Sunday, December 28, 2014

Lazy Time Reblog Sunday: 365: A New Blog

Sorry for the late update. Again. I was busy putting together my new blog, 365. Suffice it to say, I did not accomplish items #1 or #2 from last year's New Year's resolution list. 365 is my last ditch attempt to force myself into being a healthier me. At the very least, I hope to amuse you with my fitness mishaps. Enjoy! God knows, I won't.
Over the next few months, this blog will reveal pictures of food and half naked pics of the author. It will contain witty and probably cynical observations about the diet and fitness industry. Hopefully, by January 1, 2016, it will reveal a thinner and much healthier version of the author.
No, this blog is not written by an exhibitionist hipster. It's written by someone who's been struggling with her weight since childhood. I made a few silly New Year's resolutions last year, five in all. Among the resolutions listed were promises to eat better and to exercise more. I'm now fifteen pounds heavier, so you can guess how well that went. I'd like to say the extra weight is muscle mass, but I'm not that delusional. More's the pity. In an effort to keep a god damned fitness related resolution, I'm starting this blog. The thinking behind this is that it will be easier to keep if I can see the progress.
My plan is to update weekly with progress reports regarding exercise routines as well as pictures of healthy food options I liked or didn't like and maybe some helpful tips I pick up along the way. There will also be a monthly posting of weight as well as a picture of me in shorts and a sports bra. Don't get too exited. Unless you find arm flaps attractive.
Eat your hearts out, boys.
I'll post my first weigh-in and picture sometime within the next few days. Until then, I'm going to pig out like there's no tomorrow. And if I can find a low cal version of a martini that doesn't taste like ass, I might get through this year without slitting a wrist.

Sunday, December 21, 2014

Lazy Time Reblog Sunday: The Oatmeal Explains Net Neutrality

I hate getting up on a soap box about anything. Mostly because it reminds me of exercise which I'm not too hot on, if that closet full of clothes that don't fit me anymore is any indication. Also, I don't feel I'm erudite enough to defend my beliefs to others who are probably much smarter than me. I have a reasonably good vocabulary (which includes the word erudite...yay, big words!), but I get tongue tied when I try to explain why I feel something is important like the existence of global warming even when it's freezing cold outside or how I seriously doubt the current or previous idiot running my country is the anti-Christ.
Unless he owns the company that makes Monster Energy drink. Apparently. (Insert eye roll here.)

One such hot button topic I feel strongly about is net neutrality. I'm very much for it, and for the most part, so is everyone else who isn't a telecom company. Unfortunately, telecoms have more money than me, and they've been spreading a lot of money around to conservative types in power. Spreading it like fertilizer. And I think we all know what's in fertilizer. Texas Senator Ted Cruz recently came out against net neutrality saying it was "Obamacare for the Internet". I'm not sure if Senator Cruz knows how the interwebs work, but I do know he likes money. And he's really good with bullshit. Just in case Senator Cruz's intentions are pure (cough, cough, trying not to laugh, cough) and he really doesn't understand what net neutrality is, Matthew Inman from the Oatmeal is here to set him straight with pictures just in case scary things like "words" give the good Senator trouble.
For his audacity, I've decided to dedicate this week's Lazy Time Reblog Sunday to Mr. Inman and his wonderful web comic. You can follow him on Twitter, Facebook, and of course, his web comic The Oatmeal. Also, feel free to buy lots and lots of his stuff in his online shop. I don't think he sells actual oatmeal, but that's okay. I'm not big on the stuff anyway.

Sunday, December 14, 2014

Lazy Time Reblog Sunday: Happy Agnostica!

Since today is the 14th of December, I'm just going to let this Lazy Time post be a reblog of a former reblog. Yes, I am THAT damn lazy. Enjoy and Happy Agnostica!
Lazy Time Reblog Sunday: Darren Bleuel's Nukees and a Happy Agnostica to us All!

