Recently in blogging Category

I am creating. I'm working on a couple of t-shirt designs for the upcoming conventions.  I've seen lots of geeky shirt designs I like, but you know, there are these lovely things call printers and iron-on paper.  T-shirts are cheap.

So, yeah, I'm attempting my hand at a few of my own designs, albeit for my own purposes.  Now, granted, if at the cons I get a good response, I might put them on Cafe Press or something, but I wanna test run them first.

Now, just in case I haven't spoken to anyone since my last post, our Merlin cat is fine.  They couldn't find anything wrong with him and gave him a b-vitamin shot.  Apparently, either the shot worked or taking him to the vet scared him into eating because he's gaining weight quite rapidly.  We're very happy because we love our neurotic poop machine, and also because we didn't know how we were going to pay to get him better.  We'd have gone into debt for it, sure because he's our boy, but still, we were hoping he'd recover without all that.  We have lucked out.  Thanks for the well-wishes!




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Yeah, it's a short post, but I've been geeking out harder than a nerd let loose on Skywalker Ranch. Sue me.

Spa Owner has shut down the spa until January 5th.  I am officially on a long vacation I haven't had since 2008.  Let the vegetation begin!

Okay, it won't be all vegetation.  I'm hoping to get some work on projects done, game, clean house, game, cook a lot of cool stuff, game, enjoy the holidays with friends and family, game...It could prove to be a rather fruitful vacation.

Solstihanukwanzamas is upon us at last.  Our plans are pretty simple: spend a nice evening together, shower the parents with gifts, have dinner and laughing with in-laws, curse at the stupid drivers.  Good times.

Okay, on with the Totally Random Show!

- Just watched the trailer for the new "Robin Hood" movie. It told me nothing about the movie beyond it was directed by Ridley Scott (which these days could be good or bad) and stars Russell Crowe (which is definitely up in the air for good or bad) and Cate Blanchett (who is awesome but her movies aren't always.)  So, as far as I'm concerned, according to the trailer, it's a bunch of fight scenes with a metal soundtrack.  Woo

- A bunch of us helped a good friend move out of the house and into her new apartment in about four hours.  Have we got it down to a science or what.

- I love my Louisiana peeps, but I still don't want to go down there next weekend.  Some know why it's painful for me to go there, but many others do not and I probably won't drop that on them.  Still, despite loving to visit my peeps down there, I really don't want to go.

-My mother just informed me that it's snowing at her house again.  I hate her.  I love her, but I hate her snow-getting abilities.  Telling her we've gotten a flash flood warning really doesn't relate to her getting snow.  Dammit.  Hate her.  (But, love her!)

-"Daybreakers" looks interesting.  What if the majority of humans become vampires and normal humans become cattle?  What if there was a shortage of that supply and while someone was in search for an artificial replacement he found a cure for vampirism?  Yeah, I'm liking the depth of that.  There are two things that appeal even more: one) the vampires reflect the worst of humans according to the trailers which makes them scary as all hell as they should be, and two) they don't fucking sparklel.  This film could terribly awesome.

- Although, on that note of "Daybreakers," if they are immortal, truly, why do they care if they run out of blood? I'm assuming that that's the problem, they are immortal as long as there is fresh blood.  If that's the way of the movie, I am still leaning to a terribly awesome anticipation.  If they are going to go all cheesy about "weeee'll staaaaaaarve!" *insert whining* even though they are bloody immortal and don't have that worry, I will laugh and ignore it.  BUT, there is a suggestion that without human blood what little humanity remains in the vampires disappears.  That is more like Super Husband's theory and tres cool.  Time will tell.

- I go into the sun room.  I do not hear the sounds of rain, but I hear this dull roar.  I look outside and immediately unlock the back door to get a better look outside.  We have a creek behind our house which is attached to a larger tributary-type system which has been adapted as a drainage system for the city during rain.  I've not see our creek turn to rapids this bad, even during the deluge of May.  It is awesome, beautiful, and scary all at once.  Wow.

