Whaddaya MEAN You've Never Heard of Me?!?

I'm trying to identify the signs of when a person starts slipping into alt-right theology. I'm not sure if the people I'm noticing have always been a little off, but I know a few people now who have gone from normal and reasonably intelligent to Alex Jones listening, Glenn Beck agreeing, 'why are people so hateful to Trump/Pence' spewing.

Imma focus on two guys I knew in college. I don't wanna use their real names, so I'll call one Bee and one Jay.
When I met Bee, he was a non-trad student with a giant ego who acted like he was way smarter than other students because he "waited to go to school." What? He treated women poorly, drank a lot, lied to get out of trouble, paid me to do assignments, and presented himself differently to different people in huge and humiliating ways. We also slept together a bunch of times, and he told everybody not only that we DIDN'T sleep together, but that I was telling people we had and nobody should listen to me. I won't bother explaining how hurtful that was to a fat girl who thought she had a friend with benefits.
So when I ran into this dude on Facebook years later, he told me all about his wife before asking if I wanted to meet someplace and fuck. When I said No, I got a long diatribe about how I didn't understand how the world worked. He started sending me insane links and racist shit all the time. I'd try to discuss it with him, but he just went more and more off the deep end. Finally he said he was going to ban me from Facebook. I eventually learned he thought that if he banned someone from his page, they couldn't go on FB at all. Smart, right?

Jay and I had a similar background, except we lived in the same house. We ran in the same departments, had the same friends, and fooled around a few times despite never actually dating. Because college, yo. We did a few projects later on, and again, I was offered some no-strings sex even though Jay was clearly in a committed, live-in relationship with someone. I don't mention the sex stuff to advertise myself as a slut or whatever. It's just that treating women as a tool rather than a person seems part and parcel to the alt-right. (and make no mistake, if you're STILL supporting what Trump and Pence are doing, you're alt-right)
After 9/11, I started getting racist forwards from Jay. When I told him at length why I didn't want him sending me racist, anti-Muslim shit, he told me it was no big deal and not to get riled. Lately, Jay has been posting stuff on social media, then saying he doesn't want to discuss it. He deletes comments he doesn't agree with, and makes outlandish statements he can't defend with a single fact or verifiable example.
If Jay says something "happens equally on the left and right," Jay needs to back that shit up with at least two examples. Telling someone to "google it" when they ask you to defend some outlandish assertion you've made? No. If you know the facts of the point you're making, either state them or admit you don't have any.

Sure, it's not a lie to say that I get fired up about politics. The word "obnoxious" may not even be far off at times. While I've always done this, it's extra important now that so many poor/middle-class people are about to have their lives made a whole lot more difficult, dangerous, and full of denial of services.
On the off chance that one of my comments is deleted, I spend a few minutes considering whether I've been rude, off topic, or said something false. If none of those are the case though, I'm out. I don't have an interest in playing on an unlevel field. I have to do that in real life every day, so I'll be damned if I do it in conversations with friends. I won't discuss anything in a forum where dissent is silenced. Even if I'm not the one being silenced, I don't want any part of that.

These are the signs I've noticed in people turning toward the alt-right"
--Dislike for/distortion of PC Culture (being sensitive to the fact that not everyone is the same gender, religion, race, color, orientation, etc as you are, and that there's nothing wrong with that)
--Victim Blaming
--Vague admiration for how things "used to be," usually while forgetting many, many things from that era.
--Lumping people into groups and then into We and They.
--Being angry about things they can't explain ("Hillary did Benghazi" What do you mean? What do you think she did exactly? "Look it up, stoopit")
--Anti-woman sentiment (includes lying to wife/gf, trivializing or minimizing their concerns, slut-shaming, as well as basic rape culture stuff)
--Complaining about other people's English when they write like a sleepy toddler.
--Pro-confederacy or anti-BLM statements (including "it's my heritage")
--Distorting other people's statements to more easily discredit them
--Denying that they've said things they've said
--Refusing to take major news outlets seriously--including WaPo, NYT, and Reuters.
--Asking for explanations, then shouting over responses

Why is this important? Honestly, I wish it wasn't.
I wish this was as simple as "Oh, you like Reagan? I think he's a liar who doesn't give a shit about the poor, so I'm for Jimmy Carter." You can disagree for a bit and then talk about something else. Now, supporting DJT means thinking women should be punished for having an abortion, or that banning people from our country based on their religion is not just okay--but a step in the right direction. To support this administration, you have to either believe, or not care that the law will reflect beliefs, in misogyny, homophobia, racism, xenophobia, and that will ensure that most people will no longer be able to get treatment for illnesses or injuries regardless of their seriousness. Oh, and you have to be okay with Christianity (and ONLY Christianity) being taught in public schools.
I know I'm not exactly saying anything new here. But dammit, this is getting harder and harder as time goes on. I can't imagine the logic or reasoning of why a normal, educated adult would suddenly buy into that garbage. The answer has to be that it's not as sudden as I think it is...

My annual party is this Saturday, two days from now. The apartment is crazy-clean thanks mostly to H. Tomorrow I gotta start cooking things.

Making a big batch of Aztec brownies. That's regular milk chocolate brownies with a heap of bhut Jolokia powder, and a swirl of cream cheese for contrast. They're awesome.

Also, two tres leches cakes. There will be two so one can be out while the other is in the fridge. People are coming by as early as 3pm, though the actual party doesn't start until 7pm. That's white cake soaked in three types of milk (in this case cream, sweetened condensed, and evaporated, though I might scrap one of those in favor of coconut. Not sure yet).

