No More Answers

It's the last day of the Week of Answers. Does this mean there will be no answers in the world next week? I sure hope not. A million angry college students in summer classes will be out for my blood if that happens.

Anyway, the remaining questions are pretty short, so let's get to 'em!

The lovely Danyelle asks:

Why do early mornings exist?

Quite simply, I suspect that they exist to piss me off. Not that the world is all about ME, of course, because I know early mornings piss other people off too. In fact, I think we need an Early Mornings Piss Me Off Society (EMP-MOS).

If the world was run by me, everyone would stay up really late and sleep in until about 10:00. We would also have Zombie Dress Up Day at local schools. Because really? Backwards Day? Boring. Inside Out Day? Yawnsville. Zombie Dress Up Day? Made of awesome.

And that's my platform to rule the world. No early mornings, dress up like zombies any time you want. Doesn't that make you want to vote for me?

What's your favorite flavor of jelly bean?

Chicken and telephone.

Bonus points and my eternal respect if you know where that comes from. Unless you only know it because I told you, in which case I'm just happy that you actually listened.

Super-kind KM Walton asks:

Are you a Summer or Winter?

Oh god. Is this a makeup question? Because if it's a makeup question, I am NOT the girl to ask. I belong to the Boy George School of Makeup application. I just slop that stuff on there.

Or maybe it's just a season question, in which case I like summer because it's HAWT, and I just like the opportunity to write HAWT (always capital letters, people) as much as possible. Or maybe it's a fairy question, because a lot of fairy myths have summer fae and winter fae, and the winter fae are all naughty and the summer fae are all naughty but look prettier when they do it. I am summer fae, unless I've applied some makeup in which case I am winter fae.

Enjoy the weekend!

Let There Be Answers

Whee! It's more answers to questions you didn't really want to ask but took pity on me and did anyway!

So first, we've got a series of questions courtesy of Solvang Sherrie, awesome person that she is.

Have you ever posted an exerpt of "Superbly Useless"? I'd love to read it...

Alright. I'll post one here. Are you ready? Brace yourself.

"The."

Hey, you didn't say how LONG of an exerpt you wanted.

But seriously. I've never posted one. But I'll tell you a secret if you promise not to tell anyone else, and if everyone else in the world skips over this part. Ready?

I entered the first couple of paragraphs in a contest a long, LONG time ago, before I signed with Secret Agent Kate. You can read them here. I got great comments even if I didn't win.

You read that, didn't you, Everyone Else in the World? Le sigh.

As the Query Ninja, have you ever posted the query that landed you with Kate? I know it's good and I'd love to read it too...

I haven't. I'm not sure if I could ninja my own query or not. That's kind of like trying to practice an arm bar on yourself, but I could try. Thanks for the idea!

And finally, what kind of a name is Slayer for a doctor? I'm thinking I would be pretty nervous to show up for an appointment with him!

Actually, Slayer is short for Slayer of Bees. I told the whole story here. So unless you're a bee, you have nothing to worry about.

Storyqueen, who writes some of the most awesome picture books in the world, asks:

What is your current writing project....??? If you can't spill for superstitious reason, give us something, even if it's ambiguous.

I'll give you three words. And none of them are 'the.'

Demon fighting rollergirls.

And now I really want to be one.

Anyway, I'm about halfway done with it. I've been about halfway done with it for a while, but that's because I keep coming up with better ideas. I'm an obsessive editor type. I have been trying to bribe my inner editor to shut it up so I can write some new pages already but haven't been particularly successful.

How do you shut up your inner editor?

More Answers, of the Answery Sort

Remember, it's the Week of Answers! In which I enlighten you on topics of worldwide significance and general lunacy. (And maybe even worldwide lunacy and general significance. Or worldwide signifacy and general lunicance. I'd better stop before this gets any worse.)

KC Shaw asks:

What's the big deal about urban fantasy? Because I keep reading it and I keep getting annoyed with it. But I keep reading it.

