Stakes. As the only thing that will kill the living dead, it's the bane of vampires and sometimes zombies. Apparently, it also stabs fear into the heart of the writer trying to breathe life into their characters.
Strong character hearts require strong emotions, and strong emotions result from high stakes. You want your emotions to hit the highest pitch possible. You must have the reader experience fully the passions of your characters, whether those emotions be love or hate, trust or betrayal, laughter or sorrow. Escalate your reader's experience by raising the bar for what's at risk.
We can't all write a story about a poor, unloved, defenseless orphan who must save the entire wizarding world, indeed the Muggle world as well, from the darkest and most powerful wizard who ever lived. Not all stories can be set in this frame of stake-hood.
However, whether writing a cozy mystery, a witty women's fiction, or an emotionally charged thriller, your stakes need to be as high as is appropriately possible. Brainstorm--what is the worst thing that could happen to your hero or heroine, and then make it your plot. The higher the risk, the more rewarding that character's triumph will be.
One aspect of high stakes I feel is extremely important is that not just the hero or heroine benefit from their resulting success. The good of a community, no matter how large or small, must also be at risk. It's the carrying the elixir back to the tribe of the "hero's journey." Triumph over the antagonist is so much richer when there's a community of people who benefit from it.
With Harry Potter, we have the large end of the spectrum when it comes to a community benefit. Wizards and Muggles alike will enjoy a more peaceful world when Voldemort is no more. However, even a story that is focused tightly on the burgeoning romance between two people can include the return of the elixir. A family can be reunited, a neighborhood can be returned to order, or as in Two Weeks Notice, a community center protected and restored. The possibilities are as endless as your imagination.
High stakes should also show your characters not only at their best, but also at their worst. Many readers had trouble with Harry in Order of the Phoenix. This was Harry's fifth year of school, and at age fifteen, he was every bit the angry, angsty, antagonistic teenager that no one but his own equally angsty friends wants to be around. I got tired of Harry's tantrums in that book as well.
But it was real. After all, here was a teenager who had a lot of weight on his shoulders, so much that Dumbledore did not make him a prefect because he thought Harry had quite enough to be carrying on with.
Note that when writing a series, as in HP, the stakes must increase with each subsequent book. The hero's task cannot get easier, or there'll be no satisfaction for the reader. Harry goes from maintaining his own against a mere parasite at the end of Philosopher's/Sorcerer's Stone, to saving an innocent man from death or de-souling in PoA, to leading the capture of a pack of Death Eaters in Order of the Phoenix, to facing the ultimate showdown and making the ultimate sacrifice in Deathly Hallows.
Harry has been tested and tried since the very beginning. He has been pushed into developing skills, such as producing a Patronus that other witches and wizards his age would never consider. He must be pushed in this manner because he has an enormous task ahead of him.
No one will believe that a seventeen-year-old wizard could defeat the darkest wizard in 100 years, unless he'd been properly prepared and thoroughly tested. And no one will believe your heroine deserves her triumphant ending unless she's proved to herself, along with the reader, that she can survive and triumph over any obstacle her mean-hearted author has thrown at her.
Your protagonist doesn't have to “save the world.” For writers, stakes are emotional, not physical. What your protagonist does have to do, however, is face his or her worst possible fears, probe their deepest inner wound, pass through the fires of refining conflict, and emerge a better, stronger person on the other side.
Have no mercy! Raise your stakes to bring out the full emotional depth your hero must face and rise above. Torture and torment your characters to make them prove their worth.
After all, you won't have to meet him in real life. :-)
Breathless Reads Tour Stop: Salt Lake City
This is another post that should have been up weeks ago. But, better late than never I always say.
This event was such a blast. I really hope that other publishing houses will consider sending their big tours to Salt Lake City, because I'm telling you, we have a huge YA following here in Utah.
This is yet another event post with no photos. I meant to take some, I really did. However, I was on babysitting detail since my husband was working, and she had a meltdown about halfway through the event. More about that in a minute.
Brenna Yovanoff was probably the biggest surprise to me. She wrote this very harrowing, spine-chilling book, and she's super sweet and soft-spoken. And extremely fashionable.
You can read a little about the questions and answers at these blogs:
The Secret Adventures of WriterGirl
Cranberry Fries (you can even see a picture of me on this one!)
Squeaky Books
One of my favorite things about this blog is getting to work with authors. It's really a thrill to go to an event and have an author recognize who I am and thank me for what I'm doing. Those who blog know that it's really a lot of work, and sometimes a little thankless.
So, I mentioned that my sweet baby had a meltdown at the event. She waited until after the presentation thankfully, but by the time we got in the signing line she'd had enough. Plus, I had a big bag of books to get signed, and had to stand. Every one of these authors was so incredibly kind in my moment of crisis. Kirsten Miller held Abigail for a minute while I got my stuff reorganized. Beth Revis and Andrea Cremer let her sit on the table and play with the bookmarks. Ally Condie stopped what she was doing to make sure that I got my book signed and then got the heck out of there. I don't know if any of you all will read this blog, but thanks for your help. Honestly.
Oh, and I did pick up a little something at the event for you readers. I've got a signed hardcover copy of Across the Universe by Beth Revis. It's going to be March's commenter contest prize. So watch for more details on that tomorrow!
This event was such a blast. I really hope that other publishing houses will consider sending their big tours to Salt Lake City, because I'm telling you, we have a huge YA following here in Utah.
This is yet another event post with no photos. I meant to take some, I really did. However, I was on babysitting detail since my husband was working, and she had a meltdown about halfway through the event. More about that in a minute.
Brenna Yovanoff was probably the biggest surprise to me. She wrote this very harrowing, spine-chilling book, and she's super sweet and soft-spoken. And extremely fashionable.
You can read a little about the questions and answers at these blogs:
The Secret Adventures of WriterGirl
Cranberry Fries (you can even see a picture of me on this one!)
Squeaky Books
One of my favorite things about this blog is getting to work with authors. It's really a thrill to go to an event and have an author recognize who I am and thank me for what I'm doing. Those who blog know that it's really a lot of work, and sometimes a little thankless.
So, I mentioned that my sweet baby had a meltdown at the event. She waited until after the presentation thankfully, but by the time we got in the signing line she'd had enough. Plus, I had a big bag of books to get signed, and had to stand. Every one of these authors was so incredibly kind in my moment of crisis. Kirsten Miller held Abigail for a minute while I got my stuff reorganized. Beth Revis and Andrea Cremer let her sit on the table and play with the bookmarks. Ally Condie stopped what she was doing to make sure that I got my book signed and then got the heck out of there. I don't know if any of you all will read this blog, but thanks for your help. Honestly.
Oh, and I did pick up a little something at the event for you readers. I've got a signed hardcover copy of Across the Universe by Beth Revis. It's going to be March's commenter contest prize. So watch for more details on that tomorrow!
The Art Of Conversation
What the heck is in the water today (well, this vibe actually started yesterday and has seemed to carry through to today)?! I swear, it feels like I'm getting talked over left and right.
It's. Driving. Me. Mad.
Maybe we need to go over a few brief pointers from the It's Not All About You Guide to Conversing With Others (you know, that little invisible handbook your mama passes down to you in the form of manners):
Step one: Take a breath. Breathe. Allow others to interject thoughts. Kindly remember the world does not revolve around you, nor does the sun shine out of your...well, you get the picture.
Step two: Listen to what others have to say. Allow them to share the air. Everyone is entitled to the same amount of oxygen.
Step three: Nod or otherwise acknowledge that you are listening. Staring into oblivion...or at my chest...or at my lips while licking your own...are not suitable ways of letting someone know you are listening--it only shows what you are thinking.
Get these first three steps down, and we're on the road to a much better--less aggravating--conversation.
Ugh. I just had to vent a little. Sorry about that. Feel better now, though. That's what blogs are for, right?
Time to hum some sunshine-y tune...or, my luck, some hormone-y song.
Sigh. It's a Monday.
On a significantly brighter note, Colin Firth won the Academy for Best Actor, my Mavs won this weekend, AND Dale Earnhardt Jr. overcame quite a bit of on-track adversity to grab a top ten finish at Phoenix. Whoop! *Did I just -whoop-?*
It's. Driving. Me. Mad.
Maybe we need to go over a few brief pointers from the It's Not All About You Guide to Conversing With Others (you know, that little invisible handbook your mama passes down to you in the form of manners):
Step one: Take a breath. Breathe. Allow others to interject thoughts. Kindly remember the world does not revolve around you, nor does the sun shine out of your...well, you get the picture.
Step two: Listen to what others have to say. Allow them to share the air. Everyone is entitled to the same amount of oxygen.
Step three: Nod or otherwise acknowledge that you are listening. Staring into oblivion...or at my chest...or at my lips while licking your own...are not suitable ways of letting someone know you are listening--it only shows what you are thinking.
Get these first three steps down, and we're on the road to a much better--less aggravating--conversation.
Ugh. I just had to vent a little. Sorry about that. Feel better now, though. That's what blogs are for, right?
Time to hum some sunshine-y tune...or, my luck, some hormone-y song.
Sigh. It's a Monday.
On a significantly brighter note, Colin Firth won the Academy for Best Actor, my Mavs won this weekend, AND Dale Earnhardt Jr. overcame quite a bit of on-track adversity to grab a top ten finish at Phoenix. Whoop! *Did I just -whoop-?*
Life, The Universe and Everything 2011
I totally should have done this post last week, but I got very ill on Sunday night when I write most of my posts, so it didn't get done. So, here you have it. Also, don't forget that today is the last day to comment on posts this month to win a copy of Delirium!
Life, The Universe and Everything is a science fiction and fantasy symposium that is held at Brigham Young University every year. If you read or write science fiction or fantasy, it's well worth your while to attend. With very few exceptions, the panels and speakers are very good.
I didn't take any pictures, because I just didn't, but I did take a few notes:
For writers, the panel on agents was great. In this day and age, they are absolutely necessary. Why? Because an agent takes gets you into places that you couldn't not get yourself. Also, by taking out some of the business aspects of writing, you have more time to be creative.
The panel on sequels was great. Mette Ivie Harrison, Jessica Day George, and Bree Despain were wonderful. It was interesting to hear the types of struggles that they had while writing their series. I especially loved Jessica Day George's comments on younger readers and how perceptive they are when it comes to books. While older readers will most likely not notice a few inconsistencies, younger readers will pick up on them quickly and not let go.
The other panel I loved was on fractured fairy tales. These are my favorite stories to read, and it is also the novel that I am currently writing. I think that there are a lot of different ways to pull off writing a fairy tale retelling. You can either be very obvious, like Beauty by Robin McKinley, or much more subtle. However, the story has to be at least a little bit recognizable.
James Dashner's keynote speech was very classic Dashner. I really enjoyed listening to the steps that he took to publication and how different it is now for him than it was back then. I hope that his story inspires other authors who have worked so hard to get published to not give up.
Anyway, besides the panels, I got a chance to catch up with some old friends, and meet some new ones. It's such a blast to be in a setting like that with like-minded people and really just delve into the craft of writing. I really think that even those who don't consider themselves writing would learn a lot.
Life, The Universe and Everything is a science fiction and fantasy symposium that is held at Brigham Young University every year. If you read or write science fiction or fantasy, it's well worth your while to attend. With very few exceptions, the panels and speakers are very good.
I didn't take any pictures, because I just didn't, but I did take a few notes:
For writers, the panel on agents was great. In this day and age, they are absolutely necessary. Why? Because an agent takes gets you into places that you couldn't not get yourself. Also, by taking out some of the business aspects of writing, you have more time to be creative.
The panel on sequels was great. Mette Ivie Harrison, Jessica Day George, and Bree Despain were wonderful. It was interesting to hear the types of struggles that they had while writing their series. I especially loved Jessica Day George's comments on younger readers and how perceptive they are when it comes to books. While older readers will most likely not notice a few inconsistencies, younger readers will pick up on them quickly and not let go.
The other panel I loved was on fractured fairy tales. These are my favorite stories to read, and it is also the novel that I am currently writing. I think that there are a lot of different ways to pull off writing a fairy tale retelling. You can either be very obvious, like Beauty by Robin McKinley, or much more subtle. However, the story has to be at least a little bit recognizable.
James Dashner's keynote speech was very classic Dashner. I really enjoyed listening to the steps that he took to publication and how different it is now for him than it was back then. I hope that his story inspires other authors who have worked so hard to get published to not give up.
Anyway, besides the panels, I got a chance to catch up with some old friends, and meet some new ones. It's such a blast to be in a setting like that with like-minded people and really just delve into the craft of writing. I really think that even those who don't consider themselves writing would learn a lot.
Friday Fun: Best Actor Goes To...
....um, I don't know, but I'm sure hoping it's Colin Firth. Ever since he captured my heart as Mr. Darcy, I have wanted to see him acknowledged by the Academy. Even in romantic comedies, he's fantastic. I just love the depth he brings to his roles.
His most recent Academy Award nominated role in the King's Speech is no exception. In one word: brilliant.
His most recent Academy Award nominated role in the King's Speech is no exception. In one word: brilliant.
When People Say Mean Things
Sometimes people say mean things. For whatever reason, they can't help themselves.
Maybe they knock your lifestyle, your choices, your family, your significant other, your job, or even your looks.
Maybe they're just joking around...maybe they're serious...maybe they want to bring you down...and maybe you shouldn't care.