- Am I the only one who saw on apple.com/trailers the listing for "Furry Vengeance" and didn't even watch it because it sounded too much like an uprising of bad costumes with a hoard of stuffed animals in tow?  Yeah.

- Yes, I've watched a lot of trailers lately.  Some of the theater appeal has reappeared since they started letting ushers enforce the "Shut up or get the fuck out" rule.

- I miss my family.  My mom almost was able to make it down for Christmas, but we figure we'll be happy with her making it down for her birthday. 

- My little brother is quitting the Air Force which is cool, but he's about to get himself into a debt with our mutual sperm donor that he will regret much later.  I would try to convince him otherwise, but he's a grown man.  I will be here to pick up the pieces.

- I am trying to not fall asleep at this computer.

May everyone have a very happy Solstihanukwanzamas and an even happier New Year!




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 Although, I have to wonder if falling asleep in front of the comp ups my geek points..

Okay, so my sidebar links are gone, as some of you may have noticed.  I'm seriously loving Movable Type, but the one thing it doesn't have is a built-in widget for sidebar links.  Very strange.  When Super Husband gets home later, I'm going to get him to help me install a possible plugin to fix that.  Fingers crossed, and stuff.

On another note, I've decided I have three distinct personalities.  There's the personality that runs things, let's call it the Mother Brain, my crafting/artistic/slightly insane personality, and my gaming girl/ADD-filled/very insane personality.  Mother Brain is often lazy and let's the other two run the show in one form or another.

At some point during the Little Rock gaming convention we went to, my gamer girl personality used it as a catalyst to hit my crafter personality in the head, gag and bind her, and throw her in a closet somewhere.  It's the only explanation I've got for being boring on the project side.

See, those two personalities haven't figured out how to live in harmony, yet.  They are in a constant struggle to maintain control.  It's a rare thing that I can work on artistic projects and still game and vice-versa.  Normally, this isn't a big deal, but I think my gamer girl personality has been working out, for she is righteously strong and is refusing to let go.  This is a problem as I have a lot of projects to work on.

Thankfully, although Mother Brain is lazy, Mother Brain recognizes what must be done and has been slowly been reclaiming control, or at least giving the crafter personality a boost.  They will gang up on the gamer girl personality and get things back in line, especially since my gamer girl side has extreme ADD.

Now, somehow, I'm going to have to figure out a way to get these personalities to work together because, see, with all the conventions we're going to this year, there is a very real possibility the gamer girl personality will regain control and interrupt things.  I do not wish to have projects linger, but, on the other hand, I do not wish to give up gaming.

Maybe I need to create a personality who can mediate?

Or maybe, I should get some professional help, take some powerful drugs, and just drool in the corner.

I don't think anyone would really be surprised if that happened.





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Sometimes, I think it would be just easier to be stark, raving looney.  No one would really be surprised by anything I do.

Well, I left Blogger because I wanted to be able to use my own domain names that were generously bought for me by my husband, but didn't think I could. WordPress blows. Now, recently, I found out, Blogger does have an option to keep the blog under my registered domains, but it's kind of a process.  So, since the boy has Schola tonight, I'm going to hope that maybe we can get it sorted over the next few days, and that maybe, just maybe, I won't have to physically move the blogs again.  Supposedly, it'll just remap to my domain.  Could be interesting considering my old Blogger accounts haven't officially closed.  I might have to re-copy all the posts I've written since moving to SucksPress. Once again, folks, bear with me. _____________________ If Blogger doesn't work, I'm going to just sit and cry.