I'm also doing some flavorful refried beans in the crock pot. Those will have tortillas and chips to go with, in case people want bean burritos.

Then there will be a big thing of salsa with tons of fresh veg, and scoopy chips.

We always seem to have booze around here even though neither of us drinks really. There are a few hard lemonades around here, plus some Southern Comfort and wine and stuff.

Also, we're NOT talking about Politics. At all. None. Zero.
Because it's a party goddammit.

I realized something today.

I use Hootsuite, which means I set up social media posts to go live up to 4 weeks in the future. I do this for my own accounts, and also accounts for The Horror Within. Mostly, this is so I can spend a little less time on social media while remaining connected--and so my posts can go live when other human beings are awake and reading.

This does lead to awkward moments though. Like when say, "Cecil the Lion killed by d-bag" is posted 2 weeks after the dentist responsible was run out of town on a rail. Or any story that has updates, really. So I gotta be kind of careful about timely news versus evergreen articles and stuff.

Then I thought...
When I die (and honestly, how much time could I possibly have left?) my accounts will continue posting for weeks. People are gonna be hella confused. Yeah, the posts are labeled "posted by Hootsuite," but my oldster family members aren't going to know what that means. But how do I address that before my Big Day so it doesn't terrify or upset anyone? Also, that's gonna be a hella awesome troll. I wish there was a way to plan for it to be more awesome in advance...like maybe writing my own hilarious obit and posting it someplace.

As for me, kidney stones have me in terrible hurtful pain. Ugh.

My annual birthday bash (AKA, amazement that I'm still alive party) was Saturday. As always, there were a handful of people who couldn't make it. Drag.

But plenty of people did make it. There was mediterranean food. I didn't have time to make falafel at the last minute--so I ordered it from the same restaurant that catered our wedding. I did make toum and hummus, a pineapple upside down bundt cake, a nutella cream pie. Friends brought wine, grape leaves, baklava, more wine, candies and snacks. The crowd was wonderful.

I got to give away stuff too. My young friend Emory (age 9) was given a telescope and a book on telescoping. I gave my friend's kid a violin setup, and had a box of awesome books and craft supplies to give away as well. Anyone who wanted to got to leave with pressies.

There are pictures, if you're into that sort of thing.

I got some more gifts, which was amazing:
A really nice kitchen knife
A copy of Faust with awesome creepy illustrations
My fave kind of lemon bar mix
A lego Gargoyle
Bertie Botts Every Flavor Beans
Apple chips and Pumpkin spice chips (because I'm a white girl, I think)
A beautiful bouquet of yellow roses
Several new Mad Lib books. I fucking love Mad Libs

Somebody smoked tobacco in our bathroom. That sucks, because H was mad. We don't allow tobacco smoking inside, because it reeks for days. I do have to laugh though, when smokers think they're fooling people. Even if it didn't reek, there were ashes left in my sink.
Also, I was sharing a pack of fortune telling fish with everyone. When I got the pack, there were 100. I've given them out at various function, so there were probably 60-some left. I told every guest to take one, and a few to take some home for their kids. Somehow though, the entire goddamn package disappeared. Again, this is disappointing, because taking more than 50 of them isn't sharing--it's stealing. Imma chalk that up to intoxicants, which were flowing like wine (and pot).

So, you take the good.
You take the bad
You take them both
and then you have
The party for my 45th birthday.

It seems we need a reminder, so here's an updated list of things. What kind of things? Well, these are things which--if you do them--make it perfectly fine to label you as an asshole. Don't want to be an asshole? Start by not doing these things.

--Post spoilers. We're all glad that you have time to watch The Walking Dead as it airs. But for people with kids, jobs, lives, can't afford cable, etc--they have to watch later. Telling everyone what happens without giving a shit about their enjoyment of the show makes you an asshole. Stop being an asshole.

--Bullshit. Making ridiculous, bullshit assertions online probably already makes you an asshole. But if you're asked for facts to back up your buffoonery and reply "Hey, I'm not gonna do your research for you," you are an asshole. Don't make absurd statements if you can't back them up with facts. And by "facts," I don't mean FOX news, Brietbart, Blaze, or any other bullshit rag. Also, you're not being a "devil's advocate," nor are you "just sayin'." Stop being an asshole.

--Make fun of someone's shitty job. Everyone needs money to live (unless you're a rich asshole or someone else is paying your way). Mocking someone for the degrading job they have, the paltry money they receive, or the horrible treatment they get from customers or bosses is NOT funny. Don't make fun of people for working--especially if you're also the kind of asshole that talks shit about people who get SNAP, disability, or unemployment. Stop being an asshole.

--Turn every discussion into extremes. Gun control does not mean "take everyone's guns away and never let anyone have them again." Pro-choice doesn't mean "taxpayer funded abortions for everyone." Saying no subject is off limits for comedy doesn't mean it'll be a celebration of racism, sexism, transphobia, etc. Everyone you don't like isn't Hitler. Everyone who disagrees with you is not "oppressive." Stop being an asshole.

--Your kids. I like kids, honestly I do. But when you let them come into my house and trash the place because you'd rather smoke my pot than watch them--you're not just being an asshole. You're teaching assholery to a new generation. Sure, dropping something is an accident--which is why the kid was told not to pick it up in the first place. No, I don't expect a small child to know better. I expect you, the fucking parent, to know better and act accordingly. Stop being an asshole.

--Borrowing shit. Not everything I own is okay for borrowing. Stop making that face. We've probably all lost shit to "borrowing," and it sucks. It may not be personal that I'm not letting you borrow a signed, numbered copy of something. But even if it is, I'm under no obligation to let anyone take my shit out of my home. Stop being an asshole about it.