Don't let someone's words get you down.
When someone feels the need to verbally lash out at another for no apparent reason, don't get mad (though you may want to)...don't get sad (because they'd love that and it's a useless emotion)...and don't get even (despite your knee-jerk reaction to spew venom right back--yes, this would be more fun, but would you feel good afterward? Wait. Don't answer that).
Instead, feel sorry for them...because anyone who feels the need to be a jackass clearly has more issues than you could ever imagine having. And that alone is a damn good reason to feel grateful in the face of bullies (of all ages).
Remember: it's your life, not his, hers, or theirs. Yours. Chin up, square shoulders, and move on. And if you want to flip 'em the finger on the sly...aw, hell, go for it.
Maybe they knock your lifestyle, your choices, your family, your significant other, your job, or even your looks.
Maybe they're just joking around...maybe they're serious...maybe they want to bring you down...and maybe you shouldn't care.
Don't let someone's words get you down.
When someone feels the need to verbally lash out at another for no apparent reason, don't get mad (though you may want to)...don't get sad (because they'd love that and it's a useless emotion)...and don't get even (despite your knee-jerk reaction to spew venom right back--yes, this would be more fun, but would you feel good afterward? Wait. Don't answer that).
Instead, feel sorry for them...because anyone who feels the need to be a jackass clearly has more issues than you could ever imagine having. And that alone is a damn good reason to feel grateful in the face of bullies (of all ages).
Remember: it's your life, not his, hers, or theirs. Yours. Chin up, square shoulders, and move on. And if you want to flip 'em the finger on the sly...aw, hell, go for it.
What If Wednesday: What If He Has A Bet On You?
Although along the same lines as the "what if he uses you" theory, one of the most frequent questions I hear has to do with the "bet" scenario: What if a guy has a bet with his buddies that he can get you into bed?
Well, this goes back to that trust issue. I don't trust in people easily. Some people find that strange, which always perplexes me. Trust, like respect, is earned. Do you trust someone you literally just met? Odds are, you don't.
Whether you realize it or not, there is some part of you that will remain guarded until you get to know the person better. Trust is as much a gift as it is a process.
When people tell me they trust me completely, I'm honored, and would never do anything to break that trust. Heck, I still have people's secrets going back to 8th grade! Guess what? I've never told anyone anything...and I never will. Why? Because they asked me not to tell a soul. I don't care that it was forever ago or that they probably don't remember the secrets themselves. I gave my word.
I guess what I'm saying is this: I'm going to get to know him before I trust him. Doesn't trust come before love, anyway? All I can do is have faith that I won't come across some cold-hearted son-of-a-gun that sees me as nothing more than a bet.
My instincts have never let me down before, and I imagine they won't when the time comes.
Bottom Line: I've fine-tuned my b.s. radar...I can usually smell it a mile away. And you can bet I'll go to y'all and my mama for second opinions. ;)
And, ya know, if for some reason a slick s.o.b. squeaks past my b.s. detector, I'll just call up the vengeance demon to right things for me...(I'm joking...it's a Buffy reference, for those who watched the show--very funny character, when she lost her powers anyway...bit scary before then, though.). ;)
Well, this goes back to that trust issue. I don't trust in people easily. Some people find that strange, which always perplexes me. Trust, like respect, is earned. Do you trust someone you literally just met? Odds are, you don't.
Whether you realize it or not, there is some part of you that will remain guarded until you get to know the person better. Trust is as much a gift as it is a process.
When people tell me they trust me completely, I'm honored, and would never do anything to break that trust. Heck, I still have people's secrets going back to 8th grade! Guess what? I've never told anyone anything...and I never will. Why? Because they asked me not to tell a soul. I don't care that it was forever ago or that they probably don't remember the secrets themselves. I gave my word.
I guess what I'm saying is this: I'm going to get to know him before I trust him. Doesn't trust come before love, anyway? All I can do is have faith that I won't come across some cold-hearted son-of-a-gun that sees me as nothing more than a bet.
My instincts have never let me down before, and I imagine they won't when the time comes.
Bottom Line: I've fine-tuned my b.s. radar...I can usually smell it a mile away. And you can bet I'll go to y'all and my mama for second opinions. ;)
And, ya know, if for some reason a slick s.o.b. squeaks past my b.s. detector, I'll just call up the vengeance demon to right things for me...(I'm joking...it's a Buffy reference, for those who watched the show--very funny character, when she lost her powers anyway...bit scary before then, though.). ;)
All I Ask
So, since I have my funky love post over on Cinderita's blog, I figure I'll continue on the love trend. I think most of us agree that love has been made uber complicated these days. So stupid, really. Love should be the simplest, most wonderful part of life, and yet people find a way make it anything but. Shame.
I still believe in the simplistic, uncomplicated version. That's me. Love--pure and simple, love. Trusting the other person is a bit problematic. Whether I'm destined to find it in this world or not, I do not know. I have my doubts. And if I end up alone, it's okay. I'd rather be alone on my own than alone in a relationship.
To me, love isn't about money, prestige, or any of those shallow things. Love should be about two hearts, two souls. Period.
Now, enough with the heavy stuff.
If you listen to the lyrics of a timeless classic, I think they will say it better than I ever could: All I Ask Of You, from The Phantom of the Opera.
I still believe in the simplistic, uncomplicated version. That's me. Love--pure and simple, love. Trusting the other person is a bit problematic. Whether I'm destined to find it in this world or not, I do not know. I have my doubts. And if I end up alone, it's okay. I'd rather be alone on my own than alone in a relationship.
To me, love isn't about money, prestige, or any of those shallow things. Love should be about two hearts, two souls. Period.
Now, enough with the heavy stuff.
If you listen to the lyrics of a timeless classic, I think they will say it better than I ever could: All I Ask Of You, from The Phantom of the Opera.
Love Is In The Air...
...on Cinderita's blog. I wrote a guest blog on love for her and she's featuring it tomorrow. Please keep in mind, I was in my Valentine's state of mind when I wrote it, which, as most of you know, wasn't terribly sunny.
Love. That word has been really bothering me lately. It's thrown around so loosely these days, I sometimes wonder if it still exists in its true form. I think it does, but the bigger concern is whether the person saying it actually believes in the meaning...or are they just saying it because it's the "thing" to do. Maybe they feel they've been with someone long enough and better just say it.
Last November, when I asked Wasn't point blank if he loved his girlfriend of nearly one year, there was this amazing hesitation, followed by serious waffling, and then, "Uuuuuh, you know, yeah." Not sure about you, but that's not what I would want to hear. I don't want to be with someone who isn't really sure about me. Granted, he's probably not the best example to go by, but I remember thinking, I wonder if he really knows what it means to love someone. I think that about a lot of people, actually.
I tend to think simple things have become ridiculously complicated these days...things like love and trust. They are so wonderfully basic, but, wow, the way some people act today makes it really difficult to keep them simple.
Okay, I'm totally mind dumping here.
And if I get shocked one more time when I turn on a light switch, I'm going to start getting radio signals...or turn into, like, Electro Girl--tag line: Touch, and you'll get electrocuted. Wow, how popular would I be with guys? So not ideal.
Love. That word has been really bothering me lately. It's thrown around so loosely these days, I sometimes wonder if it still exists in its true form. I think it does, but the bigger concern is whether the person saying it actually believes in the meaning...or are they just saying it because it's the "thing" to do. Maybe they feel they've been with someone long enough and better just say it.
Last November, when I asked Wasn't point blank if he loved his girlfriend of nearly one year, there was this amazing hesitation, followed by serious waffling, and then, "Uuuuuh, you know, yeah." Not sure about you, but that's not what I would want to hear. I don't want to be with someone who isn't really sure about me. Granted, he's probably not the best example to go by, but I remember thinking, I wonder if he really knows what it means to love someone. I think that about a lot of people, actually.
I tend to think simple things have become ridiculously complicated these days...things like love and trust. They are so wonderfully basic, but, wow, the way some people act today makes it really difficult to keep them simple.
Okay, I'm totally mind dumping here.
And if I get shocked one more time when I turn on a light switch, I'm going to start getting radio signals...or turn into, like, Electro Girl--tag line: Touch, and you'll get electrocuted. Wow, how popular would I be with guys? So not ideal.
Lady Luck
Lady Luck and I have never been close. Maybe it has to do with me not really relying on her help or calling her a choice name when she sticks her nose in where it doesn't belong. I'm convinced she gets sheer pleasure out of toying with the virgin...like I'm the yarn ball to her cat.
I guess it's safe to say we are at odds most of the time.
Still, I wish I had her direct line because Luck and I need to have a talk.
Yesterday, twenty-year-old NASCAR driver Trevor Bayne, became the youngest winner of the historic Daytona 500. Oh, and this was his FIRST EVER Daytona 500. To put this win into perspective, Tony Stewart, a two time series champion, has never won the Daytona 500.
I think just about every NASCAR fan and non-NASCAR fan was happy for this hard working, faith-driven young man.
However, what happened to Dale Earnhardt Jr. is just absurd.
Take a look at the following and tell me Lady Luck doesn't have some explaining to do:
1. Dale wins the pole for the Daytona 500 (meaning he starts the race 1st)
2. During practice, three cars jump in front of Jimmie and Dale, causing Dale to get hit from behind.
3. Pole car...gone; must move to the back-up car.
4. Because he has to move to the back-up car, Dale has to start the race in the back of the pack.
5. Dale masterfully moved up through the pack early on.
6. He lead nine laps over the course of the race.
7. By the end of the race, Dale was in position for the win.
8. With about FIVE laps remaining, he gets a flat tire.
9. Forced to pit, he has to restart 15th/16th.
10. Then, on the restart, he becomes collateral damage in another driver's wreck. Day over, car trashed.
11. From a possible win or top 5...to a 24th place finish.
BFF thought it was terrible what happened--just horrible, horrible luck.
If I could, I'd ask Luck why she feels it's necessary to continue battering the man. Don't you think he had enough of that last year?
Believe me when I say, there are other people in this world perhaps a bit more deserving of your game play. Then again, maybe no one deserves any of the rot you dish out.
Lady Luck, there's a reason your name rhymes with a less than flattering word.
I guess it's safe to say we are at odds most of the time.
Still, I wish I had her direct line because Luck and I need to have a talk.
Yesterday, twenty-year-old NASCAR driver Trevor Bayne, became the youngest winner of the historic Daytona 500. Oh, and this was his FIRST EVER Daytona 500. To put this win into perspective, Tony Stewart, a two time series champion, has never won the Daytona 500.
I think just about every NASCAR fan and non-NASCAR fan was happy for this hard working, faith-driven young man.
However, what happened to Dale Earnhardt Jr. is just absurd.
Take a look at the following and tell me Lady Luck doesn't have some explaining to do:
1. Dale wins the pole for the Daytona 500 (meaning he starts the race 1st)
2. During practice, three cars jump in front of Jimmie and Dale, causing Dale to get hit from behind.
3. Pole car...gone; must move to the back-up car.
4. Because he has to move to the back-up car, Dale has to start the race in the back of the pack.
5. Dale masterfully moved up through the pack early on.
6. He lead nine laps over the course of the race.
7. By the end of the race, Dale was in position for the win.
8. With about FIVE laps remaining, he gets a flat tire.
9. Forced to pit, he has to restart 15th/16th.
10. Then, on the restart, he becomes collateral damage in another driver's wreck. Day over, car trashed.
11. From a possible win or top 5...to a 24th place finish.
BFF thought it was terrible what happened--just horrible, horrible luck.
If I could, I'd ask Luck why she feels it's necessary to continue battering the man. Don't you think he had enough of that last year?
Believe me when I say, there are other people in this world perhaps a bit more deserving of your game play. Then again, maybe no one deserves any of the rot you dish out.
Lady Luck, there's a reason your name rhymes with a less than flattering word.
Desires of the Dead: Blog Tour
Character Interview with Mr. Ambrose (Violet's Father)
What were your thoughts and feelings when you first learned of Violet's gift? How do you feel now?I’ll admit that when I first found out Vi had inherited her grandmother’s gift, it made me sad. Who wants their daughter to bear a burden like that? But after a while, it just became a part of who she was. Now, it’s hard to imagine her without it.
How do you feel about Violet and Jay's relationship? What advice would you give them?
When it comes to Jay, I trust her completely. I know she has made some questionable decisions when it comes to her ability, which I will always worry about, but I’ve always felt better knowing that she has Jay. My advice for them is very fatherly advice: Make smart decisions.
What scares you most about Violet's gift?
Honestly, pretty much everything. When she was finding animals in the woods, it was something I could deal with, but now, I’m not so sure...
Do you regret letting Violet be used by the police/FBI for her gift to catch criminals? What are your fears associated with her collaboration with them?
I’ve always known that Vi would have to make a decision about her ability someday; I just was hoping it would be much later in her life. It scares me, but I have to support her choices. That’s what family is all about.
What are your hopes for Violet for the future?
A normal, happy life…with no dead bodies.
About Desires of the Dead by Kimberly Derting:
The missing dead call to Violet. They want to be found.
Violet can sense the echoes of those who've been murdered—and the matching imprint that clings to their killers. Only those closest to her know what she is capable of, but when she discovers the body of a young boy she also draws the attention of the FBI, threatening her entire way of life.
