Things That Make Me Snarf - Superhero Tryouts

The moral of this story? Pity Mr. Clocky.



A few other piddly things...

I have 99 followers. When I hit 100, magical, mystical things are sure to happen. Like if you are the 100th follower, maybe Richard Simmons will parachute out of the sky, land on your front lawn, and pass out free sparkly ninja shorts.

Really makes you want to be my 100th follower, doesn't it?

I have learned that there is actually a place called Snarf's. I now own one of their t-shirts, thanks to my wonderful friend, the Ninja Joker. I call him this because he's constantly sending me silly comments based on my blog. I'd post them for you, but they're entirely inappropriate.

Actually, probably two steps beyond inappropriate, if I'm being entirely honest.

And last but not least, you will soon have the opportunity to read me in print! My story, "The Revenge of the Mucus Shovel Fairy" will be in the upcoming Shadows and Light anthology.


Read me, Seymour. Read me all night long.

Da Lie

Okay. If you didn't read the last post, go back and do it, because otherwise you will have no blinking idea what I'm talking about.

Or don't. You could probably argue that I don't make any sense anyway, so why not just run with it.

The lie is number 1. I do not sing the Mission Impossible theme song to myself when training in ninjutsu. This is for one simple reason. I ride the ninja short bus. I find it difficult enough to avoid punching myself in the face, let alone looking cool AND singing AND not punching myself in the face.

So it's not for lack of desire, but lack of skill.

And yes, that does mean that you are reading the blog of a girl that was run over by a car onstage, takes her Spice Girl barbie doll on vacation, throws her own Mystery Dinner parties complete with Pixy Stick flushing action, cannot resist a dare to snort candy, has been licked by complete strangers, and likes to request songs via charades. My personal favorite is the come hither finger, pointing to the top of my head, pointing to my eye, and then falling over.

Come On Eileen.

Kreativly Kreativ

Wow. Me feel so popular. I've received the Kreativ (and it's a very kreativ spelling of the word creative, isn't it?) Blogger award from Christine, Danyelle, and Jameson. Particular thanks go to Jameson, who managed to break every single rule attached to the award and make me feel insanely flattered in the process. And then Danyelle gave me the Literary Blogger Award, because she likes to spoil me.

It seems logical to me. I like to spoil me too.

Anyway, part of the deal with the Kreative Blogger Award is that you're supposed to list seven interesting things about yourself. I'm going to be kreativ and list six interesting things about myself and one blatant lie. Can you spot it? Will my kreativ spelling distract you from the truth? Am I trying too hard to make this suspenseful?

Don't answer that last question.

Okay. Seven kreativ things about me...

1. Wen I train with my fellow ninjuh, I like to sing the Mishun Impossible song to myself. It makes it hard to sneek up on peepul, but I don't care. It makes me feel kewl.

2. I was once run over by a kar. Actually, it was haff of a kar, and it was on stayge, and there was an audience watching. Yeah, they laffed at me too.

3. I took my Spyce Gurl Barbie doll on vaycation with me. We went swumming, and it did very bad things to her hayur. Now she luks like Bedhead Spice.

4. I right my own Mistery Dinner Partys. At the furst one, the "drug addict" brot a bag of Pixy Stick dust & called it his drugs. Best Friend flushed it down the toylet. The drug addict playur was mad, beecuz he wanted to eet the Pixy Sticks aftur the game.

5. I hav actully inhaled Pixy Stick dust up my nose. On a dayur.

6. I hav ben licked on the sholder by a compleet strangur. At a club. I theenk he mistuk me for an ice creem cone.

7. Best Friend and I used two go out dancing two the same club every knite, and wee liked to request sonngs. Butt we wud never say what song we wanted. We did charades & made them gues. Yah, the DJs LUVD us.

Sooo... what's the lie? And does your brain hurt as much as mine from all that terrible spelling?

The Semi-Secret and Not Very Original Diary of Bella Swan

So... did you read the first edition of the new parody last week? If not, go back and read it so you can enjoy the latest and greatest to its full pot-roast-inspired extent.

Don't worry. We'll wait.

Back? Good. Because it's time for...

