Amy Lane's Blog: Writer's Lane, page 123
May 25, 2015
Movies
So, I watched a lot of movies this weekend.
So much I needed to do, so much I needed to do, and I was lucky if I could focus on a movie in front of me. If I was really on my game, I could knit and focus on the movie in front of me. Holy bats, crapman, I haven't been that sick in a long time.
This morning, I was determined to feel better. I was going to be a productive citizen, come out, do my job (and I've got a LOT of shit piled up on my old computer) and get shit done.
Mate heard me stumbling out of bed, after having spent part of another night sitting up in the living room chair so I wouldn't cough myself to death, and turned on In & Out. Now yes, as a gay romance writer, I am aware of all they got wrong back in 1997 when that movie was made, but as someone who was so happy to see gay representation in the media back in 1997, I am also aware of how much I adore that frickin' movie.
It was all about being happy with who you were. There was nothing wrong with any of them. They were all okay.
So that movie makes me happy, and the kiss between Tom Selleck and Kevin Kline is still unbelievably hot (it really was!) as was Tom Selleck's affectionate delivery.
"Oh my God-- you are pure television!"
"Stop it," Tom says modestly, with just a hint of swish. But we can tell he's pleased.
My heart melts.
And in addition to In & Out, this weekend I saw Mad Max: Fury Road, Tomorrowland, The Edge of Tomorrow (a favorite), three episodes of Daredevil, two episodes of Supernatural, and three back episodes of The Flash, Rambo II, War Games, and the final quarter of the playoffs between the Cleveland Cavaliers and Atlanta.
Ah, television.
I also read three old ghost stories-- one by Oscar Wilde and one by Edith Wharton (from a collection by Edith Wharton) and made some more headway on Rebecca.
And I even managed to knit.
So yeah-- not the most productive weekend, to tell the truth. But given that my coughing muscles are sort of screaming in agony if I so much as laugh, I'm going to cut my body a break and be grateful.
I am grateful that I feel better, that my Mate helped take care of me, and that my parents took my children somewhere so they didn't have to be closed up in our dusty old house all weekend. I am also grateful for green goop, because once again my parents tried to cook one of my redheaded children like chicken, and I am forever and eternally grateful for movies.
So is the cooked redhead--that's how she escaped the pain, with the help of the green goop, after she got home.
So much I needed to do, so much I needed to do, and I was lucky if I could focus on a movie in front of me. If I was really on my game, I could knit and focus on the movie in front of me. Holy bats, crapman, I haven't been that sick in a long time.
This morning, I was determined to feel better. I was going to be a productive citizen, come out, do my job (and I've got a LOT of shit piled up on my old computer) and get shit done.
Mate heard me stumbling out of bed, after having spent part of another night sitting up in the living room chair so I wouldn't cough myself to death, and turned on In & Out. Now yes, as a gay romance writer, I am aware of all they got wrong back in 1997 when that movie was made, but as someone who was so happy to see gay representation in the media back in 1997, I am also aware of how much I adore that frickin' movie.
It was all about being happy with who you were. There was nothing wrong with any of them. They were all okay.
So that movie makes me happy, and the kiss between Tom Selleck and Kevin Kline is still unbelievably hot (it really was!) as was Tom Selleck's affectionate delivery.
"Oh my God-- you are pure television!"
"Stop it," Tom says modestly, with just a hint of swish. But we can tell he's pleased.
My heart melts.
And in addition to In & Out, this weekend I saw Mad Max: Fury Road, Tomorrowland, The Edge of Tomorrow (a favorite), three episodes of Daredevil, two episodes of Supernatural, and three back episodes of The Flash, Rambo II, War Games, and the final quarter of the playoffs between the Cleveland Cavaliers and Atlanta.
Ah, television.
I also read three old ghost stories-- one by Oscar Wilde and one by Edith Wharton (from a collection by Edith Wharton) and made some more headway on Rebecca.
And I even managed to knit.
So yeah-- not the most productive weekend, to tell the truth. But given that my coughing muscles are sort of screaming in agony if I so much as laugh, I'm going to cut my body a break and be grateful.