You know what this reminds me of? An online IQ test. I want to say that it was at Sparktest.com but can't remember for sure. Anyway, this test had all these really silly questions, and the questions kept repeating, and there was no progress bar, and finally I just got sick of it and closed the window.

And then a little popup came out to tell me that I was really dumb, because I kept taking the test even though it was obviously not any good. So you can guess what I did: I started that bleeping test again and closed the window after the first question, and another popup appeared to say that taking the test a second time was cheating. Either that, or I'm freaking Einstein.

The moral of this story is that I'm only smart when I cheat, so you probably don't want to ask me questions that require any intelligence.

Natalie asks:

Why is my husband consistently annoyed my child actors?

I'm a little confused by this. Your child actors are annoying your husband? Or your husband is annoying your child actors? What are your child actors actually acting? Because if they're zombies, you can send them to my house. In the middle of the night, when my neighbor starts making a bunch of noise, I'll send those child actors over there to moan and scratch at the windows.

Actually, that may be the problem right there. Are the child actors moaning and scratching at the windows? I suggest mittens and chewing gum, so they can paw at the windows and blow bubbles instead.

Jim Danielson asks:

Did the people living on Pluto take away Earth's status as a planet to get even with us?

Actually, people don't live on Pluto. Plutonians do. And really, they don't give a garblesnatch about what we Earthlings think. Actually, I think the most awesome part of this question is that you think I'm an expert on aliens. I'm feeling strangely flattered, Jim. Just call me Spockette.

Anyone want to be Bones?

I bet you're starting to wonder why you bothered asking any questions in the first place, aren't you?

Things That Make Me Snarf - The Zombeatles

The video is pretty funny, but the music is even funnier. Please tell me I'm not the only person in the world who sat at the computer going: "BRAAAAAAAINS!" along with the music.

Answers with Zombies

You asked the Questions, now it's time for some Answers (with Zombies). Kind of like Dances with Wolves, only not really.

The Ey, otherwise known as Jamie, asks:

Who did come up with the 24 hour day? What sense does that make?

Well. There's this thing called Universal Coordinated Time, which of course was invented by The Universe. Yes, the same Universe that sends me emails and has failed to make me rich even though I have sent it loads of bonus ninjas and grass. I'm thinking that I don't have enough sparkles in my books, so here is a teaser from my current WIP:

"I've been sparkling for you," he said sparklingly, the words sending a sparkly shiver down her (you guessed it) sparkly spine.

And then, his sparkling eyes caught fire. Sparklingly.

Best seller, bay-bee.

And then there's The Whit Bra. She asked all this:

I am going to leave all my comments without using the.

What was first thing you noticed about Slayer that you liked?

Slayer and I met while playing Ultimate Frisbee. My friend spent weeks talking about how she wanted to use his ass as an end table.

Not kidding.

And no, I don't know what that means.

But yes, I'm putting it in a book anyway.

When did you decide he was One?

Ummm... one what? A complete lunatic? The kind of guy who will brainstorm enema of the week programs with me? A man who can talk some serious smack about American Idol and actually render it amusing?

The perfect man to father my children so we can take over the world!?!?!

Ahem. Sorry.

Actually, the reality is pretty boring. I woke up one morning and said, "You know, I'm going to move in with him." And I told him and he said, "Okay."

Maybe if you imagine violins playing in the background, it'll be more interesting. Especially if the violins are being played by zombies.

What made you decide to write for young adults?

Well, this might have something to do with the fact that I have the sense of humor of a 14 year old, but maybe not. Mostly, I write for teens because of something Slayer said to me once. He said that he'd never liked reading before. All the stuff he was forced to read was boring, so he pretty much stopped reading until I started feeding him books that I knew he'd like. This was right after the birth of my twins, and I thought, man, there's no way I want that to happen to my kids.

