once I start, I’m sure it’ll all get done. Bed sheets to change, all that kind of thing, plus I really must finish my 2nd round of Scott Leddy’s book 2 and check the final file for Tiffany’s Twisted. Oh, and I must finish one of my own short stories, write the last chapter of In Her Veins, and write a chick lit for Dreams and Desires Vol 3. I’d best be off then! Have a good day. :o)

The Rest of Yesterday/Call Centre Funnies

After scuttling home yesterday with the hope that the day would get better…it didn’t. I’ll blame it on PMT. Once home, I did a little housework. I say a little, because the jobs I intended doing involved water. My washing machine started making a strained noise (rather like one does when sitting on the toilet with constipation), and I noted no water appeared to be filtering through the drawer and into the machine. After fiddling with the mains water tap to see if it had somehow been closed, I discovered we had no water. “Well,” I mumbled, “we haven’t had a letter saying the water will be turned off, so what the eff?” One talks aloud to oneself all the time. I decided to use the time constructively and chase up a delivery I was supposed to have had two weeks ago. A computerised voice told me that I would be held in a queue for two minutes. Music filtered into my ear. Considering this was the customer services department, the choice of song made me laugh again (I’d heard it before when one of my other deliveries went astray). Trouble by Coldplay. If you haven’t heard it, it goes something like: Oh, I never meant to cause you trouble. Oh, I never meant to do you wrong. Indeed, so why haven’t my deliveries arrived? Anyway, the lady told me that the delivery had been despatched to the people who deliver to the courier and that the courier had delivered. Really? Not to me. So, she’s investigating as to whether one of my neighbours kindly took in the parcel—and kept it. Nice. Eldest Son arrived home for lunch (he didn’t ask for a haircut, phew!). I said (and note my use of wording here), “I have no idea why, but for some reason we have no water.” “Why?” Why don’t I have any idea, or why don’t we have water? Choose the latter to argue about, M.E…. “Like I said, I have no idea why. So don’t use the toilet.” ES went upstairs. Came back down. “I just did a poo and forgot we didn’t have any water.” Righty ho…. I sat down at the computer to edit. The phone rang. Youngest Son was ill. Could I go and pick him up? I did so—and noted that those effing workmen had obviously cut through the sodding underground pipes as Thames Water and British Gas vans sat parked on the verge. So it was THEM who prevented me doing housework. I should have been grateful…. In the shop queue (had to go and buy some medicine for YS), a woman lamented about having no water. “It’s the bloody workmen over on the main road,” I said. “Been out two bloody hours, hasn’t it?” “Yes.” On the way home, we noted water spewing all over the road from a pipe sticking out of the workmen’s hole (and that sounded plain WRONG, didn’t it?). “Bloody fuckers,” I said. “What?” said Youngest Son. “Nothing.” Home again. Oh, yay! The water was back on. Good job I didn’t order a new washing machine then, eh? (Which I very nearly did!) An hour later, I left to pick Smallest up from school, praying that no more mishaps would upset me. They didn’t. Then. They waited until I got home. Dad arrived to check why our pipe under the sink leaked. A few “fucking bastards” later, the pipe no longer leaked. Various grunts and noises from Eldest Son drove me to the brink of insanity, questions from the others pushed me further, hubby escaped upstairs, and I sat on the computer wishing the day would end. Bed. Wide awake, I didn’t fancy reading my current bedtime read. Too irritating. Luckily, Silence of the Lambs (the film) saved the day. Hubby fell asleep half way through it, so I shat myself all alone while Hannibal bit off the guard’s cheeks and Clarice tried to find Jaime Gumm in the bloody darkness while Jaime stared at her through ultra creepy night vision goggles. Oh, please. I couldn't sleep for about half an hour after the film ended. Today? Well, it isn’t a bad one. Though we have water, I haven’t done the jobs requiring said water. I’ve looked through a proof file, read a short story, and done a little housework. So how come it’s 12:40 already? Where did the time go? I have 53 emails to check. So, seeing as this post includes a call to customer services, have a look at these funnies (apparently real transcripts). PHONE CALLS Customer: "I've been ringing 0800 2100 for two days and can't get through to enquiries, can you help?" Operator: "Where did you get that number from, sir?" Customer: "It was on the door to the Travel Centre." Operator: "Sir, they are our opening hours." * * * Samsung Electronics Caller: "Can you give me the telephone number for Jack?" Operator: "I'm sorry, sir, I