I am grateful that I feel better, that my Mate helped take care of me, and that my parents took my children somewhere so they didn't have to be closed up in our dusty old house all weekend. I am also grateful for green goop, because once again my parents tried to cook one of my redheaded children like chicken, and I am forever and eternally grateful for movies.
So is the cooked redhead--that's how she escaped the pain, with the help of the green goop, after she got home.
May 24, 2015
Thank you, Ferris Buehler...
If you've been following me on Twitter/FB you probably know I've got con-chitis or con crud or the motherfuckin' plague. (No, Amy-- tell us how you really feel.)
I've ingested so much cold medicine at this point I've got stomach cramps. Which means A. I'm getting old, and B. Since I'm using less than the recommended dose of both kinds of medicine, I'm probably really sick.
Mate and I had a rather academic conversation about what drove me over the edge here--was it going to swim on Wednesday or taking ZB in for his T-Dap and his new Concerta prescription on Thursday. He's rooting for "Mom was doing too much too soon" and I'm rooting for "A pediatric medical practice makes a hotel in Dallas look like a recently bleached stainless steel sink in terms of germ mutation." Both of us decided it didn't matter. What mattered was that if I have another night like last night (wherein I slept sitting up in the living room while coughing so much that band of muscles around my ribs ache whenever breathe deeply, which I still can't do without coughing) I'm going to the doctors, which, if you know me, you know this is like my action of last resort. Some people are like, "Oh, a hangnail, I'm going to the doctor!" I'm like, "I can dump bactine on that and I'm not bleeding that badly." Four years ago, I fell down and probably gave my wrist a hairline fracture, and I just put up with that fucker in the pool for the next six months. Doctor? I don't need no stinking doctor.
Unless, well, you know.
I can't breathe anymore. Then I might call a doctor.
So anyway, when my mom called to take ZB and Squish out on a healthy jaunt to the lake, I was all for it. All we were going to do was take in a movie, and seriously. They didn't need to see Fury Road anyway. (I'm glad we didn't take them to see it. They're gonna grow up to be little psychopaths anyway.) But I needed to see Fury Road because AWESOME.
On the way to the movie theater, as Mate and I were debating whether I was well enough to go see it (because nobody likes to hack through a movie like a plague dog, right?) I realized I was having the following conversation in my head:
"I'm sick!"
"You're not sick!"
"I'm dying!"
"You're not dying! You just can't think of anything better to do. Now man up, take an aspirin, and come over here and pick me up!"
Yeah. Ferris Buehler, you're my hero. You got me out of the house and into the movie theater (where cold medicine B lasted just long enough to keep me from hacking up a lung during the movie!) And you kept me from lying on the bed instead of working, eyes open and glassy like a dead fish, wondering when my lungs were gonna stop working.
Cause nobody needs that, right?
Oh! Watch this space tomorrow-- there's a scavenger hunt that I still need the rules to, and I need to figure out wtf I'm doing. I may want to wait between cold medicines, because right now, it's pretty baffling.
Hopefully by tomorrow I'll have it figured out. Right now, I just need some ice and some water and some more Cold Medicine B.
I've ingested so much cold medicine at this point I've got stomach cramps. Which means A. I'm getting old, and B. Since I'm using less than the recommended dose of both kinds of medicine, I'm probably really sick.
Mate and I had a rather academic conversation about what drove me over the edge here--was it going to swim on Wednesday or taking ZB in for his T-Dap and his new Concerta prescription on Thursday. He's rooting for "Mom was doing too much too soon" and I'm rooting for "A pediatric medical practice makes a hotel in Dallas look like a recently bleached stainless steel sink in terms of germ mutation." Both of us decided it didn't matter. What mattered was that if I have another night like last night (wherein I slept sitting up in the living room while coughing so much that band of muscles around my ribs ache whenever breathe deeply, which I still can't do without coughing) I'm going to the doctors, which, if you know me, you know this is like my action of last resort. Some people are like, "Oh, a hangnail, I'm going to the doctor!" I'm like, "I can dump bactine on that and I'm not bleeding that badly." Four years ago, I fell down and probably gave my wrist a hairline fracture, and I just put up with that fucker in the pool for the next six months. Doctor? I don't need no stinking doctor.
Unless, well, you know.
I can't breathe anymore. Then I might call a doctor.