The Semi-Secret and Not Very Original Diary
of Bella Swan

Day 1: Left beloved home to live with father and go to school named after eating implement. V. emo about this. Dad made pot roast to celebrate my arrival. Not hungry; too busy being emo. Hid pot roast under bed.

Day 3: First day at school for fighting forks. Met future husband. V. emo about this too. He has topaz eyes and the face of an angel. Only way Edward could be more perfect is if had tusks like walrus. Walrus = sexiest animal ever.

Day 4: Edward keeps sniffing me. Not quite sure what that's about.

Day 5: Cannot figure out why my room smells so funny. Also having dreams about topaz eyes watching me in middle of night. Funny, future husband has topaz eyes. Coincidences abound. Unsurprisingly, coincidences make me feel emo.

Day 10: Met childhood friend, Jacob. Surprisingly unawkward considering we used to run around naked in front yard when we were toddlers. Wish he had tusks.

Day 35: What's a girl got to do to find a man with long pointy teeth around here? And what the bleep smells so funny in my room?!?

Day 52: Discovered that it is difficult to be emo when tripping over cracks in sidewalk. Also, figured out Edward is vampire. It's not tusks, but it'll do. Emo level going down slightly.

Day 55: Want to be vampire. Edward says no. V. emo now.

Day 56: Still not vampire.

Day 58: Still not vampire.

Day 66: Went to Edward's for dinner and baseball date. Was going fine until rogue vampires showed up and everything went all West Side Story, except without the singing and with pointy tusks. I mean, teeth.

Day 67: Edward afraid that I'm going to get abducted. As if anyone would want to steal an emo walrus-fancier.

Day 68: Got abducted. Figures.

Day 69: Edward rescued me, looking v. hot and sparkly. Then swept me into arms and smacked Post It on my forehead. Was kind of expecting kiss. Still not vampire. Emo level astronomical.

Day 70: Post It says, "Not pot roast." Do not want to know.

More Lolzombies

I cannot resist the urge to make more lolzombies. I was thinking that I should start a support group for lolzombie addicts, but something tells me that I would be the only member.

Things That Make Me Snarf - KungFu Hillbilly

We all know that I'm kinda partial to the ninjas. Actually, maybe we don't all know, because I've got some new readers. I'm married to a ninja, who I lovingly call Slayer of Bees, or just Slayer for short. And no, I'm not lying when I said that I've seen him bat shuriken out of the air. And yes, I thought it was sexy.

Anyway. I've just learned that I know nothing about martial arts. THIS GUY knows EVERYTHING.

The New Parody Reveal, and a Winner!

Okay, first off. I've drawn a winner for the book of your choice drawing using one of those random number generator thingies. And the winner is KM Walton! Woo hoo! Those extra entries really made the difference. KM, email me with your address and the book of your choice, and I shall have it sent to you post haste! Thus endeth the blogaversary celebration.

Moving along...

As you probably already know, my Twilight parody wrapped up on Wednesday with the final edition: The Final Fish Stick. I've talked a little bit about writing a New Moon parody, and of course I might still do that, but in the meantime, I've had An Idea of Brilliance. Or at least An Idea of Amusing Myself-ness. And I'm going to run with it and see how it goes.

See, I'm going to parody a parody.

Most of you remember The Very Secret Diaries, right? (They're rated R, just in case you've been living in a paper bag for the last couple of years and haven't heard of them yet.) Well, I'm going to do a Twilight series version.

That's right. I'd like to officially announce The Semi-Secret and Not Very Original Twilight Series Diaries! (Cue trumpeters and dancing girls dressed up like Boba Fett.) And of course, I'm going to start with everyone's favorite sparkler, Edward Cullen. Let me know if you like this, and if so, I'll continue. Maybe we'll even get to some New Moon parody action.

The Semi-Secret and Not Very Original Twilight Series Diaries
Edward Cullen

Day 1: Am dying. At least, suspect am dying. Keep hallucinating about really pale dude who looks kind of like Beaker from the Muppets. Don't know what Muppet is, but wish it would stop biting me.

Day 4: Not dead! Am undead bloodsucker that sparkles! Woot!

Day 5: Transfixed by own sparkle. Sparkle sparkle sparkle.

Day 247,122: Sparkle sparkle sparkle.

