Of Blood and Bedlam

Things were a bit hectic around here first thing this morning. Warm weekend + restless clients + probably a little (or a lot) alcohol + testosterone OD = a leeeetle bit too much excitement, I suppose. You just know that when you've dumped half a cup of coffee in your lap before 9:30, it's going to be a hell of a day. Thankfully, all the drama and frantically ringing phones died down after about an hour and now I'm frankly a little bit bored. Not that I'm complaining. I don't really feel like jumping in with both feet to deal with other peoples' problems. I'd rather somebody offer to deal with mine. I think my brain is tired. You know how sometimes you feel like you gave a little too much blood when you haven't been anywhere near the blood bank? Like that. Or like battle fatigue, maybe. Why the "blood" in the post title? I just liked the sound of it. And yeah, okay, there was a little blood from a nasty paper cut. There was maybe more than a little blood -- judging from the front of my sweater, you'd think I'd either bled out from a thousand small wounds or just came in from a shootout.

Luckily, I had an extra sweater here (ivory) that looks fine with the skirt I have on because by 11:00 A.M., I was covered in coffee stains, blood, and printer ink. Total raving beauty, let me tell you. When I went to unbutton my now disgusting looking pink sweater, one of the buttons fell off. No more blood, but another dose of bedlam. It's a good thing I have other pink sweaters because I'm thinking I might as well trash this one.

I don't know which is better, routine or bedlam. I guess there's something to be said for both. I know that after too much routine I find myself craving bedlam, and vice versa.

If you were offered a chance to live forever, would you take it?

Who'd like to tackle today's docket of Words Gone Wild?

good riddence
runnith
techninally
incredilby
espect
restrauant
accurte
definateluy

Today's Dear TWIT Fix

Dear TWIT,

I do note no how to right a querie letter so I am just going two ask you flat out, wood yew pulish my book?

Hear is what it is aboud. It is named Hot Stuff In The Swamp and it is 57-1/2 pages long. They're is this girl from another country that comes to Amreica. Everything is find untli she gets losted in the woulds down in the south. She comes up on this swamp settelment where lives a bunch of guys that are AWOL from the New Mexican Navy. They has turned all wild and animistic, but they reconise the woman because they have bootleg wireless intrenet and she has got her pitcher on alot of sights. She likes to dokter up many nekkid shots of her. She is endoud pretty good if you know what I meen. I can draw you sum photagrafs to put in the book if you want. Well they no rite of who she is and they will not let she lieve. Right then and their it kindly terns into Deliverence. You get a good bit of sex, vilence, blood, ect. I am not braging when I say my littel tomb would make a grate movie! I would dye two sea my movie up in lites on you're beatiful Weeb paig.

I am not egzakly begging ewe too pubilish this boke but I sure would like it if you did. I hope you will let me sent you sum sampel chapters. I will wate to here form you. I would bee reely reely grateful if you was to give me a contrack and a advantce and my book the chanse it deserfs. Pleze right me back and let me no.

Yours ever so sinserely,
Miller Light
__________________
Dear Soused,

We think a reverse high colonic would be good for you. If there is any room since you are already full of it. But yes, of course we will print your book. The contract is in the mail. Sign both copies in blood and return ASAP and we'll get right to work on administering your high colonic.

Have a nice day!
AuthorInsult Team
__________________
Dear TWIT,

It's finally happened, hasn't it? You people are all on crack, aren't you? I'm not surprised. I'd say yes to drugs, too, if I had every literacy advocacy person in every holy and unholy empire on earth on my ass. I gotta tell you, though, even crackheads ought to know better than to send out royalty checks in negative amounts to people whose books you don't even have contracts for any more.

You've effed up big time doing it to me, you bunch of skanky crack hos. By sending me your stupid check in the amount of -$2.14 on a book you have had no rights to for over a year, you have committed copyright infringement. I'm not going to sue you since you're a bunch of nobodies and I'd be embarrassed to have to go to court and admit I ever knew you. Instead, I have arranged for you a hunting date with Dick Cheney. Hasta la vista, assholes.

Love,
Crack Me Up
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Dear Crack,

The best use for your crack would be a session in our Kool-Aid Attic. I've already hunted with Cheney. Who do you think taught him what he knows?

Love,
Uncle Billy-Bob

We haven't heard from the Underwear Oracle lately. This would seem an appropriate day to get a reading.

What Your Underwear Says About You

You like to think of yourself as innocent, even though you're not! You're comfortable in your own skin - and don't care to impress anyone.

The Underwear Oracle