As Violet works to keep her morbid ability a secret, she unwittingly becomes the object of a dangerous obsession. Normally she'd turn to her best friend, Jay, except now that they are officially a couple, the rules of their relationship seem to have changed. And with Jay spending more and more time with his new friend Mike, Violet is left with too much time on her hands as she wonders where things went wrong. But when she fills the void by digging into Mike's tragic family history, she stumbles upon a dark truth that could put everyone in danger.
In My Postbox #29
In My Mailbox idea from Kristi @ The Story Siren, and all links take you to Amazon UK.
Well it's been a few weeks since I've done an In My Postbox post... so I have a bit of catching up to do. With so many books this post, I won't be adding in any synopsis, but if you wanna find out more, just click the links! :)
REVIEW:
Firelight by Shophie Jordon
Milo and the Restart Button by Alan Silberberg
Ominous by Kate Brian
Buffy the Vampire Slayer Omnibus by Various
Delirium by Lauren Oliver
Lex Trent: Fighting Fire by Alex Bell
Glee: Foreign Exchange by Sophia Lowell
The Abused Werewolf Rescue Group by Catherine Jinks
The Clan of the Cave Bear by Jean M Auel
Desires of the Dead by Kimberly Derting
BROUGHT:
Eighth Grade Bites by Heather Brewer
Ninth Grade Slays by Heather Brewer
Invisible Friends: Mr. Mumbles by Barry Hutchinson
The Thirteen Secrets by Michelle Harrison
So there you have it. All the books I have collected over the last few weeks. I'd like to thank all of the publicists for sending me review copies despite my relative silence here. I appreciate it so so much, I cannot begin to explain! Work and other commitments have taken way too much of my time away from EoB and to be honest, I've had enough of it. I'm going to stop doing as much over time as I am (which might I add isn't paid over time... well in a sense it is so I can earn a pay rise in November when we get graded but for now... its not...) and do as much as I can to make EoB as good as I know it can be! I miss it so much! And what with the 1 Year Bloggoversay this week, it's essential that I get back on track!
So you heard it here first guys. Watch out, because soon, EoB will be well and truly back in action! :D
Trying To Clean Up The Blog...And The Survivor Game (Again)
Do y'all ever rework your blog? I was doing that earlier, but deleted the wrong post while watching the NASCAR truck series race and getting all teary eyed over it being the 10 year anniversary of Dale Earnhardt Sr.'s passing. I guess I wasn't paying attention.
Then, I posted a re-post, but realized I wanted to ask y'all what you do when you remodel your blog...so I deleted that one. Sigh. I apologize again.
Blog remodeling questions:
-Do you relabel posts?
-Do you narrow your labels down? That's something I've been working on after noticing some labels that were too similar.
-Do you delete posts? If so, why? Sometimes I'll delete them if they're obsolete (things that no longer matter or even things from when I first started blogging and asked questions about how to blog...stuff like that).
-Have you ever tried different layouts? I have, but it never looks right to me, so I ultimately stay with the same thing. I'm probably doing something wrong, though...I'm not so good at this stuff.
I'll try to keep the blog blonde from having another flake-out anytime soon.
I want to make sure I re-post Kelly's Survivor game links. :)
For a super fun change of pace, Kelly (who has an awesomely wonderful blog) over at My Joy Project just started a blogging game based on the show Survivor! If you are a Survivor fan, like playing blogging games, like winning, or just like getting prizes, check it out!! Survivor Blogging Game
Relevance and Dale Earnhardt Jr.
Question: If someone said to you, "You are not relevant," would that be offensive? How about if someone said, "You [he or she] need to try to become relevant?"
I once had a couple of classmates--groupie girls--tell me that they would never invite me to a post-game party because the Mr. So-and-so's would never be interested in me. According to them, I "...would not be relevant to guys like that." i.e. I wasn't a groupie and wouldn't do groupie things. Of course, relevant was a newly discovered word for them, so maybe they just wanted to work it into a sentence that day. *eye roll*
I remember thinking, what happened to people liking each other for who they really are, not what they do...or don't do? When did being genuine become an irrelevant thing?
Relevant is like the new buzz word used to talk people down.
If you googled Dale Earnhardt Jr.'s name in the weeks leading up to the Daytona 500, all you read were headlines questioning just how relevant he still is in racing. The headlines included things like: Dale Tries To Become Relevant; Last Chance For Dale Jr. To Remain Relevant, Dale Jr: Racing For Relevance.
Really?
Then you see headlines like, Why Doesn't Dale Jr. Smile Anymore? Wow, I wonder. How much would you want to smile if someone kept badgering you about relevancy, talent, passion, blah, blah, blah???
Everyone is relevant in this world. In such a big 'ol place, it's nice to know you are relevant to your mama, your daddy, your friends, and your loved ones.
As for Dale, he will always be relevant in NASCAR. It's funny to me, really, that these people who question his relevancy fail to see the irony in what they write: if he wasn't relevant, then why are you writing about him? See? Relevant. More than that, though, he's relevant to the people that matter most in his life--his loved ones...and you can toss in a slew of fans for the heck of it. Not so shabby.
What's my point? Well, I guess it's just to think about what you say before you say it. We're all in the same boat, no matter our name or station in life...in the end, we're all after the same general things.
***NASCAR NOTE: Yesterday, while running in a two-car tandem with teammate Jimmie Johnson, Robbie Gordon, David Gilliland, and Michael Waltrip veered in front of the 48, causing him to check up and get a little loose. When he did, Dale had to slow up and was hit from behind by Martin Truex Jr. So, even though he won the pole, Dale will have to start in the back of the pack. No biggie. You can move from the back to the front pretty quickly at Daytona...especially if you're the 88.
I once had a couple of classmates--groupie girls--tell me that they would never invite me to a post-game party because the Mr. So-and-so's would never be interested in me. According to them, I "...would not be relevant to guys like that." i.e. I wasn't a groupie and wouldn't do groupie things. Of course, relevant was a newly discovered word for them, so maybe they just wanted to work it into a sentence that day. *eye roll*
I remember thinking, what happened to people liking each other for who they really are, not what they do...or don't do? When did being genuine become an irrelevant thing?
Relevant is like the new buzz word used to talk people down.
If you googled Dale Earnhardt Jr.'s name in the weeks leading up to the Daytona 500, all you read were headlines questioning just how relevant he still is in racing. The headlines included things like: Dale Tries To Become Relevant; Last Chance For Dale Jr. To Remain Relevant, Dale Jr: Racing For Relevance.
Really?
Then you see headlines like, Why Doesn't Dale Jr. Smile Anymore? Wow, I wonder. How much would you want to smile if someone kept badgering you about relevancy, talent, passion, blah, blah, blah???
Everyone is relevant in this world. In such a big 'ol place, it's nice to know you are relevant to your mama, your daddy, your friends, and your loved ones.
As for Dale, he will always be relevant in NASCAR. It's funny to me, really, that these people who question his relevancy fail to see the irony in what they write: if he wasn't relevant, then why are you writing about him? See? Relevant. More than that, though, he's relevant to the people that matter most in his life--his loved ones...and you can toss in a slew of fans for the heck of it. Not so shabby.
What's my point? Well, I guess it's just to think about what you say before you say it. We're all in the same boat, no matter our name or station in life...in the end, we're all after the same general things.
***NASCAR NOTE: Yesterday, while running in a two-car tandem with teammate Jimmie Johnson, Robbie Gordon, David Gilliland, and Michael Waltrip veered in front of the 48, causing him to check up and get a little loose. When he did, Dale had to slow up and was hit from behind by Martin Truex Jr. So, even though he won the pole, Dale will have to start in the back of the pack. No biggie. You can move from the back to the front pretty quickly at Daytona...especially if you're the 88.
An Exciting New Venture!
Belle Books, the publisher of my short stories, including my upcoming "Running Raw," has decided to host a regular column for Harry Potter for Writers! The first post is live today!! Yes, I'm thrilled!!!! :-)
Are you like the millions of other fans who between the releases of Half-Blood Prince and Deathly Hallows agonized over that gut-jarring ending? Did you scour the pages for JKR's slyly laid clues as to whose side Snape was truly on? If you did, I'm hoping I may still have found one expertly hidden gem to surprise you.
Or, if you're a writer interested in how to plot twists and mysteries into your story without showing your hand prematurely, I hope this post will offer a tip to help you along.
Either way, please check out my post, One Potent Word, and please leave comments.
BellBridgeBooks is an imprint of Belle Books, an independent, multi-genre publisher based in Memphis, TN -- a small press doing wonderful work. Their authors include NYT bestsellers Deborah Smith and Jill Barnett, Pulitzer nominee Janice Daughatry, and Edgar winner Mark Nykanen. I've worked with BelleBooks for years on my short stories and they are wonderful to publish with -- personable, responsive, and eager to do the best for all their authors. I highly recommend that you check them out!
Here's a snippet of my post:
Are you like the millions of other fans who between the releases of Half-Blood Prince and Deathly Hallows agonized over that gut-jarring ending? Did you scour the pages for JKR's slyly laid clues as to whose side Snape was truly on? If you did, I'm hoping I may still have found one expertly hidden gem to surprise you.
Or, if you're a writer interested in how to plot twists and mysteries into your story without showing your hand prematurely, I hope this post will offer a tip to help you along.
Either way, please check out my post, One Potent Word, and please leave comments.
BellBridgeBooks is an imprint of Belle Books, an independent, multi-genre publisher based in Memphis, TN -- a small press doing wonderful work. Their authors include NYT bestsellers Deborah Smith and Jill Barnett, Pulitzer nominee Janice Daughatry, and Edgar winner Mark Nykanen. I've worked with BelleBooks for years on my short stories and they are wonderful to publish with -- personable, responsive, and eager to do the best for all their authors. I highly recommend that you check them out!
Here's a snippet of my post:
The end of Half-Blood Prince has been finely picked over by a rabid Harry Potter CSI team. The emotions burning through this ending surely obscured most of our views for anything less pressing than dealing with the murder of Dumbledore at the hand of his trusted confidant Snape. But clues litter the crime scene and we must push the emotion aside to uncover them.
Takin' The Fish Off The Hook
I've never particularly cared for being a fish. What girl does? But, there are some men who sneakily slip a hook in the mouth without you consciously realizing as much. *um, that is not meant to sound dirty in any way, shape, or form, btw*
Even after you remove the hook, some men just don't get it. You can remove that damn hook over and over again, but he'll continue trying to keep you hanging there, just in case he's ready to yank you into his little boat one day.
This sticky-fisherman wants to keep the fresh little fishy close, while enjoying his fried catfish on the side.
Though you may swim away as fast as your little fins will carry you--trying to avoid that pesky hook--sometimes it is necessary to pull a Jaws and just face the son of a gun.
If you have the fortitude, going Jaws is really very effective in possibly, officially removing and retiring his beloved hook.
So, if you have a sticky-fisherman in your life, consider going Jaws...make him have to get a bigger boat.
Even after you remove the hook, some men just don't get it. You can remove that damn hook over and over again, but he'll continue trying to keep you hanging there, just in case he's ready to yank you into his little boat one day.
This sticky-fisherman wants to keep the fresh little fishy close, while enjoying his fried catfish on the side.
Though you may swim away as fast as your little fins will carry you--trying to avoid that pesky hook--sometimes it is necessary to pull a Jaws and just face the son of a gun.
If you have the fortitude, going Jaws is really very effective in possibly, officially removing and retiring his beloved hook.
So, if you have a sticky-fisherman in your life, consider going Jaws...make him have to get a bigger boat.
Glimpse Playlist
Today we have Stacey Wallace Benefiel the author of Glimpse to introduce the playlist that she used when writing her book. I'll have a review of her novel next week!
These songs are all by musicians that I listen to while writing the Zellie Wells trilogy. Usually, I make a Pandora station for each book. These tracks are listed in such a way that they follow the story of Glimpse. For example, Sweet Disposition is the song that is playing when Zellie and Avery first get together.
I Want to Belong to You by Katie Herzig
Kids by MGMT
Wild Horses by The Rolling Stones
Sweet Disposition by The Temper Trap
Bubbly by Colbie Calliat
Morning Has Broken by Cat Stevens
La La Love You by Pixies
Our Song by Taylor Swift
With or Without You by U2
Rewind by Diane Birch
Sparks Fly by Taylor Swift
About Glimpse:
Zellie Wells has a devastating crush on Avery Adams, the son of her mom’s high school sweetheart. At her sixteenth birthday party, held in the basement of her dad’s church, she finally finds the courage to talk to him. Turns out, the devastating crush is mutual.
As Avery takes her hand and leads her out onto the makeshift dance floor, Zellie is overwhelmed by her first vision of his death; shocking because not only are they both covered in his blood, but they’re old, like 35, and she is pregnant.
Afraid to tell anyone about the vision, (she’d just be labeled a freaky black magic witch, right?) Zellie keeps the knowledge of Avery’s future to herself and tries to act like any other teenager in love. When they get caught on their way to a secret rendezvous by her mom and his dad, they are forbidden to see each other.
Convinced that their parents are freaking out unnecessarily, Avery and Zellie vow to be together no matter what. They continue their relationship in secret until Zellie learns that their parents are just trying to prevent her and Avery from suffering like they did. The visions are hereditary, they’re dangerous, and if they stay together the visions will come true.
Now Zellie must choose between severing all ties with Avery, like her mom did to prevent his father’s death, and finding a way to change Avery’s future.
Hickory, The Scottish Deerhound Wins Best In Show!!