--Lying. I know a lot of the same people you know. So if you're out there spewing crap about people I love (or me), we'll all find out about it eventually. I'm genuinely sorry that the giant chip on your shoulder prevents you from being honest. But if you make it my problem, you may be shocked at how thoroughly I remove you from my life. And you have yourself to blame--because you were an asshole.

--"Sorry, not sorry." Fuck you. Just fuck you. Sorry, not sorry the current "I'm not racist but..." or "I'm not a complete asshole, but..." Sorry, not sorry to be the one to break it to you--but you ARE a complete asshole. Stop it.

Skipping this week's ZZN repost mainly because I'm just not feeling it. The new site I'm writing for is giving me "share post" overload, because I'm constantly being asked to share posts for the dozen+ new articles I'm writing every week.

Now for the obligatory statement that all this paid work is taking time away from my fiction. I'm pulling out an old manuscript to work on soon. Wish I had a tablet on which I could edit it--like an electronic notebook. If my kickstarter works out the way I want it to, I may be able to do just that.

The birthday party was awesome. Lots of people showed up, and spaced themselves out well enough that we were only rarely low on seating. I actually drank some booze at the party--some stuff friends brought that's made from grapes (liquor, not wine) and tasted like a yummy cross between rum and tequila, if you can imagine such a thing. Trifle was awesome, bean dip was fine but nothing to write home about. Great crowd--plus my brother got me The Walking Dead Monopoly game that came with a MacFarlane figure of The Governor. It even has two heads--a one eyed and a regular. Neat!

All done with Under the Bed magazine as of now. Hoping to have the vid done for the Horror Within Kickstarter done by the 15th of this month.
Wish me luck!

What do you do when you find out someone has been holding a grudge against you for months (or years even) and you don't even remember the incident they're talking about? I certainly won't deny that I can be hella sarcastic. When multiplied by the vagueness of typed correspondences, I'm sure that can come across as flippant, condescending, or even downright shitty.

This weekend, someone I only know from one social media site PM'd me to let me know they were unfriending me. Now, if I upset someone, I def want them to tell me about it. I want to make sure that there were no misunderstandings, and that whatever the issue is, that I've been clear and kind and all that there. IMO, telling someone you're unfriending them when you have no intention of discussing the issue is just lamesauce. I get it. You're taking your ball and going home for some terrible internet slight or disagreement.

I was informed by this person that I'm totally condescending (a critique that I accept for the reasons above), and that my skill with words makes me both awesome and prone to upsetting, or even hurting people. I don't doubt that this is true, and it made me pretty bummed to hear it.

But then...this person told me that they already knew I was mean and condescending because apparently they asked me to collaborate on a project with them. I have no memory of this, couldn't even narrow down when it might have happened. When I told this person I was "too busy," (they quoted me as saying exactly that) they took that to mean "I'm too good to work with you." To that, I say I dare you to knock this battery off my shoulder, by which I mean "Why don't you have a doctor look at that chip on your shoulder, seriously."

Overcompensating for abysmal self-esteem is something I'm pretty good at. So I get why some people think I have great self-image. I don't. If I did, I'd probably be much better at marketing my books. I'd also chase after big gigs instead of writing for one startup after another. (I admit, I do enjoy startups for a number of reasons) So yeah. Do I have an attitude problem? Probably. Do I come off as an asshole occasionally? I don't doubt it.
But do I go around declaring myself to be better than other people? Hells to the no. And if you ever think that's what I'm saying--for the love of Zod, tell me. Because that's some shit I want to know about.

While I'm here, True Blood finale was obscenely bad, even considering how bad the show had gotten since Season 4. My gods that was terrible. Horrible dialogue, convoluted and absurd plotting all dragged out to a ridiculous degree. Go home HBO, and make sure The Leftovers finale is better.

H and I celebrate Christmas the old fashioned way:
We buy each other stuff we wouldn't normally buy.

I got H:
A spinny top that works with a string
chinese finger trap
Star Trek Next Gen Pez dispenser box set
Alien T-shirt
Tee fury T-shirt with every Doctor on it.
Onion hardback front page collection
2 pr satin boxer shorts

He got me:
Doctor River Song sonic screwdriver
box of dark chocolate hazelnut truffles
hazelnut milk
Whole Foods hazelnut coffee creamer
smoked hazelnut gelato (outrageous!)
organic choco hazelnut spread (that is NOT nutella)
ventresca tuna
2 packs of Nathans hot dogs because we love them and only one store in the area actually sells them. Woot!

So yeah, that was nice.
Most of our peeps got cards and homemade lip balms.
Always well received and appreciated, so far.

We also got a big tin of cookies and a pumpkin bread from my Aunt, and another bag of yummy treats from my old college pal who visited today.

We also watched Doctor Who, which I haven't reviewed yet but will.

I didn't make it to mass at St Francis last week despite my best efforts. Snow and cabs thwarted me. This week, I shall time call! (for non-cab people, this means scheduling the cab the night before)

I decided to take it really easy on myself this holiday season. We're not having anyone over for New Years Eve, first of all. So that's a LOT of cooking I won't have to do. I'm also not baking anything, except for H's birthday. Even with very little family in the area, there seems to be such a glut of cookies, fudge, and other holiday sweets that giving them out starts to seem like a cumbersome imposition.
In contrast, my Wednes-made lip balms have been turning out well and are pretty popular. Most of them can be sent with cards in padded mailers (H always makes us an awesome card). And nobody has to lay any diet-shaming talk on me about how "naughty" they'll feel when they eat cookies--because unless you're a disturbed youngster, you don't eat lip balm.