Day 247,123: Sparkles so yesterday. Am determined to do something useful, like turn into giant sexy bat. Planning to change name to Batman.

Day 247,124: Apparently, Alice can see into future, and 'Batman' already taken. New plan: turn into giant sexy walrus. Figure tusks will be good for sucking blood. Have confirmed that 'Walrusman' is not taken.

Day 247,125: Cannot turn into anything. V. disappointing as walrus idea was smokin. Can only sparkle. Begin to think was gypped on this whole undead thing.

Day 247,128: Can jump really high, though! Yay! Jumpie jumpie jumpie jump!

Day 247,148: After 20 days, jumping becomes really boring. Think I'll go to high school. Could become pole vaulter. Sparkly pole vaulter. If only could develop tusks, world would be perfect.

Day 247,780: New girl at school smells like pot roast. Took tremendous restraint not to smother her in gravy.

Day 247,781: Couldn't resist urge to break into Pot Roast's bedroom with jar of gravy. Cannot believe how romantic I am all of a sudden.

Day 247,900: Nocturnal visits to Pot Roast have become ritual. Beaker attempted to discuss my 'stalkerish tendencies.' Sounded like "Meh meh meh meh mehmehmehmeh" to me.

Day 248,056: Suspect Bella (formerly known as Pot Roast) is soul mate. She loves tusks and sparkles too! Sparkle sparkle sparkle!

Day 248,131: Bella unable to get enough of my studly, sparklicious self. Had to fight her off with spork the other night. Good thing tusks were a no go. Would probably make her spontaneously combust, and have accidentally misplaced gravy.

Day 248,154: Bella constantly in trouble. Considering replacing her with actual pot roast. Could put wig on it, would essentially be the same thing except less accident prone.

Day 248,167: Bella abducted by vampire with serious case of sparkle envy. Suppose should go rescue her, but too busy grooming sideburns. Am determined if cannot have tusks, will attempt to duplicate effect with muttonchops. Unfortunately, died before completed puberty, so this might take time. Luckily, have plenty of time.

Day 248,155: Tried making out with bewigged pot roast. Not bad kisser, but slime on face interfered with sparkles and screwed up sideburns. Guess should probably go rescue whatsername.

Day 248,156: Have learned that dusting hair with shards of broken glass really intensifies sparkle effect. Vowed never to shower again. Oh yeah. Also saved the pot roast. I mean Bella. Have to quit confusing them somehow. Am thinking about using sticky notes as a reminder.

Things That Make Me Snarf N Stuff

Okay. First, the obligatory drawing reminder. Leave a comment; win a book. I'm drawing names Friday morning. Blah de blah blah.

Moving on: now, the funny. There is a raised finger in this video, and yes, it's THAT finger. Just a warning to those of you who occasionally watch with your kids.



Now, a short while ago, I had a request to see the query letter that won the attention of Fabulous Agent Kate. Two things I'd like to say first: I have repeatedly tried to ninja my own letter and can't manage it. This is not because the letter is by any means perfect, but because I have stared at said letter so many times that the mere thought of it is enough to turn my brains into tapioca. Yeah, that happens to everyone.

The other thing I'd like to mention is that I hope all of you writer types are querying your little butts off, but I also hope that you're STILL WRITING NEW STUFF. You ever heard that phrase "don't put all your eggs in one basket"? It's a cliche for a reason. I look back at Superbly Useless and know that it can be awesome, but there are also bits in there that make me kick myself. Lots of bits. Lots of kicking.

Yeah, it looks as funny as it sounds.

Anyway, here's the letter.

Dear Ms. Schafer Testerman,

Superbly Useless is a YA superhero comedy best described as the X-Men meets Bridget Jones’ younger sister. This story about a neurotic but snarky girl who discovers that she has balls of steel should appeal to fans of Maureen Johnson’s Devilish.

In a world where supers are commonplace, having powers doesn’t make Mira Mason’s life any easier. Mira has problems up the yingyang. She’s smart as bleep but turns into a monosyllabic moron every time she tries to talk to her crush. Her father is quite possibly rat-in-a-coffee-can insane. Bubbles McMasters, aka She of the Stupid Name and Evil Disposition, won’t stop picking on her. Just when it seems like things can’t possibly get worse, a voyeuristic new supervillain starts peeping at Mira’s classmates, and Bubbles tries to convince everyone that it’s Mira in disguise. Mira must prove once and for all that she is not Princess Peeps-a-lot, and to do that, she’ll have to catch the real perv.