And here's the thing: it's the kind of thing I love to read. (Gasp!) I was trying to write all of this serious stuff. The kind of books read by people sitting in coffee houses and wearing berets while they smoke clove cigarettes. And you all know that I am NOT a clove-cigarette-and-beret kind of girl.

So it all kind of came together, and I've got the two best jobs in the world. Mother to three zombie-tag-playing children, and YA author.

Wow. That was all serious. Bring on the zombie kickline.

And finally,

WHAT CRAP, UNIVERSE?? WHY????

I have no answer to this. Frankly, I have written a lot of emails to The Universe asking the very same question. What crap, Universe? What crap?

More answers later.

The Sequel Secret

Has anyone else seen the commercials for Fast and Furious, the sequel to The Fast and the Furious? This has got to be the best idea for a sequel yet: just recycle the old movie, but take out all the instances of the word "the."

Vin Diesel: Dude! That car is bomb!

Hot chick: No, Vin. You are bomb.

Vin Diesel: What heck are you talking about? Of course I am bomb. I am Vin Diesel.

It's particularly funny if you read it in a pseudo computerized voice. Mine sounds disturbingly like All Your Base Are Belong to Us.

I'm thinking about writing an unauthorized sequel to Twilight using exactly this method. Think anyone would notice?

Next week is Question Week! What do you want to know? Ask in the comments; if I can't answer, my Magic 8 Ball probably can.

The Fancy Nickname Formula

I don't know why I like giving people nicknames so much, but I do. In fact, I distinctly remember hanging around the dorm one night in college, slowly and methodically nicknaming everyone I knew. And the worst part of it is that a bunch of people hung out with me and watched.

If I would have known it was so interesting, I would have sold tickets.

The best part is coming up with that perfect cockeyed combination of words and images. We're not talking cutesy poo nicknames like Honey Bear and Pootie Pie. I'm talking semi-snarfy nicknames like Slayer (which is really only snarfy if you know that my husband is a doctor and then you picture a nurse paging Dr. Slayer over the intercom) and The Electric Lovitz. I'm particularly proud of that one. I want to use it as a band name in a book some day.

But the problem with nicknames is that it takes a lot of hard work to develop a good one, so I'm now using a formula. Said formula is simple: I take 'the' and the first few letters of the person's last name. For example, you can hereby refer to me as The Harr.

The Harr, she is so kewl.

I've found a lot of cases in which this naming system works really well. There's The Whip, The Whit, and The Perk. There's my awesome agent, The Test. One of my personal favorites is The Ey, said in a pseudo-Elvis voice. Or maybe it's more like the Fonz. Or the love child of Elvis and The Fonz.

Something tells me Jamie doesn't like that nickname any more.

And then there are instances in which this system fails utterly. For instance, there's The Po. I am so sorry, Aaron. I just mistakenly named you after a Teletubby. I hope you'll find it in your heart to forgive me some day.

So do you know of any other names that come out really wonky using this method? I want to hear them.

Trivial Pursuit at the Harris House

The other night, Slayer and I played a game of Trivial Pursuit. For some strange reason, every time we play, we end up with these themes. Does this happen to anyone else? Like, I remember one time we played and had like five questions about Chuck Norris. (Not exaggerating. Fer real.) So of course we got silly and starting answering "Chuck Norris" to everything.

Slayer: In which state can you find the cities Ooby Gooby, Whosie Whatsit, and You're-Never-Going-to-Answer-This-Question-Right-You-Idiot?

Me: CHUCK NORRIS! The 51st state!

And then I collapsed into giggles at my own joke, which is not even that funny unless you've been playing for about a half hour, and the answer to every question in the green category is Chuck Norris. I'm not so good with green. The other night, I was lucky enough to get a horsie question for the win.

Anyway, we've had a lot of Trivial Pursuit themes, but our newest one takes the prize for most awesome-slash-disturbing. The other night, we had a two different topics that kept coming up in questions. The first was Tazmania. The second?

Enemas.

