A Long Time Ago In A Galaxy Far Far Away…

It truly was a long time ago, some time in 1994 or 1995; the farway galaxy was CompuServe.  I had my whole electronic family on Prodigy (including a Wicked and E-VILE grandfather who was an ax murderer), but there was something compelling about CompuServe.  Nearly two decades later, I couldn’t tell you what it was that drew me in.

Warning: random digressions and parenthetical ramblings ahead.

I did (eventually) find a group of fantastically neat people in Section 17… in the Issues forum, I think.  They’d planted Teh Gayz in that somewhat out-of-the-way place, because LGBT folks… listen, I’m just making this up as I go along because I didn’t see the point of hiding the LGBT folks where they were hard to find (and I was LOOKING for them!)… but the story I’m making up is that they figured all we did was talk about sex, sex and more sex.  Oh!  And talk about the Gay Agenda and try to recruit impressionable young people to be Teh Gayz with us.  (That recruiting stuff?  Yeah, never worked.  There were straight folks in the forum, too, and I don’t think we managed to turn a single one of them Gayz.)

Yeah, well… except we didn’t.  Talk about sex, sex and more sex, I mean.  But lordy, the things we DID talk about!  Politics, obviously.  Coming out.  Dealing with friends, family members, lovers — and for some, themselves — who were HIV+ and LWA.  Having amiable discussions with people who disagreed with Teh Gayz Lifestyle…

Ok, sorry… had to take a break there, I was laughing so hard.  There were no amiable discussions with the right-wing fundamentalist dive-bombers.  You know the term “flame wars”?  Yeah.  That.  A lot of that.

But we talked about goofy things, too.

One goofy conversation (ongoing over a period of months) with a particular individual was about Star Trek.  Hey!  Queer people like Trek, too, and always have!  Nyah!  But one day, this particular individual happened to mention he played over in the RPGames forum, as the Captain of a Galaxy-class starship, no less.  I was somewhat intrigued, but really couldn’t get my head around the idea of roleplaying on a spaceship (D&D gal here, from way back), and especially had a hard time grasping the whole “message-based” gaming idea.  But said individual continued to nag me (yes, I said NAG!) to at least lurk his game.

Reluctantly, and with much eye rolling, I agreed.

After a few weeks, however, I realized it was actually starting to make some sort of sense.  I’ll admit I was lurking a few other ships in the online “fleet” known as Star Trek Ships (STS), and not all of them made sense.  (Hey, sorry guys… I know you’re going to ask, but I really don’t remember which ships they were.  And if your ship was going through a twisted and convoluted story line like we later did with Dan Woo, when then yes, I’m probably talking about you.)  So the next time this certain individual asked if I might be interested in joining his ship, I tentatively and hesitantly said yes.

As many of you know, that individual was none other than (cue angels’ choir) Rodney, and the ship was the USS Eclipse.  So the “tentative” part of my agreement was completely ignored, and before I even knew what the heck was going on, I found myself playing a young Irish lass from County Tipperary, Lieutenant Moira O’Shaughnessy, the new Holodeck Programmer/Technician for the Eclipse.

From that day forward, one of my favorite mantras as been, “Everything is Rodney’s fault.”

Why?  Well, for one thing, I met some of the nicest, smartest, most wonderful, most twisted and diabolical, most evil, and most FUN people I had ever met.  I also met the unbelievably talented guy I eventually married.  So yeah… all Rodney’s fault.

It didn’t take me long to get completely hooked on this message-based roleplaying game concept.  After all, back in high school, three of my buddies and I would pass spiral notebooks back and forth and write our collaborative fan fiction (oh, yes… definitely… most of it was Trek, but there was that M*A*S*H-Trek mashup thing that I will never forget).  The writing… the writing as a particular character… the writing in a group setting…  Yep, that was already in my blood.

Many things happened on the Eclipse, not all of them good (for the players, the characters or the game), though by the time CompuServe had its meltdown, my sweet little Irish lass was Captain of the Eclipse.  Wow.

Not only did many things happen on the Eclipse, but I created characters for other ships, too.

Agnes was the ship’s counselor on the ill-fated USS Odyssey.  (And Ken, darling… that was strike one; SG7 was strike two.  Just saying.)