So anyway, when my mom called to take ZB and Squish out on a healthy jaunt to the lake, I was all for it. All we were going to do was take in a movie, and seriously. They didn't need to see Fury Road anyway. (I'm glad we didn't take them to see it. They're gonna grow up to be little psychopaths anyway.) But I needed to see Fury Road because AWESOME.
On the way to the movie theater, as Mate and I were debating whether I was well enough to go see it (because nobody likes to hack through a movie like a plague dog, right?) I realized I was having the following conversation in my head:
"I'm sick!"
"You're not sick!"
"I'm dying!"
"You're not dying! You just can't think of anything better to do. Now man up, take an aspirin, and come over here and pick me up!"
Yeah. Ferris Buehler, you're my hero. You got me out of the house and into the movie theater (where cold medicine B lasted just long enough to keep me from hacking up a lung during the movie!) And you kept me from lying on the bed instead of working, eyes open and glassy like a dead fish, wondering when my lungs were gonna stop working.
Cause nobody needs that, right?
Oh! Watch this space tomorrow-- there's a scavenger hunt that I still need the rules to, and I need to figure out wtf I'm doing. I may want to wait between cold medicines, because right now, it's pretty baffling.
Hopefully by tomorrow I'll have it figured out. Right now, I just need some ice and some water and some more Cold Medicine B.
May 22, 2015
Memes
Okay-- I pronounce it "me-mes" and my family pronounces it "meemzz" but either way you slice it, they're a fun way to communicate.
In the last couple of weeks, I've seen a few, uhm, ME-memes-- fans, supposed friends, that sort of thing, have made some memes for ME. Add to that a contest (that I still need to judge) in which people tried to amuse me with memes, and my own restless internet feed and, well…
I know what I'm doing when I'm sick.
Enjoy the ME-memes.
I know I did.
This first one was made by Rhae, who answered that age old question, "Where do all the mismatched socks go?"
These next were sent to me by my Italian fans-- bless you all. I love how they saw Deacon and Crick, don't you?
I have NO idea where I found this one-- but I adore it so much. It was on my phone, so if anyone knows the attribution, I'd be happy to post it!
This one was… well, painfully true. And I always loved that witch.
This one was on the contest that I held on FB yesterday (as was the one above, I think) and I just felt so bad for that little pug. Poor little rotter will never get to ride a broom.
I'd like to thank Rhae, my FB buddy for this one...
This one was just… well, also true!
Friend sent me this one. Also true.
Thanks, Mary my Mary. Thanks a lot.
And whoever came up with this one? It's like you live in my kitchen. Get out. Get out now. You're not doing any of the cleaning and I suspect you're eating my cookies.
Now I'm taking two Nyquil and going to bed. Actually, I should probably take two NyQuil while IN bed. That's probably safer. Night!
In the last couple of weeks, I've seen a few, uhm, ME-memes-- fans, supposed friends, that sort of thing, have made some memes for ME. Add to that a contest (that I still need to judge) in which people tried to amuse me with memes, and my own restless internet feed and, well…
I know what I'm doing when I'm sick.
Enjoy the ME-memes.
I know I did.
This first one was made by Rhae, who answered that age old question, "Where do all the mismatched socks go?"
These next were sent to me by my Italian fans-- bless you all. I love how they saw Deacon and Crick, don't you?
I have NO idea where I found this one-- but I adore it so much. It was on my phone, so if anyone knows the attribution, I'd be happy to post it!
This one was… well, painfully true. And I always loved that witch.
This one was on the contest that I held on FB yesterday (as was the one above, I think) and I just felt so bad for that little pug. Poor little rotter will never get to ride a broom.
I'd like to thank Rhae, my FB buddy for this one...
This one was just… well, also true!
Friend sent me this one. Also true.Thanks, Mary my Mary. Thanks a lot.
And whoever came up with this one? It's like you live in my kitchen. Get out. Get out now. You're not doing any of the cleaning and I suspect you're eating my cookies.
Now I'm taking two Nyquil and going to bed. Actually, I should probably take two NyQuil while IN bed. That's probably safer. Night!
May 21, 2015
Thursday
Things that happen on the Thursday after a con--
* My shit usually arrives via post. Huzzah! The kids get presents!
