L.T. Vargus's Blog, page 10
June 28, 2015
I’m not a poser, you’re a poser, poser!
Epiphany of the day: being called a poser only bothers you if you are, in fact, a poser.
Second epiphany of the day: the only people that would call someone a poser are the ones that would be bothered by being called a poser.
See what I did there?
Seriously though, does anyone actually still use the term ‘poser?’ When you graduate from high school, you should graduate from that word.
To be clear, no one called me a poser. I saw someone else getting upset about being called a poser. And it bothers me that they care.
I think I make too many fart jokes to ever be called a poser. What’s the opposite of a poser? An anti-social weirdo? I think I’m that.
And you know what? I retract my former statement about graduating from the word ‘poser.’ Here’s why: if you’re over 25, then you should have no use for it. If you are under 25, then it’s only hilarious and ironic to call someone a poser, because I’m pretty sure all young people are posers.
That’s right. I’m pulling my old lady card. #dealwithit
I should write a self help book called Zen and the Art of Not Giving a Fuck.
June 24, 2015
The Saga of the Stinky Shampoo by L.T. Vargus
I wasn’t completely satisfied with the scent of my eco-friendly-cruelty-free-insufferable-hippie shampoo. Also the store quit carrying it. So I decided to order it on Amazon. I noticed that they had Herbal and Tea Tree. Tea Tree was the one that had not impressed me.
And I should clarify right now: the Tea Tree was fine. It just wasn’t the Delicious Gummy Bear scent that most shampoos seem to aim for.
So I says to myself, I says, “Herbal? I like herbs.” It mentions chamomile, thyme, lavender. I like all of these things.
Some of the Amazon reviews state that it is quite potent smelling. Some love. Some hate. I say to myself, “I’m not picky.”
I don’t know why I lied to myself like this. If I am picky about one thing, it is scents. I have never been a perfume wearer, because after 2 hours of being in a cloud of any scent, I want to peel my own skin off.
But I told myself the lie. And I bought three bottles of the Herbal scent. Because THE SAVINGS!!!
Let me tell you about the smell of this shampoo. In the shower it smells like someone bombed your bathroom with Grandma Smell. If you’re familiar with the scent of Sweetheart soap, it is that times one kajillion. And that’s not even the worst part.
No, my friends, the worst part is that once the granny smell fades, you’re left with lovely base notes of patchouli. Vile hippie stink.
I may sometimes walk the hippie walk and talk the hippie talk, but I’ve never developed a taste of patchouli. In fact, it’s definitely up there on my Most Hated Fragrances List. And I do have such a list. (But I’m not picky, remember?)
This morning Tim sniffed my head and said, “You smell like an exceptionally clean hippie.” So I only have that reaction to look forward to for the next year or so.
The moral of the story: never buy anything smelly in bulk if you can’t test-smell first.
Also, if you want to smell like a very clean aging hippie, grab yourself a few bottles of Nature’s Gate Herbal Shampoo.
June 21, 2015
A whiter shade of pale
In high school, my friends peer pressured me into going tanning. They wouldn’t listen to me when I told them, “I don’t tan, I burn.”
My friend goes in for like 40 minutes. She comes out all gold and bronze-y and perfect.
I go in for 15 minutes and come out red as a fucking lobster.
They were quite amused.
Aside from the tanning-doesn’t-happen-for-pale-weirdos thing, what also put me off was the whole sweaty-and-naked-on-a-sheet-of-glass part. It’s a gross feeling by itself, but when you think about all the other greased up nude bodies that have been there before you… Just thinking about it makes me want to dry heave.
June 18, 2015
Watch out for falling squirrels
Thinking back on my childhood injuries, I’m surprised my parents didn’t force me to wear a helmet.
Age 7: Rode a sled over a retaining wall… backwards. Knocked out my front tooth.
Age 10: Ran full speed into a giant rock while playing tag with my brother and my cousin. Broke my hand.
Age 11: Ran over my own foot with my bike… while I was sitting on it. (HOW?) Broke my toe.
As accident prone as I was, my brother holds the record for most bizarre childhood injury: a squirrel fell out of a tree and landed on his head. He had three perfect scratch marks running down the side of his face all summer.