So, you might have noticed a definite lack of posting lately. This is because WordPress, which I have decided is a hackable nightmare, has been screwed up in ways I find hard to describe. For instance: I'm currently typing in invisible ink. I hit keys on the keyboard and the cursor moves, but it's still a blank page. Apparently, there was an option to type posts in lemon juice that I wasn't aware of nor can I disable it. So, you guys might need to hold your monitor near a candle flame to be able to read it. My other blog, Kamikaze Kumquat, is in even worse shape as posting has been rendered impossible there. When I hit "add new post" I am sent to a page that is nothing but a few letters written in some alien script. Apparently, I'm meant to contact the mothership instead. I have to tell you guys, I'm fed up with this shit. My blogs will never get a decent readership if I can't bloody update them on a regular basis, and believe me folks, I have tried. 99% of the time I can't get a post up because of WordPress. I have never seen a site that gets hit with hacks so often, except maybe, anything hosted by AOL. I am keeping my domain names, but I fully intend to move the blogs to a new hosting site soon. It will be my birthday present to me. Now, I'm going to go highlight this post so I can see whether or not it makes any sense at all, after which I will go drown my sorrows in gaming. Dear WordPress: Bite me. Love, Papermasks ________________________ Moi? Bitter? Perish the thought!

Ever watch a friend's marriage fall apart and find yourself holding on so tightly to your significant other because you're desperately afraid some weird freak of the universe will cause you the same heartache only to have your significant other remark that...um...sweetie...really, it's okay...really...can't breathe here... No, I haven't done that, but I've been wanting to be that person. I love my husband desperately. Yes, I am aware that sounds hugely obsessive and a little unhealthy.  It's hard to describe how I feel about him otherwise.  We're not talk just love.  I love him, but on top of that we have crossed hurtles of fire and pits of despair and have found ourselves standing together with a different outlook on our lives.  All of that makes my heart beat for him a little more intensely than for anyone else. Think of it like this, I remember an old John Wayne movie called "McLintock"  (I'm sure most of you have seen it.)  In it, he's out hunting and his daughter rides up to talk to him.  Late in the conversation, he explains a little bit of life to her in her inheritance:

You're going to have every young buck west of the Missouri around here tryin' to marry you - mostly because you're a handsome filly, but partly because I own everything in this country from here to there. They'll think you're going to inherit it. Well, you're not. I'm going to leave most of it to, well, to the nation really, for a park where no lumbermen'll cut down all the trees for houses with leaky roofs. Nobody'll kill all the beaver for hats for dudes nor murder the buffalo for robes. What I'm going to give you is a 500 cow spread on the Upper Green River. Now that may not seem like much, but it's more than we had, your mother and I. Some folks are gonna say I'm doin' all this so I can sit up in the hereafter and look down on a park named after me, or that I was disappointed in you - didn't want you to get all that money. But the real reason, Becky, is because I love you, and I want you and some young man to have what I had, because all the gold in the United States Treasury and all the harp music in heaven can't equal what happens between a man and a woman with all that growin' together. I can't explain it any better than that.