Superbly Useless is complete at approximately 60,000 words. Needless to say, I would be thrilled to be a new addition to your client list. Do you think that this project would be a good fit for you? Thank you very much for your time and consideration.

Best regards,
Carrie Harris

I struggled a lot with this one, because there are whole bits of the book that are left out. There's no mention of her love interest, her two best friends, or her telepathic-slash-sadistic teacher, all of whom have pretty major parts in the book. But the main story is about a girl who learns to stand up when no one else will, so anything not directly relating to that had to go. And boy, was it painful to leave it out. My first draft of this letter practically dripped with superfluous character names.

Anyway, I hope at the least you got some amusement out of it. Feel free to ninja the bleep out of me retroactively. It seems only fair.

Twilight Parody - The Final Fish Stick

Is it true? Are we really to the final chapter of the (not so) infamous Twilight parody? Whatever will we do with ourselves now, other than obsessively rereading the old editions of intense Twilarity and reminiscing about the ghosts of fish sticks past?

Well, you'll have to stick around to find out. This Friday, in celebration of the end of our blogaversary week, I'm unveiling the new parody. And it is made of awesome.

Speaking of the blogaversary, you did enter the drawing, right? All you need to do is comment, and you'll have a chance to win a book of your choice. Awesome? Totally.

So, without further ado, the last installment of la parody de Twilight. Allow me to present to you:

Twilight Parody Edition 11: The Final Fish Stick
Ward sped off down the street, leaving the talent scout with the bulletproof afro standing in the road, gnashing his teeth and trying vainly to get cell reception. Ellba wanted to relax, wanted to believe that now she'd be safe, but one look at Ward's face convinced her that it wasn't going to happen.

She put a hand on his leg to comfort him but quickly withdrew it. It was kind of creepy touching him when he didn't have his scales on. Somehow the odor of fish sticks and sparkle makeup wasn't as pleasant when it was attached to skin.

"Where are we going?" she asked.

"I'm taking you to the MAA. Merpire Addicts Anonymous. They're having a meeting across town; you'll be able to hide there while I find that agent and kick his fin."

"His fin?" Her heart leaped into her throat. "You mean he's a merpire too?"

Ward nodded shortly, except that he was actually kind of tall so that adverb makes no sense whatsoever. "And there's no way he'll go into a room full of merpire addicts. Not if he values his life. They get a little violent when they see a merpire."

"How do they know you're a merpire?"

He shrugged uncomfortably. "Our sweat has a particular scent. They call it merjuice. Actually, if you consume enough of it, it'll make you into a merpire."

"That's what makes you smell like fish sticks and sparkle makeup, right?"

He didn't answer, just pulled up in front of the hotel where the MAA meeting was taking place, dumped her unceremoniously on the pavement, and gave her a hurried kiss goodbye. From inside the hotel, Ellba could hear the screams of "Merjuice! Merjuice!" and a group of women came running out of the hotel at full speed just as Ward's car sped away. They all wore little nametags in the shape of merpires; Kristy grabbed her left arm and Megan her left. A petite little thing named Kiersten took her left leg, and another named Natalie (who wore orange shorts that would make Richard Simmons swoon with envy) took her right. Someone at the back of the crowd yelled, "Lick her! Lick her!"

"Stop!" yelled Ellba, before anyone could follow through on the whole licking threat. "I'm not a merpire."

Grumbling, the women dropped her. Ward was crazy if he thought she was going into that hotel with all the rampant lickers. She wandered off down the street. Of course, the agent with the bulletproof afro picked her up in his limo a few minutes later, because this story would be over too soon if he didn't.

He tied her to the rafters in a baby pool factory, which wasn't the most comfortable thing in the world but was a lot better than the potential of being licked to death. And there she waited until Ward showed up to fight for her.

The fight was tremendous.

Smash! Slosh! Sparkle! Swish!

Jermaine held Ward's head under the water.