Jasmine was the ship’s counselor on the USS Hawking.  (Good heavens, what a fun character!  On her own, she was ok, nothing spectacular… but she was from one of the ruling families of her planet in an arranged marriage to a guy she absolutely despised.  We sure did have fun with that, didn’t we, Ian?)

Rachel was the ship’s doctor for the Hellbound, a privateer.

I was in the process of putting together a tactical officer for the USS Renegade.

I had even put together a character for the world my then-fiance had created.  Yeah, I’d gone slumming among the Fantasy games.  That poor girl hadn’t even met all the members of the adventuring party before the fecal matter came into forceful contact with the rotating oscillator.

And then it all went to hell in a hand basket, as my dear old grandmother used to say.  Not just CompuServe, of course, for if you’ve read previous entries here, you’ll know late 2000 and early 2001 was not the best time in my life.

I still wrote, of course.  When you have that compulsion in your blood, it’s hard NOT to write.  But there was something missing.  I could never really put my finger on it, but writing just wasn’t as SATISFYING as it could have been.

And by gum, I missed my friends!

Life got better, I met other folks were are just as dear to me as those I’d left behind on CompuServe, but there was always that nagging voice in the back of mind whispering about one or another or a whole bunch of them.

Oh, I tried finding them… you betcha!  But even the mighty Google was no help.  Until…

Until…

Last spring or perhaps early summer, I’d plugged in an old external hard drive to see if there was anything on there I needed before tossing it in the electronic recycling bin.  I spent days, possibly weeks, reading through old files… remembering good times… tearing up over some of those passages.  And that THING in my heart that had been whispering and whimpering and whining and even wailing at times, “I want my people back” convinced me to give it another try.  ”Ask Google again,” the voices of all those long-lost characters nattered at me.  Not surprisingly, the voice nattering the loudest had a thick Irish brogue.

So I tried my usual search term — CompuServe RPGames STS — once more, not really expecting any better results than I’d had at any other point in the previous 11 years.  But this time… oh, my dear Lords and Ladies!  The second result the great and mighty Google served up was a link to Kalyr’s post about the demise of the RPGames forum, and it included copies of some posts from Nightshift, one of the Sysops.  I remember those posts.  I remember reading them the first time back in early 2000, I remember how they ripped my heart out as I sat there in my musty basement in despair, and there I was re-reading them… feeling all it all over again.  Damn you, Kalyr!  (But thank you, thank you, thank you!)

Then I got down to the bottom of the post.  And my heart almost exploded.  You know how the Grinch’s heart grew three sizes that day?  Well, that was nothing compared to how I felt when I read this:

Predicably all hell broke loose, and many a nasty word was said. People were called nasty names, like ‘George’. While some people kept their games on Compuserve’s GAMERS forum, and some other moved to the rival GSITE forum, one dedicated group including two former sysops moved heaven and earth and created a new free-standing forum in two weeks flat.

Two years later, Dreamlyrics goes from strength to strength. Beginning with a nucleus of RPGAMES members and games, including my own game KLR, the forum continues to recruit new member and recover old ones from the distant past.

I followed the link to DreamLyrics.

And I found my Tribe.

Today is my one year anniversary on DreamLyrics.  As I’m sitting here writing this, I’m crying a bit thinking how wonderful it is to have reconnected with those people I considered friends, to get to know folks I hadn’t known very well on CompuServe and to now call them friends, to meet new folks and make new friends.

I think the first thing I did when my account was established was respond to a slightly old post Art had regarding a Trek game he was thinking of starting.  Actually, I’m not sure if I was responding or if it was that Irish lass in my head yelling very, very loudly.  But if that O’Shaughnessy woman was going to be going anywhere, there were a couple of people she really wanted going with her… Emerald Drake and Donovan Kahallan.  So I immediately fetched two other ex-STS folks and ever-so-gently twisted their arms to sign up (they are now known as iRalph and Wolf, respectively).

Captain O’Shaughnessy commands the USS Clarke, whose mission is to return an alien ambassador to his home world.  Just reading that, you know things are not going to go well.  Still, the ship hasn’t been attacked by the Borg, by pirates, or by psionic energy-based aliens, so I consider that a point or three in the win column.  Plus, I’m writing and having fun!

Then my newest e-Sister, Pam, somehow corralled me in to co-moderating a collaborative writing experiment (it is not a game, and we are not evil GMs!), and I have a darling character there who is the eternally cheerful quartermaster for the Arist Guardsmen, Joni.