It was funny because, well, about two years into my relationship with Todd, I ran into that movie.  I love that movie because it's a lot of fun, but, that line, that line stuck with me.  It really put a lot of things in perspective. No, things weren't terrible bad, but we've had a fair share of growin', and by the gods, I wouldn't change it for the world. Having a relationship is hard, folks.  Having a marriage is harder.  Still, growing together isn't just the bad stuff we manage to wade through.  Every laugh, every wrestling match, every time time he makes me groan with a horrifically bad pun, these things have an equal amount of growth in them.  I figure it like this, the less than stellar moments, well, we learn how we deal in those moments together and apart.  We learn that those moments can be a strain on ourselves, but the relationship will survive in the end if we talk and work hard.  The oh-so-many happy fun moments that continue to outweigh the few stresses really just teach us that we're a healthy couple, I think.  I mean, no couple is perfect.  Most couples fight.  Even the ones who don't really fight have stressed-out moments.  It's how your relationship reacts to those moments - and the fact they tend to drown in the fun that happens on most days - that really matters. So, you're thinking, "Dude, you're sitting there telling me you have a really good, strong relationship with your husband despite the strange quirks you bring to the marriage, but you haven't given me a point to this blog post." The point is even with all that, when you have two friends going through what is turning into a very nasty divorce, friends whose marriage you swore was solid, it makes you either seriously examine what you have or seriously thankful for what you have. Me?  I am unbelievably thankful. So, really, I'm not so much afraid of it falling apart as afraid of taking it all for granted.  Todd and I have been through so much together with a few tears and an avalanche of laughter along the way.  Those who might think I'm saying we're perfect are missing the point.  We are as far from perfect as you can get.  And, no, I don't want us to be perfect.  It's the imperfections that make this work. I love laughing at the things that would horrify new couples, like farting during sex. Babies, if you can't laugh at that, then ya'll have to loosen up. Think about it, sex is hysterical.  Oh, it feels great and is such a bonding moment, but the faces we make alone should seriously kill the mood.  They don't because we don't pay attention.  We're more involved with the amazing moment we're having rather than masks and pretensions. Despite that, I think sex should end in laughter. No, not laughter at the attempt.  Mostly laughter because you feel good.  Standing up to go to the bathroom and finding your legs are made of jello stumps is definitely a moment made for laughter.  Getting a charlie horse in your hip during the moment isn't good at the time, but it's damn funny later.  So is something like finding out during the first time you and your now husband are having sex, your cat sat on the nightstand and watched the action like a damned bobblehead.  (He wasn't going to mention it at the time because that would've been a mood killer, but afterwards, that was some funny shit, yo.) Man, I would be insane to take for granted a man who not only cares when I don't shave my legs but who spends 30 minutes after sex trying to poke my belly button. Yes, that makes no sense.  He did it because he likes to hear me squeal and laugh.  I'm sorry, there's something precious in a husband doing things to you because it makes you make funny noises.  There is a serious appreciation in that.  A lot of you may not think that, but I don't care.  He likes the way I retreat into gasping laughter and snorts when he tickles me.  I have to love that. I love my boy. And, going to bed soon, after spending some time talking to my friend going through the hurt of the divorce, I will hold on tight to him.  Not because I think I will lose him, but because I need to remind myself that dammit, every moment with him is precious and although we don't know what the future may bring, I always hope that I will look back and think about the love and the laughter and hysterical snorts and nothing else. ______________________________ Buttercup suddenly realized that "As you wish" meant I love you. My boy laughs at me when I cackled madly while playing "Dead Rising".  When asked why he wasn't worried when most guys would be concerned at their women cackling when running zombies down with a lawn mower, he said, "Hey, I figure it's like training.  Come the zombie apocalypse, I'm good!"  Brings happy tears to the eyes, girls.

Okay, so I missed a week or two. Shoot me. No, don't.  I have too many projects to finish. Either way:

• My brother is out of Afghanistan! He is safe and sound with his family!  I am so grateful!
• I had a wicked awful dream that could make a killer plot for NaNoWriMo if I can flesh it out more.  I always wanted to write at least one horror novel.  Just one.  One that is enough to make the skin crawl in the shadows of the night.  Just one.
• On an SCA front, we will have a new Baron and Baroness this weekend, and I'm already seeing those I determined will be total dickheads fulfill my expectations and several I thought would fall to the wayside declare they will do the best they can for the good of our Barony.  Those latter folks make me feel proud.  The others will definitely get a good scowling.
• My craft room is functional!  Super Hubby taught me to lay tile, so I spent the weekend ripping up carpet and laying said tile in a non-sexual manner, and feeling quite proud of myself.  Of course, I wish he had some advice for not wearing most of the adhesive.  I couldn't get my damn shoe off...
• My craft room is functional!  It bears repeating.  It's not finished, but oh, the paper mache and paint will splatter once again!  I'm all giddy and stuff!
• I finished an emergency embroidery project that was well-received by our baroness-elect.  Of course, I forgot to take pictures.
• Apparently, Zombie Apocolypse is the theme for this year's Halloween party.  That was the original plan, sure, but we couldn't get the venue we wanted, so I thought I'd put it off until next year when there's more time to plan...  Yeah, I had people and their children - seriously, their kids - pout at me.  The words "But, Richard has been planning this all year." came to me and I had to relent.  So, zombies.  This is not a bad thing, but the difference in venue definitely poses some interesting hurdles.  No time to teach the zombies how to do the Thriller dance, though.  Bummer.
• Next year's Halloween party theme is Freak Show.  Oh, yes, baby, I so have plans...
• It's going to be hot as hell for the event this weekend, isn't it?  *sigh*
• Oh, wait, it's supposed to rain all weekend, so the humidity will prevent me from actually being able to get out of my dresses.  Joy.
• Weight Watchers...still doing it...sort of...I keep hoping for the jello-giggly mindset to turn to concrete...
• Holy moley I want a whole lot of chips.
• Tomorrow will ben an adventure of juggling.  Eventually, we will get to site.  Whether or not we have food, we'll see.