Swop! Shick! Scratch! Soup!

Ward pulled off a piece of Jermaine's hair and stabbed him with it.

And then it was all over. Jermaine floated in the stagnant water of a super sized baby pool. As they watched, his sparkles faded, and his fins disappeared forever.

"Wow," said Ellba. "It's just you and me and a bunch of baby pools, isn't it?"

She waggled her eyebrows at him, and Ward sighed. It was so tough being so irresistible. He grabbed her and pressed his lips to hers.

"Sparkle sparkle sparkle, slosh slosh slosh, smooch smooch smooch," she mumbled with delirious, merpire inflicted joy.

Blogaversary - The Theme Song

It's day two of our Wonder That Is My Blogaversary celebration. Have you entered the drawing yet? All you need to do is tell me something that makes you laugh, and you're in the running for a free book of your choice.

Now, every blogaversary deserves a theme song (at least in my skewed little version of reality). And really, this blog wouldn't be half as funny without all of your comments. So this song includes a little shout out to some of my oldest readers. (As in, have been reading and commenting on the blog for a long time, not as in ready for retirement.) If you weren't mentioned, it's not because I don't love you. I'll be writing more of my readers into later posts in the week, so keep coming back! And if you haven't visited the sites I've linked, what exactly are you waiting for? An engraved invitation?

The song is called Blog Blog Blog, and it's sung to the tune of THIS.

Hey hey
Blog blog blog
I'm goin' online tonight,
I'm gonna read some blogs and write,
I know it feels so right.
Hey Blogger come on,
I love your posts you see,
Feels like you write them for me.
And now I've got to read them every day.
I know that I can't take no more
I love blogs, by gog
You write all the posts I adore
Baby, blog, blog, blog...

Blog blog
Don't wanna be a follower foo'
Just another poster in your blog for two
You may hate me but I say by gog,
Baby, blog, blog, blog...
Blog blog
Resisting blogs it is so tough,
I can't ever tell you that I blog enough.
It might sound crazy,
But I love blogs, gog,
Baby, blog, blog, blog...

(Oh, Oh)
Cate, hit me with the truth.
Now, KC you're more than welcome too.
So give me just one post
Jamie, just blog.
I live for Keri'sawesome posts,
Natalie S, she really is the most,
That Glamis really is a blogging god.

I wanna read PJ more and more
And Aaron, by gog,
I got blogs seeping out of every pore
Baby, blog, blog, blog...

The Wonder That Is My Blogaversary

Welcome to the Wonder That Is My Blogaversary! As of this week, I've been blogging for an entire year. I'd also like to announce that Richard Simmons is the new official spokesperson for The Wonder That Is My Blog! He's so excited about this party that he put on his suit!


I look just as snazzy in a suit as I do in shorts. Of course, I'm still wearing the shorts with this sports jacket.
Actually, I have a confession to make: I wrote The Simm a fan letter. If he responds, I will of course share with y'all. Because really, what better way to celebrate my blogaversary than with the Words of the Simm?


The Simm is Made of Hilarious.

Unfortunately, there's a dark side to this story. You see, Spock is feeling left out. Poor Spock. He couldn't stand up to the awesomeness that is Richard Simmons, and I think the pressure made him crack. This morning, I noticed someone sitting outside my house, speaking softly into a comlink and peering in the windows. That's right.

Some people have stalkers. I have a Spocker.


This is what happens when you put my face together with Spock's face. It's also the reason brain scrubbers were invented.

Soooooo. Let's get this party started, but please... if you spot the Spocker, do not approach him. He's very unstable and prone to attack anyone with curly hair or shorts. If you have both curly hair AND shorts, you're pretty much a goner.

I hope you'll all keep coming back for this week's party. We've got some more Twilight parody coming, completely with fishsticks, sparkles, and (ahem) merjuice. We've got new song lyrics about the wonders of blogging, and a bunch of other stuff that I haven't thought up yet. YAY, unspecified stuff!

I'm also running a drawing this week. Leave a comment on this post and tell me what makes you laugh. If you can't resist the urge to be a suckup and want to mention my blog, that's fine. But you don't have to. And if there are particular things in the blog that crack you up, I'd love to know! I will randomly pick one commenter on Friday, and they will win one book of their choice from Amazon ($10 or less, because I don't want to have to sell my children.) If you mention and link to the contest on your blog, Twitter, or Facebook, let me know in the comments. You'll get one extra entry for every shout out!