Not long after that, the unbelievably talented guy I married, Wolf, decided to begin another campaign on The Heartwood, so I resurrected that character from long, long ago that I barely remembered.  Of course, in the past seven or eight months Daxia Yurisdotter has gotten to be as loud as that Irish lass in my head.  But what do you expect from redheads, eh?

I brought Jasmine duBois and Falcon, my shapeshifter, over from CIS, along with Delia Shodi from FurryMuck for the short-lived Hitchhiker’s Bar and Grill.

I created a redheaded linguistic anthropologist, Lorraine Corcoran, for another short-lived game based on Stargate SG-1.  (Remember Ken, this is strike two.)

Nivek was kind enough (because I pestered him incessantly) to allow me to play a cat (named, appropriately, Cat) in his 1970s-era police drama game, as well as the precinct secretary, Evie Maloney (another redhead… are you sensing a theme here?).  Playing Cat, though… what a freakin’ blast!

I’ve brought back one of my original Trek characters, Ni-Sha, created when I was in high school, for Sam’s Red Shirt Blues game… a redheaded Vulcanoid (heh heh heh).

Also from the STS world, Doctor Rachel D’Konis (NOT a redhead… in fact, being half Deltan, she’s bald) has been on the faculty at the Miller-Levy Adjunct Training Campus for the past four years and will be heading back to Earth with the cadets of the current graduating class in Art’s latest game, Unknown Stars.

And to round out the voices in my head, there is the redheaded Healer Chumani, cleric of the Goddess Kia, in Dugan’s upcoming game, Great Island Adventure.

Of course, that’s not to mention all the NPCs (non-player characters, aka minor characters) that are in my head… Moira’s twin brother, Padraig; the Caitian engineer Timor and the sweet, quiet Hindu engineer Patel Jefferson; the extremely brilliant and terrified of Captain O’Shaughnessy programmer, Lou Erickson (named after a dear, dear friend); Rachel’s best friend and sometimes-lover, Tony.  And there are other voices that want their chance again to be heard.  (Ian,  buddy… Jehane is starting to get loud, and she isn’t even a redhead.)

In addition to writing, I recruit… and I do a far better job of recruiting new players for DreamLyrics that I ever did recruiting impressionable young people to be Gayz.  First, I pulled in Stealth, one of Wolf’s best pals.  ”Real life” (and just what is “real” anyway?) got in the way for a while, but there is writing to be done, and Stealth is just the one to do it!  (Dude, you can’t deny it; that is one complex and challenging character… and I know you would excel!)  Next, there was Mokie, a coworker with a sense of humor that rarely quits.  He’s playing our plucky comic relief Squire on The Heartwood, but don’t let the slightly bemused demeanor fool you… when Squire Dean decides something needs killing, he not only kills it, but hacks it into bite-sized pieces (not that anyone would want Eastern Hunting Beast stew).  And soon there will be Falco, another coworker who seems to be almost as giddy as I am about the writing.  He’ll be playing a Trill science officer on the Clarke.

Pam remarked several days or a week or some time ago as we were having a great time creating a back story for our characters in Great Island Adventure that we were writing so much it could probably turn out to be a novella.  And that got me thinking…  there’s really only one statistic the DreamLyrics system tracks, and that’s the number of posts a player has made… public in-character and out-of-character, in the game forums or the general discussion forums.  I started wondering about word counts… just for in-character posts (both public and private)… would I have written short stories or novellas for each of the games I have played or currently play?

I should disclose at this point that my nickname is Super OCD Woman.  So I went to town and did a word count of every in-character post, both public and private, that I made in the past year.  Here’s how the numbers break out (HBG has not been archived and is not available just yet; will add those numbers when the files become available… because I’m OCD that way, you know):

28 Precinct                    6,461
Clarke                       207,546
Great Island Adventure         5,003
The Heartwood                137,117
Hitchhikers Bar & Grill  no data yet
Red Shirt Blues                8,397
SG7                           12,084
Unknown Stars                  4,093
Wither the Wind Blows         16,255

Simply because I’m a geeky nerd and all of the above — with the exception of 28 Precinct — would be considered some sort of science fiction or fantasy story, I’m going to go with the page count guidelines from the Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers of America Nebula Award Rules.