His first response post-squirrel was to scream at me, because he thought I threw something at him. In fairness, if the roles had been reversed, I probably would have assumed the same. Because no one ever suspects the flying squirrel.
And in case you’re worried about the squirrel, the fall knocked him out for a few minutes, but eventually he woke up and scurried away. He fell from a pretty good height, so there’s a chance my brother’s (giant) head broke his fall and saved his life.
(Completely random memory after all of this squirrel-talk: when I was in 9th grade, I had to do a report on an animal for my science class. The teacher told the class that it was probably a good idea for the first step in our research to be learning how to correctly spell our animal’s name. Apparently he’d received a report the prior year on “Sqwerls.” Good thing I already knew how to spell “Elephant.”)
June 15, 2015
My roommate was a serial killer
When I first met my dorm mate my freshman year of college, I had no idea she was a murderer.
She’d hold her victims captive for months, slowly starving them to death.
They were goldfish, but still.
My point is, there comes a time when you can’t stand by and let these atrocities just keep happening.
So I kidnapped her last fish. I left a ransom note made from cut-up magazine pages and told her one of her friends took the fish.
When she returned to the room, post-fish-napping, things went a little something like this…
HER: Which friend? What did she look like?
ME: I don’t know… brown hair, average height.
HER: Did she have big teeth?
ME: Yes.
(Pro-tip: When describing a made-up person to someone, always agree with whatever features/descriptors they suggest.)
I named the fish Ramona and had her for like 4 years after that. I never told the roommate that I did it. We moved out at the end of the year and never saw each other again.
June 2, 2015
Back in Black
New book! Excitement! Fervor!
For the next 48 hours, Back in Black, the fourth book in the Awake in the Dark series will be $2.99.
Here are the links:
By Thursday evening the price will go up to $4.99, so grab this baby while it’s hot off of the press. It tastes better while it’s still warm.
May 8, 2015
Giveaway winners
Congrats to GT, Jessica, JH, Nora, and Kerry! Each of these lucky bastards just won a signed paperback! WOOHOO!
If you’re asking yourself, “WHAT GIVEAWAY?” then that means you aren’t in our Reader’s Group. Join now so you don’t miss out on our next contest!
April 30, 2015
Odd Jobs
Every time someone checks out my blog, they point out that I wrote “Why Being an Indie Author is Awesome Part 1″, and they ask, “Where’s part 2?” And then I make excuses about being shit at blogging.
Today I had a nasty case of Twitter-diarrhea… you know, when you tweet what you think is just going to be a stand-alone tweet… MAYBE two, but no. It turns into a huge explosion of more like 20 tweets.
Anyway, it occurred to me that maybe those 20 tweets should have been a blog post. And then I said, fuck it. I do plenty of things backwards. Why not blog backwards? So here’s a new experiment in blogging: a post reverse-engineered from a series of tweets.
Jobs I’ve had: ice cream scooper at a Halloween themed souvenir shop. We had a “build your own sundae” bar where the toppings were displayed in a real antique casket.
The toppings all had cutesy Halloweeny names. The marshmallow goo was Ghost Poop. We had Hershey’s syrup dyed red that we called Dracula’s Favorite. Peanuts were bone chips. Crushed oreos were Grave Dirt. Mini chocolate chips were Bat Droppings.
There was marshmallow goo dyed green… but I can’t remember what we called it. Troll snot? Pineapple = fruit guts, strawberries = bat hearts. Our boss would yell at us if we asked if they wanted pineapple and strawberries. We HAD to say “fruit guts and bat hearts.”
Our special item was an elaborate banana split called a “Grave Digger”. We had to cut the bananas up to look like a skeleton. Spoiler alert: the bananas NEVER ended up looking like a skeleton.
The best part of the ice cream shop was that it was DEAD most of the time. I read so many books that summer and got paid for it. Plus, all you can eat gummy worms.
Jobs I’ve had (continued): supermarket deli bitch. Officially my worst job. Worst task: emptying the deep fryer grease and taking it back to this giant dumpster filled with literally hundreds of gallons of old oil.
I always worried I was going to open that grease dumpster and find a body floating in it. Don’t ask why.
I guess it seemed like a good place to dispose of a body. Good luck getting any fibers or prints after it’s been bathing in chicken grease!
There was a silver lining to the vats of fryer grease, because the best part of the deli was the all you can eat chicken fingers, fresh from the fryer.