Hickory, the Scottish deerhound, has won Best in Show at the 135th Westminster Dog Show, marking the very first win for the breed.
For her final show before retiring, Hickory was absolutely stunning.
All of the dogs were beautiful, putting on quite a show for the crowd.
My other favorite was the little Pekingese--seriously, so cute.
Congrats to Hickory!
Did y'all watch? What did you think?
For her final show before retiring, Hickory was absolutely stunning.
All of the dogs were beautiful, putting on quite a show for the crowd.
My other favorite was the little Pekingese--seriously, so cute.
Congrats to Hickory!
Did y'all watch? What did you think?
Post Valentine's Day Rescue Mission
While you are out buying all kinds of yummy Valentine's candy on sale, do me a little favor? Take a look at all those little cute cuddly faces staring out from the sale bins, and, maybe, rescue one.
This is something my papaw started a very long time ago; it's a tradition my mom, dad, and I have kept going. My papaw was like Santa Claus, minus the beard and belly like a bowl full of jelly. His blue eyes twinkled with pure goodness, and his heart was beautifully big.
When I was little, he always said that the little leftover Valentine's, Christmas, Easter, and/or Halloween animals were those most in need of a home. First thing the day after a holiday, he went over to the local drugstore and picked up a little fella. He felt they would hold an extra special place in the heart of the person receiving them.
So, while you're rescuing the chocolate from going into a garbage bin, think about one of those little faces staring at you--you never know when it might be just what you need. After all, we're never too old for a hug and smiling face.
We've carried on my papaw's tradition. Maybe you will too. :)
And, um, I know I sound like a total dork, but...I'm okay with dork.
This is something my papaw started a very long time ago; it's a tradition my mom, dad, and I have kept going. My papaw was like Santa Claus, minus the beard and belly like a bowl full of jelly. His blue eyes twinkled with pure goodness, and his heart was beautifully big.
When I was little, he always said that the little leftover Valentine's, Christmas, Easter, and/or Halloween animals were those most in need of a home. First thing the day after a holiday, he went over to the local drugstore and picked up a little fella. He felt they would hold an extra special place in the heart of the person receiving them.
So, while you're rescuing the chocolate from going into a garbage bin, think about one of those little faces staring at you--you never know when it might be just what you need. After all, we're never too old for a hug and smiling face.
We've carried on my papaw's tradition. Maybe you will too. :)
And, um, I know I sound like a total dork, but...I'm okay with dork.
Celebrations and Speculations
It was wonderful to see the Harry Potter franchise honored by the British Academy of Film and Television Arts with the award for Outstanding British Contribution to Cinema. What was even more special was getting to hear David Heyman and JK Rowling speak during the acceptance. If you haven't seen it yet, check it out on Youtube:
But perhaps the best part was hearing JK Rowling's interview on the red carpet, where when asked what she was writing now, she said she had "several things on the go at once." Although she doesn't know which will actually first appear in print, she's "writing hard."
As it's now been four years since she submitted Deathly Hallows for publication, it seems to me that we should be hearing about a new release sometime this year. But what would it be if she's working on several things?
We know she's said at some point in time she would do a Harry Potter Encyclopedia. She's also said previously that she was working on some sort of "political fairytale" for younger readers. Then, during her Oprah interview and when receiving the Andersen award, she heavily hinted at revisiting Harry's world but with a different character.
I don't know about you, but I think this last possibility gets my hopes up the highest, though I'd also love to see the encyclopedia, if only to find out if any of my Egyptian mythology subtext theories are correct. :-)
What would you most want to see next from JK Rowling?
But perhaps the best part was hearing JK Rowling's interview on the red carpet, where when asked what she was writing now, she said she had "several things on the go at once." Although she doesn't know which will actually first appear in print, she's "writing hard."
As it's now been four years since she submitted Deathly Hallows for publication, it seems to me that we should be hearing about a new release sometime this year. But what would it be if she's working on several things?
We know she's said at some point in time she would do a Harry Potter Encyclopedia. She's also said previously that she was working on some sort of "political fairytale" for younger readers. Then, during her Oprah interview and when receiving the Andersen award, she heavily hinted at revisiting Harry's world but with a different character.
I don't know about you, but I think this last possibility gets my hopes up the highest, though I'd also love to see the encyclopedia, if only to find out if any of my Egyptian mythology subtext theories are correct. :-)
What would you most want to see next from JK Rowling?
Vomit Day #3: Driveway Roadkill, Part Two
Aside from the occasional raspberry when I would forget to lift before moving, dinner went quite smoothly. No food drops, food flings, or gags...that is until Mr. Leaver made me try to eat something, knowing I thought they looked like little bits of mushy cow's brain.
Mr. Leaver: "Just try one for me."
Me: "Oh, all right, but I won't like it."
Mr. Leaver: "You'll like this one."
So, I tried it. Didn't like it. Mr. Leaver started grinning at me while I tried to choke the thing down. I made a very tiny ewy-ick face at him, just to make him laugh.
It's quite unfortunate that at that precise moment, the chef came out and wanted to know how everyone enjoyed their meals.
To make matters worse, my date's family was pretty well-known in the community, so the chef, proud of his work, looked to us first.
Yeah.
Poor thing--he seemed so anxious to know if we found his cooking satisfactory. Beaming, he looked to me first. Can you guess what he saw?
You guessed it: The leather-pants-wearing-faux-flatulence-problem girl, wearing the ewy-ick expression on her face.
His face went pale; I really thought he might vomit, which would have been very bad, since the little mushy brain-like thing in my mouth pushed me to the ragged edge of vomitville.
I swallowed the last bit as quickly as I could, coughed a little, made a small gagging sound, nervously (sadly) moved in my chair, and tried to assure him that his meal was delicious.
Not thinking he bought it. Not sure if it was the expression, cough, gag, or faux fart that didn't convince him.
Sigh. I do hope he understood after everything.
After dinner: Once in the car, I could tell something was off about Mr. Leaver. Was it the pants? The ewy-ick face? Ugh, the faux-flatulence?
I should point out that Mr. Leaver did NOT bring me any flowers or candy or a cuddly for Valentine's Day. His reason? Because he wanted to take it slow (fine by me!) and he didn't want to "scare" me off. **He knew about Wasn't**
NOTE: He had not even tried to KISS me yet, much to my surprise.
As the radio played one of my favorite songs, Mr. Leaver fumbled about for a CD. He cut off the radio, put in the CD, and immediately started playing a specific song, saying, "I want you to hear this one."
Uh-oh.
He picked a song that had a very clear message...and it didn't include sleep. Now, the song wasn't Bump N' Grind or Freak Me (those were really good songs, weren't they? Sorry, momentary mind melt), but I got the message.
I can't remember the song specifically--probably because my leather pants and I were busy visiting sweatville all over again--but I do recall some of it was very, very sweet and complementary...still, I got the jist of what it was saying.
He wants to take it slow. He hasn't held my hand. He hasn't kissed me. Yet, he wants to go have sex??
Seriously?
I didn't say anything, apart from commenting on what a pretty song it was; he didn't say anything. It was THE most awkward drive home. He never followed up with anything.
I kind-of think he wanted me to initiate something...suggest we go back to his place, perhaps. I didn't know what to do...usually the guy actually makes a move or suggests going back to his place...SOMETHING. This was new to me.
So, play a song, and I'm expected to recommend the sex??? Total confusion.
Next thing I know, Mr. Leaver says: "I'm just going to take you back home tonight. I have an early day tomorrow. Hope you don't mind." His tone was a bit cold, at least to me.
It was pretty early for a date to end. My initial translation on his words: "You didn't pick up on my song and suggest going back to my place, so I'm gonna pout now." I could have been wrong, but that's how it came off.
After the longest drive ever--where I tried to make conversation and he just seemed distant--we finally pulled into my very icy driveway.
We paused for a moment. I felt bad. I didn't want the date to end all awkward and full of misunderstanding. So, I tried to imply that we could take things to the next level (i.e. kissing...since I was a little confused as to why that hadn't happened yet).
Whatever. It didn't take.
Hmm. Why isn't he moving from that nice warm seat to walk me to my door? Maybe say goodnight with a Valentine's kiss?? Ah, I get it, he's not gonna do either.
He literally dropped me in the middle of my driveway and drove off without making sure I made it safely to my door.
Nope. I was left in the dark, in the middle of my icy driveway, in leather pants, and brand new heels.
Maybe I misread everything, but I still think, no matter what, you see your date makes it to her door safely... especially a Valentine's date. I'm a southern girl, remember.
I scraped and slid my way to the door, looking like something between the Hunchback of Notre Dame and a turtle. During my long hobbit-like walk to the door, several thoughts ticked across my mind:
What happened to "taking it slow?"
Ya haven't kissed me, but you want to have sex? Huh?
Play a song = girl suggesting sex? Really?
Am I totally wrong, here?
Once I made it safely inside--shocked I didn't fall on my arse--I closed the door on Valentine's Day forever...and wearing leather pants on a formal date.
After about three days of nothing, he called and started calling me "honey" and "dear" and I think even "darling." It was strange and, yet, totally par for the course.
So, there you have it, my top three worst Vomit Days. I think the only reason I don't have more is because of my tendency to hide this time of year. If history is any indication, it's a dang good thing I do.
To all of you who love V-Day: Happy Valentine's Day to you. {{{HUGS}}}
To all of you who don't: Happy February 15th...a.k.a. The Chocolate Sale Day! {{{HUGS}}}
Mr. Leaver: "Just try one for me."
Me: "Oh, all right, but I won't like it."
Mr. Leaver: "You'll like this one."
So, I tried it. Didn't like it. Mr. Leaver started grinning at me while I tried to choke the thing down. I made a very tiny ewy-ick face at him, just to make him laugh.
It's quite unfortunate that at that precise moment, the chef came out and wanted to know how everyone enjoyed their meals.
To make matters worse, my date's family was pretty well-known in the community, so the chef, proud of his work, looked to us first.
Yeah.
Poor thing--he seemed so anxious to know if we found his cooking satisfactory. Beaming, he looked to me first. Can you guess what he saw?
You guessed it: The leather-pants-wearing-faux-flatulence-problem girl, wearing the ewy-ick expression on her face.
His face went pale; I really thought he might vomit, which would have been very bad, since the little mushy brain-like thing in my mouth pushed me to the ragged edge of vomitville.
I swallowed the last bit as quickly as I could, coughed a little, made a small gagging sound, nervously (sadly) moved in my chair
Not thinking he bought it. Not sure if it was the expression, cough, gag, or faux fart that didn't convince him.
Sigh. I do hope he understood after everything.
After dinner: Once in the car, I could tell something was off about Mr. Leaver. Was it the pants? The ewy-ick face? Ugh, the faux-flatulence?
I should point out that Mr. Leaver did NOT bring me any flowers or candy or a cuddly for Valentine's Day. His reason? Because he wanted to take it slow (fine by me!) and he didn't want to "scare" me off. **He knew about Wasn't**
NOTE: He had not even tried to KISS me yet, much to my surprise.
As the radio played one of my favorite songs, Mr. Leaver fumbled about for a CD. He cut off the radio, put in the CD, and immediately started playing a specific song, saying, "I want you to hear this one."
Uh-oh.
He picked a song that had a very clear message...and it didn't include sleep. Now, the song wasn't Bump N' Grind or Freak Me (those were really good songs, weren't they? Sorry, momentary mind melt), but I got the message.
I can't remember the song specifically--probably because my leather pants and I were busy visiting sweatville all over again--but I do recall some of it was very, very sweet and complementary...still, I got the jist of what it was saying.
He wants to take it slow. He hasn't held my hand. He hasn't kissed me. Yet, he wants to go have sex??
Seriously?
I didn't say anything, apart from commenting on what a pretty song it was; he didn't say anything. It was THE most awkward drive home. He never followed up with anything.
I kind-of think he wanted me to initiate something...suggest we go back to his place, perhaps. I didn't know what to do...usually the guy actually makes a move or suggests going back to his place...SOMETHING. This was new to me.
So, play a song, and I'm expected to recommend the sex??? Total confusion.
Next thing I know, Mr. Leaver says: "I'm just going to take you back home tonight. I have an early day tomorrow. Hope you don't mind." His tone was a bit cold, at least to me.
It was pretty early for a date to end. My initial translation on his words: "You didn't pick up on my song and suggest going back to my place, so I'm gonna pout now." I could have been wrong, but that's how it came off.
After the longest drive ever--where I tried to make conversation and he just seemed distant--we finally pulled into my very icy driveway.
We paused for a moment. I felt bad. I didn't want the date to end all awkward and full of misunderstanding. So, I tried to imply that we could take things to the next level (i.e. kissing...since I was a little confused as to why that hadn't happened yet).
Whatever. It didn't take.
Hmm. Why isn't he moving from that nice warm seat to walk me to my door? Maybe say goodnight with a Valentine's kiss?? Ah, I get it, he's not gonna do either.
He literally dropped me in the middle of my driveway and drove off without making sure I made it safely to my door.
Nope. I was left in the dark, in the middle of my icy driveway, in leather pants, and brand new heels.
Maybe I misread everything, but I still think, no matter what, you see your date makes it to her door safely... especially a Valentine's date. I'm a southern girl, remember.
I scraped and slid my way to the door, looking like something between the Hunchback of Notre Dame and a turtle. During my long hobbit-like walk to the door, several thoughts ticked across my mind:
What happened to "taking it slow?"