As I may have mentioned in previous posts, I consider myself to be Agnostic. This is often viewed with more confusion than hostility from both the secular and non secular public. The response I usually get when telling them about my belief system is, “So…you’re an Atheist is what you’re saying, right?” And to this, I will usually reply: “No, no. Well, not exactly.” And then I spend the next thirty minutes to an hour trying to explain what it is I do and do not believe in.
Basically I believe in the possibility of a God or Gods, but I’m not going to give a definitive answer on the subject until I receive some concrete, empirical proof. Since this proof will probably only come after I die-and maybe not even then-I’m keeping my options open until that tragic day. Because of this, I don’t subscribe to any particular religion. Personally, I doubt God/Goddess/Other cares one way or another how I celebrate His/Her/Its existence. If God/Goddess/Other is a good God, He/She/It would be cool like that.
If they really did care, they would be a whole lot less subtle about the entire thing. At the very least they would advertise with some kind of product placement better than an indistinct image in a piece of toast or a vague PR stunt that doesn’t tell anyone to do anything specific except quench their thirst with a popular energy drink.
Linking this shit to Satan will totally make kids stop drinking it. Like, for reals.

In spite of my lack of religious leanings, I have no problem with Christians celebrating their own holidays publicly just so long as they let other belief systems do the same. It’s only fair. And although there are a lot of faiths out there and a lot of holidays in which to celebrate, I think the one I’d like to see more of is my personal favorite, Agnostica.

For those of you who have never heard of this wondrous holiday, Agnostica is described by Darren Bleuel, creator of the online comic Nukees and the holiday it spawned, as “the only truly secular winter solstice holiday”. It is a holiday that celebrates intellectualism, science, and ingenuity, as well as those who further the above ideals through their own works and inventions. Also, you get to dress up as your favorite scientist/inventor, pick a gift from the Random Bag of Fun, and drink mulled wine to your heart’s content, so you know it has to be good.

According to the Nukees Agnostica page, the holiday starts on December 14th (QM day) and has a half life of ten days. Whatever that means.

In honor of Agnostica and all things secular, I hereby dedicate this Lazy Time Reblog Sunday to Darren Bleuel. Please follow his comic here and a happy, happy Agnostica to us all!


Sunday, December 07, 2014

Lazy Time Reblog Sunday: Tea and Tomes Writer's Residency on GoFundMe

Three wondering bards seek funds to create a safe haven for writers in the New Orleans Marigny. It will be a bookstore, tea shop, and writer's residence. All they need is a bit a gold from a few generous donors, and possibly they need to include coffee on their menu. Because you just can't have writers without coffee.

Here's more from their page on GoFundMe:

$460 of 35k
Raised by 5 people in 6 days
Donate Now

Created December 1, 2014
Tim Raveling

Sunday, November 30, 2014

I Won NaNoWriMo 2014! Can I Ice My Wrist Now?

Okay people. I am spent. Stick a fork in me. I. Am. Done. I have finished my NaNoWriMo 50K submission, and all I can say is I don't remember it being half this hard last year or the year before that. Maybe it's because I pantsed it all the way this year. Maybe it's because I have more clients this year and have been over working my right wrist, which, I might add, is screaming for me to "Stop the madness! Stop it right now!!! I hate you!!!!!!"

My wrist is such a drama queen.

In spite of excruciating wrist pain and a lack of planning, I made my fifty thousand word limit just moments ago. I can finally go back to paying attention to my husband again. I plan to pay A LOT of attention to him this next coming month, if you know what I mean. Wink, wink. Nudge, nudge. And for those of you wondering what I won besides bragging rights and possible carpal tunnel surgery in the future, here you go:

Bam, Bitches!

Wednesday, November 26, 2014

A Very Thankful Karma Girl

Not pictured above: A cat? Also not pictured: A pilgrim cat.

It’s Thanksgiving time. A time when family and friends gather around the dinner table to eat far too much food, fight over politics, religion, or whatever bug Aunt Bertha Better Than You has up her butt, and to give thanks to those wonderful Native Americans whose land we totally stole right from under them. Tell me I’m wrong.