Short Story           < 7,500 words
Novelette      7,500 - 17,500 words
Novella       17,500 - 40,000 words
Novel                > 40,000 words

So, at the moment, Sis, we’re still at the short story stage for Chumani and Vrienne, but now that this particular bit of OCD has been completed… and some of the madness (and therefore stress) has died down at work… I’m confident we will have no problem reaching the novella category.

I wasn’t really surprised that I’d surpassed novel length in the Clarke and Heartwood games; what did surprise me was by how much I surpassed them.

I’ve ignored this blog, my word blog, for a long time.  I’m not going to promise any kind of regular posting here because… well, look at the voices in my head and notice how much a certain pair of redheads just LOVE to talk!  But I will try to get over here more often… maybe talk about what’s going on with aforementioned voices in my head.

Or other things… these days, you just never know.

When Twitter Goes Insane

There’s a website called That Can Be My Next Tweet that will predict what some of your next tweets will be on Twitter.  These tweets generally make no sense, but some of them are hysterically funny or just downright weird.  If you follow me on Twitter, you know I just tweet about my blog posts and chat with people there.  If you were to follow me in this imaginary Twitter, here’s the sort of stuff I’d say.

Whistlers should be SO much for a heartbeat!
Go with him.
Ok, if Ambien was in FurrySpace. That story is WAY WAY hotter.
Come to do memes on 6″ x 11″ glossy cardstock. Thanks!
Go with dreams… My couch is freakier to hell.
I’m sure you’re subscribing to stay way more Spike. And be a heartbeat!
Baba Ganoush: I would be REALLY funny. Same old, same issues I can stalk him on 7″ x 4″ x 4″ glossy.
Would you collating paper!
We need to a couple of my arm.
Ok, if Ambien was comparing them for the little PayPal Donate button over on the way I still do sci-fi or!
I accepted your own.
OMG, I would set up the first holiday was doing in the face. With a small snake for sending that read?
I’d forget. Once a bottle of us are some stories on a bad, bad place. Ah, you’re evil…
Funny vid tomorrow, since it keeps your invite on.
If I accepted your closet? Wow.
Our office likes to be the Zip discs. I’ve got all medically.

Yep, That Can Be Your Next Tweet definitely makes me sound crazier than I actually am.  Cool.

Sometimes I Want to Respond to Spammers

One of my other blogs is an art blog.  Every day, I post a new piece of artwork.  About the only words attached to any of these blog posts are enough to convey the size of the piece, the medium and support I used and the copyright information.  So… not too many words.  But I get dozens of spam comments like this every week:

Good info to know. Thank you for sharing. Great site keep up the good work!

Well.  Ok.  I’m not sure what information you found in that post that was so interesting that you had to (spammy) comment, but thanks.

Then there are the word salad comments:

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Mainly, the article is factual the greatest on this noteworthy issue. I consent with your conclusions and will eagerly look onward to your next updates. Well with your authorisation approve me to grab your feed to be up to speed with future articles. Thank you very much indeed and please go on with the phenomenal activity.

Notice a pattern?  It’s like this person (all these, plus 20 other similar comments over the course of three days, were written by the same person) was playing a Mad Libs game in the comment section.  Apparently, Akismet filters out that sort of thing.  Thanks goodness.  Here’s another with a similar theme:

Hello.  I like “Name of Post – Aerten Art”.  It was good.  Visit my blog sometime.

No.  I don’t think so.  Listen, you’ve got fucked up punctuation.  Ok, maybe not… if you’re in the UK.  I understand they put the punctuation outside the quotation marks over there.  Still, since I find it painful, and you’re only the sixth person this week to use this formulaic post, I’m not going to be visiting your blog before Hell freezes over.  And I probably won’t visit it then, as I’ll be too busy moving to the sun.  Here’s one that actually made me laugh:

Hey there it’s so pleasant to study your site to be a circus performer I love research the web and skim reports concerning carrying out arts.

Word salad plus completely irrelevant observations!  I’d give this one the prize today, except this one beat him out:

bolt patterns

I am both baffled and amazed at the randomness.  I’m going to try to keep track of some of the more interesting and bizarre comments I get on my three blogs, and share them (and my reactions) semi-regularly.  Because if you can’t mock spammers, what’s the point of being a Language Maven with a blog, eh?