You know me. I can't resist playing word games, and if you give me two random things that do not go well together at all, I will combine them into a new and interesting term. (Interesting to me, anyway.) Remember squarts?

Squid Pop Tarts. You had to be there.

Yes, I'm getting to the point. The point is:

Tazmania + enemas = Tazmanema
I'm not sure what a Tazmanema would involve, and I don't want to know. But the idea of it makes me laugh so hard. And of course, then we started coming up with names for enemas around the world, and maybe there could be an Enema of the Month Club, and...

Must stop before I embarrass myself further.

Yeah, Slayer and I are made for each other. If you ever meet one of us, say the word "Tazmanema," and you're guaranteed a snarf or two.

Things That Make Me Snarf - Star Wars Dance Off

Okay. Normally, I don't repost things that I find on other people's blogs, and ~Jamie posted this one a few weeks ago. But I have a special request from my friend, The Electric Lovitz, to make an exception.

So here you go, EL. Bask in the wonder that is Darth Vader doing the Thriller dance.



I can't decide if it's funnier to see Darth doing the head twitch or the pelvic thrusts. Either way, it's freaking funny. I think I'd like to see him doing the Cha Cha Slide next. Or maybe the limbo.

Marry, Date, or Kill - The LOTR Edition

It's new game time! Can't you just feel the virtual streamers floating around you and hear the wild imaginary party?

You can't? You mean it's just me?

Oh well. Anyway, we're going to go back to our scruff days and play this game with Lord of the Rings characters. For those of you who haven't played before, the idea is simple. I'll give you three characters from Lord of the Rings. We'll have separate options for people who like boys and people who like girls. And you need to say which one you'll marry, which one you'll date, and which one you'll do away with.

Of course, the best part of this game is using either three really awesome people, in which case you get a lot of irate exclamations like, "Dude, you did NOT just kill Johnny Depp!" or, even better, three really ick people so you get irate exclamations like, "Dude, you did NOT just marry Britney Spears!"

So here are your choices, in politically correct alphabetical order.

If you like boys:

• Aragorn
  
• Frodo
  
• Legolas

If you like girls:

• Arwen
  
• Eowyn
  
• Legolas

Hey! What's up with putting me in with the girls AND the boys? I should shoot you!

I'm sorry, Legolas. It's not meant to be an insult. It's just that your hair is so pretty. I thought everyone should have the opportunity to admire it.

Yay! Still the prettiest!

So... what are your picks? I hate to say it, but I'm going to have to marry Aragorn, date Legolas (and try and pick up all of his hair care tips quickly), and... I know, I know... I'm killing Frodo.

Bring on the smack talk. I can take it. I'm a Frodo-killer, which is pretty much grounds for execution in most geek circles. Any other Frodo-killers out there? We could start a support group.

Query Ninja - The Werezom

It's time for another edition of Query Ninja. Because you people are insane (and I LIKE it), I finally put up a sidebar. So if you've missed out on the awesomeness before and have no idea what's going on here, visit the sidebar. It explains what we're doing and links to past editions.

Me so efficient.

Anyway, if you find yourself wanting some query help with a healthy slice of humor attached, drop me a line.

This edition of Query Ninja is courtesy of Kool Cat Shaw. Don't forget to refer to her by her awesome new name in the comments. We want to be nice to people who are brave enough to volunteer for ninjification. And don't forget: words that are italicized were replaced by me, because I have the sense of humor of a fourth grader and think it's funny.

This is her query:

Bob Barker can turn into a zombie. Werewolves are more impressive, but Bob Zombie’s a fast lurcher--perfect for his job as a messenger.

But when he breaks a law, he's sentenced to exile in a world reachable only by magic. Shunned there for his leathery appearance, hungry, and lost in a city bigger than the Price is Right set, Bob reaches out to the one person who shows him kindness: Rob Zombie, a prostitute who's trying to teach himself magic.

Bob and Rob have nothing in common, not even species, but they forge a friendship based on mutual need. Bob wants to return home; Rob wants to learn magic. Together they might find a way back to Bob’s world.

