Things That Make Me Snarf - Choppin' Broccoli

I got a chopper for my birthday. Of course, this is the first thing I thought of:



I'm going to the grocery store this morning, and I'm going to buy some broccoli. And then I'm going to bring it home. And then I'm going to chop it. Maybe if I'm lucky, someone will sing a song about me.

Fabulousness in Recap Form

The birthday was fab. Seriously. It started off with oodles of birthday wishes from all of youze. All of youze are good people. I've never felt popular before. So last night, I borrowed my daughter's princess crown and made myself prom queen. I figured your happy birthday wishes were de facto, retroactive votes.

Because they were, right?

Then, we went to see the Purdue marching band play at our high school, because our high school is kewl. And because it was my birthday weekend (and because I'm the prom queen), they played Thriller. It looked something like this.



The only real difference is that it was darker, and we were in a smaller stadium, and there was this crazy chick in a sparkly pink tiara who started shrieking and giggling at the beginning of the song and didn't stop until long after it was over. That chick may have been me.

And then? As if it couldn't get any better? I got a book with zombie cows in it. There was a bunch of other, intensely cool stuff, but I'd like to focus on the zombie cows. Because really, how cool is that? I think I'm in love now. Not in the I-want-to-marry-you-and-have-your-babies kind of way, because I'm quite happy with my ninja, thank you. But in an I'd-like-to-be-your-Padawan-but-only-if-I-don't-have-to-have-that-stupid-braid-that-looks-like-an-80s-rattail way.

Nooo! Anything but the braid!

Yes, A. Lee Martinez, I mean you. You write about zombie cows and yeti infestations in freezers and robots. I love you, man, and I'm saying that in the drunk and don't really mean it kind of way. If you have not discovered A. Lee Martinez, let me put it to you this way: He's in my Snarfalicious Hall of Fame. He's THAT funny. You should read his books, people. Srsly.

Although I should probably mention that there is some hubba hubba and some ouchie ouch. That would be sex and violence, for those of you no longer in preschool. But it's FUNNY sex and violence.

Happy Birthday to Me!

So I feel a little lame throwing myself a finished my draft party followed by a birthday party, but I might as well embrace the lamocity. It's not like I can fight my natural tendencies, right? I want a party; my birthday is Sunday, so I'm throwing one. Right here. Right now.

*sound of crickets*

No no NO! This always happens to me. Like the time I planned this huge high school blowout graduation party at the lake, only the night before the party someone burnt down the porta potty, and then almost nobody came, possibly because they didn't want to pee in a slouchy, melted plastic potty. I'm not sure what the problem was. If they were truly my friends, they would have held it. For about five hours.

Come on, people! I'm turning 25, or at least that's what you get if you average my physical age with my mental age. And there are no slouchy potties anywhere at this party, unless you bring one yourself.

I've got a lot of things to celebrate, though. Honestly. There's the completion of the book draft, the fact that Delacorte hasn't realized that I'm a closet lunatic and hurriedly signed a restraining order, the birthday, and the fact that there were zombie penguins on Cartoon Network. I love zombie penguins. I have one sitting on my writing desk, looming down at me while I work. He's got one huge eye and one tiny eye. As of this moment, his name is Winky.

HE'S at my party. Don't you want to be? What party-rific news is out there? I know Lisa and Laura, Christine, and Corey are all celebrating book deals. Have you congratulated them yet? Lisa and Laura are even giving away a KINDLE, as if they could get any kewler.

I'm at the party. I am not deterred by a slouchy potty.

Hello. I Love You. Welcome to My Party.

I finished my book.

Okay, not entirely true. I finished this DRAFT. I still have ridiculous problems to fix, like the fact that I decided halfway through that X should be Y and the whole thing should be set in a world made out of cotton candy.

That last bit isn't true, but I wish it was.

Anyway, in honor of the finished draft, I'm throwing a party. You should come, girly man. That statement will make sense after you watch this video.