Whoopsie! Almost forgot that if you are a current follower, let me know. That's two extra entries. And if you become a new follower, that's one more!

Partay! Free books! Richard Simmons! It doesn't get much better than this.

Holy Crow... It's a Blogaversary!

As of next week, I will have been blogging for a year. That's almost 300 entries full of a whole bunch of random nonsense.

Wow. I'm kinda flabbergasted. The most flabbergasting thing about it is that you come here to read it. I hate to break this to you, but they make medicines to help with that.

Anyway, next week will be the Wonder That Is My Blogaversary celebration, hosted by our new spokesperson! What would you like to see? Ask me questions, request parodies of songs or books, give me ideas of weird celebrity combos to make babies with (electronically, not REALLY... you perv). Because really, without YOU, this blog wouldn't be here.

For once, I'm actually serious.

Everyone Needs a Spokesperson

Hello, humans. Spockette here. I am in the process of launching a new campaign to be the spokesperson of The Wonder That Is My Blog. I shall star in all promotional activities so that captain James T. Carrie can fly the ship. I mean, write the books.



It would be logical to vote for me.

Hold on, sunshine! You can't be the spokesperson for The Wonder That Is Carrie's Blog. Because you are faaaaaaat! Besides, Carrie is obsessed with ME. Look! Look! I'm dancing!



One two, vote for me, people! I have cute shorts!

GRARG HHHNARF FFFFFFRRUMMM GMMM HRRRGG BLECK OOMPA LOOMPA GARBLESNACH BRAAAAAINS!

Translation: Carrie's obsessed with zombies, so it only makes sense to vote for me. I like brains.



My jacket is cuter than those shorts! BRAAAINS!

Um... Carrie here. Apparently, my blog has been preempted by a bunch of wackjobs wanting to be the spokesperson for The Wonder That Is My Blog. Who do you think I should choose?

The Times, They Are a Changin'

You may remember that a few weeks ago, I brought up what I was sure was going to be a new trend in pop culture: The Added The. (For those of you who are link impaired and didn't read it the first time, the premise is simple: if you don't feel like writing a sequel, just take out all the instances of the word "the" in your book/script/lyrics, and it's like it's brand new.)

Well, like all trends, these things come and go. (Which is a really good thing in the case of, say, parachute pants. Have you stopped to think that if trends didn't change, you would be wearing a pair right now? At least they're slimming.) Apparently, the Added The trend didn't last long. Kinda like parachute pants.

It's been replaced by a new and improved trend. Let's call it the Superfluous The.

Slayer and I went out last night, which is pretty much made of awesome, and we saw a grown up movie for once. (The Hangover, which is rude, crude, and painfully hilarious.) Anyway, one of the previews was for The Final Destination, which is a part of the Final Destination (without the the) franchise.

So apparently, once the Powers That Be realized that we were on to them, they decided to change their tactics. NOW, if you can't come up with a good idea for your book/script/lyrics, you are supposed to INSERT more instances of the word 'the,' not take them out.

So the point of the this whole the entry is the to keep you athebreast of what the is happentheing in the the marketplace. I the hope that the you will take the this sagethe advice and run the with it.

Made of Awesome Files: Snow Crash

I've decided to start a new feature on this blog, which is really just a way of saying that I wanted to write an entry about this and make it seem really super important in an artificial kind of way. But you probably already figured that out, didn't you?

Fair warning: I'm still making up for the weekend of little sleep, so expect a bunch of sentences that are shaped like circles.

What do you mean that didn't make sense to you? It made perfect sense to me.

Anyway, I think I may have mentioned that I only write haiku reviews for books that I've never read before. But in the meantime I'm constantly revisiting my favorite comfort reads, sometimes just for a few chapters and other times for the whole glorious ride. It's just way too big of a pain to keep track of which ones I've reviewed already, so I decided not to do them.

Yep, I'm lazy.