But the government-run Magical Sciences Institute arrests them both for illegal magic use. Bob discovers the government has a sinister use for a werezom--and if he won't comply, Rob will be executed. Bob must decide just how far he'll go to help Rob. Sometimes lurching, no matter how fast, just makes things worse.

I am seeking representation for my fantasy The Werezom, which is complete at 88,000 words.

Sincerely,
Kool Cat Shaw

Am I the only person around who is in absolute hysterics at the thought of Bob Barker the werezom and Rob Zombie the prostitute teaming up against the world? Think about it for a minute...

Lurch... lurch... moan.

Bob Zombie is my long-lost twin.

Okay. I'm done now.

So in this case, I'm thinking we need a new rule, kinda like the Church Lady rule. Only in this case, it's the Hamlet Rule. Since we're talking zombies today, maybe Hamzom Rule is better.

So the Hamzom Rule is simple:

To lurch, or not to lurch?

Wait a tick. That's not right. Let me try again.

To include, or not to include?

Although technically, that's not a rule. It's a question. Usually delivered on stage by men in silly looking tights. When you get frustrated about your query, I suggest that you imagine this in detail in the hopes that it will give you a good laugh.

I think one of the hardest things about writing a query, or a synopsis for that matter, is trying to decide what in the heck you should include. You've got subplots out the ying-yang, and red herrings and secondary characters practically coming out your ears. Figuring out which ones to include is tough as heck. Too few, and your book feels simplistic. Too many, and your query turns into a wet zombie-filled mess.

Ick. Should have turned off my mental picture before I wrote that.

One way to figure out whether you've got the proportions right is to compare the query to the book itself. Topics that get a lot of page time in the book should be bigger players in the query. It's not a hard and fast rule by any means, but proportionally, the elements should be about equal in both the query and the book itself. Or you can choose to focus on one really interesting thematic element and say to heck with the proportions and chronological order, but that's a different kind of query altogether.

So in this query, there are a lot of story elements told in chronological order. We meet Bob, get him to the new world, and meet Rob. They forge a friendship. And then the bad guys show up in the last paragraph.

There are a lot of intriguing elements in the first few paragraphs (werezoms = AWESOME-SQUARED), but for me, it feels like a lot of background. You're giving us the who, what, where, and when. Then, the last paragraph introduces what I think is the central conflict: that Bob has to choose between his newfound friendship with Rob "The Hooker" Zombie and his freedom-slash-safety, and in the process, fight off the sinister Institute. And then it ends with that awesome line about lurching fast making matters worse. I love that line. I'd like to send it chocolate and flowers.

Ahem. Anyway. I think this might be a little more compelling if the proportions were adjusted. As it stands, you've got three paragraphs of mainly background and one of conflict. One thing you could do is tighten that background info up to make it shorter and give us some more details about the conflict. Give us some more info about what's at stake here, and especially tell us about those sinister plans. Right now, it seems like a pretty easy choice: vague sinister plans versus only friend getting executed.

So bring on the sinisterness. Sinisterocity. Sinisterification.

Whatever. The point is that we need less background, more conflict.

Now, what if that really throws your proportions off? In other words, what if the book dedicates a lot of space to the developing friendship between Bob and Rob? What if the friendship is the focus of the book, and the external conflicts with the Institute are only really important because they threaten that friendship? Well, then that's another type of query altogether. Now, you're talking about a theme, and chronological plot points aren't going to get you there. Instead, you're going to structure everything around that theme. Something like:

Bob and Rob Zombie are friends, despite the fact that one of them is from another world, one is a hooker, one has skin that can be made into handbags, and one is outright scary. Unsurprisingly, they don't have any other friends. So when the Ministry wants to use Bob for nefarious purposes (insert nefarious purpose here) and threatens to kill Rob if he doesn't comply, it really sucks. Bob should probably do something to save his only friend. And he does. Go Bob.