This means that we shall be back to my usual long-windedness, starting tomorrow. Thanks for bearing with me in the meantime.

I like bears. They should come to my party.

Apparently, I'm Dead

I died today.

I have one of those Google alert thingies, because I like knowing when people talk about me. Actually, scratch that. I like knowing when people say nice things about me. I think there should be a "nice things only" button on Google. Not that anyone has said anything particularly nasty about me to date, but I'm going to be a published author, and I think it's inevitable that someone somewhere is eventually going to call all the barf jokes in my book 'childish,' and then I will sit here and haughtily inform my computer that I'm NOT childish, and vomiting is a universal experience that we all share, young and old. And if they didn't have such a stick up their hoo hoo, maybe they'd understand that.

Of course, after that, I'll realize that I'm yelling at my computer, and that's pretty childish. So I'll have to concede the point.

Either way, that button would be awfully handy. Could you work on that Google? I'll use it when I'm not dead any more.

I have to admit that it was weird to get a Google alert about my own obituary. I read it. Partly because I know my friends ARE strange enough to submit my obit without my knowledge, and I think that would be pretty funny. (And childish!) And part of it is because I wanted to know more about the me that died. And then I started thinking about when I'm 90 and eventually go up to the big Zombieland in the sky, and some other Carrie Harris gets a Google Alert that their obituary is up, and how embarrassed they'll be to have the same name as a lunatic like me. I'm preemptively sorry, Carrie. Your name has a long tradition of childishness and zombie-related nonsense. I hope you'll carry on the tradition proudly. Lots of caffeine is very helpful in this pursuit.

Yeah, I think I might finish my book today, tomorrow at the latest. It's making me a little slappy. Can you tell?

For a dead chick, I'm awfully spry.

Things That Make Me Snarf - Death by Choking

Choking is always funny. Except when you're me, and you're a teenager, and you're at a restaurant, and this HUGE guy starts choking, and you have to give him the Heimlich, and he falls down on you. The good part about that story is that my dinner was free, but then again I was a teenager out with my boyfriends' family, so I probably wouldn't have had to pay anyway.



That's all for today. I promise more amusement as soon as I am done with this draft. I am so very ridiculously close. Yesterday, I wrote about spanking elephants and attack cyborgs. So anyway, I owe about a million emails and blog comments. If you're on that list, I apologize. Lots.

Tadpoles! Tadpoles Is the Winner!

That's a quote from Deep Thoughts, by the way.

Well. Halloween and the Batson's birthday (which are one and the same) went smashingly at Chez Harris. How about you? I don't necessarily expect you to celebrate my kid's birthday, because let's face it, that would be creepy. But how was your Halloween?

I think my favorite costume sighting was the basketball playing, serial killer leprechaun. I was 80s era Madonna. I wanted to be Zed-donna, the undead 80s pop star, but my girls took one look at the picture on the makeup package and started to cry. So maybe next year.

Now, while I broke your brains en masse by running two contests right in a row, I did get some freaking hilarious entries. Here are some of my favorites:

Wuthering Forks: I Know You're Depressed, but You Wander the Forests After Your Undead Boyfriend Dumps You at Your Own Peril - Andrea Creamer

The Tell-Tale Heart: Interpreting Bella’s Coronary Broadcasts - Masonian

Frankenbella: Sparkly Monsters and the Men Who Make Them - Jamie Eyberg

But the one that made me laugh the hardest is undoubtedly Girl With One Eye's entry:

To Kill a Mockingbird, a Grizzly and Mountain Lion…but Not My Girlfriend

Huzzah, Girl with One Eye! Sendeth me thine address, and I shall impart upon you some fairies that are mucusy and shovely.

And I promise not to sprain your brains further... at least for a while.

Last but not least: good luck to you NaNoers. I completed my first novel during 2002 NaNo. It will never see the light of day, but it convinced me that I could actually finish something That. Freaking. Long. Anyway, I am cheering you on. Vociferously, even.