And, this introduces your Friday.  Friday will be as plain or awful as you see it.  It's Friday.  It's always better than monday by default.  Live it up! ________________________ I am totally counting the points for these italics.  Totally.  Maybe.  Well shit.  This was easier on paper.

First, I have to give props to Super Husband for fixing the random errors on my blogs.  Now they only appear in the plugins section on Wordpress, but we figure it must be a form of demon possession, and we just haven't happened on the correct rite of excorsism to completely eradicate it.

So, NaNoWriMo is coming up in November.  You might be thinking it's a little early to start writing or even worrying about it.  Normally, I would say you were right, but I have a tweet peep who will be doing it for the first time and she questioned me about this NaNoWriMo novel she saw.

No Plot? No Problem!

Yes, it's a book on how to write for NaNoWriMo.

I'm sorry, while I give props to Chris Baty for finding a way to fund this international past time, or at least make some extra dough representing it, you don't need a freaking book to tell you how to write for NaNoWriMo.

NaNoWriMo is, for those not in the know or are too lazy to click the above links, is National Novel Writing Month.  The goal for pure bragging rights it to write a 50,000 word novel in 30 days, November 1st through 30th.  Despite the criticisms from stupid professional writers who think that only their way is the only way, it's a chance to finally get that novel in your head onto the paper.  Granted, it equals out to about 175-page novel.  The one I have in mind is longer, but just think, writing 50,000 words in a month is a hell of a start.

To those writers who have said it "degrades" their "craft".  You know what, assholes?  You had to start somewhere, too.  Screw you and your egos.

Either way, again, you don't need a book to survive NaNoWriMo.

Here is my personal steps to NaNoWriMo.  You can call it a survival list, but I'm not entirely sure I survive it.  (Hey, with my obsession with zombies, it's entirely possible I'm just one myself.)