Ya haven't kissed me, but you want to have sex? Huh?
Play a song = girl suggesting sex? Really?
Am I totally wrong, here?
Once I made it safely inside--shocked I didn't fall on my arse--I closed the door on Valentine's Day forever...and wearing leather pants on a formal date.
After about three days of nothing, he called and started calling me "honey" and "dear" and I think even "darling." It was strange and, yet, totally par for the course.
So, there you have it, my top three worst Vomit Days. I think the only reason I don't have more is because of my tendency to hide this time of year. If history is any indication, it's a dang good thing I do.
To all of you who love V-Day: Happy Valentine's Day to you. {{{HUGS}}}
To all of you who don't: Happy February 15th...a.k.a. The Chocolate Sale Day! {{{HUGS}}}
Vomit Day #3: Driveway Roadkill, Part One
Who: We'll call him Mr. Leaver.
Date: 3rd. a.k.a. the expected sex date...on my very first official V-Day date. Fabulous timing.
Mood: Excited, hopeful, happy.
Outfit: Oooh, a good one--leather pants, brand new pink top, brand new, tastefully sexy boots with a decent size heel on them.
Restaurant: Quaint, converted house. Picture a mid-size bar adjacent a surprisingly small dining area--very intimate. The overwhelmingly quiet atmosphere around the bar and dining area made me nervous.
Me + new heels + small area + insane quiet = possible catastrophe.
Mr. Leaver: "Let's sit at the bar while they're getting our table ready."
The bar stools were unusually tall...dangerously so, actually. With my nice new heels, I lifted and balanced myself gracefully onto the stool. Phew.
Mr. Leaver and I talked for a few moments before he left to go talk to someone (I think he wanted to greet someone his family knew...that whole bit is a blur).
While my date did whatever, the front of house informed me that our table was ready.
*Keep in mind, the following happened very quickly, but it felt like slow motion*
As I tried to slide off the stool, I discovered something the mean science teachers failed to tell us in school:
leather pants + wooden seat = inability to slide, slight stuck feeling, and manufactured farting sounds when attempting to move.
Now, I don't know if there were some unknown variables, like whatever they used to clean the wood, the type of wood, or the type of leather pants I had on, but my rear end was essentially STUCK.
Oh. Holy. God.
The height of the stools were such that I couldn't put my foot down and hop off without the possibility of my leathery bottom bringing the stool crashing to the ground. And, as we have already learned, I cannot simply slide off without sounding like I had a flatulence problem.
Growing very hot, I began to sweat--not a good mix with leather.
I had to get off this stupid stool. I slowly lifted my rear, one bum cheek at a time, and tried to ease myself forward until my feet could touch the floor. In doing so, these very strange *FLAWP* *FLAWP* peeling sounds rang out from my derriere.
The people at the tables closest to the bar kept a measuring eye on me; I couldn't tell if they were amused or if they were waiting to see if I would fall off the stool.
By this time, my feet were halfway to the floor, my body was slightly tilted on the stool, and I was in deep danger of the whole stool tipping over should I move one more inch.
I dared to try one more little slide. The only thing I accomplished was the sound of gas.
Grab Guy (sitting behind me at the bar): "You okay, there?"
Me: "I can't get off the stool."
Grab Guy: "Why?"
Me: "My leather pants--they're sticking to the wood. I need you to lift me off the stool."
Grab Guy: "Um, how?"
Me, sighing: "I need you to stick your hands under my bottom and just...peel me up."
Grab Guy, laughing: "I would, but I have a girlfriend."
Me: "I'm not asking you to grope me...just kindly help me off this thing, otherwise my pants will continue to make obscene sounds and eventually succeed in knocking over the stool. Please, I need your help...I can't reach the floor. Now, stick your hands under there and peel!"
Grab Guy, quite literally laughing his rear end off, aided in my dilemma, and I was able to hop off the stool with his, um, forklift-type-help. I did stumble a bit and, in doing so, my heels made an appallingly loud clip-clopping sound as people turned to look at the crazed leather-pants-wearing girl.
I thanked Grab Guy, and rejoined Mr. Leaver--the clip-clopping prompted him to leave his acquaintances and attend to his frazzled date. After assuring Mr. Leaver that all was well, we followed the waiter to our table...
...which had wooden seats.
It was only the beginning.
Date: 3rd. a.k.a. the expected sex date...on my very first official V-Day date. Fabulous timing.
Mood: Excited, hopeful, happy.
Outfit: Oooh, a good one--leather pants, brand new pink top, brand new, tastefully sexy boots with a decent size heel on them.
Restaurant: Quaint, converted house. Picture a mid-size bar adjacent a surprisingly small dining area--very intimate. The overwhelmingly quiet atmosphere around the bar and dining area made me nervous.
Me + new heels + small area + insane quiet = possible catastrophe.
Mr. Leaver: "Let's sit at the bar while they're getting our table ready."
The bar stools were unusually tall...dangerously so, actually. With my nice new heels, I lifted and balanced myself gracefully onto the stool. Phew.
Mr. Leaver and I talked for a few moments before he left to go talk to someone (I think he wanted to greet someone his family knew...that whole bit is a blur).
While my date did whatever, the front of house informed me that our table was ready.
*Keep in mind, the following happened very quickly, but it felt like slow motion*
As I tried to slide off the stool, I discovered something the mean science teachers failed to tell us in school:
leather pants + wooden seat = inability to slide, slight stuck feeling, and manufactured farting sounds when attempting to move.
Now, I don't know if there were some unknown variables, like whatever they used to clean the wood, the type of wood, or the type of leather pants I had on, but my rear end was essentially STUCK.
Oh. Holy. God.
The height of the stools were such that I couldn't put my foot down and hop off without the possibility of my leathery bottom bringing the stool crashing to the ground. And, as we have already learned, I cannot simply slide off without sounding like I had a flatulence problem.
Growing very hot, I began to sweat--not a good mix with leather.
I had to get off this stupid stool. I slowly lifted my rear, one bum cheek at a time, and tried to ease myself forward until my feet could touch the floor. In doing so, these very strange *FLAWP* *FLAWP* peeling sounds rang out from my derriere.
The people at the tables closest to the bar kept a measuring eye on me; I couldn't tell if they were amused or if they were waiting to see if I would fall off the stool.
By this time, my feet were halfway to the floor, my body was slightly tilted on the stool, and I was in deep danger of the whole stool tipping over should I move one more inch.
I dared to try one more little slide. The only thing I accomplished was the sound of gas.
Grab Guy (sitting behind me at the bar): "You okay, there?"
Me: "I can't get off the stool."
Grab Guy: "Why?"
Me: "My leather pants--they're sticking to the wood. I need you to lift me off the stool."
Grab Guy: "Um, how?"
Me, sighing: "I need you to stick your hands under my bottom and just...peel me up."
Grab Guy, laughing: "I would, but I have a girlfriend."
Me: "I'm not asking you to grope me...just kindly help me off this thing, otherwise my pants will continue to make obscene sounds and eventually succeed in knocking over the stool. Please, I need your help...I can't reach the floor. Now, stick your hands under there and peel!"
Grab Guy, quite literally laughing his rear end off, aided in my dilemma, and I was able to hop off the stool with his, um, forklift-type-help. I did stumble a bit and, in doing so, my heels made an appallingly loud clip-clopping sound as people turned to look at the crazed leather-pants-wearing girl.
I thanked Grab Guy, and rejoined Mr. Leaver--the clip-clopping prompted him to leave his acquaintances and attend to his frazzled date. After assuring Mr. Leaver that all was well, we followed the waiter to our table...
...which had wooden seats.
It was only the beginning.
Prom and Prejudice by Elizabeth Eulberg: Review
Prom and Prejudice
By: Elizabeth Eulberg
Format: Hardcover, 231 pages
Published: January 1, 2001; Point
Source: finished copy received from publisher
author website | author blog | author twitter | author facebook
Summary (from Goodreads): After winter break, the girls at the very prestigious Longbourn Academy become obsessed with the prom. Lizzie Bennet, who attends Longbourn on a scholarship, isn’t interested in designer dresses and expensive shoes, but her best friend, Jane, might be — especially now that Charles Bingley is back from a semester in London.
Lizzie is happy about her friend’s burgeoning romance but less than impressed by Charles’s friend, Will Darcy, who’s snobby and pretentious. Darcy doesn’t seem to like Lizzie either, but she assumes it’s because her family doesn’t have money. Clearly, Will Darcy is a pompous jerk — so why does Lizzie find herself drawn to him anyway?
Will Lizzie’s pride and Will’s prejudice keep them apart? Or are they a prom couple in the making? Whatever the result, Elizabeth Eulberg, author of The Lonely Hearts Club, has concocted a very funny, completely stylish delight for any season — prom or otherwise.
My Review:
I think this book is totally appropriate for a Valentine's Day review. With the exception of one novel, I have never met a Pride and Prejudice retelling/mashup/inspiration that I didn't like. There's even this movie that was done in our local area that basically puts Elizabeth and Darcy in a college setting and Mormon that is hilarious. If you're not Mormon like I am, I probably wouldn't recommend it to you since it's really one of those things that you have to know the culture in order to get. But, as an attendee of BYU, I think the movie is spot on. It should also be noted that I like BOTH of the movies, and prefer Matthew McFadyen over Colin Firth as Darcy. Please don't stop reading this review if you love Colin Firth. I swear I'll never mention it again.
Anyway, all of that aside, I loved Prom and Prejudice. I thought that the high school setting was fun without getting caught up in a bunch of drama. I thought that Eulberg channeled Elizabeth Bennett beautifully. I really liked the touch that Elizabeth was an accomplished pianist, since that's something she didn't particularly enjoy (to say the least) in the original.
If you are a Pride and Prejudice purist, you probably won't like the book. But, the essence of Austen's original story is still there. Yes, some of the events and people were taken out or combined. But, ultimately, Elizabeth and Darcy meet, they hate each other, and then grow to respect each other, and then... well you know what happens next.
But, I did miss some of the supporting characters. Especially the absence of Mr. and Mrs. Bennett. Their banter was one of the things that I liked about the original. I suppose that the equivalent of Mrs. Bennett would have been the atmosphere of the school and the immense pressure put on students to prepare for and secure dates to the prom. But it would have been nice to have a Mr. Bennett there making fun of the absolute ridiculousness of the situation.
Like I said at the beginning, I loved the book. It was cute, funny, and a very nice adaptation of Pride and Prejudice. I'd also recommend the novel to younger readers since it's clean, and probably something that a lot of girls can relate to.
My Rating:
Don't forget to comment on this post for a chance to win a copy of Delirium by Lauren Oliver.
By: Elizabeth Eulberg
Format: Hardcover, 231 pages
Published: January 1, 2001; Point
Source: finished copy received from publisher
author website | author blog | author twitter | author facebook
Summary (from Goodreads): After winter break, the girls at the very prestigious Longbourn Academy become obsessed with the prom. Lizzie Bennet, who attends Longbourn on a scholarship, isn’t interested in designer dresses and expensive shoes, but her best friend, Jane, might be — especially now that Charles Bingley is back from a semester in London.
Lizzie is happy about her friend’s burgeoning romance but less than impressed by Charles’s friend, Will Darcy, who’s snobby and pretentious. Darcy doesn’t seem to like Lizzie either, but she assumes it’s because her family doesn’t have money. Clearly, Will Darcy is a pompous jerk — so why does Lizzie find herself drawn to him anyway?
Will Lizzie’s pride and Will’s prejudice keep them apart? Or are they a prom couple in the making? Whatever the result, Elizabeth Eulberg, author of The Lonely Hearts Club, has concocted a very funny, completely stylish delight for any season — prom or otherwise.
My Review:
I think this book is totally appropriate for a Valentine's Day review. With the exception of one novel, I have never met a Pride and Prejudice retelling/mashup/inspiration that I didn't like. There's even this movie that was done in our local area that basically puts Elizabeth and Darcy in a college setting and Mormon that is hilarious. If you're not Mormon like I am, I probably wouldn't recommend it to you since it's really one of those things that you have to know the culture in order to get. But, as an attendee of BYU, I think the movie is spot on. It should also be noted that I like BOTH of the movies, and prefer Matthew McFadyen over Colin Firth as Darcy. Please don't stop reading this review if you love Colin Firth. I swear I'll never mention it again.
Anyway, all of that aside, I loved Prom and Prejudice. I thought that the high school setting was fun without getting caught up in a bunch of drama. I thought that Eulberg channeled Elizabeth Bennett beautifully. I really liked the touch that Elizabeth was an accomplished pianist, since that's something she didn't particularly enjoy (to say the least) in the original.
If you are a Pride and Prejudice purist, you probably won't like the book. But, the essence of Austen's original story is still there. Yes, some of the events and people were taken out or combined. But, ultimately, Elizabeth and Darcy meet, they hate each other, and then grow to respect each other, and then... well you know what happens next.
But, I did miss some of the supporting characters. Especially the absence of Mr. and Mrs. Bennett. Their banter was one of the things that I liked about the original. I suppose that the equivalent of Mrs. Bennett would have been the atmosphere of the school and the immense pressure put on students to prepare for and secure dates to the prom. But it would have been nice to have a Mr. Bennett there making fun of the absolute ridiculousness of the situation.