* I have to remind my husband--yet again-- that if he forces me into the social whirlwind, I will hate everybody, including him. Especially him.
* Yes, Francine, you still have to cook.
* Because if you don't, your entire family will sit and stare at the television and wonder why no food go, and then cook pizza bites in the microwave at nine at night because that's quick.
* SOMEBODY inevitably has a doctor's appointment/vet appointment/dentist appointment. Never fuckin' fails.
* I have a surprise blog post/FB appearance/Twitter takeover scheduled. Surprise!
* I recognize the need to go grocery shopping when I do not yet have the wherewithal to pick out clean underwear that fits.
* I forget that I got all ambitious the day before and started laundry.
* I pray for rain so I don't have to go into aqua tomorrow, and yet I might not feel like a many-hundred-pound banana slug, leaving a trail of slime around the house.
* I hope that yes, I can jump back into the editing/writing/promoting groove, because I ALWAYS have a deadline.
* I eat too much. Don't ask me why.
* And here's the kicker-- I get sick. Bronchitis, fever, stomach bug-- something. Always hits the Thursday after I get home.
* Happy Thursday!
* Now everybody join me and pray for rain!
* My shit usually arrives via post. Huzzah! The kids get presents!
* I have to remind my husband--yet again-- that if he forces me into the social whirlwind, I will hate everybody, including him. Especially him.
* Yes, Francine, you still have to cook.
* Because if you don't, your entire family will sit and stare at the television and wonder why no food go, and then cook pizza bites in the microwave at nine at night because that's quick.
* SOMEBODY inevitably has a doctor's appointment/vet appointment/dentist appointment. Never fuckin' fails.
* I have a surprise blog post/FB appearance/Twitter takeover scheduled. Surprise!
* I recognize the need to go grocery shopping when I do not yet have the wherewithal to pick out clean underwear that fits.
* I forget that I got all ambitious the day before and started laundry.
* I pray for rain so I don't have to go into aqua tomorrow, and yet I might not feel like a many-hundred-pound banana slug, leaving a trail of slime around the house.
* I hope that yes, I can jump back into the editing/writing/promoting groove, because I ALWAYS have a deadline.
* I eat too much. Don't ask me why.
* And here's the kicker-- I get sick. Bronchitis, fever, stomach bug-- something. Always hits the Thursday after I get home.
* Happy Thursday!
* Now everybody join me and pray for rain!
May 20, 2015
Today's Recap
Big Accomplishment: Working out and having five minutes of lunch with Mate
After School Chore: Taking Squish to dance class. For once, getting there early.
Big surprise: I have a head cold, and could literally sit for hours, knit, and catch up to SPN. (Btw, I'm still a few eps behind. Nobody spoil it for me, kk?)
Most grown-up thing I did: Tell Mate I couldn't go to the concert he's presently attending, because thousands of people is too big for me right now.
Most juvenile thing I did today: bought a Starbuck's sugar cookie and ate the whole thing
Best thing I did professionally: Started back on Winter Ball again.
Worst thing I did professionally: Fought the urge to break into an FB conversation. Someone tagged me (which shows up in my mailbox--it's how I know to go to FB and tell people thank you if they've said something nice) while bagging on me as a writer. Bad. Fucking. Form. I bravely ignored her but the fact that I was tempted to reply means I'm not as grownup as I should be.
REALLY the worst thing I did professionally: Mention the FB tagging thing in public at all. I'm a little sick-- forgive me.
Best thing I did as a parent: Remembered to make my son's appointment for his meds.
Worst thing I did as a parent: Forgot I needed to make his TDAP appointment too.
Most unexpected thing: Friend is having a cancer scare-- did not expect that.
Most expected thing: Noodle night! Hurray for not cooking!
Pleasantest surprise: Reading Daphne Du Maurier's Rebecca is reminding me what it was like to read romance as a teenager again. I used to love Mary Stewart and Phyllis A. Whitney-- Rebecca was like their godmother--came first and magically blessed.
Unpleasantest surprise: Just because you dodge out of the way to let an ambulance through does not mean people let you back in. Fuckheads.