Aside from H and my goddaughter, I'm also not buying many presents. I get a little splashy with birthday gifts, but Xmas is just too huge and spendy to be getting pressies for everyone. That said, I did buy my goddaughter a Furby. I got an awesome Black Friday (why you gotta bring race into it?!?) deal on it, and I know she really wanted it. Honestly, I wouldn't mind a play robot myself, but I'm certainly not spending that kind of money on a toy for me.

Computer is worse than ever. In addition to having a broken click-bar, I'm looking at 12+ minutes to open Photoshop, and sometimes 10 minutes just for MS Word. Bearing in mind that I have to run INDesign including conversions, it's very frustrating. If I leave it unplugged, it will shut down itself at 20% power and without a warning. Gah! Mostly, I want to replace this computer before it shuts down completely and I can't get my stuff off it. I only have so many tiny flash drives, and most of them will not hold the magazine archive. *sigh* The down side to working at home and online is that if anything happens to my computer, I'm pretty much boned.

In better news, you can now Subscribe to Under the Bed magazine at Amazon. B&N is still taking a stupid long time to get the new issues up, but you can buy single issues from them. The best place to get single issues though, is at the FicMag website.

Found out today that there's a short film adaptation of Abed which is a short story I first read in Skipp and Spector's Book(s) of the Dead which I was just talking about on Facebook as being particularly influential to me. This particular story is now sold singly, with the same publisher as me, in fact. I'll be receiving a review copy soon, so that's fly. ZZN is starting to get active again. I'm throwing up my thoughts on Walking Dead this weekend if I have time. Mostly though, I'll be editing stories for the Feb issue and laying out the Jan issue once H gets the graphics to me.

You know how online, someone you kind of know will make a joke using dry wit or sarcasm?

And if you notice that they're doing that, you might play along?
Because humor is humorous and jokes are jokey?

But then you do that, and the other person explains to you that they were "only joking?"

And you're like "I know that. I was joking too--you know, because of the joke."

And they're like "Oh, right. Okay, yeah...that joke I was making."

By then, the joke isn't remotely funny any more--and I'm just vaguely uncomfortable.

True Story.

I'm getting much closer to figuring out the epub and mobi conversions for my beautiful magazine layouts. Turns out, I just have to make 2 different versions of each issue so the epub and mobi will look as awesome (though different) than the pdf. It would be nice if pdfs were easier to read on Kindles and stuff. Personally, I find them difficult to read on mine. The letters are so tiny.

"I'll be fine. Besides, if I get raped it'll be my fault for what I'm wearing." Mark Wahlberg as John Bennet in 'Ted'
Ted is a hilarious movie. I enjoy it more every time I watch.

I have lost my baking mojo. The last few things I made from scratch have not turned out. I tried to make another batch of butterscotch blondies and they tasted ghastlier than a thousand ghouls. I literally threw away an entire pan of brownies. They were seriously inedible.
For the party, I'm using box mixes until I can figure out how to get my baking mojo back.

Oh yeah, my annual party is this coming Saturday--November 23rd.
I'm hoping that people just aren't RSVPing, because very few people have and I'm never prepared for the possibility that people don't enjoy my company.
I'm awesome, right? RIGHT?!?
Anyway, I invited the usual ton of people. It's open-house style, so peeps will most likely be wandering in and out from 6pm until 2am or so.
I'm making a chocolate hazelnut cheesecake trifle, and a big thing of queso dip. Plus I imagine people will bring a few things.

Finished MaddAddam, which is the 3rd in a trilogy by the great Margaret Atwood. God damn, that chick is brilliant. Such elegant writing, it's almost unworthy of some of the characters. Fuck those Painballers, seriously. It didn't end as tragically as I expected, but after reading GRRM, if a single person lives or doesn't get tortured, it seems happy and/or hopeful.

I decided today that if I could be anyone else for one day, I would be Queen Latifah. Because, duh.

WayWard Manor has been pushed back until March 2014 because they just got a whole bunch more of money. I'm stoked to give it a whirl. H says he's gonna play it with me.

Big political news means that, if I remain on social media, that I'll be reminded over and over which people I went to school with/used to work with/am peripherally related to are fucking batshit insane.

I have a cousin who supported Citizens United because she honestly believes that money and speech are the same thing. That if we limit the businesses right to give unlimited money to politicians--that we're taking away their right to free speech. I...I still have no words for this, and it still happens.

I went to high school with dozens of people who think the ACA literally has death panels and that insurance companies' top concern is taking care of patients. I also went to school with lots of middle class people who think everyone on welfare (even though many of them got Free Lunch back in the day) is lazy and "refuses" to work. Honestly, how can you live in a poor city like Hazel Park and honestly think it's not possible to work and still be poor? It's fucking delusional.

This is not old news. I know this. But I hate being reminded of how many of these utter loons stumble through life with this crazy idea that no one is working as hard as them, no one deserves the same things they have, and no one deserves any help at all until utter loons like them personally vet their situation and decide that they're not "at fault." Because if you've ever made a bad decision, fuck you--starve!

Now I'm hearing how it's "Not our problem" that war widows aren't getting their death benefits, or kids aren't no longer able to eat the meager crap their parents used to be able to afford. But heaven for-fucking-fend that a monument be closed. *shakes fist* Obaaaaah-maaaaah!!!

Announcement: If you haven't yet bought a copy of my book The Cat's Apprentice, your time to do so is running out. My former publisher, Stonegarden.net Publishing is going out of business. My horror books are either available now or soon to be reappearing with Crossroad Press.
For those of you who keep asking, I still don't know when The Finster Effect will be out in paperback. Right now Mr Publisherman and I are trying to get the Kiss Me Like You Love Me audiobook up for sale through Audible. Soon...soon...