So I've been spending a lot of time in doctor's offices lately (officially found out yesterday that everything's fine, thx), and I've been passing the time reading one of my all time favorites: Snow Crash. And it seems to me that if I am awesome because I am reading Snow Crash, you might want to be awesome.

This would, of course, require you to read Snow Crash.

Quite simply, it's a cyberpunk book that combines a futuristic internet world with Sumerian myth and a whole lot of funny. And we all know how much I like funny. And it's my goal in life to be able to write similes as good as Neal Stephenson. For instance, I give you the first paragraph:

The Deliverator belongs to an elite order, a hallowed sub-category. He's got esprit up to here. Right now, he is preparing to carry out his third mission of the night. His uniform is black as activated charcoal, filtering the very light out of the air. A bullet will bounce off its arachnofiber weave like a wren hitting a patio door, but excess perspiration wafts through it like a breeze through a freshly napalmed forest. Where his body has bony extremities, the suit has sintered armorgel: feels like gritty jello, protects like a stack of telephone books.

Can't you just imagine the bonking sound that the bullet makes when it comes into contact with the body armor? I find it really amusing.

The best part of all this? The Deliverator is not an assassin or a superhero.

He's a pizza delivery guy. And his name is Hiro Protagonist, which I find even more amusing.

If you decide to check it out, I'd love to hear what you think.

Things That Make Me Snarf - Important Rap Song

I'm not here (or rather, I'm probably just waking up from a long weekend camping with no sleep), but the snarf, it keeps on rolling.

I hope somebody's going to clean that up.

Anyway, here's this week's Thing That Makes Me Snarf. Please don't kill me for getting yet another song stuck in your head. At least it's a snarfy song. It could be worse. I once got "Nothing Compares 2 U" by Sinead O'Connor stuck in someone's head.

See, now you've got to watch the video.

Haiku, the Japanese Monster

Haiku! Haiku!

For some reason, the thought of running down the street and shouting this makes me laugh. This may have something to do with the fact that I also picture a huge Godzilla like monster stomping down the street after me reciting poetry about lotus blossoms. But that's probably just me.

Anyway, I've read some awesome stuff lately that you must check out if you want to be as KEWL as me. Or you could like, exist. Because that pretty much describes my kewlness level right there.

Geektastic: Stories from the Nerd Herd by Holly Black and Cecil Castellucci

Computer geeks and
gamers, brainiacs, Jedi.
I think I'm in love.

Sandman: Preludes and Nocturnes by Neil Gaiman

I've never read this
cover to cover? Bad me!
Required geek read.

Hoot by Carl Hiaasen

Skews a bit younger
Than my usual reads do.
Still hilarious.

Paris Pan Takes the Dare by Cynthea Liu

Another young read:
Buy it for tween b-day gifts.
I know I'm going to.

Gone by Michael Grant

So freaking awesome!
Adults go poof; kids rule all.
This should be a film.

Ninja Fashion 101

You know, I love ninja and all (after all, I'm married to one), but I've got a complaint.

This will probably get me killed. I'm just saying that so that if I suddenly stop posting, you won't think it's because I don't love you. Because really, I do. It's just that ninja are always so touchy about their clothes. Still, I feel it's my patriotic duty, or wifely duty, or maybe I just feel like going on a rant about ninja clothes.

Yeah, it's probably the last one.

Anyway, the thing about ninja clothes is that they're so boring. Sure, I get the whole basic black thing. It's slimming. Oh, and it makes them tough to see in the shadows, but really that's just a secondary benefit. And it also helps for those ninja with poor fashion sense, because really, it would be difficult to take them seriously as a group if they all showed up in clashing pastel gis.

So I don't have a problem with the color palatte, but I do have a problem with the cut of your basic gi. Sure, it allows for ease of movement, but it's just not flattering, and it doesn't offer options based on climate. Personally, I think that there should be capri-gis for secret missions in warmer weather. (Hey, it could be worse; I could ask for the bikigi.) I think that there should be skigis for missions in the Alps, and since they'd be all puffy and down-filled, they'd also work well for training. Because really, don't ninjas deserve to be comfortable while they sneak into your room and take all your socks?

As we know, I'm all about equal rights for ninja. And I'm also a fashion genius. Just ask me.