The origin of Thanksgiving is a tricky one to place. We were all taught the story of poor, misguided Squanto, the Wampanoag tribe, and the Plymouth Pilgrims they aided, but technically that so called first Thanksgiving Day dinner was more like a harvest celebration, and historians believe it was probably celebrated in September, anyway. It was a three day feast, so I’m hoping it was a rocking affair for everyone involved. Though I don't know how rocking it could have been what with the fact that it was celebrated by Puritans.

"Goody Putnam hast been in the 'apple cider' again."
"Think thee she wilst show her ankles?"

There were thanksgiving celebrations before Plymouth. The first known record of such an event was celebrated by the Spaniards in the early 16th century, way before the English came on the scene. What is know with any certainty is that our founding fathers-old white slave owners who broke away from the old country to avoid paying taxes, bless their hearts-issued several national days of thanksgiving, a tradition that started around 1782 and was renewed sporadically on various days in various locations. It was made an official Federal holiday in 1863 by Lincoln during the Civil War, mostly to unite the already divided country. Because nothing brings a country together like government approved gluttony.

This Thanksgiving, I have a lot to be thankful for. I know I bitch and moan quite a lot on this blog about my daily first world problems, but I know that I have a lot to be grateful for too. There have been bad times, but the good times have far outnumbered the bad, and I’m happy to share them with you. So, I’ve made a short list of things I am thankful for this year. Stolen land, not withstanding.

Five Things I am Grateful For

1. My Husband

He is my muse, my flame, and I hope I am his. And no, my vagina smells just fine, thanks for asking. We’ve been seeing each other since the late 90’s, and we were newly wed earlier this year in February. I have not always been as grateful as I should to have such a wonderful guy, but I am now, and I hope to be celebrating our anniversary for decades to come. Even if it means transplanting our brains into cybernetic bodies. Because that would just be so cool.

Like this only with more of the romance and less of the violence.

2. My Friends and Family

Who else can you complain to about life’s little hiccups but to the people who know you well enough to know that you’re probably blowing things way the hell out of proportion and are willing to call you on your shit. They’re also there when you really do need a shoulder to cry on or just want to share a good laugh and a few inside jokes. Like the goat on the roof, why there is such a thing as a salt water pool, and feeling it from your Haaaara! Most of you are scratching your heads over those last three statements, but the ones in the know are laughing their asses off, believe me. You know who you are.


3. My Job

After watching a non porn related video on how to give a massage, I got it into my brain that I could be a wonderful massage therapist if only I had the schooling. I was leery at first about changing careers considering the amount of biology courses I would have to take. I’m not science smart. I’m not really all that smart about a lot of things, but science has never been my forte. Still, I wanted to give it a shot, even if it meant failing miserably. I didn’t fail. I passed all my exams, I passed all the licensing and certification tests, and I went on to be-I hope-a bad ass massage therapist. I enjoy my current job much more than I did my job as a casino dealer. But then, I don’t get as many death threats, and spa clients are far less likely to meet you out in the parking lot if you don’t effleurage to their satisfaction. Unless it’s a pervert. But I guess that's what mace was invented for.

Pepper spray counts as aromatherapy, right? That shit'll cost ya extra.

4. My Health

Recently, I took a bit of a tumble and twisted my ankle. Of course, I griped about it to anyone who would listen, and even to some who really didn’t give a crap. Because complaining about trivial stuff to uninterested parties is just what I do best. It’s why I have a blog in the first place. That said, I consider myself lucky in the health department. I don’t eat as well as I should, and my exercise regiment consists of me walking the length it takes to get from my car to the elevator that will take me to the spa where I work. In spite of this, I don’t have any heart issues that I’m aware of, even though heart problems run in my family. I don’t have type II diabetes. Although I have a wrist that aches from time to time, the pain is currently manageable, and I don’t believe I’m at risk of having to find a new profession like a lot of massage therapists suffering from repetitive motion injuries. I’m reasonably healthy for my age. I am currently contemplating the future, however, because this bit of good fortune will not last for long. I’m thinking of starting a moderate exercise regiment and posting my results daily either via this blog or YouTube or both, just to have some form of accountability. That, and I’m thinking of joining OA. Yes, I admit I have a problem. I wonder if that counts as taking the first step.