Some college peeps are coming to see me this Friday, one of these I have not seen in 20 years. A lot of chicks fret about looking older and/or fatter than they did in school. Not me. I was fat then, so nobody is gonna be shocked that I'm fat now. Between being heavy and never having any kids, I tend to look younger than other chicks I graduated with. Plenty of chicks I went to high school with (more the poor high school than the middle class one) are already grandmothers. I can't even imagine...
Anyway, we're having 70's movie night. Crowhaven Farm (which I haven't seen since I was little) and Trilogy of Terror, which I love.
I was gonna make a real cheesecake. I haven't made a real one in some time, and was afraid I'd mess it up and waste the ingredients. I'm trying a less risky fake cheesecake (read: no bake and has Cool Whip) with nutella and my famous cocoa puffs pie crust. Should be tasty, if not exactly gourmet.

Been listening to The National. The band. I like what I'm hearing. And yet, they tend to sort of fade into the background when I'm doing stuff.

And finally, I made the hilarious mistake of trying to cut all the blue out of my hair--while I was tired and kinda high. Now I have super short bangs--the kind I had as a kid. I never got nice looking haircuts as a kid, because my mom just wanted me to not need a haircut for a super long time. H likes it, but I can't wait for my hair to grow back down into my eyes.
Gonna re bleach it and put some color in the front soon. Trying a different brand of color, a blue and a lilac. Pics to come.

I like to take walks at this time of day (6am). I took one this morning after an oddly timed nap (less than half a brownie was WAY too much, apparently). There weren't many people around except random dog walkers. I chatted with one this morning, nice guy. Nobody I'd talked to before. Then this happened:

*chat, chat, chat*

They: "Are you married?"

Me: Yes

They: "How long?"

Me: *tells him*

They: "You guys have kids?"

Me: Nope, just some cats.

They: "That's good."

Me: ... I'm sorry?

They: "I don't wanna talk out of turn, but you shouldn't be having babies with a guy who's...like that."

Me: Like what?

They: "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, it's none of my business. You have a good day now." *walks away with dog*

Me: *thinking* WTF, seriously? If I knew the guy or knew he knew who H was, I'd assume he was racist. But I didn't know what the hell to think.

I came home and was pretty pissed off. I went into the bathroom to splash some water on me, and see that while I was napping, my recently touched up blue hair left a bit of a smear on my cheek and to the left of my eye. In low light, it looked like someone beat the crap out of my face.

So in reality, my neighbor was trying to be a nice guy. In retrospect, it would not have been ridiculous for him to have reacted even more strongly. I want to correct this impression of my wonderful husband, but I didn't even ask the guy his name--so I have no idea who he is. He's the guy with some kind of doberman mix on the other side of the complex.

Sorry, neighborman. You're alright by me!
I promise, NOBODY smacks me around.

The new issue of Resilient Brainforest is out.
Download it for FREE right fucking here.

A few of you have asked me why I don't post Stig and the Puppetman on my blog or at my regular website. After all, that's what other webcomic makers do, right? Let me say this as clearly as I can:

I am NOT a comic, an illustrator,
or visual artist of any kind.

I'm a writer. I write novels and short stories. I put together articles and interviews and reviews for TV, movies, and other people's books. I lend other writers the assist. Anything else I do generally has to do with either making money to buy stuff I want, or with promoting my own work.

Posting my comic online is what an illustrator would do. I appear regularly in Resilient Brainforest for several reasons. First and foremost, someone I think is pretty cool asked me to participate. I enjoy the challenge of doing something I wouldn't normally do. Then, I got sort of attached to the characters--and the ideas started falling out of me like vomit after Jaeger night.

Finally, this is a collaborative project. Everyone involved is working at least as hard as I am. To showcase my own work to the detriment of the rest of the contributors--is what an asshole would do. And I, as you may know, am not an asshole. That's why I'm still giving away Stig and the Puppetman for FREE in Resilient Brainforest mag--and nowhere else. To get it, you have to go all the way to the site, then click on "download." Then, you wait (YMMV). Before you know it, you have a FREE pdf full of comics for you to enjoy, loathe, or print up and use to wallpaper your bathroom.

Now you know!

That's right. I turned officially Old as Fuck yesterday on the occasion of my 24th birthday. Ha! Did I say 24th? I mean 42nd.

Here's a link to the partay pics from FB. The party was sort of random and scattered this year, with many guests coming at different times, on different days, or not at all. One person skipped because they thought another person was attending--but then neither of them actually showed up. DRAMA!!! I hate that shit, because I never know if I'm handling it right.

A goodly number of fine people did attend, and a few of them even brought gifts. We played Cards Against Humanity, which is always hilarious. There was great food, and precious little drunkeness. I bought a fifth of Southern Comfort that was barely touched. Not sure what I'll do with it. I bet it'd be good on a holiday cake.

I got Sid Haig's autograph in a cool frame, signed to me. Sweeeeeeet!! I also got Michael C Hall's autograph, and a Dexter clip-on badge. It was sweet. My assistant, Sara, made a gift basket with different kinds of lemon soda. H made me a sweet card and got me some gifts he says will arrive later in the week. Neat, eh?
I also got a sweet pair of sketchers, some really beautiful and thoughtful cards, something from Ryan that will also be here in a week or so. Plus Game of Thrones S1, The Muppets, and these:


It was the best pineapple cake in years. Sometimes I use boxed cake mix, for ease. But lately I'd been trying different recipes in an attempt to find the perfect one. This year I did Martha Stewart's yellow cake recipe but used butter crisco instead of butter. I've never actually made that substitution in a cake before. Alton Brown was right when he says it makes things taste more buttery than actual butter. The foodie in me was uneasy, but the cake was fucking delicious. I also added half a cup of sour cream--that's my "secret."
I didn't take a picture, but it was pretty, and in a bundt pan. It was light around the outside, and I wasn't sure it was done. It was.
I really, really, REALLY need a new bundt pan. I've had the same one since 1998 and it really has seen better days.

