Showing posts from April, 2016

Snippets: Ice Cream and Immortality

It's so relaxing to finish a work day, go to a three-hour writing session, and then snag groceries and three gallons of milk at Wal-mart... said no mom ever. ME: *texts* At Wal-mart. Anything you need? BOY: Ice cream and Oreos. ME: NEED BOY: I need ice cream and Oreos. ME: Which do you NEED more? BOY: Ice cream. However, feeding and housing a teenage boy means I theoretically have someone to help bring in the groceries. ME: Get the milk out of the back seat. BOY: First I want hugs. ME: Oh, you like me today? BOY: I missed my mom! Wait, did you get me ice cream? ME: Sorry. Too expensive. BOY: What? ME: I checked out the generic ice cream but they were all out of cookies-n-cream.* BOY: Humph. ME: What, no hugs now? BOY: You didn't get me ice cream! ME: Oh, so I have to buy you ice cream to get hugs? BOY: No, but you get more hugs with ice cream. After unloading the groceries... ME: Oh, put this in the freezer, would you? *hands him quart of cookies-n-cre

Snippets and revolution

Monday was the First Amendment Free* Food Festival at the university, organized by the school newspaper and Mass Communications department and cosponsored by the St. Louis Society of Professional Journalists. Basically, they give away free food to the students and staff in return for temporarily signing away their First Amendment rights to enter their little “country.” If you’re wearing a religious emblem, they make you take it off. If your shirt says anything subversive, you have to cover it up or turn it inside out. They make you sit where they say you can sit (freedom of association) and make you talk about the subjects they deem appropriate. The coordinator wears a little dictator hat. Here, have a video about it from last year… Jim attended this year, since I was still in Kansas City and was unable to do so. Also, free pizza. Beforehand, he texted me. MAN: Call me before I go to Pizzassian. ME: I think it was MassCommistan, but Tammy can confirm. Later…

What Do You Like to Read?

There's a piece going around the internet that is about 85 percent really good advice. So at first, I hesitated to say what bothered me about it. Here, read it. It's good stuff. " How Not to Sell Books at an Event ." I'll wait. If I had a dollar for every beginning author I've seen with one solitary copy of his book resting on a bare table... I always have at least one backup tablecloth in my bag, sometimes more. I have been known to offer them on loan to cloth-less authors, and every single time that author came back at the end of the day to say, "Wow, that really made a difference! I'm going to pick up some of these." Note to authors: Remnant sales at fabric stores. Get an eight-foot length because you never know the size of the table you'll get. Horror authors can pick up nifty patterns in the post-Halloween sales. Other questions I am often asked: Where did I get that great folding rack? Store Supply Warehouse , folks. If you'

Serious Snippet

Boy is working tech crew for the school play: Oliver! He's having a blast, and had the idea this past weekend that we should watch the movie. He'd seen it as a young child, but barely remembered it. Spoilers ahead for a 180-year-old book. If you haven't read Oliver Twist  or seen the movie versions, you really ought to go back to high school and get your money back from your tenth-grade English teacher. ME: There's a lot of the story that probably will make more sense to you now that you're older. BOY: Yeah. Like, why does Nancy love Bill? ME: ... Why does any woman love a man who treats her like shit? You can't really help who you fall in love with. You can choose whether you stay with someone who treats you like shit, but sometimes even that isn't so easily decided. BOY: I don't get it. Later, the chilling Oliver Reed as Bill viciously beats Nancy in front of Fagin's boys to coerce her into helping him kidnap Oliver. It's awful and hum

Manna From the Car Gods, with addenda

Twice in one week. Might be a good time to buy Powerball. Some time ago, I was informed that my car needed a new cabin air filter and a transmission fluid flush. One of those made sense. The latter, however, seemed a tad premature for a car barely two years old. Therefore, I took Ariane to CarZeus (the God of Cars). The original CarZeus is long retired, of course, but in his time he kept some truly atrocious pieces of automotive technology ferrying me to and from work. When he retired, he sold the shop to his top mechanic, and I've stayed with them loyally and referred others to them. They have always taken excellent care of my cars, explained things I didn't understand without an ounce of condescension, helped me avoid some costly mistakes, and have never applied the Female Surcharge that always seems to accompany car repair bills when I go elsewhere. CarZeus's crew confirmed what I suspected: the air filter needed replacement, but the transmission fluid flush was no

Snippets, not-entirely-worksafe edition

When voice-to-text meets autocorrect.... and Man devolves Man: Did you get the bus pass? Me: Boobs Me: I said poops! Man: Boobs Me: Hoops Me: oh for fucks sake Me: Oops! I said oops! Man: Yes. Boobs. Me: That is not what I said! Man: Ohhhhhh yes. Raaaarrrgh. Me: So I'll stop and get a bus pass on the way home, you pervert. Man: Yes. Ohhhhhhhhargh. Me: This is going on the blog. Me: When cooking this weekend, don't forget there are two frozen lasagna plus chicken nuggets and fries in the freezer. Me: There are a number of canned soups and tons of pasta in the basement, plus the makings of curry chicken casserole or spaghetti. Me: There is a pound of ground meat, please read three Me: Good lord Me: Stupid voice to text Me: Around me Me: Round beef Me: Goddammit Me: Ground meat. Do you frosting Me: Defrosting! Me: If you don't use it, green green wtf referee it Me: Refreeze! Man: Gotcha. Right. Boy: How do you spell