Promo I almost forgot: I'm taking over the Keith Milano Facebook Event tomorrow at 1p.m. PST (or 4 p.m. EST) I'll try to have some giveaways (although swag is sort of thin on the ground right now-- all given away for RT!) and something fun to talk about. (Right now I've got the beauty of Sudafed, which I would like to experience.) Look for me HERE at 1 p.m..
Thing I'd like to do before I fall asleep: Write-- it's supposed to be my principle occupation, you know.
After School Chore: Taking Squish to dance class. For once, getting there early.
Big surprise: I have a head cold, and could literally sit for hours, knit, and catch up to SPN. (Btw, I'm still a few eps behind. Nobody spoil it for me, kk?)
Most grown-up thing I did: Tell Mate I couldn't go to the concert he's presently attending, because thousands of people is too big for me right now.
Most juvenile thing I did today: bought a Starbuck's sugar cookie and ate the whole thing
Best thing I did professionally: Started back on Winter Ball again.
Worst thing I did professionally: Fought the urge to break into an FB conversation. Someone tagged me (which shows up in my mailbox--it's how I know to go to FB and tell people thank you if they've said something nice) while bagging on me as a writer. Bad. Fucking. Form. I bravely ignored her but the fact that I was tempted to reply means I'm not as grownup as I should be.
REALLY the worst thing I did professionally: Mention the FB tagging thing in public at all. I'm a little sick-- forgive me.
Best thing I did as a parent: Remembered to make my son's appointment for his meds.
Worst thing I did as a parent: Forgot I needed to make his TDAP appointment too.
Most unexpected thing: Friend is having a cancer scare-- did not expect that.
Most expected thing: Noodle night! Hurray for not cooking!
Pleasantest surprise: Reading Daphne Du Maurier's Rebecca is reminding me what it was like to read romance as a teenager again. I used to love Mary Stewart and Phyllis A. Whitney-- Rebecca was like their godmother--came first and magically blessed.
Unpleasantest surprise: Just because you dodge out of the way to let an ambulance through does not mean people let you back in. Fuckheads.
Promo I almost forgot: I'm taking over the Keith Milano Facebook Event tomorrow at 1p.m. PST (or 4 p.m. EST) I'll try to have some giveaways (although swag is sort of thin on the ground right now-- all given away for RT!) and something fun to talk about. (Right now I've got the beauty of Sudafed, which I would like to experience.) Look for me HERE at 1 p.m..
Thing I'd like to do before I fall asleep: Write-- it's supposed to be my principle occupation, you know.
May 19, 2015
Little Things I've learned...
Over the years I've learned little tiny bits about the wide world from reading. Examples?
A loo is a toilet
Football is soccer
Surgery can be a noun
Theater can be spelled Theatre
Recognize can be spelled Recognise
"Hard put-upon" is an expression.
So is "Hoist with his own petard."
Kerchief = Handkerchief
Exchequer is really a thing!
Water closets aren't just a closet for water.
Loos, water closets, and toilets have been around since Egyptian days.
Cigarettes can come in cases.
Smoking can be a sign of gentility and not just rednecks talking in a garage.
Sometimes underwear has to be rinsed out and hung up and not just thrown in the washing machine.
Sex actually happened before marriage in the old days too.
Tiny expressions and mannerisms can indicate a change of mood.
Culture can inform prose.
Socially ethnic culture can inform prose in colorful ways.
We shouldn't weed out socially ethnic culture from our prose.
Because it's more interesting that way.
-- so, interactive time--
What's your favorite "exotic" spelling or fact that you've picked up from reading?
A loo is a toilet
Football is soccer
Surgery can be a noun
Theater can be spelled Theatre
Recognize can be spelled Recognise
"Hard put-upon" is an expression.
So is "Hoist with his own petard."
Kerchief = Handkerchief
Exchequer is really a thing!
Water closets aren't just a closet for water.
Loos, water closets, and toilets have been around since Egyptian days.
Cigarettes can come in cases.
Smoking can be a sign of gentility and not just rednecks talking in a garage.
Sometimes underwear has to be rinsed out and hung up and not just thrown in the washing machine.
Sex actually happened before marriage in the old days too.
Tiny expressions and mannerisms can indicate a change of mood.
Culture can inform prose.
