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Showing posts from March, 2017

Dining and Whining

Me:      I'll have the turkey, no mayo. Girl:      *slathers sandwich with mayo* Me:      Excuse me, I'm sorry, I said no mayo. Girl:     *gives annoyed look, remakes sandwich* Do you want chips, pretzels or a pickle? Me:       Pretzels, no pickle, please. Girl:      *gives chips and a pickle*   *sigh*   (So, having a bad day, are we?)   Not generally, but holy crap. Simple instructions are apparently hard to follow. I just wanted a turkey sandwich with no mayo, and some pretzels. So, of course, you know this experience is gonna lead to a blog post.   (Oh boy, here we go….)   Why does dining out have to be so laborious sometimes? I mean, there I was, just looking to get a cheap sandwich from the deli counter downstairs because it's thirty-something-f*cking degrees outside and it's ALMOST APRIL, and… I mean, turkey, no mayo, with pretzels. Why is that so hard???   (Dude, you're stressing over a sand

Mach Madness (And no, this ain't about basketball)

So… here's the thing about writing: Too frequently you end up writing something completely different than what you intended to write, or should have written. Case in point – this blog post that will ramble on about a whole lot of random things. When I sat down, I intended to pick up where I left off in Book Five of The Deep Space Chronicles … and then I thought "my office smells like tacos."   (*sigh* Fine, I'll bite – What does your office smelling like tacos have to do with not writing your book?)   I'm glad you asked! Absolutely nothing other than the facts that 1) I ate a Mexican salad from the taco place across the street for lunch; and b) I'm having an OOOO shiny kind of day.   So now I'm writing this instead of working on the book. Because when you have the literary attention span of a gnat, you write rambling blog posts.   What's going on in my head, you didn't ask? Well I'll tell you!   1.         For t

Political Profanity

In the immortal words of my literary hero, Dave Barry, I swear I am not making this up – In his first speech as Secretary of HUD, Dr. Ben Carson said, and I quote:   "There were other immigrants who came here in the bottom of slave ships, worked even longer, even harder for less. But they too had a dream that one day their sons, daughters, grandsons, granddaughters, great grandsons, great granddaughters might pursue prosperity and happiness in this land."   *blink blink*   I…   I…   What the actual fuck, Carson????   That something so blatantly, absurdly ignorant came from Ben Carson's mouth is not in and of itself surprising. See, for example, his statements about Joseph's grain storage pyramids and homosexuality being a choice, but…   WHAT. THE ACTUAL.   FUCK.   Let's break this statement down into its constituent parts because, frankly, I think it's the only way I can possibly process this.

Bob ate Linda: A Cautionary Tale of Undead Relatives

I figured we could use a little levity, and since The Walking Dead is in full swing again...   Well.... ***     "Mom, have you seen Linda?"   "Bob ate Linda, sweetie."   "Goddammit, Bob!"   "Watch your language!"   Bob sat in the corner, pouting and ashamed. He knew eating Linda was wrong, but he couldn't help himself. He was dead, after all. Or is it un dead? In any event, Bob wasn't much of a thinker when his heart was still beating. They couldn't really fault him for eating Linda now. Of course, they didn't need to keep Bob there in the first place.   John shook his head. "Remind me again why we keep him here?"   "Because he's your uncle and I said so," exclaimed Ramona, John's mother.   "Ma, I get that he's your brother and all, but he's a zombie. As in doesn't breathe, and eats people now. We have to get ri