Ha! I'm doomed.

5. Doomtown

I started this blog on June 10, 2005, almost ten years ago. It started out as nothing more than a sporadically updated journal consisting of me ranting about my job and life in general. Not much has changed, but I update more regularly-at least two posts a month for the past two years-and I think I have grown as a writer and as a person because of it. I look back at some of my past posts and wonder what the hell I was thinking. I want to reach out to that past version of myself, beat her senseless, and tell her which stocks to invest in and what numbers to pick for the lotto. Of course, if past me had become rich as Midas, I probably would have ended up as a far different person. But if future me is listening, I’m willing to take that risk. Hint, hint. Nudge, nudge.

I’m thinking of throwing some kind of party or maybe an online event type deal to celebrate Doomtown’s tenth birthday. If anyone has any ideas that won’t require my future self inventing a time machine and traveling through it with paradox inducing information, please leave suggestions in the comments below. And please feel free to follow here and on my Facebook and Twitter accounts. Just be aware, I’m always looking for new material for future posts. So if you’re planning to hit me up because you need, “help taking sperm out” and don’t want your perverted private conversation posted all the fuck over the internet, you’re better off not following me…Unless you are an inventor of a time machine. Then maybe we can work something out.

Sunday, November 23, 2014

NaNoWriMo Update: Taming the Muse

No Lazy Time post today. In its stead, please allow me to entertain you with this short excerpt from my NaNoWriMo submission. A little more humorous than the last piece I posted. Certainly, there's a lot less Hitler in it. This is a rough draft, so no hating. Enjoy!

Taming the Muse

“I really fucking hate you,” I said as I stared at the blank page on the computer screen for what seemed like an eternity. I had been trying to write this stupid story for days, but nothing was coming to me. Nothing. At this point, I would have made do with one line of a dirty limerick, but the words were stuck somewhere in the ether. The blank page stared back at me, mocking me with its crisp white surface.

“A piece of paper is an inanimate object, Emily my dear. It has no sentience, can not feel your ire, and therefore does not give a bloody crap what you think of it,” Grim said in that British Cockney accent I had thought was kind of cool when I first met him, but now just grated.

I glared at him. “I wasn’t talking to the blank page.”

Grim smirked at that and shrugged while taking a hit from his joint. “Touché.”

He was floating inches above the mattress of my bed in my crappy one room apartment, staring at the ceiling while smoking a joint. Every now and then he would blow smoke out of his nose and make rings, or a smiley face, or silly animal shapes. And he was listening to easy listening music. Fucking Kenny G, man. I mean, ugh! The music alone was screwing with my powers of concentration and the reefer smoke wasn’t helping much either.

“Why do you listen to that crap?” I asked waving away a smoky cloud that kind of looked like a deformed rabbit. “I thought you grunge types were into old fashioned alternative shit.”

“First of all, I’m Goth, not grunge,” he said primly. “Second, Kenny G makes me mellow, man. Like puppies and…and ocean waves and…fluffy white…what’s the word, Love?”


He snapped his fingers, “That’s the bunny.”

I rolled my eyes.

He wasn’t what you expected when you thought of the word “muse”. Most of the advertisements on television had gorgeous long haired men or women with eyes that looked right through you and ethereal voices that nearly made you weep from the mere joy of hearing them. Just being in the same room with them made you write whole novels in one setting, I had heard. Those were your top of the line models, of course. Nothing close to what my budget could afford.

And then there were the bargain basement muses like Grim. Tall and skinny, with scraggly dark hair that always seemed to need to be combed. He wore the same faded black trench coat, the same black t-shirt with holes in it with a band name I didn’t recognize that probably hadn’t played a gig since Nirvana was a thing. His nails were darkened with Manic Panic black nail polish that might have been cool in the mid-nineties, but was now just a pathetic grab for attention. His eyes didn’t see right through you, mostly because they were usually too red from drinking or smoking crap he shouldn’t. He was a walking, talking anachronism from a decade when writers just didn’t give a shit. Hell, half the stuff he came up with, I couldn’t even understand.