Socially ethnic culture can inform prose in colorful ways.
We shouldn't weed out socially ethnic culture from our prose.
Because it's more interesting that way.
-- so, interactive time--
What's your favorite "exotic" spelling or fact that you've picked up from reading?
May 18, 2015
Let there be dogs!
May 17, 2015
The Rain Song
So… in the past two days there has been…* A book signing (*waves*) in which I spoke to one of my idols, but she seemed very shy so I'm gonna sort of keep that private, and a WHOLE LOT of really nice fans!
* The Fantastic Day Party (I may have a headshot from that-- stay tuned!) during which all of my DSP peeps dressed up and looked dreamy and some really tremendous authors all mingled.
* A trip to Ellen's Southern Kitchen for dinner with Rayna, Kate, J.A. Rock, Wade Kelly, and Joyfully Jay (was yummy!)
* A bar conversation with Eloisa James. (Some of you just swooned, don't lie-- she's splendid in person!)* A bartime conversation with Sandra Lake-- a new author with more chutzpah than you can pack in a suitcase. If you like het historical fantasy, check her out.
* Brunch with Jen, a fan, who apparently talks to strangers even more than I do! I adored her-- ADORED her. She presented me with some Texas Bluebonnet colored Madeleine Tosh-- I was TICKLED. Honestly, Jen reminded me of why I write, why I write people that I think I'd admire, and why I don't take the easy way out sometimes. Sometimes, we need to read about the hard way out-- even adorable happy tremendous fantastic people who bring me yarn need to read that. So Jen, remember that Cory and Quickening are coming.
* And after brunch with Jen we came back to the hotel and I said goodbye to my con buddies-- Rayna Vauss, Tere Michaels, Damon Suede and Kate MacMurray (if you don't think I'm name dropping, you need to go to amazon and see for yourself!) Also caught Christopher Rice and got to say goodbye to him-- it's been a good con for people! (I missed saying goodbye to Andrew Grey though-- :-/)
* In the middle of goodbyes, Elizabeth called me and asked me if I wanted to go shopping and out to dinner with my favorite peoples--Connie, Ariel, Nicki, and Elizabeth herself.
* We had a stunning time. Elizabeth, Ariel, and I got lost at The Yarn Fairy, and when we found ourselves, we all had the same yarn (in different colors) for a lovely stole, simply made. One of my memories, to be treasured always (and I regret I didn't catch it in a picture) is of Elizabeth and Ariel sitting on the floor of the yarn store, too eager to cast on to their new projects to even wait for a chair.
* When we were done we went to the Skecher's store, where I replaced my completely worn Stretchies (which did me proud this week!) with a lovely pair of flip-flops with memory foam. Ah, feet that breathe.
* When we were done with that, we went to Korean BBQ… Which was awesome. However, do you sense the exhaustion here?
Yeah…
Remember that scene at the end of The Avengers, where they're all eating Schwarma?
That.
We're all done. Not a one of us doesn't want to be home. Goodbye, Dallas-- it's been swell, but I want to get home and start knitting some of this.
After I hug my family, of course. For about a week or twelve.
So I'm going to leave you with two things-- the first is this scene from Almost Famous.
And the second is this classic Led Zeppelin Riff…
Cause I think you'll get the idea.
May 15, 2015
The picture post...
I am having a good day here--Dreamspinner did it's Apples-to-Apples game-- went well! Damon Suede, Tere Michaels, Kate McMurray, Rayna Vauss and a lot of other people awesome people all did the Wheel of Romance-- also, went very well. But after that and lunch, we were a little tired (except Damon, who is probably still dancing) and we wanted to unwind.
So we had a drink or two, and some dinner and another drink, and we bullshitted and had a really good time. It was sort of cool-- I think they filmed the Amazing Race in Dallas this week, and today they rappelled down the tower next to the hotel. They were having that party in the bar too-- so fun times!In general, after a lot of running around (much of which I haven't even hinted here because it will make you tired) there was camaraderie and general good will.
Huzzah!And on the other side of the world, Mate was making Russian tea cakes and pirogi for Zoomboy's Russia presentation and report, to sell for the annual PTA fundraiser.
I have pictures, but I missed being there in person-- a lot.