It's not a very obscure literary reference, so I'm gonna assume you all know.



So this happened. Finster came in town from Cali just to go to the show. What show, you ask? Jason McCauley Berry and the All Night Fish Market. Back in the day, Finz and I went to these shows endlessly, roughly weekly but sometimes more. If you picture them dark and blurry, it'd look something like this.


It was a time for beer drinking and terrible jobs, hunting for a cool boyfriend and eventually realizing a girl friend would make more sense. A time for drugs and floundering, figuring shit out and wallowing in grand ideas and stupid mistakes. A time for a Heathen Ranch, gazing up longingly at the poverty line, and realizing that I was honest to Zod crazy and needed to do something about it.

Before the gig, there was a BBQ at the new home of my old friend and former Heathen Ranch roommate. A few other friends from that era were there. Newsflash: Having children ages people a LOT. Everybody's still as sexy as ever though. The dude on the far right is Joe, who is Our Narrator in the KMLYLM podcast. I know, right?


Merriment ensued.


My old friend literally lives within walking distance of my mom's house in Royal Oak. We drove right by it on the way to the bar, which was in Ferndale.

H actually got the night off work to come with. Because I asked him to. He hates bars, parties, going out, and being around crowds. He mostly sat at the table watching my bag. I mostly walked around acting like the queen of the castle, puffing the wacky tobacky, drinking tons of water and a few sips of coca cola, and dancing my ass off. I imagine some unflattering pics of said dancing will be showing up on Facebook over the next week. Can't wait...


Officially, the party was for our friend Bill, who was turning 40. Bill is an awesome guy who totally has not changed since back in the day. It's a weird thing to suddenly be back among people who knew me when I was a totally different person. And it's crazy to hear how people remembered me, how they "always knew" I'd be successful, and how I always seemed like I'd do great things. Not for nothing, but I don't recall 98% of these people mentioning that at the time. Quite the opposite, in fact. Anywhoo...


The gig was amazing. Jason still has the sweetest voice ever. I love it so much. The last song of the night was about me. I don't mean that in an absurd drunk-girl kind of way. The song Blues for a Better Wednesday was written about me, roundabout 1990. I'll probably podcast it sometime so you can all hear it. Jason called it their best song. I was quite touched.

The whole event was tremendous fun, and illustrated rather sharply the differences between my life then, and my life now. There were a bunch of people I was delighted to see, and a few conspicuous absences, and a healthy handful of people who said how happy they were to see me--who I didn't recognize at ALL. I look pretty much the same as ever, but most of the dudes put on weight and lost their hair. A lot of the chicks totally changed their hair, and everyone was wearing dark glasses for some reason. People kept hugging me and H would ask who they were, and I wouldn't know. Bizzarre, but nice to be so well loved, amirite?


In other news, I have a ton of work to do this week. Tonight I'll draft the review of the Dexter premiere, which I'll finish and put up tomorrow. Also tomorrow will be watching and putting up a review of the new Boardwalk Empire ep. Have you been reading my Reviews at GeekBinge? You totally should be. I'll also be covering American Horror Story when that comes back--in just 17 days!!!

Also, I'll be finishing the new Stig and the Puppetman comic. After that, I'll be tearing into A Stabbing for Sadie to make edits for the 2nd edition. I changed almost nothing from KMLYLM. It's gonna get a new introduction and some new "Thanks." I thought about going back through some of Dami's dialogue but decided against it. That book is pretty good as it is, and doesn't need me um...Lucasing it up. Sadie, OTOH, is getting tore up and thematically embiggened.

The next book is outlined and ready for me to write the hell out of it for NaNoWriMo. If you're planning to get down with the NaNo this year, be sure to add me as your buddy. This one is set for a 2013 release as well, so I kind of have to rock this thing hard core. Luckily, that is typically how I roll.

In sadder news, I walked away from cooking bacon today and it burned to an inedible blackened crisp. I was sad. Bacon abuse. No.

Uverse on Demand requires a bit of buffering. Who knew?

It was pretty good. Snappy writing, fun action scenes, Loki is a great villain and everyone was well developed, I thought.

The Hulk, though. There was some rather rampant inconsistency in terms of how much control he had over his Hulkiness. They led us to believe it was none, but then it was some, then it was a bunch. But why? And why did no one discuss it at all?

Jeremy Renner. Damn. Wow. Damn and wow. I loved him in the Jeffery Dahmer movie (which I merely liked), but this was amazing. He had such a strong screen presence. His physicality screamed ICON. Why didn't he get his own movie? Seriously. Give me it!

This week I'm finishing up edits to Kiss Me Like You Love Me so I can re-release it early next year.

I gotta put some more blue in my hair tomorrow so I look super awesome for the big show this weekend. These dudes are playing on Saturday for the first time in 15 years. My buddy Finster is flying out from California so I don't have to dance by myself. It's gonna be way far insane and awesome. H is even going, he got the night off work. I know, right?

Working on the next Stig and the Puppetman comic about the two mismatched roommates who are also serial killers. Yay! It's fun making comics, and I really enjoy how they're coming out. So good on that.