• Come up with an idea you want to put in a book: It might be something you've been knocking around for years, started several times unsucessfully, or just thought up yesterday over a serious doughnut high.  Everything starts with an idea whether it's a moment of literary genius or a chance to be stupid with dry ice and styrofoam.
• The Dreaded Outline: it helps to have some sort of outline of your plot.  I know, I know, it was the dreaded part of the writing assignment in high school, but dammit, it really can be helpful.  If you have the whole story in outline, you just have to connect the dots.  If all you have is "this guy has a love affair with his sock and hilarity ensues," then you're probably good without one.
• The Survival Stash: Okay, so, I can't have caffeine anymore, but it's the rare person who can't.  My suggestion to you over the coming weeks is to stock up on your favorite caffeinated beverages (an assortment is better) and a butt-ton, whatever that is, of your favorite food indulgence.  Usually, I suggest chocolate because it's somewhat universal, but hey, who am I to judge if you're favorite food indulgence is mashed potatoes?  Either way, this indulgence is very important.  It's the thing that keeps your family alive.  Whenever your husband/wife, kids, pets, friends, and nosy neighbors, interrupt a really good writing moment, you need something to placate your inner writing demon.  See, we all normally have creative monsters who sit on our shoulders and nudge us, but during NaNoWriMo we have writing demons.  The writing demons are mean.  They growl and bite.  Better to bite into a bar of chocolate than your neighbor's poodle.
• Actual writing: Okay, so you've signed up with your idea; you have your stash in hand; you've gently warned your family that fingers could be lost if they interrupt you; so now it's down to the writing.  50,000 words in a month might not seem like a lot to a seasoned writer or someone like Neil Gaiman who is brilliant and disturbed under his friendly exterior, but to the rest of us, it's a scary prospect.  It all begins with the first word, and it all comes down to you remembering that it is indeed a rough draft.  Anything you lay to paper right now that's not being immediately published is a rough draft.  Write it down, let it go, edit later.  Trust me.  Either way, you'll write yourself into a corner and abandon it...again.  I know you feel me on that one.
• Writer's Block:  Every writer complains about it.  It seems like a foreign object that should be tossed out with the trash, but it's an unfortunate product of your own mind.  It might be caused by the latest reality show or the fact that leaf looks really pretty outside your window.  It's a matter of your brain deciding it wants to do something else and decides that writing worth as much time as digging your underwear out of your ass.  It.  Happens.  To.  Everyone.  Seriously, if you don't experience it after the third day, you're doing well.
• The Forums, Facebook, Twitter, Your Mom: So, when I first started NaNoWriMo, really all you had was the forums to console each other and remind each other why we are all completely insane.  Now, we have other forms of social media to unleash our very victimized sentiment upon the world with little to know sympathy as a response.  But, at least we can release it, right?  Strangely, anything you put out on the forums, Twitter, Facebook, Blogs, etc. will be way more creative than anything you write in the novel you're burning braincells to write in 30 days.  It's a weird paradox.  I think the Writing Gods laugh at us.
• Have Fun: So, it's supposed to be fun.  It's supposed to be about getting your novel written or started.  It's supposed to be about enjoying some random insanity just to say you did it.  There is fun in that somewhere.  Somewhere between the lack of sleep, the fifth time you locked your husband in the closet for being a pest, the twelfth pack of chocolate bars, several hate letters to established authors, at least three acoholic stupors, and several promises to not put yourself through this again, there is fun to be had.  Let me know when you have it.
• The Hurdles: So, yeah, the choice of November, the month that officially begins the insanity of the holidays, is not a choice I would have made to have a National Novel Writing Month, bu then I think, it must be for the challenge of it.  Talk about a major distraction.  Here you are, focusing, finally, on your novel and in comes the holidays with all of its bad commercials, traditional demands, and whiney kids.  If you can make it through NaNoWriMo during that season without setting fire to your own house, I figure, you can make it through anything.  I still question the timing, but I figure that's the reason they're willing to stick with it.  At least the reasons they're willing to fess up to.
• The Aftermath: Sleep.  Blessed sleep.  Just before the holidays.  So you get all of 5 hours of sleep before you have to hit the mall and take down a granny to get the newest Elmo doll.  Enjoy your recovery.
• The Aftermath, Part 2: Finishing your novel if it isn't finished, editing your novel, doing all the sordid and horrible things you want to do to it if you want to publish it.  This isn't a necessary thing.  For some people, the NaNoWriMo is a chance to get the novel out of their head even if it only visits the harddrive and a few questionable websites.  For others, it's to realize that dream of being a published author and taking great pleasure in flipping off those pompous bastards who said it wasn't doable because you did NaNoWriMo instead of starving in the streets or finding a sponsor or whatever else they can make up to make themselves feel better.

It's not a long list and it's not necessarily hard to achieve.  It's just sort of the natural state of being in the NaNoWriMo.  Yes, doing this makes you completely nuts, but at the same time, it's fun as hell.  Even if you don't succeed to 50,000 words, you really will enjoy every word you wrote.  Guaranteed.

Write on!

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The truly fun thing about NaNoWriMo is the late night random gibberish you write just to get the word count.  "The whale watched the nugget from the convertible and told it that it was truly worth the string." makes sense in a way.  Good times!