He wasn’t much to look at, but I had never really cared about that. I could care less if he was a card carrying member of the Trenchcoat Mafia-whatever the hell that was-or a gothed out little British shit and a lazy shit for all that. He could be a piece of freaking plywood for all I cared, just so long as he produced one goddamn idea worth writing about. He had been under contract as my muse for a full year, and I still hadn’t written a word. At least, nothing marketable.

“I don’t know why I ever took you on as a muse,” I said pushing the keyboard away from me in disgust.

“Because you’re broke and I came cheap.”

“Oh, yeah,” I said slumping down in my chair with a grimace. “I knew I should have listened to my mother when she told me not to go for that English degree. ‘Be a doctor,’ she said. ‘Be a lawyer,’ she said. Hell, she would have been okay if I had taken Funeral Science as my major. People die every day. At least I’d get paid.”

“Yeah!” Grim nodded as he took another hit and pointed at me. “Write about that.”

“Changing my major?” I said frowning. “Where’s the story in that?”

“Nah you dizzy bird! Write about some chick that takes Funeral Science as her major.”

I stared at him blankly. “And?”

He rolled his eyes. “Just make up a character. Have the character enroll in an embalming class or whatever is they do. Let the chips fall where they may, as you bloody Yanks say.”

“We don’t say that.”


He made a rude gesture and went back to contemplating the cosmos via the ceiling. He was levitating high enough now that his nose was practically touching it.

I got up from my desk and started pacing the room. I thought the idea over. It might work, but…

“No, no. That doesn’t help me! Where’s the plot?”

“Not my department, Love,” he said letting out another puff of fowl smelling smoke that made me choke. “I’m only under contract to give vague impressions of an idea. It’s up to you to come up with the meat of the story and to hammer out the details.”

“You got the vague part right, that’s for sure.” I made a rude noise. “Okay. Make a main character. Make a main character…We’ll make her a failed writer.”

“Will she look like you?”

I shot him an evil look, but that only made him laugh. Or the pot was really getting to him. “She’s a failed writer who goes back to school after her mother harasses her to find a job that actually pays real money.”

“Why Funeral Science, though?” he asked. “Why not a doctor or lawyer or taco sales woman or whatnot?”

I thought that one over. Why would she go? “It’s the family business. They own a funeral parlor that’s been in the family for generations. They’ve been hounding her to learn the ins and outs of the business for years. Now that she’s hit rock bottom and she needs to go back for school for something, her parents tell her they won’t put a dime towards her education unless she finally gives into fate and takes FS.”

Grim nodded. “That’s a cool character background. The Grimster likes.”

I smiled and sat back at my desk to type all this down before I forgot.

“Hey, maybe the funeral parlor is cursed or something?” he said, starting to come down from the ceiling to hover over my shoulder. “Haunted by the ghost of ancestors past or maybe the family patriarch made a deal with the devil that needs to be paid off by his daughter’s blood or sanity. Oh wait…” A huge shit eating grin spread over his face. “What if it’s not the devil?”

“Here we go,” I said with a sigh. I knew what was coming.

“What if it’s one of the Elder Gods? What if it’s…Cthulhu?”

It’s always Cthulhu with Grim. Jeeze.

I paused in my typing and gave him a skeptical look. “Another paranormal story? Seriously?”

“It’s what I’m good at.”

“Not good enough to get me published.”

“Straight drama is boring, Love,” Grim said waving off my reservations. “You wanna write the contemporary shit, you might as well get a boring job that pays well.”

“Like a taco sales woman?” I said raising an eyebrow.

He pointed his joint at me. “Don’t knock the profession, Love. Those blokes who own the food truck around the corner are the shit. They make good money and they spread deliciousness and joy where ever they go.”

“Uh huh,” I said not really in the mood to argue.
I was typing like a mad woman now. My creative juices were flowing again. I just hoped this story was delicious enough to get me paid.