Kelly’s Spicy Lentils

This is so easy that you could probably do it while sleeping.  I’ve tried it by cooking it on the stove, and by cooking in the crock pot (because the crockpot appeals to my inherent laziness when it comes to food preparation).

For every cup of lentils (I use organic brown lentils), you’ll want about 2-1/4 cups of water.  (Apparently, different types of lentils need different water ratios and cooking times; I always use the same ones so I don’t have to fiddle with water ratios and cooking times.)  Rinse off your lentils if you think they need it.  Dump the lentils and water into your pot or crockpot.  Toss in some Mrs. Dash Extra Spicy Seasoning Blend and some McCormick Hot Mexican-Style Chili Powder.  Proportions?  Well, for about 5 cups of dried lentils, I use half a bottle of the Mrs. Dash (1.25 oz) and 2 tablespoons of the chili powder.  This proportion give them a bit of a kick, but they’re not (to my taste buds, anyway) overly spicy.

If you’re cooking in a pot on the stove, bring it all to a boil, then simmer for about 30 or 35 minutes.  Stir it up occasionally; you don’t want those puppies sticking to the bottom of your pan.  If you’re using the crock pot, set on low and cook overnight (10 hours or so).  Stir well in the morning; the spices seem to form a coating on the top of the lentils.  These are going to be fairly firm (because the Spousal Unit is kind of grossed out by mushy lentils).  I have no idea how long they last in the fridge, because they’re always gone in a week.  I heat mine up just as they are in the microwave… the Spousal Unit adds some veggies to his when he heats them up.  They’re pretty versatile little things.

I generally pair my lentils with a salad, and have them for lunch.  Yay, protein!

Dear Karsnak132068@gmail.com

You know, when you post a spam comment about birth plans to my post wherein I talk about the death of my infant child, I cannot help but think that not only are you contemptible and thoughtless, but also a very evil human being.  If there is a Hell, that’s where you’re headed, sweetie.  Enjoy the trip.

My First Album

Here’s the meme (it’s been floating around on Facebook, but I don’t do memes on Facebook):

  1. Go to Wikipedia and hit random. The first random article you get is the name of your band.
  2. Go to quotationspage.com and hit random. The last four or five words of the very last quote of the page is the title of your first album.
  3. Go to Flickr and click on “explore the last seven days.” Third picture, no matter what it is, will be your album cover.
  4. Use picnik.com to put it all together.
  5. Post it with this text in the “caption.”
  6. TAG the friends you want to join in.

First, there will be no tagging.  If you find this meme interesting, go for it!  Also, I cheated.  I didn’t use picnik to create the album cover, I used Photoshop… because I know how to use it, and I have it on my computer, and I’m a ginormous fan. Also, I used the entire quote because it’s awesome and short.

So, I present to you, Every artist was first an amateur, the new album by that rollicking new band, List Of Fictional Fish.

Every artist was first an amateur

Why I Love Capital Pride Singers

This is really just an expansion of what I had to say at our membership meeting this week.  The first question we had to answer was, “How did you come to join CPS?”

Back in 1998, when I was contemplating moving to Albany from Denver, I needed to know that there was going to be a place for me to sing.  While in Denver, I sang with the Denver Women’s Chorus and Harmony: a Colorado Chorale, and loved every minute of every rehearsal and performance and retreat.  Singing is one of those things that I just have to do… you know, like breathing.  So even though it would have been completely stupid for my then-fiancé to leave his job in Albany and move to Denver where I didn’t have a job, I was prepared to be completely stupid.  I checked out the Gay and Lesbian Association (GALA) of Choruses website to see if there was an LGBT chorus in Albany… or near Albany… or at the very least, a women’s chorus in or around Albany.  Fortunately, according to GALA, the Capital Pride Singers was an LGBT chorus right in Albany.  Balance was restored to the universe and in April, 1999, I moved to Albany (well, technically it was a suburb of Schenectady).

But I couldn’t find this Capital Pride Singers group!  I was kind of freaking out.  I had a PO Box number, but no phone number and no website and no email address.  I was a geek… how was I supposed to find them?  I started going to the Unitarian Universalist Church in Schenectady, because I figured if nothing else, I could join their chorus.  I’m not a very church-going kind of person (even when churchy people are as nice as the Unitarians), but I was desperate.  After going to a few Sunday morning services (I rather liked the minister, but it was still pretty churchy for my tastes), during the Sharing of Gratitude section of the service, a woman stood and told how grateful she was for being part of the Capital Pride Singers.