Got approved for another job. Another one of these gigs where I have no idea whatsoever how much work there will be or when it will come in. Drag.
The steady stuff is groovy, but I wish there was more of it.

A friend of mine loaned me a hardback book a week or so ago. It was something I'd been meaning to read--so good on that. I was sort of struck by how huge it seemed, even though it wasn't. It was a normal-sized hardcover book of about 350 pages or so. I'd just gotten very used to the Kindle, so a normal size book seemed ridiculously huge to me.
Odd...seeing as how it wasn't that long ago that I read all the Harry Potter books in hardback.

Anyway...I left the book on my coffee table. This is also where the cats drink their water. It is one of the many ways that I am slowly turning into Eleanor Abernathy Springfield's most notorious "Crazy Cat Lady." But it's the only way to get them to drink enough water.
A day or so later, I pick up the book and notice that there's ink on the corner directly facing the cat's water. Sure enough, there turned out to be a large watermark on the back cover and on the top right corner of 30 or so pages of the book. Blue ink from the cover bled all over the pages.

I felt like a complete asshat. I, of all people, who have had SO many books, movies, toys, etc. ruined by other people's pets, children, cars, bathtub mishaps, and even an angry fireplace burning--I let something terrible happen to somebody else's book.

I looked at it. Damn it to HELL, it's a first edition! It's gonna cost a fortune to replace, I bet. It's a popular book. Losing no time, I rush over to Amazon. To my delight I found an identical copy for less than $12 including the shipping. And I'll probably get to keep the damaged copy to read. It's perfectly readable. It's just in an unacceptable state in which to return a book.

It's due to arrive tomorrow. Crisis averted, right?

Today, I see my friend and sheepishly tell her what happens.
Her response?

"Oh, it was already like that. I got it at a used bookstore."

*Cue hilarious trombone of acquiescence* Wah Waaaaaaaaaah

And then we watched Tombstone with my great Hollywood love, Bill Paxton. I'm watching a ton of Paxton movies this week, because he's just dreamy!

True Story.

I'm in my 40's. I can remember a time when that seemed ridiculously old. I can remember learning that my grandfather was *gasp* 54 and it seemed like the oldest thing in all of time.

Not having kids means I get to continue to live like a teenager in many ways, despite my advanceD decrepitude. And face it, decades of sloth and gluttony have indeed rendered me a bit less jaunty than other peeps my age. I'm working on strength training so I can eventually get into the house of horrors that is Cardio. But yeah, for a 40-something, I feel pretty tired, sore, and old.

That said...I learned today that another friend of mine is dying due to one of those things that people blame on fatness, AND/or "not taking care of yourself." I've not seen this dude in years, so I have no idea what his habits are. But he's a Big Guy, which means there's always some douchebag who will blame bad health on being heavy with absolutely no other facts.

It scares the hell out of me knowing that people my age are dying from this kind of shit. My right foot has been numb, which gives me constant nightmares about doctors coming in to cut it off in the night. My knees are bad, and it's difficult for me to get up off the floor by myself. I'm not ready for LifeAlert or anything, but the very idea that I could fall and take 20 seconds or more to stand back up again? Yikes. Fucking...yikes. I mean, what if I couldn't stand up at all? I can't even imagine.

Stress, I has it.
Woke up yesterday with tremendous back pain and had to go to the grocery store. Girl-H is still staying with us for another week. I'm feeling a little too stressed and crazy for a house guest. And unlike H, Girl-H suspects that my every bad mood is because of her, so I have guilt on top of everything else. Long shift today, then home to cook for the H's, then back to work for, as I said on FB, a stupid fucking night meeting that couldn't possibly wait until after the holiday for some reason.

Our dishwasher is broken, which is especially irritating because we have extra dishes because of guests and Xmas cooking, and all the bottles and extracts and such. Everybody who is getting cookies or cakes is getting them late. My mom would be rolling in her grave--except she isn't dead.

My fabulous extracts turned out fabulous. I knew it!
Actually, I didn't. I was ascared. But I did 8 bottles each (six smallish and 4 large) of vanilla blend (Madagascar, tahitian, and mexico beans in good rum) and organic lavender in creme vodka. It has come to my attention that sending old people giant boxes of sweets may not be entirely welcome. And it saves me a LOT of time and some money not doing that--though it was about $100 to get all the extract stuff. My kitchen smells awesome. My bro is getting a box of cookies after the "new year," and H's grandparents are getting cran-cherry bread the week after Xmas. I was gonna do butter cookies with good vanilla beans but I don't think I'll have time since I'm working until 7pm tomorrow, then home to make a giant veggie stir fry for the H's.

Kim Jong Il dead. "War" in Iraq "over".
I'm sure this will make the world right again, much how eating a Lean Cuisine meal suddenly makes the pounds fly off. We'll be in our skinny jeans by summer--YEAH! ;-[

On Thursday night, I finished the last of the big edits for The Finster Effect. Turns out, it's less about zombies than about the fact that I don't care for organized religion. I didn't realize how pissed I was until I got to the end. I'm reading it over tonight one more time, and then giving it to the new publisher tomorrow. I'm stoked!

I'm kinda mad today because I had a weird conversation last night with an old friend. ( I'll cut it, because it got long )

I guess I'm not used to having the kind of life people are jealous of--especially given that if anything happened to H, I'd be living in a shipping container by year's end. hahahahaha...yeah, like I could really afford my own shipping container.