Like I said at the beginning, I loved the book. It was cute, funny, and a very nice adaptation of Pride and Prejudice. I'd also recommend the novel to younger readers since it's clean, and probably something that a lot of girls can relate to.
My Rating:
Don't forget to comment on this post for a chance to win a copy of Delirium by Lauren Oliver.
Valentine's Eve...A Weekend Roundup.
'Twas the night before V--...
Yeah, I can't carry that one through.
So, yesterday was the Budweiser Shootout, a.k.a. the official return of NASCAR. Hurray! Dale Earnhardt Jr. drew the pole for Saturday night's race, and was having a great night until...Smith got into Carl Edwards, who then clipped Dale. Night over. Boo!
***On the very bright side--Dale won the pole for the upcoming Daytona 500!!!! Hurray!***
Food Drama: Yesterday, I ordered Chinese food. My favorite part of the meal? Fortune cookie time!!
Well, I had 3 fortune cookies. 2 of them were the exact same: "You and your wife will be happy in your life together."
Fantastic.
Two totally inapplicable fortunes for several reasons: 1. Wrong sex; 2. I'm not someone's wife or anything of the like, so I can't stretch it in any possible way to make it fit; and 3. I don't recall ever seeing a marriage fortune, much less two of the same thing--highly inappropriate fortunes right before the-day-that-must-not-be-named.
Result: My dad's getting them, since he and my mom fit said fortunes perfectly.
The 3rd fortune did offer a tiny bit of hope: "All your hard work will soon pay off." Here's hoping. Think I'll keep this one.
Next up was a boatload of fun: After watching Gone With The Wind, another kind of wind began battering my stomach something awful. The painfully unwelcome visitor then kept me in post-food hell until 8 a.m. this morning. I'm trying hard NOT to take this as a sign, but rather an unfortunate, ill-timed occurrence...one that just so happened to fall on V-Day eve. Ironic and appropriate in so many ways.
Happy V-Day Eve! *just doesn't have the same ring to it*
Bah! Humbug! *now, that works*
Yeah, I can't carry that one through.
So, yesterday was the Budweiser Shootout, a.k.a. the official return of NASCAR. Hurray! Dale Earnhardt Jr. drew the pole for Saturday night's race, and was having a great night until...Smith got into Carl Edwards, who then clipped Dale. Night over. Boo!
***On the very bright side--Dale won the pole for the upcoming Daytona 500!!!! Hurray!***
Food Drama: Yesterday, I ordered Chinese food. My favorite part of the meal? Fortune cookie time!!
Well, I had 3 fortune cookies. 2 of them were the exact same: "You and your wife will be happy in your life together."
Fantastic.
Two totally inapplicable fortunes for several reasons: 1. Wrong sex; 2. I'm not someone's wife or anything of the like, so I can't stretch it in any possible way to make it fit; and 3. I don't recall ever seeing a marriage fortune, much less two of the same thing--highly inappropriate fortunes right before the-day-that-must-not-be-named.
Result: My dad's getting them, since he and my mom fit said fortunes perfectly.
The 3rd fortune did offer a tiny bit of hope: "All your hard work will soon pay off." Here's hoping. Think I'll keep this one.
Next up was a boatload of fun: After watching Gone With The Wind, another kind of wind began battering my stomach something awful. The painfully unwelcome visitor then kept me in post-food hell until 8 a.m. this morning. I'm trying hard NOT to take this as a sign, but rather an unfortunate, ill-timed occurrence...one that just so happened to fall on V-Day eve. Ironic and appropriate in so many ways.
Happy V-Day Eve! *just doesn't have the same ring to it*
Bah! Humbug! *now, that works*
Are You Smarter Than a Fifth Grader?
So, today I helped out at my kids' school for a highly anticipated Saturday snow make-up day. Believe me, the kids were not the only ones who did not wish to be there. But I did find the silver lining.
The teacher who I was covering for had left a writing worksheet for a small group of 5th and 6th graders. I was impressed that these young writers were learning concepts which many older, more experienced writers (including me) still struggle with, so I thought I would reproduce it here.
I thought these were some great, basic examples to help young writers learn the impact of strong verb choices. But then, knowing that JK Rowling often gets criticized for her overuse of adjectives and adverbs, I decided to peruse her text for a few examples of strong verb choices, and they weren't hard to find.
First, from Sorcerer's/Philosopher's Stone, in "Through the Trapdoor," when Harry, Ron, and Hermione confront McGonagall's giant, magical chess set:
Then, from Deathly Hallows, in "Bathilda's Secret," when Nagina escapes her disguise as Bathilda Bagshot and attacks Harry and Hermione:
Still, JKR pulled no punches, either from her use of strong verbs, or her disturbing imagery. As the books have darkened from Philosopher's Stone through Deathly Hallows, so too has her imagery. While visualizing a man with a parasitic face stuck to the back of his head was gross in PS, I can't imagine anything much more grotesque than a snake bursting out of an old woman's corpse-skin!
As I force that image out of my mind, think about your choice of verbs. Are they the strongest (appropriately) that they can be? Or do you have something that you, too, can learn from a 5th grader? :-)
Wizard Chess picture credit
Bathilda & Harry picture credit
The teacher who I was covering for had left a writing worksheet for a small group of 5th and 6th graders. I was impressed that these young writers were learning concepts which many older, more experienced writers (including me) still struggle with, so I thought I would reproduce it here.
Using Strong Verbs:
Each sentence below uses a weak verb and an adverb to show action. Rewrite the sentences using the strong verbs at the bottom of the page that do not need the help of an adverb. The first one is done as an example.
1) The fox walked sneakily toward the chicken coop. Answer: The fox crept toward the chicken coop.
2) The little girl spoke softly during the movie.
3) Tommy cried loudly when his toy broke.
4) The eagle flew gracefully over the valley.
5) Jason moved quickly out of the ball's way.
6) Melissa went across the room quietly.
Strong Verbs Word Bank:
whispered tiptoed pounced raced laughed
dodged soared crashed screamed crept
worksheet designed by Gary Robert Muschla
I thought these were some great, basic examples to help young writers learn the impact of strong verb choices. But then, knowing that JK Rowling often gets criticized for her overuse of adjectives and adverbs, I decided to peruse her text for a few examples of strong verb choices, and they weren't hard to find.
First, from Sorcerer's/Philosopher's Stone, in "Through the Trapdoor," when Harry, Ron, and Hermione confront McGonagall's giant, magical chess set:
He [Ron] stepped forward, and the white queen pounced. She struck Ron hard across the head with her stone arm, and he crashed to the floor -- Hermione screamed but stayed on her square -- the white queen dragged Ron to one side.From pounced, struck, crashed, screamed, and dragged -- all these verbs are strong and punchy. They convey strong, visually evocative action without the need for adverbs. You'll notice that even though JKR uses a wonderful "struck" instead of "hit," she still added an adverb, "hard," which probably was not necessary.
Then, from Deathly Hallows, in "Bathilda's Secret," when Nagina escapes her disguise as Bathilda Bagshot and attacks Harry and Hermione:
The snake lunged as he [Harry] took a running leap, dragging Hermione with him; as it struck, Hermione screamed, 'Confringo!' and her spell flew around the room, exploding the wardrobe mirror and ricocheting back at them, bouncing from floor to ceiling; Harry felt the heat of it sear the back of his hand. Glass cut his cheek as, pulling Hermione with him, he leapt from bed to broken dressing table and then straight out of the smashed window into nothingness, her scream reverberating through the night as they twisted in mid-air...Strong verbs aside, one quibble I have with the above paragraph is that it's basically two very long sentences. I would have broken each sentence up at each semi-colon, if not further.
Still, JKR pulled no punches, either from her use of strong verbs, or her disturbing imagery. As the books have darkened from Philosopher's Stone through Deathly Hallows, so too has her imagery. While visualizing a man with a parasitic face stuck to the back of his head was gross in PS, I can't imagine anything much more grotesque than a snake bursting out of an old woman's corpse-skin!
As I force that image out of my mind, think about your choice of verbs. Are they the strongest (appropriately) that they can be? Or do you have something that you, too, can learn from a 5th grader? :-)
Wizard Chess picture credit
Bathilda & Harry picture credit
Vomit Day Survival Guide
Still bruised and battered after my Mavs single point loss last night, I thought it might be fun to put together a Valentine's Day survival guide. Why not, right?
Hope you don't mind--my blog is my outlet. I figure once I get all this V-Day aggression out of my system this year, I will be done with it forever. This is the first time I've ever really talked about my V-Day catastrophes in any detail--I have yet to share a particularly "interesting" one with you...reckon I'll save it for the day itself.
Anyway...
Valentine's Day Survival Guide:
*Groan*
*Yawn*
*Gag*
First and foremost:
-remove all romantic movies from vicinity of DVD player (shove deep in closet, drawer, anywhere out of sight)
-eject all sappy-lovey cd's from stereo; do not listen to pathetic f.m.
-turn off answering machine--will only upset you to hear for the 900th time: "No new messages...*^%$"
-keep all phones OFF. Their lack of response to your inherent need for a ringing sound will not help your sanity.
Must gather necessary supplies for impending doom's day, er, Valentine's Day.
1. All vices--junk food? Why not? Soda? Oh, slap me silly and call me candy, you bet your sweet sweat there will be soda. Chocolate? Only in the form of M&Ms, Hershey's, or any non-V-Day candy. NO Russell Stover heart boxes--those are best saved for after V-Day when they are on sale.
2.Acceptable DVDs:
Action: Independence Day, Terminator, Alien (for the stomach blast alone, it's a perfect V-Day movie), Cast Away (okay, not exactly action, but totally apropos--don't we all have a Wilson? No? Yeah, me neither), Saving Private Ryan, etc.
Fantasy: Harry Potter (Stupefy!), Lord of the Rings, Beetlejuice, The Dark Crystal, etc.
If you absolutely must watch a love-themed movie on said day, stick to those with sad endings (happy endings will only tick you off; at least sad is in keeping with the tone of the day): Titanic, Phantom of the Opera, Love Story, Ghost, etc.
Could also go for slapstick comedy.
***Bram Stoker's DRACULA. That would be ideal on V-Day...any day, really. Edward Cullen pales in comparison. Get it? Pales... Yeah. I know. Lame joke. But, this really is a great film--tortured love, vampires, undying love (literally)--it's classic.
3. Advil for certain headache
4. Ice bag to numb head when Advil isn't working fast enough
5. Dramamine for certain queasy stomach when thought of someone flutters across your bruised mind.
6. Computer--equipped with favorite shopping sites minimized and ready for raiding.
7. Credit Card--to aid in said raiding
8. Second Dramamine for buyer's remorse.
9. Kleenex for any spontaneous eye leakage...due to inflamed sinuses, of course.
10. A cute cuddly something, like a teddy bear. Yeah, I love a good hug from a cute cuddly...please don't judge.
11. A partridge in a pear tree...wait, wrong day.
Hope you don't mind--my blog is my outlet. I figure once I get all this V-Day aggression out of my system this year, I will be done with it forever. This is the first time I've ever really talked about my V-Day catastrophes in any detail--I have yet to share a particularly "interesting" one with you...reckon I'll save it for the day itself.
Anyway...
Valentine's Day Survival Guide:
*Groan*
*Yawn*
*Gag*
First and foremost:
-remove all romantic movies from vicinity of DVD player (shove deep in closet, drawer, anywhere out of sight)
-eject all sappy-lovey cd's from stereo; do not listen to pathetic f.m.
-turn off answering machine--will only upset you to hear for the 900th time: "No new messages...*^%$"
-keep all phones OFF. Their lack of response to your inherent need for a ringing sound will not help your sanity.
Must gather necessary supplies for impending doom's day, er, Valentine's Day.
1. All vices--junk food? Why not? Soda? Oh, slap me silly and call me candy, you bet your sweet sweat there will be soda. Chocolate? Only in the form of M&Ms, Hershey's, or any non-V-Day candy. NO Russell Stover heart boxes--those are best saved for after V-Day when they are on sale.
2.Acceptable DVDs:
Action: Independence Day, Terminator, Alien (for the stomach blast alone, it's a perfect V-Day movie), Cast Away (okay, not exactly action, but totally apropos--don't we all have a Wilson? No? Yeah, me neither), Saving Private Ryan, etc.
Fantasy: Harry Potter (Stupefy!), Lord of the Rings, Beetlejuice, The Dark Crystal, etc.
If you absolutely must watch a love-themed movie on said day, stick to those with sad endings (happy endings will only tick you off; at least sad is in keeping with the tone of the day): Titanic, Phantom of the Opera, Love Story, Ghost, etc.
Could also go for slapstick comedy.
***Bram Stoker's DRACULA. That would be ideal on V-Day...any day, really. Edward Cullen pales in comparison. Get it? Pales... Yeah. I know. Lame joke. But, this really is a great film--tortured love, vampires, undying love (literally)--it's classic.
3. Advil for certain headache
4. Ice bag to numb head when Advil isn't working fast enough
5. Dramamine for certain queasy stomach when thought of someone flutters across your bruised mind.
6. Computer--equipped with favorite shopping sites minimized and ready for raiding.
7. Credit Card--to aid in said raiding
8. Second Dramamine for buyer's remorse.
9. Kleenex for any spontaneous eye leakage...due to inflamed sinuses, of course.
10. A cute cuddly something, like a teddy bear. Yeah, I love a good hug from a cute cuddly...please don't judge.
11. A partridge in a pear tree...wait, wrong day.
Author Interview: Mary Hooper
Mary Hooper is the author of many young adult and adult novels. She's here today talking about her newest title, FALLEN GRACE, which was released on February 1, 2011.