It's kind of tongue in cheek, but the idea is still the same. The friendship (or whatever) becomes the driving force of the query, and all of the plot elements are presented in relation to that theme. The real question is which option fits your book better.

Wow, have I confused you now? Does anyone agree with me? Please?

I'll give you a cookie.

No, seriously. I'd love to hear what you think. Everyone please, chime in and give Kool Cat Shaw a hand here!

Haikus and My Important Research Project

Need something to read? Follow my lead; I'll fulfill your need. With speed.

Must stop before I make my head blow up. Yeah, so here are some haiku reviews.

Band Geek Love, by Josie Bloss
Yep, I'm geeking out
I admit that marking time
Brings good memories

Down and Out in the Magic Kingdom, by Cory Doctorow
So surreal it made
My head spin, guy gets reborn
At Disney World. Natch.

Rollergirl: Totally True Tales from the Track, by Melissa Joulwan
If I didn't want
it before, I'd want to be
a rollergirl now

And I've got something very important to ask you. If you were going to drown in a foodstuff, what foodstuff would you choose?

I'm all about the extensive research.

Very Serious Television Commentary

Have you seen the commercials for that 'HawthoRNe' show on TNT? I'm talking about the one with Jada Pinkett Smith, where she stands pensively beside a bedside one moment and then gets arrested the next. And as they drag her down the hallway, she keeps screaming, "I'm a nurse! I'm a NURSE!!!"

Which is all very realistic. Trust me. My husband is a doctor; I know these things.

Anyway, every time the commercial comes on, Slayer says that he doesn't read it as the name 'Hawthorne,' but as...

Wait for it.

'Hot Ho RN.'

Personally, I think this is a little wishful thinking on his part. We have a standing deal that when we both get old, he'll be allowed to have a cute young nurse, and I'll be allowed to have a cute young poolboy. Apparently, his nurse will be named Hot Ho RN.

My poolboy is feeling neglected. I didn't realize I was supposed to give him a cutesy nickname. Why don't people tell me these things? And does the nickname need to follow the 'Hot Ho RN' formula? Because if it does, my poolboy will be named 'Hot Stud PB,' which sounds like a very inappropriate circus act involving cowboys and peanut butter. And what kind of applicants do you think I'm going to get if I advertise on Craigslist for a Hot Stud PB?

Scary. Scary, scary, scary.

Things That Make Me Snarf - Everybody to the Limit

Really, it does not get any better than made up words plus cartoon plus robots. I dare you to come up with a more awesome combo than that.



Double dog dare you, even.

And now, you will have this earworm stuck in your head all day long. Now we have something in common. Please do not panic. There are medications that can help you.

What I Did on My Summer Vacation

Okay, I'm back from the vacation, so we're returning to our regularly scheduled programming. But first, I've got to tell you about our vacation. You will NOT believe what happened.

So we got all packed up, which is a saga in and of itself, and lugged the whole family (that would be moi, my husband Slayer, my Batson, and twins Left and Right) to a small family resort in Western Michigan. It's one of those little places with shuffleboard and paddleboats. I keep expecting 80s era Patrick Swayze to show up and teach the Thriller dance, but he's disappointed me so far.

Can't you just see that? "No one puts Baby Zombie in the corner."

Snarf.

Anyway, so we're at the welcome cookout, and what do I see? A short guy with an afro, standing at the table and surreptitiously spooning baked beans onto his plate. It made me snort a little, because afros are just funny.


Create your own FACEinHOLE

See what I mean?

Anyway, I go to get a hot dog, because I'm all about roasting doggies over an open fire. And he turns around.

It was HIM. I mean, really him.

Richard.

So I go all swoony, because really, what else do you do when you've caught Richard Simmons on a secret baked bean binge? I half expected him to hide a helping in his afro, but unfortunately that didn't happen. Personally, I think the only good reason to have an afro in the first place is so you can hide baked beans in it, but maybe that's just me.