Anywhoo, my Kindle Touch is still not here. Expected delivery date: 2 days ago. Still waiting. Chatted Amazon up last night and got them to give me a $15 shipping refund--which I actually had to haggle for. They're like "Well, I see that part of your order arrived on time" and I'm like "Yeah, the charger and the case for the Kindle--which isn't here!"
Refund accomplished. Yay! I spent part of that green on Shufflers by James L Grant. Then I realized I already had a pdf of it. Enjoy my money, you tricky bastard!

Honore, H's lovely sister, is coming to town one week from today, and staying for over 2 weeks. I don't typically tolerate guests for so long, especially because our place in tiny. But Girl-H is so awesome. She's an excellent guest, not annoying at all. Doesn't expect me to entertain her even. And she loves JoJo. Then again, how could anyone NOT love JoJo?

Jokes:

Q. What's worse than finding a worm in your apple?
A. the Holocaust

Q. How many potatoes does it take to kill an Irishman?
A. None.

Have you kids been listening to my incredible, FREE audiobook podcast, Take a Stab at THIS!? I and my meager editing and mixing skills spend some quality time with a few kickass actors, composers, and musicians to bring you all manner of scary shit. You can find chapters of both A Stabbing for Sadie and Kiss Me Like You Love Me. Roughly the first half of each book is there. That's not just a clever way to encourage you to buy the books, it's also a way to let me have a life by producing one new episode every month. Would you believe when I started this, I thought I was gonna do a new ep every week? Yeah, right...

This weeks ep is a departure from the book chapter format. The Happy Couple is a short story about a disgruntled cabbie who is not having a very good day. You might even recognize someone you know in there *wink*. The podcast eps are pretty short, usually between 10 and 30 minutes, with a few of the short stories being even shorter than that.

So take a listen, either at my site or at the iTunes.
If you like it, why not write a review, tell a friend, or otherwise spread the word?

In novel news, The Finster Effect keeps getting better and better. Past the halfway point on the final draft before it goes to the editor. Need to start looking for a place in town to host my book release party in April. If any of you's know of a good place, do let me know.

It's work Halloween.
They are feeding us Jimmy Johns, and we're about to win a prize for creating a zombie apocalypse call center. I'll post a few pics when I'm home, but DW doesn't offer me pic space, so I can't post pics from work. big surprise, I'm dressed as a zombie. Did a nice job this year on a dress and some thermals underneath. I used the standard corn syrup blood with cocoa powder, dish soap, etc, and ugly earth tone eyeshadow for the dirt. When it all dried, I put a couple coats of spray gloss over it so it would look wet and shiny. It's stiff, but nice looking.

The company prez just came by dressed as an X-wing pilot.
Hilarious.

Have to work until 7pm tonight, which means I'll miss the downtown zombie walk, and also Three Corpse Circus. Either the guy who runs that it a terribly lax communicator, or he doesn't think much of me. Either way, Imma try to do some conventions next year, real ones. I'm sick of all the horror writers having fun and networking without me. :-/

The big book push is well underway.
I feel kind of lame to be just now coming out with a zombie book. But if you know me, you know that I've been making zombie maps and plans since junior high. In case you don't know, The Finster Effect takes a few characters from a novel I started in 1995 but never got remotely close to finishing. Lila, Basil, Blue, and the Reverend are all there, though updated to be less goddamn depressing. I just don't want anyone to think I'm jumping on some kind of undead bandwagon. Then again, I don't know why I'd give a rat's ass what a bunch of ignorant internet types think.

American Horror Story, you are still awesome.
I'm so stoked that I like you so much.

Was sick on Friday so they sent me home from the day-job early. Super tired and run down and sore. Saturday was homecoming at my alma mater, wherein I was welcomed:


Had to leave Ann Arbor by 8am to arrive nearly by 9:30am. The alumni ass-kissing was exceptional. Tons of students and staff checking in to make sure I was comfortable, if I needed anything, and then just asking me stuff about writing and getting published. As usual, my assistant was awesome. She even wrote down all the things I was agreeing "to do sometime, no rush" so I wouldn't forget. I ought to have her start writing down the names of people I met; I swear I don't remember half of them--which sucks because everyone always remembers my name.

Anyway, there were lots of people I was delighted to see, including one of the few professors I love who are still on campus.


Hung out at the house for a bit. For those who don't know, "the house" refers to the home of Alpha Lambda Epsilon which is where I pledged when I was a student. If you think pledging is only for assholes, it's because you've not met the fine men and women (Yup, co-ed house) of ALE.

Every pledge class makes a plaque with their names on it, a motto or phrase that reminds one of the pledging experience. As it happens, I designed, carved and painted out plaque, except for the names. I used to be quite handy with a set of tools.


If you're wondering what that bizzarre series of letters is after my name, it's the second name I had as a kid--technically belonging to my dear mater's second husband. It's also the name I used for the longest...so far. We'll just see how long I live. *snerk*

And finally, here's me and NYT best selling author Scott Sigler, who is more famous than me...and still a damn nice guy. It was nice to see him, and to sell more books than he did--because he didn't bring any. Ha!


Even though the party went on until well after 9pm, we left before 3pm because I was feeling so damn sick and tired. Everybody talked about how happy I seemed, and how happy they were for me. Then one of my sisters came out this way and crashed at my place. Somehow, it never occurred to me to take a pic of her. Ultimately, I had a nice time and sold enough books that I didn't lose any money on the trip.

Woke up this morning with a completely empty humidifier dish in Ye Olde CPAPe. As such, I had no voice whatsoever. Sucks too, since I was kind of awake at 6am. Drank a bunch of tea and went back to bed on heavy humidity. 5 hours later I'm feeling okay and can talk, though the high notes may not be back until later.

Finally, This is my favorite song at the moment.