And I didn't even know how much, right? Because we're all so busy.
But today, I was packing my swag up from the swag room, and I got to the bottom of the box that arrived today. Mate had to send me some swag and my banner, and it was a big hairy deal, and I was so grateful that he could do that for me. Anyway, so I made sure there weren't any pins in the bottom of the box, and then I found my mouse.
See-- when I packed up my computer, I remembered the mouse receiver that goes in the port, but I forgot the mouse. My touchpad occasionally goes on the fritz, so the mouse was just the better way to go.
And I saw the mouse, and was reminded again at my husband's thoughtfulness, and that he had the kids today at Open House, and that I wasn't going to be there.And I cried.
And that's when I suggested we go for a drink afterwards.
Which was probably a good call. Because geez, I'm so sorry I missed this.
May 14, 2015
And Then God Made the Uhnniks...
It never fails.
I attract ancient mariners-- you know the kind? Once, working late night at McDonalds, I was one of two people in the restaurant who got to talk to Jesus Christ.
My friend runs out, high on crank, and shakes hands with the customer in the white terry cloth robe with the long beard and the piercing blue eyes.
"Hi!" she said. "My name is Carrie-- what's you're name?"
"My name is Jesus Christ."
And I think, We should probably get this guy out of here. It's very late.
So I say, "Would like like a cup of coffee, Mr. Christ?"
"No, I was just going to go through your trash."
"You should know we compact our garbage."
"Thank you, that's kind of you to tell me."
So there you go. Me and Jesus. We're solid like that.
Anyway-- I was at the ARe cocktail party which was splendid--lovely nosh and fun people and they didn't mind giving me cranberry juice and soda, because I hadn't eaten and I didn't want to get drunk.
Anne Tenino and I had to get back early, so we shared a cab with Damon, T.A. Chase, and Devon Rhodes-- and I love all these people, so fun, right? Except I'm the big girl in the front.
And the driver starts talking.
"This here, this is where they shot Jack Ruby."
"Wow! That's good to know."
The car idles at the stoplight for another minute.
"And that's the sixth floor of the depository."
"Wow!"
"And that's the grassy knoll. Did you know about that from school?"
"Yessir, they taught us about that."
"Good. That's where Kennedy was shot."
"I know sir."
And in the background, Damon is getting very animated about planning an event with everyone in the car but me, remember me? I'm the one talking to the white-bearded cabbie with the red and white star-spangled sequined cowboy hat.
Damon says, "I can teach character classes and sex classes and point of view classes…"
And my cab driver says, "Sex classes?"
"Yes sir, we're all writers."
"What kind of writers? Like articles?"
"No sir, we're romance writers."
"And he teaches sex classes?"
"Well, we all write gay romance-- sex classes help us do our job better."
Yes. Yes I did say that to the man with the red and white star-spangled sequined cowboy hat, why do you ask?
Anyway…
"Sex classes?"
"Yes sir."
"And you all write… gay romance?"
"Yes sir."
There was a pause.
"So, like men like to think of two girls together…?"
"That's the idea."
"Oh."
And another silence, and we turn into the street where the hotel is.
Then-- "YOu know, not many people know about the passage in the Bible, Mark someutz, where Jesus says God made gay people."
I'm a little non-plussed. "No, but I do know about the passage in Luke where Jesus agrees to heal the Centurion's erastes pais, which was the slave who was the male lover of a member of the Roman legion. The Centurion was frantic-- he loved his erastes pais and he knew he could be beheaded for asking Jesus for help. He said, 'Please, come to my home and see it's a good home.' Jesus didn't need to come to his home-- he knew that there was love there so he healed the slave.'"
The cab driver was unimpressed.
"Yeah, but in Mark, Jesus said God made the Uhnniks."
Me: 0.0 "Uhm, the--"
"You know, the Uhnniks? Them people who were supposed to be gay cause they were made that way… down there?"
Me: 0.0 "Uhm… the eunuchs? Cause, God didn't make those people, they were slaves who were castrated at birth."
Cab driver: "Nope. Some of them just came out that way, and Jesus said that God made the Uhnniks, and we had to be nice to them too. That'll be $17.95."
I gave him $25-- because seriously, he may have taken the wrong path, but at least he caught the part where we were supposed to be nice to everybody.