There was a customer that came into the deli every Saturday. She bought 2 “well done” rotisserie chickens. One for her, one for her cat.
And I thought my cats were spoiled.
We would actually leave the two in the oven extra long just for her because she really wanted them well done.
My next job was at Joann Fabric. I can sum up that experience in two words: Corporate assholes.
Training at Joann = watch a video about how if you cut just one extra inch of fabric for a customer, it costs the company millions. Meanwhile I’m watching the video thinking, “Pay me more than minimum wage and maybe I’d give a fuck about your profit margins.”
My last “real job” was the best one: nurse extern on a locked psychiatric ward. It’s the only job I sometimes miss.
My employment history pretty much sums me up: Halloween, ice cream, food, fabric, acute psych issues.
April 29, 2015
Awake in the Dark
Big news! Red on the Inside (Book 3 in the Awake in the Dark series) is here! Wahoo!
It’s live on Amazon in both Kindle and paperback format. It’s also available on Amazon UK, iBooks, Barnes & Noble, and Kobo.
Even better, you can get the first three books in the series for a reduced price with the Awake in the Dark Box Set:
The box set is also live on The Awake in the Dark Series - Books 1-3 (The Awake in the Dark Series Box Set)
Amazon, Amazon UK, iBooks, Barnes & Noble, and Kobo.
April 12, 2015
My Crackpot ASoIaF/GoT Theory: Who’s Your Daddy Edition
I have a theory about the “end game” of Game of Thrones. Technically, these are not spoilers.
However, if hearing someone speculate about the end of a story would ruin it for you, stop reading.
I mean it. Stop. DUDE! Why are you still reading?
There have been references throughout the series to the three-headed dragon. My theory is that the three heads represent Daenarys Targaryen, Jon Snow, and Tyrion Lannister.
Now you’re thinking, “Big fucking deal! I already thought of that.”
LET ME FINISH.
These three characters share quite a few similarities- including the fact that each other their mothers died while giving birth to them.
But the real thing that links the three is that they share a father: Aerys Targargyen aka The Mad King.
BOOM!
Let’s start with Jon. “Most” readers probably don’t accept the explanation of Jon being Ned Stark’s bastard.
I mean, Ned is Mr. Goody Two Shoes. Ned Stark cheating on his wife is about as likely as Tywin Lannister making it rain gold coins on some peasants (although that would make an awesome rap video). I’m not buying it.
Second, you start to notice that old Neddy boy feels guilty about something. Specifically, something he promised his dying sister Lyanna. I never spent much time wondering who Jon Snow’s mother is, because I decided pretty early on that Lyanna Stark was Jon’s mother.
So who is Jon’s father? The reigning theory is that Jon is the product of Lyanna and Rhaegar Targaryen. After all, he did kidnap her. According to Robert Baratheon, he also raped her.
My problem with this theory is that it’s too right. It’s what most of the “evidence” points to. And it’s all clever misdirection, making you look away from the crazy king who raped and tortured people by day. And night. What I’m getting at is that this guy is a real jerk.
I think Aerys raped Lyanna. Rhaegar (who most characters agree was a decent guy) wasn’t kidnapping her. He was saving her from his crazy dad.
Which leads us t0 the second secret-spawn-of-Aerys floating around in all this. Tyrion.
We’ve already established that Aerys is a goddamned creep-ass rapist. I posit that he also raped Joanna Lannister, which is why Tywin quit his duties as Hand so abruptly. It also explains his ambivalence towards Tyrion and the “you are my son”/ “you are not my son” comments he makes throughout the books.
And from a story telling perspective, it creates an ironic parallel between Ned Stark and Tywin Lannister. These are two proud patriarchs who are concerned with their honor above all else, and they’re suffering public humiliation to protect children that are not their own. You can imagine both of them promising the mothers on their deathbeds to never reveal the truth.
My guess is that these three will join up in a Captain Planet type situation, with Jon Snow playing the Heart role. And then they’ll probably hop on some dragons and scorch the dickens out of some wights and white walkers. Also they will prevent pollution and defend mother earth.
Think I’m wrong? Ha! I laugh in the face of your doubt! But I’d also like to hear YOUR crackpot theory, so feel free to comment below with yours.