I almost forgot it was Thursday and I had promised I was going to do this so that at least one post got out a week.  I've been working since last Tuesday.  My days are a little thrown off. This week's Totally Random Thursday is brought to you by the number 2 (in representation of the crap that's happened this week.) and the letter "P" for the puking baby brought to the shop:

• I had a woman call the spa and scream at me for making her 87-year-old mother sick because we "had mold". Yes, we have a roof problem, but there is no mold according to our building manager's person.  However, we have wiped everything down with bleach and emailed the building owner.  I say "we" but it's really the part owner and the total owner.  I swear, if it's not fixed, I will fix it.  We have no mold of which we know, but by the gods, I will make life hell for the building owner if he doesn't fix the bloody roof!
• I smell like bleach after we freaked out and cleaned the spa's kitchen just in case.
• The dragonfly hordes have been seriously massive in and around our neighborhood.  Massive!  At least an estimated hundred dragonflies per yard.  I've never seen the clouds so massive. I hope it's because of the rain and the lack of funds to spray the yards with pesticides.  The Dragonflies are doing their jobs.  Let them!  Let them eat the mosquito armies!  Let them do their dragonfly jobs!
• My sister-in-law is being emotionally savaged by a local person who was once her best friend.  I have told her to let it go, which is easier sad than done.  I had a chance to mangle said person through email.  I know it will help nothing, but damn if it won't make me feel better.  I resisted...dammit.
• I have been working since last Tues.  Outside a non-first-world country that's a laugh, but in this first-world country...bloody hell I can't wait until Friday!
• Just so ya'll missed it:  I smell like bleach.
• The person who hired us for the golf tourney still hasn't paid us.  I told Spa Owner to tell him she was sending "her girl" to get the check.  I would really hate to take it out on his knee-caps.  *cracks knuckles*
• Every woman over the age of 60 starts undressing before I can leave the massage room.  I know it's because they have no reason to be ashamed, but for the sake of my job, at least wait until I leave the room so I can't be sued later!

Now that I want to write random, there isn't so much random.  Damn you the Law of Murphy!  Goddamn you to hell! _________________ So, yeah, the weekend I was totally not at work, nothing interesting other than the guy smoking in the rain.  Last weekend, we endured sweaty golfers of a country club tourney.  They tipped really well, but still...sweaty golfers...It's been a loooooong week.

