Porn Hacks are USEFUL hacks

I am not certain this post will have anything to do with that title, but I just used this sentence in chat and it struck me as funny.

Oh, and kilts rock! Or, as my friend Sierra Dafoe added, "Especially upside down." Hmmm.....Johnny Depp in a kilt. Dang. Most men from Kentucky would NOT look good in a kilt. I have a feeling that Depp could pull it off.

Literally.

okay....I could.

Okay, another thought--if the camera adds ten pounds, then what does that mean for naked men shots? I mean.....ouch. Yes, the Johnny Depp in a kilt converation did lead to that train of thought. Don't ask me how.

Is there anything that is potentially more satisfying than a late night Doritos and beer fest while online? Not in my book. Of course, my book is not only vastly casual, but developed around things that are bad for me. Allow me to point out for the record that Johnny Depp would NOT be bad for me....kilt or no kilt.

Speaking of which, I don't find the concept of circus dwarves very conducive to erotica at all. Don't toss out such odd things in chat, Lesli and Bibsy. That's just.....gross.

For some reason, the fact that the William Shatner roast is playing as I write this blog and steal these snippets from chat is just way too appropriate. All I have to do to kill my mood is to imagine Captain Kirk in a kilt. Eeeeeeeeeek.

Yeah, so, okay. I'll admit it. I'm fighting the urge to bitch about the anthology, or discuss politics, or go into a football rant. I'm fighting the urge to overwrite another chapter of my curret WIP, and I'm fighting the urge to blog about my horrible holidays. So instead, I'm discovering a way to preserve some of the better chat comments for posterity. So you see, when my fellow DD writers go on about being useless hacks, I was able to say that Porn Hacks are USEFUL hacks and voila! Blog topic.

Florida sucks. Go Vols....beat Penn State. Notre Dame shouldn't show up in the Sugar Bowl. Go Wake Forest! Go Boise State! And if it comes down to a choice between a gator and a nut, I'll pick the nut any day. *grin*

Ohio State 38
Florida 17

Bah Humbug, Humcat, and Humpeople

Here I am after a brief, obligatory holiday absence with probably the worst mood swing I've ever experienced. Whatever happened to "Peace on earth, goodwill towards men?" Did it just bypass my family?

Ack.

Without going into details, allow me to just say that when grandparents can't bring themselves to experience the joy of their grandkids on freaking CHRISTMAS there's something wrong with the equation.

Aside from that, I had a very nice time, thank you. What did I get for Christmas you ask? New deadlines, new cover art, and a new story idea. AHA! There IS a Santa Claus, Virginia! All you DD members get ready: I'm posting the rest of Darkshifters as soon as I get this last bit of editing done and then I have a NEW novel in progress that I am VERY excited about!!!! Mwahahahaha---I only have 19k of it written so far, but whew! *grin* It's quite different.

Okay, okay--all other commentary aside--Happy Holidays from a confirmed old pagan and have a safe and happy new year: oh, and put your money on Ohio State for the national championship. Florida is toast.

*grin*

And no, there are no centaurs in this story.

Sopping Kittens, the BCS, More Deadlines and Lake Effect Snow

Wow. Does that sum up the merrye olde month of December or what? Let's tackle all those topics in order.

It's very rare that I will interrupt one task to begin another but a little while ago, I had no choice. One of the kittens jumped on my lap and I promptly said, "Shoo! Time for your first bath!" Now all four kittens are exhausted, damp with little spikes in their fur, and all smell like lavender. Maybe later I'll succumb to the serious pampered cat imagery and give them all ribbons.

Nah.

The BCS. What can I say except -- it sucks! Give us a playoff PLEASE~! Despite the fact that I don't consider Florida the number two team in the country (and by the way, thanks USC for screwing up and giving it to the BCS in the butt--winning me twnety bucks in the meantime!)is there any other fair way to determine the national champion? Really? Yep, you're right--a playoff is the ONLY way. Let the kids play it out on the field. Don't be douchebags longer than you have to.

More deadlines????? Huh????? NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! Say it isn't so! It's not fair! I have to have a life too, right? I have to think about doing something other than typing on this damn computer!!!!!!!!!

WAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! (Obligatory whine over.)

Lake effect snow---please get here in a hurry. Keep my troublesome relatives from driving across town to criticize my new house and remark condescendingly, "Well, you certainly haven't gotten a lot done in here since LAST time." Of course not, you bag of bile. I'm trying to get my work done so I can PAY for it! Gimme a break, why don't you? Jesus Christ.

Whew! Break over! Installment number two tomorrow.

Mashed Potato Wrestling

Okay, so I'm not a nice person. Everyone knows that. At the most, I am also not exactly coherent. I just woke up after my first bit of sleep in three days. I've had way too much to do and not enough time to do it.

At any rate, there are lots of bars in my town. It wouldn't be a normal American town if there weren't. The biggest bar in town is called the Mill. The Mill is a fun place, with loud music and *special events* like wet T-shirt contests and other sexist extremes. The last was jello-wresting. The manager of the Mill, who is an acquaintance of mine, said that once is enough. After scraping dried jello off the dance floor for two months, he's fairly well-convinced that he will NEVER have another jello wrestling contest.

However.....

The other night I was tending bar and the usual late-night bored single males came in. These are the guys who are forever on the quest for women, don't care WHAT they have to do to get them, and despite small obstaclez like personal hygiene and complete ugliness, are always optimistic of 'gettin' laid.' They asked me if I knew what was going on at the Mill.

I told them it was mashed potato wrestling.

After the guys took off, full of culinary glee and excitement, the others in the bar (who now could laugh freely) and I discussed the ramifications of masked potato wrestling.

First off, what would you do with the condiments? Would grated cheese, sour cream, and bacon bits be offered as projectile weapons?

Second, which would be easier: lots and lots of Hungry Jack boxes or fresh potatoes? And if they were fresh, how would you mash a kiddie pool full of them? Would it be like stomping grapes for wine? Would you need butter and milk? What consistency would be best for mashed potato wrestling? Soupy or fluffy? We went for soupy and Hungry Jack. No one wanted to think about mashing a kiddie pool of potatoes with their feet.

For the matter, what should mashed potato wrestlers wear? One piece or two-piece? T-shirts and shorts?

(Allow me to interject an ewwwwwww here) The vote was for bikinis. I pointed out that guy mashed potato wrestling would probably be more interesting, but the bar regulars didn't seem wrapped up in that.

So, if any of you ever wondered what I do with my creativity while I'm working in the *real* world, let this be a lesson to you: not only do I take my laptop to write during the (rare) slow periods, but I lead intellectual discussions with the creme de la creme of Lancaster bar society. The vicious circle of Dorothy Parker? Child's play! Nothing competes with the Fariview Culinary Misdirection Society!

*phone rings*

"Celina?"

"Yes?"

"This is Dusty. What in the hell are you doing telling people we are having mashed potato wrestling here tonight?"

Some people just can't keep up. It's no less than an intellectual travesty.