Poor Uhnniks.
But we get out of the cab, and everybody is talking about exciting writer things, and I'm like, "Did you people… ugh… did you hear… you're talking craft and I'm talking motherfuckin' Uhnniks…"
Damon pats me on the shoulder. "That's okay dear. We all know it's going to end up in a story somewhere."
MOtherfuckin' Uhnniks. Poor, poor me.
I attract ancient mariners-- you know the kind? Once, working late night at McDonalds, I was one of two people in the restaurant who got to talk to Jesus Christ.
My friend runs out, high on crank, and shakes hands with the customer in the white terry cloth robe with the long beard and the piercing blue eyes.
"Hi!" she said. "My name is Carrie-- what's you're name?"
"My name is Jesus Christ."
And I think, We should probably get this guy out of here. It's very late.
So I say, "Would like like a cup of coffee, Mr. Christ?"
"No, I was just going to go through your trash."
"You should know we compact our garbage."
"Thank you, that's kind of you to tell me."
So there you go. Me and Jesus. We're solid like that.
Anyway-- I was at the ARe cocktail party which was splendid--lovely nosh and fun people and they didn't mind giving me cranberry juice and soda, because I hadn't eaten and I didn't want to get drunk.
Anne Tenino and I had to get back early, so we shared a cab with Damon, T.A. Chase, and Devon Rhodes-- and I love all these people, so fun, right? Except I'm the big girl in the front.
And the driver starts talking.
"This here, this is where they shot Jack Ruby."
"Wow! That's good to know."
The car idles at the stoplight for another minute.
"And that's the sixth floor of the depository."
"Wow!"
"And that's the grassy knoll. Did you know about that from school?"
"Yessir, they taught us about that."
"Good. That's where Kennedy was shot."
"I know sir."
And in the background, Damon is getting very animated about planning an event with everyone in the car but me, remember me? I'm the one talking to the white-bearded cabbie with the red and white star-spangled sequined cowboy hat.
Damon says, "I can teach character classes and sex classes and point of view classes…"
And my cab driver says, "Sex classes?"
"Yes sir, we're all writers."
"What kind of writers? Like articles?"
"No sir, we're romance writers."
"And he teaches sex classes?"
"Well, we all write gay romance-- sex classes help us do our job better."
Yes. Yes I did say that to the man with the red and white star-spangled sequined cowboy hat, why do you ask?
Anyway…
"Sex classes?"
"Yes sir."
"And you all write… gay romance?"
"Yes sir."
There was a pause.
"So, like men like to think of two girls together…?"
"That's the idea."
"Oh."
And another silence, and we turn into the street where the hotel is.
Then-- "YOu know, not many people know about the passage in the Bible, Mark someutz, where Jesus says God made gay people."
I'm a little non-plussed. "No, but I do know about the passage in Luke where Jesus agrees to heal the Centurion's erastes pais, which was the slave who was the male lover of a member of the Roman legion. The Centurion was frantic-- he loved his erastes pais and he knew he could be beheaded for asking Jesus for help. He said, 'Please, come to my home and see it's a good home.' Jesus didn't need to come to his home-- he knew that there was love there so he healed the slave.'"
The cab driver was unimpressed.
"Yeah, but in Mark, Jesus said God made the Uhnniks."
Me: 0.0 "Uhm, the--"
"You know, the Uhnniks? Them people who were supposed to be gay cause they were made that way… down there?"
Me: 0.0 "Uhm… the eunuchs? Cause, God didn't make those people, they were slaves who were castrated at birth."
Cab driver: "Nope. Some of them just came out that way, and Jesus said that God made the Uhnniks, and we had to be nice to them too. That'll be $17.95."
I gave him $25-- because seriously, he may have taken the wrong path, but at least he caught the part where we were supposed to be nice to everybody.
Poor Uhnniks.
But we get out of the cab, and everybody is talking about exciting writer things, and I'm like, "Did you people… ugh… did you hear… you're talking craft and I'm talking motherfuckin' Uhnniks…"
Damon pats me on the shoulder. "That's okay dear. We all know it's going to end up in a story somewhere."
MOtherfuckin' Uhnniks. Poor, poor me.