I was going to totally start a new weekly thing called Totally Random Thursdays where I guarantee at least one post a week by hitting you with more of my random musings and stuff you really don't want to hear, but I went to bed early instead.  So, it will have to be next Thursday. Maybe I should call this Fail Friday? Eh. But, still, if I get a little random, just bear with me.  I feel like I'm a day behind since I had to work today. Yeah, work.  In fact, I have to work all weekend.  The spa owner and I decided in a moment of insanity to work a golf tournament at the country club.  "You can make a ton of money," said the decidedly cheap, kindness-sucking, and advantage-taking club manager.  Trust me, if I had answered the phone when he had called, I would have laughed at his flat fee offer.  Spa Owner is way nicer than I am. So, we get to this club and can't find the guy who's supposed to tell us where to set up.  We are told by staff that it's the men's locker room. Yes, we are to set up for massages in the men's locker room. I am well aware of the possible sit-com style scenarios this could create. We had nothing else to go onl, so into the locker room we went. The locker room is like a hidden casino.  There is an actual locker room in the very back, but you have to go through several rooms full of green-carpeted card tables, ash trays, chairs, and sofas to get there.  Yeah.  Totally a locker room. We are immediately told by the local doomsayer/cleaning woman that we had our work cut out for us, especially since she had to tackle three industrial-sized garbage bags full of beer cans, another full container of plastic cups, an untold number of full ash trays, and a craps table full of puke. Yeah.  Totally a locker room. This, of course, got us a little nervous, but yet excited.  Well, hell, if this "locker room" was the hang out then we should be swamped. We eagerly set up two chairs and two massage tables, laid out our business cards, seeded the tip jars, and waited. And, waited. And, waited. So, the manager-type person had told us to be there at 9 am.  The tournament was supposed to start at 10 and had actually started early.  So, they were all on the course. We had two massages by noon. So, we waited a little longer until Spa Owner, her Minion, and I decided we were starving and went to get lunch. We come back an hour later to the local doomsayer/cleaning woman with news that as soon as we left 40 people showed up for massages. There was much cussing. Okay, fine, we decided.  We'll stay until around 5.  Plenty of time for them to finish.  Doomsayer wanted us to stay until dark.  Dark is 8 or later.  I have an hour's drive home.  She can take that can of mulberry spray* and stick it in a very sensitive place. Around 2, we get a guy who wants a full body, so I put him on the table, perform some magic and turn him into ooze.  Damn near literally.   He requested some time to lie on the table for a bit after I was finished.  Well, sure, why not.  15 minutes later, I started to worry, so I went to check on him.  He started a bit when I asked if he was okay and turned his head out of the face cradle.  I had to take a little pride in the bit of drool he had to wipe from the corner of his mouth and the amount of time it took to convince himself to get up. He jogs passed the spa every day.  He might come back. Spa Owner took care of another guy who wanted a 15 minute chair massage...and then another five minutes please...okay, that's awesome...hey, can I get 30 minutes on the table?...that was fabulous, how about another 15 minutes...Snore. Okay, so, it wasn't a total bust, but not the "ton of money" or the "work cut out for us" we were expecting.  So, a decision was made to go in later in the morning, work through lunch, and possibly leave earlier.  That might sound stupid to most folks, but Spa Owner usually makes $350 on a Friday.  She made $75.  I usually make about $200 on a Friday.  I made $85. Do.  The.  Math. One of the manager-type people came by to ask us if it were worth it.  We grinned and nodded the nod of people who were nodding just to agree because they hoped the next day would be better but knowing, if there were no change, if asked again, nodding would not be in the equation. Next time they call, I'm going to ask Spa Owner for the phone... $300, my ass... So, that was the day.  Sadly, I'm still worn out.  Maybe from a slow-burning anger in my gut from not being given enough info or advertisement.  Who knows?  I didn't go to Stitch.  I was so bloody tired.  I ate and mostly played Bejeweled because that's about all my brain could handle.  I'm not even sure why I'm awake now.  I think I've passed into the mysterious realm of Too Tired to Sleep.  It's a strange and alien land that needs to be nuked from orbit. Because I didn't give ya'll the Totally Random Thursday I didn't promise you, I feel I must be random now.  You can either consider it late randomness or pre-emptive randomness.  Half-empty, half-full, I guess. So, I present to you, your weekly Totally Random:

• My cat, Merlin, was so totally stoked at having a balled up piece of paper thrown down the hall he poofed to three times his normal size.
• I have not cleaned my house in a week, and I am going through DTs.  I am unable to rectify this because my feet have decided that standing is an affront to their existence.  I figure by Tuesday, I will lop them off and clean on my knees.
• I absolutely don't miss the clinic.
• The other day, I watched a man in his front yard, in the pouring rain, wearing nothing but a t-shirt, shorts, and a ball cap, struggling to pull some serious weeds from his front yard, while smoking a cigarette, in the rain.  (Yes, I mentioned the rain redundantly.  Seriously, this guy was smoking and pulling weeds in the rain.  That's some beautiful suburbia weirdness right there.)

Okay, enough of that.  Tomorrow will either bring some grumbling tirades about mornings or nothing at all.  Please hope that it's nothing.  These country club guys are creepy enough without encouragment. __________________________________ *Ya'll, this woman had this can of mulberry spray that was more or less like a series of random chemical smells in a can.  She was standing there talking to us explaining what we missed when we dared to go to lunch.  She punctuated each sentence with a spray from her mulberry can.  She did this about ten times, got bored, went and sprayed every inch of the actual locker room, sprayed every piece of furniture that didn't belong to us, and dashed away in a cloud of unpleasantness.  I have to seriously agree with our Minion:  "It smells like a really stinky ass wrapped in a blueberry sauce."  I like our minion.  I like her a lot.