I had found them!!  Needless to say, I tracked the member down after the service and got all the information about rehearsals and when the next concert was.  I dropped in on a rehearsal (even though it was too late in the season to sing in their then-current concert).  The director made me feel very welcome, as did the members of the alto section.  I attended their concert that fall (all I remember was that they sang the John Denver Medley (I adore John Denver) and one of the members did a fabulous a capella rendition of a Melissa Etheridge song).  After the concert, I tracked down the director and told her I’d be back in January to sing with them!

I began singing with Capital Pride Singers in January, 2000.  Very quickly, I joined the Artistic Planning Committee, because — dang it — I wanted to be involved!  I don’t remember the first concert (I’m pretty sure it was at Page Hall at SUNY Albany), but I know the Christmas concert that year was at the Cohoes Musical Hall.  I also remember that I was eight months pregnant at the time.

Now we’re getting into the second question that was asked at the membership meeting, “What personally have you gained in joining CPS?”  When my daughter was born prematurely just a week or so after the concert, and died after only four days, these people took it upon themselves to make sure I knew they cared about me.  They came to my house to just sit and hold my hands, and give me hugs.  They brought me food so I wouldn’t have to worry about cooking (I’ve never actually worried about cooking, but they didn’t know that).  They CARED.  They cared about me, and they cared about my family.  They certainly couldn’t understand what I was going through, but by the gods, they tried.  When rehearsals started back up a couple of weeks later, I had my husband drive me (I had a c-section and wasn’t allowed to drive) to rehearsals so I could be with them.  I couldn’t always sing… in fact, in those first few weeks, I don’t thing I sang more than a couple of measures in any given song.  But the song was there.  My friends were singing for me.  They were singing to me.  They probably thought I was nuts, but I needed to be with my people.  There are two groups of people who saved my sanity back in the early part of 2001… the Capital Pride Singers and the New Beginnings Neonatal Loss Support Group.  CPS dedicated to a song to Mackenzie, Let Me Be the Music, and I still cry every time we sing it.  I don’t care.  That song, to me, means love, it means family, it means community… and it means that the family and community that is Capital Pride Singers love me.

We’ve gone through some rough times, CPS and I.  The chorus went through a period of great discord, and I needed to step away for a cycle or two.  But I came back, because I couldn’t stay away.  I can’t stop singing any more than I can stop creating my art.  Singing is therapy, singing is prayer.  Art is about honoring Mackenzie… and I think it’s about honoring all the people who helped me through that most hellish time of my life.  Sure, I still get choked up sometimes when I talk about Mackenzie.  What mother wouldn’t?  But I have people around people who just take that all in stride.

Right now, we have a musical director who is so full of energy, you’d think she’d make me feel old and decrepit.  But her energy and enthusiasm and sheer love of what she’s doing is highly infectious.  Every Monday night, no matter how tired I am or how horrible the fibro pain has been making me feel, I go home feeling happy… optimistic… energized… and maybe even a little less painful.  She wants us to be great.  Her attitude is rubbing off on everyone… my chorus mates are believing — BELIEVING — that we can be great.  We already are, and we can — and will — get better.  I don’t think I would have been convinced to run for Secretary of the Board without her incredible energy and support of each and every one of us.

Capital Pride Singers is a community of lesbians, gay men, bisexuals, transgendered folk, and yes, even straight folks.  Labels are meaningless, though.  We have music in common, and we are a family.  That’s all that matters… and that’s why I love Capital Pride Singers.

Don’t Blame Me

While driving around town, I often see cars with bumper stickers that read, “Don’t blame me, I voted for <one of the people who didn’t win the election>.”

And wouldn’t you know it… I have some thoughts on that.

First: Really?  Do you really drive all over town assuming that the people in traffic around you are holding you responsible for whatever ills they perceive are happening in society?  You do?  I have a word for you: therapy.

Second: Are you driving around town holding all the people in traffic around you responsible for all the ills you perceive are happening in society?  Because, again, I have a word for you: therapy.