Anyway, there I am, looking at the wonder that is The Simm, alive and in the flesh, and I wasn't paying attention to what I was doing, and I nearly impaled myself on one of the doggie roasting sticks.

Whoopsie.

Luckily, I managed to save myself from being impaled and roasted over an open flame. This was a good thing because it meant that I could get Richard's autograph and, you know, LIVE. It also meant that I got to sweat to some oldies, and really, you haven't lived until you've done that with The Simm. The only thing that would have made it better is if he would have taught the Thriller dance.

Okay, so none of that is true, except for the part where I nearly impaled myself on the hot dog poker. THAT is true. Otherwise, vacation was uneventful. I did write a short story called "Revenge of the Mucus Shovel Fairy." How's that for excitement?

Personally, I prefer the story about Richard Simmons storing baked beans in his afro.

Things That Make Me Snarf - Soylent Green

This video isn't the best quality, but it's always been one of my favorite skits, and it seemed especially fitting in light of last week's conversation about cannibalism.

Gotta love that Soylent Green. (Hint: It's peepul!)


Phil Hartman as Charlton Heston! - Watch more Funny Videos

Things That Make Me Snarf - The Red Button

Warning: this link is a time-suck. But it's a funny time suck.

http://www.onemorelevel.com/game/the_red_button

I'm on vacation now; neiner neiner neiner.

I'm also well known for my maturity.

Twilight Parody - Beware the Scout with the Afro

I'm pleased to say that we are almost done with the Twilight parody. That's right: the Twilarity is almost complete. Now that I'm nigh-done with the parody, I have a title.

This makes me think that I should start coming up with titles for the New Moon parody that will follow. What do you all think? New Spoon? New Swoon? Newt Room? (If you've read me long enough, you will know that 'Newt Room' gives me all kinds of silly ideas. Most of which are probably too ludicrous for anyone but me.) Maybe New Pool would work.

Heh. New Pool.

Anyway, since I'm going on vacation, I thought I'd leave you with a nice installation of the Twilight parody. I've also set up a couple of funny things to post at various times during the week, just because I think y'all deserve some laughs while I'm gone.

Really, I AM a public service.

So, without further ado, allow me to present the 10th edition of the Twilight parody:

Edition 10: Beware the Scout with the Afro

The merpire bowling was going well, except for the part where Mett bowled a particularly aggressive strike and tore one of the Slip N Slides in half. There was a short break in the game during which they tried to fix it with duct tape, because all theater people know that duct tape will in fact fix anything, and merpires are naturals when it comes to theater.

Really, merpires and theater go together like peanut butter and jelly, only there are baby pools involved. The merpire version of 'The Slosh Menagerie' is made of awesome.

But just as Ellba placed the final strip of sparkly silver tape (sparkle sparkle sparkle) onto the slick plastic, Ali gasped.

"What?" demanded Ward, his fins coming to instant attention. "What do you see, Ali?"

"It's... a scout!" exclaimed Ali.

Quickly, the merpires all gathered in a small circle around Ellba. Ward encircled her in his cold, slimy arms. She was scared, but part of her wanted to stay there forever.

The scout appeared at the end of the clearing. He didn't look so menacing. For one thing, he had an afro, and really, the only time that afros are menacing is when they're armor-plated. A girl trailed him with a huge antenna in her hands, she was waving it this way and that in a vain attempt to get him cell phone reception.

"There you are!" exclaimed the scout, dropping the phone and clasping his hands in overdone excitement. "Wait. Wait just a minute. I see a new face in the crowd!" He looked directly at Ellba, and she shrunk under the weight of his gaze.

"She's not interested, Jermaine," said Ward coldly.

"I thought we told you to leave our family alone," added Carl.

"Aw, come on, guys. I keep telling you that a merpire act would be the bomb! What can she do? What do you do, honey? Acrobatics? Origami? Do you get into a baby pool and sing "Celebration" by Kool and the Gang?" Jermaine started to caper around the clearing, singing: "Cell-a-brate good times, come on! Slosh! Slosh! Slosh-slosh-slosh-slosh!"