don't understand who you are talking about." Caller: "On page 1, section 5, of the user guide it clearly states that I need to unplug the fax machine from the AC wall socket and telephone Jack before cleaning. Now, can you give me the number for Jack?" Operator: "I think you mean the telephone point on the wall." * * * RAC Motoring Services Caller: "Does your European Breakdown Policy cover me when I am travelling in Australia?" Operator: "Doesn't the product name give you a clue?" * * * Caller (enquiring about legal requirements while travelling in France): "If I register my car in France, do I have to change the steering wheel to the other side of the car?" * * * Directory Enquiries Caller: "I'd like the number of the Argoed Fish Bar in Cardiff, please." Operator: "I'm sorry, there's no listing. Is the spelling correct?" Caller: "Well, it used to be called the Bargoed Fish Bar but the 'B' fell off." * * * Then there was the caller who asked for a knitwear company in Woven. Operator: "Woven? Are you sure?" Caller: "Yes. That's what it says on the label: Woven in Scotland." * * * A man making heavy breathing sounds from a phone box told a worried operator: "I haven't got a pen, so I'm steaming up the window to write the number on." * * * Tech Support: "I need you to right-click on the Open Desktop." Customer: "Ok." Tech Support: "Did you get a pop-up menu?" Customer: "No." Tech Support: "Ok. Right-click again. Do you see a pop-up menu?" Customer: "No." Tech Support: "Ok, sir. Can you tell me what you have done up until this point?" Customer: "Sure. You told me to write 'click' and I wrote 'click'." Tech Support: "Ok. In the bottom left hand side of the screen, can you see the 'OK' button displayed?" Customer: "Wow. How can you see my screen from there?" * * * Caller: "I deleted a file from my PC last week and I have just realised that I need it. If I turn my system clock back two weeks will I have my file back again?" * * * Actual dialogue of a former WordPerfect Customer Support employee: Operator: "Ridge Hall, computer assistance; may I help you?" Caller: "Yes, well, I'm having trouble with WordPerfect." Operator: "What sort of trouble??" Caller: "Well, I was just typing along, and all of a sudden the words went away." Operator: "Went away?" Caller: "They disappeared." Operator: "Hmm So what does your screen look like now?" Caller: "Nothing." Operator: "Nothing?" Caller: "It's blank; it won't accept anything when I type." Operator: "Are you still in WordPerfect, or did you get out?" Caller: "How do I tell?" Operator: "Can you see the C: prompt on the screen?" Caller: "What's a sea-prompt?" Operator: "Never mind, can you move your cursor around the screen?" Caller: "There isn't any cursor: I told you, it won't accept anything I type." Operator: "Does your monitor have a power indicator?" Caller: "What's a monitor?" Operator: "It's the thing with the screen on it that looks like a TV. Does it have a little light that tells you when it's on?" Caller: "I don't know." Operator: "Well, then look on the back of the monitor and find where the power cord goes into it. Can you see that?" Caller: "Yes, I think so." Operator: "Great. Follow the cord to the plug, and tell me if it's plugged into the wall. Caller: "Yes, it is." Operator: "When you were behind the monitor, did you notice that there were two cables plugged into the back of it, not just one?" Caller: "No." Operator: "Well, there are. I need you to look back there again and find the other cable." Caller: "Okay, here it is." Operator: "Follow it for me, and tell me if it's plugged securely into the back of your computer." Caller: "I can't reach." Operator: "Uh huh. Well, can you see if it is??" Caller: "No." Operator: "Even if you maybe put your knee on something and lean way over?" Caller: "Oh, it's not because I don't have the right angle—it's because it's dark." Operator: "Dark?" Caller: "Yes—the office light is off, and the only light I have is coming in from the window" Operator: "Well, turn on the office light then." Caller: "I can't." Operator: "No? Why not?" Caller: "Because there's a power failure." Operator: "A power... A power failure? Aha, Okay, we've got it licked now. Do you still have the boxes and manuals and packing stuff your computer came in?" Caller: "Well, yes, I keep them in the closet." Operator: "Good. Go get them and unplug your system and pack it up just like it was when you got it. Then take it back to the store you bought it from." Caller: "Really? Is it that bad?" Operator: "Yes, I'm afraid it is." Caller: "Well, all right then, I suppose. What do I tell them?" Operator: "Tell them you're too fucking stupid to own a computer!" P.S some of yesterday's grinches have followed me into today. I just accidentally posted this on WCP's blog. Oh. My. Goodness. Thank God for the delete button. :o)

One of Those Days....

Ever have one of those days? Mine started out ‘o