It's obvious from reading your book that you did quite a bit of research on the time period. What types of things did you do to learn more about Victorian London?
There is a marvellous book by a journalist (Mayhew) written in Victorian times and called LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR. He went around interviewing the ordinary, poor working people and writing down their stories. Absolutely heart-wrenching.
I liked the Dickens cameo in FALLEN GRACE. Why did you decide to include him in the story?
I like to put real people in my books, just to remind the reader that this is a TRUE story and not fantasy. So far I've had King Charles II, Charles Duval the highwayman and Nell Gwyn the king's mistress. In the next (see below) I've got Conan Doyle, the author of the Sherlock Holmes books, putting in an appearance. Of course I have to make sure that the person appearing really was in London (or wherever) at the time and acts as they truly would have done.
Grace and Lily encounter many things throughout the story that are absolutely heartbreaking. How typical was their experience for that time period and why was it important to you to tell that story?
Their experiences are true ones (see Mayhew, above). We can read books about kings and queens and the aristocracy of the day because they left diaries and letters and their lives were documented, so I wanted to give the poor a voice. Also, rags to riches makes a great story!
You mention on your website that you left school when you were 15? What caused you to leave early, and do you regret waiting so long to receive formal education?
Up to about 1970, in the UK you were able to leave school at 15. I was keen to get out into the world and I didn't realise I knew absolutely nothing until later. I don't regret this now because I had great fun going (part time) to University when I was 40 and reading all the books I should have read earlier.
You also mention in your bio on your website that once you began writing historical novels you realized how much you love doing them. What about the historical fiction genre draws you to it?
I wish I knew! I just know that when I began working on my first historical: AT THE SIGN OF THE SUGARED PLUM (about the Great Plague) I had discovered what I liked doing best.
If you don't mind telling, are you working on any projects now?
My next book is called VELVET and is about a girl who takes a job working for a medium in Victorian London. Conan Doyle was a keen supporter of Spiritualism...
Author Bio:
Mary Hooper is a very popular writer for children and young adults. Mary's brilliant historical novels, At the House of the Magician, By Royal Command, At the Sign of the Sugared Plum, Petals in the Ashes and The Extraordinary Life and Times of Eliza Rose have a huge fan base, as do her contemporary novels for teenagers. Mary is very much in demand for her events at literary festivals and schools. She lives in England.
It's obvious from reading your book that you did quite a bit of research on the time period. What types of things did you do to learn more about Victorian London?
There is a marvellous book by a journalist (Mayhew) written in Victorian times and called LONDON LABOUR AND THE LONDON POOR. He went around interviewing the ordinary, poor working people and writing down their stories. Absolutely heart-wrenching.
I liked the Dickens cameo in FALLEN GRACE. Why did you decide to include him in the story?
I like to put real people in my books, just to remind the reader that this is a TRUE story and not fantasy. So far I've had King Charles II, Charles Duval the highwayman and Nell Gwyn the king's mistress. In the next (see below) I've got Conan Doyle, the author of the Sherlock Holmes books, putting in an appearance. Of course I have to make sure that the person appearing really was in London (or wherever) at the time and acts as they truly would have done.
Grace and Lily encounter many things throughout the story that are absolutely heartbreaking. How typical was their experience for that time period and why was it important to you to tell that story?
Their experiences are true ones (see Mayhew, above). We can read books about kings and queens and the aristocracy of the day because they left diaries and letters and their lives were documented, so I wanted to give the poor a voice. Also, rags to riches makes a great story!
You mention on your website that you left school when you were 15? What caused you to leave early, and do you regret waiting so long to receive formal education?
Up to about 1970, in the UK you were able to leave school at 15. I was keen to get out into the world and I didn't realise I knew absolutely nothing until later. I don't regret this now because I had great fun going (part time) to University when I was 40 and reading all the books I should have read earlier.
You also mention in your bio on your website that once you began writing historical novels you realized how much you love doing them. What about the historical fiction genre draws you to it?
I wish I knew! I just know that when I began working on my first historical: AT THE SIGN OF THE SUGARED PLUM (about the Great Plague) I had discovered what I liked doing best.
If you don't mind telling, are you working on any projects now?
My next book is called VELVET and is about a girl who takes a job working for a medium in Victorian London. Conan Doyle was a keen supporter of Spiritualism...
Author Bio:
Mary Hooper is a very popular writer for children and young adults. Mary's brilliant historical novels, At the House of the Magician, By Royal Command, At the Sign of the Sugared Plum, Petals in the Ashes and The Extraordinary Life and Times of Eliza Rose have a huge fan base, as do her contemporary novels for teenagers. Mary is very much in demand for her events at literary festivals and schools. She lives in England.
Roses Are Red...Unless You Are Me...
I have a thing for flowers. I love 'em. My favorite flower is the daisy. It's just such a happy little flower. Every time I bring them home, I swear the house smiles...and so do I. My mom loves to make me blankets featuring all sorts of different daisy patterns, and let me tell you how they brighten up a room!
But, considering we are approaching the wretched day called Valentine's, I want to look at the unofficial V-Day flower: The rose.
Now, I love roses, I do, really (*clears throat* they in no way make me want to toss them in a sewer when I see them handed to an undercover soulless witch)...
...but, they have been a bit of a thorn in my side, as they have with all single women. Society conditions us at a very young age to recognize the rose as a universal declaration of love, acceptance, desire, etc.
Rose = relationship;
Rose = romance;
Rose = gag
Ooh, wait, that last one's my personal reaction. Sorry.
**I do have a favorite color rose...bet you can guess.**
Due to this time of year, personal experience, and just the total randomness of my mind right now, I have this whole rose philosophy when it comes to the colors:
1. Red Rose: Unofficial Vomit Day flower and waaaaaay overused. Result: Nah, I'll pass.
2. White Rose: Innocence and purity. Huh! Well, this one was forever ruined when cute boy gave slut girl a white rose as a symbol of her purity. Turns out he was trying to kiss up for the ideal boy-V-Day, if you get what I'm saying. Result: Not on your life. However, I wouldn't pass up a white rose with pink touches on the petals--those are just gorgeous.
3. Yellow Rose: Soooo, the popular kid in school! Okay, I know there is the famous song, The Yellow Rose of Texas, but the only Texas flower for me is the bluebonnet--love them. Result: Wouldn't turn 'em away. ;)
4. Pink Rose: Poetic romance and sweetness. Aside from the fact that it's my very favorite color, the pink rose has always struck me as the one who quietly sits in the background, not needing to be the center of attention or flaunted about. I hardly see these featured, certainly when compared to the others. Result: We have a winner!
My two very favorite flowers: Pretty Pink Roses and Happy Daisies!
Please, no one tell me a bad story involving pink roses, I beg you.
Wow...this was a random post...I never know where my pre-Vomit Day mind will carry me.
***Aw, who the heck am I kidding? I'd be jumping up and down, clapping, and doing the happy dance over any color rose at this point. ***
But, considering we are approaching the wretched day called Valentine's, I want to look at the unofficial V-Day flower: The rose.
Now, I love roses, I do, really (*clears throat* they in no way make me want to toss them in a sewer when I see them handed to an undercover soulless witch)...
...but, they have been a bit of a thorn in my side, as they have with all single women. Society conditions us at a very young age to recognize the rose as a universal declaration of love, acceptance, desire, etc.
Rose = relationship;
Rose = romance;
Rose = gag
Ooh, wait, that last one's my personal reaction. Sorry.
**I do have a favorite color rose...bet you can guess.**
Due to this time of year, personal experience, and just the total randomness of my mind right now, I have this whole rose philosophy when it comes to the colors:
1. Red Rose: Unofficial Vomit Day flower and waaaaaay overused. Result: Nah, I'll pass.
2. White Rose: Innocence and purity. Huh! Well, this one was forever ruined when cute boy gave slut girl a white rose as a symbol of her purity. Turns out he was trying to kiss up for the ideal boy-V-Day, if you get what I'm saying. Result: Not on your life. However, I wouldn't pass up a white rose with pink touches on the petals--those are just gorgeous.
3. Yellow Rose: Soooo, the popular kid in school! Okay, I know there is the famous song, The Yellow Rose of Texas, but the only Texas flower for me is the bluebonnet--love them. Result: Wouldn't turn 'em away. ;)
4. Pink Rose: Poetic romance and sweetness. Aside from the fact that it's my very favorite color, the pink rose has always struck me as the one who quietly sits in the background, not needing to be the center of attention or flaunted about. I hardly see these featured, certainly when compared to the others. Result: We have a winner!
My two very favorite flowers: Pretty Pink Roses and Happy Daisies!
Please, no one tell me a bad story involving pink roses, I beg you.
Wow...this was a random post...I never know where my pre-Vomit Day mind will carry me.
***Aw, who the heck am I kidding? I'd be jumping up and down, clapping, and doing the happy dance over any color rose at this point. ***
Cryer's Cross by Lisa McMann: Review
Cryer's Cross
By: Lisa McMann
Format: Hardcover, 240 pages
Published: February 8, 2011; Simon Pulse
Source: E-Galley from Simon and Schuster
Challenges: 2011 E-Book Challenge
author website | author twitter | author blog | author facebook
Summary (from Goodreads): The community of Cryer’s Cross, Montana (population 212) is distraught when high school freshman Tiffany disappears without a trace. Already off-balance due to her OCD, 16-year-old Kendall is freaked out seeing Tiffany’s empty desk in the one-room school house, but somehow life goes on... until Kendall's boyfriend Nico also disappears, and also without a trace. Now the town is in a panic. Alone in her depression and with her OCD at an all-time high, Kendall notices something that connects Nico and Tiffany: they both sat at the same desk. She knows it's crazy, but Kendall finds herself drawn to the desk, dreaming of Nico and wondering if maybe she, too, will disappear...and whether that would be so bad. Then she begins receiving graffiti messages on the desk from someone who can only be Nico. Can he possibly be alive somewhere? Where is he? And how can Kendall help him? The only person who believes her is Jacian, the new guy she finds irritating...and attractive. As Kendall and Jacian grow closer, Kendall digs deeper into Nico's mysterious disappearance only to stumble upon some ugly—and deadly—local history. Kendall is about to find out just how far the townspeople will go to keep their secrets buried.
My Review:
Cryer's Cross was a chilling novel that I couldn't tear myself away from while I was in the moment reading it, but not one that left such a lasting impression that I recommend it to everyone I meet. Readers that like the horror genre will definitely eat this one up, and I am happy to report that I really did like this book much better than the WAKE series.
I'm not really into horror. It tends to give me nightmares. Yes, actual nightmares complete with monsters. I guess my psyche never got the memo that those were supposed to go away after like the age of 8. But, the creepiness factor was just enough that it kept me turning pages to see what happened, but not quite enough that I had to sleep with the light on. Also, the psychological aspect of the story made it a little easier for me to handle than the actual undead popping out of the ground, know what I mean?
With that being said; however, I have to agree with Steph Su's review that the OCD component of Kendall's character was underdeveloped. I don't have OCD, and frankly, I don't know anyone that has OCD, but it seemed that the only thing that Kendall was obsessed about was the pattern of the desks in the room. And, other than her need to get to school early to fix the desks every morning, it really didn't impact her life all that much. Again, I'm not psychologist, but I think I would have liked to see that aspect of the book fleshed out just a little more.
Best thing about this book and Lisa McMann's writing is that she totally nailed the small town culture. I grew up in a small town. I live in a small town now. Granted, it's not as small as Cryer's Cross, but pretty close. I can totally understand both Kendall and Jacian's frustrations throughout the book. It's hard to come into a culture that is so reluctant to change, and perhaps even harder to do in a small change is change your identity. That is so very nicely played out in this book.
I'm going to recommend this book to people who liked the WAKE trilogy. It's got the same suspense and nice romantic story line as that series with less of the weird sex dreams. Also, if you like psychological thrillers and horror, you might give this one a try.
My Rating:
By: Lisa McMann
Format: Hardcover, 240 pages
Published: February 8, 2011; Simon Pulse
Source: E-Galley from Simon and Schuster
Challenges: 2011 E-Book Challenge
author website | author twitter | author blog | author facebook
Summary (from Goodreads): The community of Cryer’s Cross, Montana (population 212) is distraught when high school freshman Tiffany disappears without a trace. Already off-balance due to her OCD, 16-year-old Kendall is freaked out seeing Tiffany’s empty desk in the one-room school house, but somehow life goes on... until Kendall's boyfriend Nico also disappears, and also without a trace. Now the town is in a panic. Alone in her depression and with her OCD at an all-time high, Kendall notices something that connects Nico and Tiffany: they both sat at the same desk. She knows it's crazy, but Kendall finds herself drawn to the desk, dreaming of Nico and wondering if maybe she, too, will disappear...and whether that would be so bad. Then she begins receiving graffiti messages on the desk from someone who can only be Nico. Can he possibly be alive somewhere? Where is he? And how can Kendall help him? The only person who believes her is Jacian, the new guy she finds irritating...and attractive. As Kendall and Jacian grow closer, Kendall digs deeper into Nico's mysterious disappearance only to stumble upon some ugly—and deadly—local history. Kendall is about to find out just how far the townspeople will go to keep their secrets buried.