The Do-It-Yourself Thank You Speech

I've always been surprised at how many people visit my blog to learn how to write thank you speeches. I am an expert at many things, most of which are undead or nonsensical (or undead AND nonsensical), but this one puzzled me for a while. But then again, I AM one of those strange people who actually enjoys public speaking, so maybe I can do a few things to help the huddled masses.

Actually, I think the Statue of Liberty has the huddled masses covered, doesn't she?

Anyway, here's how you can give the best thank you speech ever.

Step One: Quit feeling neurotic about it already! The people you are speaking to you must like you. After all, they gave you an award. You've already won them over.

Step Two: That little pep talk in Step One didn't work, did it? Okay. Forget that whole imagine the audience naked thing, because you could be speaking to the International League of Death Metal Bands, and you're going to scare yourself. Of course, if you're speaking to the International League of Supermodels, feel free to do that. Otherwise, I suggest you imagine your audience is wearing clown suits and zombie makeup, and they're all singing the Spice Girls.

And really, there's nowhere to go but up after that.

Step Three: Use the following Handy Dandy Carrie Harris Speech Maker (otherwise euphoniously known as the HDCHSM) to give the best speech in the world. Forget writing your own speeches. All you need to do is copy this and pick the best phrase for your situation.

Thank you, (Bob Barker/Rob Zombie/Tinky Winky), (for that kind introduction/for forgetting my name/for the gift basket full of Cheez Whiz). I'm so proud to be named the (hottest merpire pinup in the history of the universe/Vice President of the Secret Order of the Blog Ninja/international spokesperson for Cheez Whiz). I knew that I was destined for good things when I was five and I (grew gills and a secret love of baby pools/dressed up in a ninja outfit and put a computer on my head/ate seventeen cans of Cheez Whiz without throwing up). And now, all of my hard work has (paid off/kind of paid off/not really done anything except get me a big basket full of Cheez Whiz, and to be honest, I'm kind of sick of the stuff by now). I'm proof that hard work and (genetic mutations/incessant blogging/Cheez Whiz) can really make a difference. Thanks again for this (lovely award/completely useless award/what's up with all this freaking Cheez Whiz?!?!).

See? Writing a speech CAN be easy.

Carrie Harris: The Movie

I've decided that the world needs a Carrie Harris biopic.

Don't ask me why. It just does.

Anyway, the big question when you're writing a self-aggrandizing movie is who gets the honor of playing the title character. And I've got the perfect person to play me: Katy Perry. You know, that chick who sings the song, "I kissed a ghoul... and I liked it"? That's a match made in heaven right there.

The best part of having Katy play me in the movie is that she can bring her clothes. I covet her clothes with the fire of a thousand suns. And really, they'd add that extra touch of zaniness to my movie.

For example, during the scene where my studly husband Slayer saves me from the swarming zom-bees, I think my character should be wearing this. It explains once and for all why the bees were attracted to me in the first place. The moral of this scene is that you should never go out into the woods dressed like a piece of fruit. Especially a wood infested by a swarm of undead insects.

Come on, people, learn from my mistakes.


Bad zom-bees. No biscuit.

During the scene in which I'm accepting the Newbury (which hasn't happened yet, but you bought the zom-bees thing, so why is this such a big deal?), I think I'll be wearing this. It's a poetic statement on the nature of the publishing industry, how it goes around and around and up and down, and there are lots of pretty, sparkly ponies in it.


What do you mean there are no ponies in publishing?

And this will be the outfit that I'll wear during the writing montage. Because we all know there has to be a writing montage to show how hard my life truly is. The montage will include a shot of me standing in front of the computer just like this, because of course that's exactly what I do when I have writer's block. I put on a minidress that looks like it was designed by a five year old on crack, and then I turn on the fan, and I stand in front of the computer just like this. Hey, it helps me think.


I don't know, Hello Kitty. What do YOU think is the motivation for this scene?

Admit it; you want to see my movie now, don't you?

Things That Make Me Snarf - Dr. Manhattan's Pants

Okay. I can't post this week's Thing That Makes Me Snarf on my blog, but it is beyond worth it to click the link. You need to see the majestic junk.

Don't worry. I'll wait.

I'll just sit here and sing the Jeopardy theme song. And maybe juggle a little.