While he was distracted, Ward began to pull Ellba back toward the cars, and eventually he threw her over his shoulder and sprinted for safety, shoving her into the front seat and nearly strangling her with the seat belt.

"What's wrong with him?" said Ellba. "He didn't seem that bad."

"He's a talent scout," Ward snarled. "He wants to take you out for lunch."

"Meaning I'll be the lunch?" gasped Ellba. "But he's so ugly! If anyone's going to devour me, I want it to be you. Not some afroed freak!"

"Don't worry," said Ward. "I'm getting you out of here. No one will doom my girl to an eternity of singing bad 80s music in a baby pool on stage. Not while I'm here to save her."

"But couldn't you... you know, like bite him or something?"

"It's not that easy," murmured Ward, slamming the car into gear and speeding away. "His afro? It's armor-plated."

White Rabbit Time

We had a huge party last night for all of Slayer's coworkers, which means that I spent a lot of time making potato salad yesterday. (I also refused to wear shoes during the party, which sounds like some major political declaration but was really due to the fact that I crammed all this junk into the shoe closet and was afraid to open it in front of anyone.) Anyway, what with all the wild partying going on, I neglected to write a blog entry for this morning.

I know. I should be flogged with a wet noodle. You're going to be without me all next week too; however will you survive?

So here I am: late at the whole blogging thing, and with no idea whatsoever as to what I should blog about. And you know what that means: Randomness a la Carrie, which sounds kind of like a dish you'd find at a fancy restaurant. I'd like to eat at that restaurant, but maybe that's just me being a little egotistical. Or self-cannibalistic; I'm not sure.

Am I the only person around who finds the whole idea of cannibalism fascinating? I'm not imagining it in detail or anything, just thinking about it in general. (Except that I am absolutely sure that people taste like chicken, because really, what else would they taste like? Pop Rocks?) Like, there's a tribe in Papua New Guinea, or at least there used to be, and they ate all their relatives after death. Only one of them caught a deadly infectious disease, and that kind of put an end to it all. But still, deadly infectious disease notwithstanding, isn't that a strange way to say you love someone? I'd rather send a Hallmark card that says something like: "No one can beat you/You are so neat, too/But don't you worry; cause I won't eat you."

It's the anti-cannibalistic love card. Maybe it could be one of those musical cards, and maybe it would play this song:



Actually, I don't think that really makes sense; that song should probably go in the PRO-cannibalism card. I like the song anyway. And really, you can't go wrong with a singing cannibalistic plant. They should probably have Hallmark cards for singing cannibalistic plants too. Frankly, I think they should have Hallmark cards for EVERYTHING. I keep waiting for someone to send me a hope-you-had-a-good-party-even-though-you-didn't-wear-shoes card, but it hasn't happened yet.

Vacation, All I Ever Wanted

On Sunday, we leave for a week-long vacation with the fam. Part of me is jumping around in barely restrained excitement that sounds something like this: "Wheeee! A REAL vacation! I get to go on a REAL vacation! Par-tay!"

Another part of me is slinking around trying not to make too big of a deal about it, lest the Vacation Gods hear about this and start playing practical jokes on me again. One year, I went to Myrtle Beach, and my bikini top fell off and floated away in the ocean. I was there with my boyfriend's parents. So of course, he's laughing, and I'm trying to find my top, and out comes my boyfriend's dad. He thought we were playing Marco Polo and wanted to play too.

Recipe for disaster, that.

Slayer and I have only taken one real vacation together during our entire 10 year relationship. We went on a short honeymoon, and on the first day? I broke my foot. Walking.

Yes, walking. We took a walk down the beach, and I broke my foot. Don't ask me how, because I don't know.

So for this vacation, I'm not wearing any bikinis and I'm going to walk on my hands the entire time. Think it'll work?