My Review:
Cryer's Cross was a chilling novel that I couldn't tear myself away from while I was in the moment reading it, but not one that left such a lasting impression that I recommend it to everyone I meet. Readers that like the horror genre will definitely eat this one up, and I am happy to report that I really did like this book much better than the WAKE series.
I'm not really into horror. It tends to give me nightmares. Yes, actual nightmares complete with monsters. I guess my psyche never got the memo that those were supposed to go away after like the age of 8. But, the creepiness factor was just enough that it kept me turning pages to see what happened, but not quite enough that I had to sleep with the light on. Also, the psychological aspect of the story made it a little easier for me to handle than the actual undead popping out of the ground, know what I mean?
With that being said; however, I have to agree with Steph Su's review that the OCD component of Kendall's character was underdeveloped. I don't have OCD, and frankly, I don't know anyone that has OCD, but it seemed that the only thing that Kendall was obsessed about was the pattern of the desks in the room. And, other than her need to get to school early to fix the desks every morning, it really didn't impact her life all that much. Again, I'm not psychologist, but I think I would have liked to see that aspect of the book fleshed out just a little more.
Best thing about this book and Lisa McMann's writing is that she totally nailed the small town culture. I grew up in a small town. I live in a small town now. Granted, it's not as small as Cryer's Cross, but pretty close. I can totally understand both Kendall and Jacian's frustrations throughout the book. It's hard to come into a culture that is so reluctant to change, and perhaps even harder to do in a small change is change your identity. That is so very nicely played out in this book.
I'm going to recommend this book to people who liked the WAKE trilogy. It's got the same suspense and nice romantic story line as that series with less of the weird sex dreams. Also, if you like psychological thrillers and horror, you might give this one a try.
My Rating:
Fact or Fiction REVEAL
Well, I knew y'all were smart little bloggers! I tried to actually pull a reverse psychology kind-of thing--make you want to pick the long ones, but then figure they are too obvious and pick the shorter ones.
So, the FACT ones are: 1 and 5.
1. Up Close & Personal with Troy Aikman: Yep, a portion of my face unwittingly landed against *possibly* Troy Aikman's derriere. There's still a 50/50 chance it wasn't him, so who knows. If it wasn't him, then he has a true doppelganger. The whole ordeal is still embarrassing. Just for the record: I didn't lose my balance totally on my own accord--the rude dude behind me kept nudging against me, trying to squeeze me out of line, and I just couldn't keep my footing.
2. Pilot Seagull: This was actually an ALMOST occurrence. I was just a little kid at the time, on vacation with my family. My mom thankfully saw the gull and yanked me sideways, allowing the bird dung to just miss me.
3. Peter Piper Picked A Pecan Pie: This is true....but it happened to my mom. I was in the front of the restaraunt when it happened. I heard my mom clear as day, turned, and saw her fly down the step, disappear, *THUD*, then reappear, pulling herself up onto the glass counter. She was mortified. It's one of my dad's favorite stories to tell--he was HYSTERICAL, much to Mom's dismay.
4. The Flagpole: Again, this is true, but it happened to a friend of mine in either 8th or 9th grade. Looking back on it, I'm just really glad she was okay--all of us were too busy stomach-cramp-laughing to talk.
5. Eye Don't Like You: Um, yeah, all true. This actually happened when I was visiting my grandfather in Texas, so this wasn't my normal eye doctor, but was a doctor my dad knew back in the day. My dad was in the room at the time and quite literally couldn't believe what he was seeing. All I remember is hearing him unsuccessfully trying to muffle the continuous chuckling. I felt so bad--poor doctor had no idea what he was in for when he walked into the room that day.
So, there you have it. I told you my mom always says my life is like a sitcom (although hers, believe it or not, is far worse, albeit funny). Now, you see why.
So, the FACT ones are: 1 and 5.
1. Up Close & Personal with Troy Aikman: Yep, a portion of my face unwittingly landed against *possibly* Troy Aikman's derriere. There's still a 50/50 chance it wasn't him, so who knows. If it wasn't him, then he has a true doppelganger. The whole ordeal is still embarrassing. Just for the record: I didn't lose my balance totally on my own accord--the rude dude behind me kept nudging against me, trying to squeeze me out of line, and I just couldn't keep my footing.
2. Pilot Seagull: This was actually an ALMOST occurrence. I was just a little kid at the time, on vacation with my family. My mom thankfully saw the gull and yanked me sideways, allowing the bird dung to just miss me.
3. Peter Piper Picked A Pecan Pie: This is true....but it happened to my mom. I was in the front of the restaraunt when it happened. I heard my mom clear as day, turned, and saw her fly down the step, disappear, *THUD*, then reappear, pulling herself up onto the glass counter. She was mortified. It's one of my dad's favorite stories to tell--he was HYSTERICAL, much to Mom's dismay.
4. The Flagpole: Again, this is true, but it happened to a friend of mine in either 8th or 9th grade. Looking back on it, I'm just really glad she was okay--all of us were too busy stomach-cramp-laughing to talk.
5. Eye Don't Like You: Um, yeah, all true. This actually happened when I was visiting my grandfather in Texas, so this wasn't my normal eye doctor, but was a doctor my dad knew back in the day. My dad was in the room at the time and quite literally couldn't believe what he was seeing. All I remember is hearing him unsuccessfully trying to muffle the continuous chuckling. I felt so bad--poor doctor had no idea what he was in for when he walked into the room that day.
So, there you have it. I told you my mom always says my life is like a sitcom (although hers, believe it or not, is far worse, albeit funny). Now, you see why.
Tagged: Fact or Fiction
J.Day has tagged me with a fun game!
Rules: You must list 5 things about yourself; 4 of them must be fiction, 1 must be true. Fellow bloggers will try and guess which one is true. Then, I pass this on to 4 bloggers.
I'm going to mix it up, as well.
2 of the following will be FACT; 3 will be FICTION.
1. Up Close & Personal With Troy Aikman: I once met Troy Aikman (he was retired from the game at this point). Of course, when I say "met," I mean I was in the same vicinity. He sat only a couple of rows down from where I was sitting with a friend and my dad.
During the break, I ended up directly behind him in a very long line. I felt so teeny tiny looking up at the back of his head. I kept thinking, "Wow. This was our quarterback! He helped win us super bowls!" He, um, smelled good, too. And, no, I didn't take the time to sniff him...not really, anyway. I mean, he was right there, barely an inch in front of me, I couldn't avoid his scent people!
Well, like an idiot, I dropped my money. When I bent over to pick up the money, the guy behind me tried to push me out of line. What happened next was nothing short of horrifyingly humiliating.
There I was, stumbling forward, trying to stand back up and maintain my place in line, when I lost my balance and wound up with part of my face and forehead on Troy Aikman's buttocks.
He slowly turned and asked if everything was "okay back there." He had a good laugh over it all. So not the way I wished to meet the Hall of Fame quarterback.
What's worse? My friend later swore it wasn't really Troy Aikman; my dad, on the other hand, was certain it was him. All I know is my face decided to cuddle with a man's butt cheeks...a man that could have been the beloved Cowboys' quarterback.
2. Pilot Seagull: While walking on Fisherman's Wharf with my mom and dad on a trip to California, a seagull decided to dive bomb a massive dump directly on my head. I walked around the rest of the day with sticky-shi**y hair.
3. Peter Piper Picked A Pecan Pie: Picture an extremely small restaurant --maybe 20 tables; at the back of the place, near the cash register, there was a large glass enclosed area where they sold pies and cakes. The room was so quiet. As I started to leave, I noticed a rather tasty pecan pie calling to me from inside the glass display. I turned, and said, "Oh, look at that pecan piiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee." Missing an embarrassingly obvious step, I flew down, and crashed into the glass counter. It didn't break, nor did I, but the whole place was trying to keep from laughing, some more than others. I bought the pie out of sheer humiliation.
4.The Flagpole: Late for class one day after gym, I was too busy talking with a friend and slammed headfirst into a metal flagpole. The impact made that classic "BONG" sound. I fell backwards on my butt, pressing my palm against my head, laughing and crying all at the same time.
5. Eye Don't Like You: I don't care for people near my eyes, doctor or not. So, when dear Doc tried to put drops in my eyes for the first time, we had a little problem.
Every single time he got near my eye, some automatic reflex just took over my body: I jerked my head sideways, took my fist, and punched his arm away from me. This happened two more times, with drops going down the side of my face, my ear, and in my hair, before Doc decided he would count to 3. Huh! I'm too smart for that! I knew full well he was going to drop those poisonous drops on 1 or 2. Sure enough, on 2, he aimed, I fired...my fist punched and my leg kicked into his little table-tray thingy, making a God-awful noise, and sending a few of his tools crashing to the floor.
Staying calm, Doc said, "Well, you're a feisty one, aren't you? We're going to have to try this a different way then."
He moved all things away from my legs, then wisely moved behind me, so I couldn't see him. He still had a tough time getting those drops in, but he finally succeeded. After all was said and done, he said he never saw someone with quicker reflexes and superior peripheral vision...he also said he needed some aspirin and a vacation.
Tag, you're it: I tried to pick people who haven't been tagged with this one, but I may have missed someone. I just really think they will come up with some awesome stories, both fact and fiction!
chocolate angel; Gorilla Bananas; Oilfield Trash; Rawknrobyn;
Bloggers: Okay, now it's up to y'all! Which TWO are FACT??? I'll post the answers late tonight. :)
P.S. If there are any typos, please forgive me--very tired eyes today.
Rules: You must list 5 things about yourself; 4 of them must be fiction, 1 must be true. Fellow bloggers will try and guess which one is true. Then, I pass this on to 4 bloggers.
I'm going to mix it up, as well.
2 of the following will be FACT; 3 will be FICTION.
1. Up Close & Personal With Troy Aikman: I once met Troy Aikman (he was retired from the game at this point). Of course, when I say "met," I mean I was in the same vicinity. He sat only a couple of rows down from where I was sitting with a friend and my dad.
During the break, I ended up directly behind him in a very long line. I felt so teeny tiny looking up at the back of his head. I kept thinking, "Wow. This was our quarterback! He helped win us super bowls!" He, um, smelled good, too. And, no, I didn't take the time to sniff him...not really, anyway. I mean, he was right there, barely an inch in front of me, I couldn't avoid his scent people!
Well, like an idiot, I dropped my money. When I bent over to pick up the money, the guy behind me tried to push me out of line. What happened next was nothing short of horrifyingly humiliating.
There I was, stumbling forward, trying to stand back up and maintain my place in line, when I lost my balance and wound up with part of my face and forehead on Troy Aikman's buttocks.
He slowly turned and asked if everything was "okay back there." He had a good laugh over it all. So not the way I wished to meet the Hall of Fame quarterback.
What's worse? My friend later swore it wasn't really Troy Aikman; my dad, on the other hand, was certain it was him. All I know is my face decided to cuddle with a man's butt cheeks...a man that could have been the beloved Cowboys' quarterback.
2. Pilot Seagull: While walking on Fisherman's Wharf with my mom and dad on a trip to California, a seagull decided to dive bomb a massive dump directly on my head. I walked around the rest of the day with sticky-shi**y hair.
3. Peter Piper Picked A Pecan Pie: Picture an extremely small restaurant --maybe 20 tables; at the back of the place, near the cash register, there was a large glass enclosed area where they sold pies and cakes. The room was so quiet. As I started to leave, I noticed a rather tasty pecan pie calling to me from inside the glass display. I turned, and said, "Oh, look at that pecan piiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee." Missing an embarrassingly obvious step, I flew down, and crashed into the glass counter. It didn't break, nor did I, but the whole place was trying to keep from laughing, some more than others. I bought the pie out of sheer humiliation.
4.The Flagpole: Late for class one day after gym, I was too busy talking with a friend and slammed headfirst into a metal flagpole. The impact made that classic "BONG" sound. I fell backwards on my butt, pressing my palm against my head, laughing and crying all at the same time.
5. Eye Don't Like You: I don't care for people near my eyes, doctor or not. So, when dear Doc tried to put drops in my eyes for the first time, we had a little problem.
Every single time he got near my eye, some automatic reflex just took over my body: I jerked my head sideways, took my fist, and punched his arm away from me. This happened two more times, with drops going down the side of my face, my ear, and in my hair, before Doc decided he would count to 3. Huh! I'm too smart for that! I knew full well he was going to drop those poisonous drops on 1 or 2. Sure enough, on 2, he aimed, I fired...my fist punched and my leg kicked into his little table-tray thingy, making a God-awful noise, and sending a few of his tools crashing to the floor.
Staying calm, Doc said, "Well, you're a feisty one, aren't you? We're going to have to try this a different way then."
He moved all things away from my legs, then wisely moved behind me, so I couldn't see him. He still had a tough time getting those drops in, but he finally succeeded. After all was said and done, he said he never saw someone with quicker reflexes and superior peripheral vision...he also said he needed some aspirin and a vacation.
Tag, you're it: I tried to pick people who haven't been tagged with this one, but I may have missed someone. I just really think they will come up with some awesome stories, both fact and fiction!
chocolate angel; Gorilla Bananas; Oilfield Trash; Rawknrobyn;
Bloggers: Okay, now it's up to y'all! Which TWO are FACT??? I'll post the answers late tonight. :)
P.S. If there are any typos, please forgive me--very tired eyes today.
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