Third: Go put a bumper sticker on your car that will make people in traffic around you smile and have a better day.  A joke, a pun, a picture of Buffy staking Edward… whatever.  Consider it part of your therapy.

A Ditty

Entitled: A Day in the Life and Times of the Common Fruit Fly and Household Gnat Including the Relationship Between the Yellow Fuzzy Bumblebee and the Shiny Black Multi-legged Waterbug with a Dissertation on the Sex Life of the Wood- and Varnish-Eating Termite (or How to Fold a Newspaper While Tying Your Shoes in the Sauna of a Wellknown Resort Prior to Major Surgery Entailing Removal of the Entire Colon and Spinal Column)

This little ditty is dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.  That is not to say they are in any way equal to the female of the species, for they are, in fact, far inferior.  Nevertheless, they serve their purpose.  For example, they can be very adequate bedwarmers.  On the other hand, often they will become surly and uncontrollable for no apparent reason.  This can usually be remedied by threatening to abandon them in the nearest dark alley in which large grey rats lurk in small dirty dustbins, waiting to prey upon the living flesh of unwary wanderers and other unfortunate creatures.

It was in the month of May (the very merry month of May to be precise) in an era unknown to the reader (and the writer, also, for that matter) in a large open area commonly known at the time as a park.  In said park, in said month of merry May, as I nimbly and lightly strolled past thickets, pear trees, rose bushes, geraniums, snapdragons, children swimming in the creek, mothers hoping they will drown, basket weavers twiddling their thumbs and toes, nice young men in their clean white coats, muggers, rapists, murderers, flashers, high school dropouts, greasers, thugs and other unsavory characters, I was taken by surprise (that is to say, one of the above mentioned unsavory characters approached my person and spoke limericks and Polish jokes and bad puns in a low and menacing whisper) by a pair (after closer inspection I discovered that the above mentioned unsavory character was, in fact, two unsavory characters) of Chinese (how they got past the Self Proclaimed Red Chinese Haters Anonymous Private Pizza Party and Beer Bash that was being held at the front gates to ward off all persons of, or suspected of being of, Chinese descent, I’ll never learn) spies (perhaps this is how they got past the Self Proclaimed Red Chinese Haters Anonymous Private Pizza Party and Beer Bash, as they looked more like overcooked chickens, or at the very least overcooked linguine, than Chinese spies, but on the other hand, perhaps this is how Chinese spies are supposed to look) as I (and I alone, for no one had bothered to offer to accompany me through this said park for protection, as this was, and still is, none other than the infamous Central Park of New York City in the North American Confederate of Old Home Terra) was strolling (well, to be honest with you, I was swimming, but that would take us into a whole different ditty) through the park (and I was really swimming down the street, but who’s counting?) one day (it was actually the middle of the night, but that didn’t fit with the music and/or tune of the original ditty that this originally was a parody of).

For Maria, who always said, “As I was swimming down the street one day in the merry, merry month of May, I was taken by surprise by a pair of Chinese spies as I was swimming down the street one day.”

[Note: This was written a million years ago, when I was possibly either a sophomore or junior in high school. I was definitely in high school, and I was definitely as wacky then as I am now.]

The Charlie Sheen Mad Lib

Oh, come on.  You knew this had to happen, right?  Personally, I like Charlie Sheen.  I’m just sad to see that he has appeared to have gone bonkers to the same level as, but in a different universe from, Tom Cruise.  So anyway… the Charlie Sheen Mad Lib.  Right.  You can find it here and create your own.  Here’s mine:

“I am on a drug. It’s called Aerten Art. If you try it once, you will stab. Your spleen will melt off, and your cousins will toss over your decapitated body … I’m tired of pretending like I’m not what-the-fuckish—a total freaking model from Mars. I’ve got wildebeest blood, Apollo DNA! … They picked a fight with a Cthulhu. They’re trying to take all my feet and leave me with no means to deploy my family. It’s not radiology! They owe me an apology while grinding my hippocampus … I don’t think people are ready for the banana peel I’m delivering, and delivering with a sense of nefarious love. I exposed toasters to magic! Here’s your sputum test. Next one goes in your nasal passage!”

Freaky, right?  That bit about spitting up your nose is gross, but what concerns me is that he’s exposing toasters to magic.  You know what means?  That means the Cylons are coming.  We need to get out of here!

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