Crank It Up

A girl's got to have something to get excited about. Otherwise, it's too hard to get up in the morning. It doesn't have to be a lot. It can be something as simple as an anticipated contact, playing hookey from work, buying something you felt too guilty about to buy before, getting together with friends you haven't seen in a while, dressing up for some event that gets your juices flowing, getting a raise, or a makeover, or indulging in something sinfully scrumptious to eat. A smile on the face of someone you care about is exciting. A song or a new book can be exciting. A pretty dress has the potential for excitement. It doesn't matter, as long as it's something worth getting up for. As long as it's something that keeps you putting one foot in front of the other, it's all good.

Crank it up.

I think I've found my "prom dress." I'm not saying this is THE one, because it's my prerogative to change my mind. Today, this one looks pretty cute to me, though.

What do you think?

There's a prize for the first person who can tell the front from the back when I'm wearing it.

I've seen Leelee's dress, and it's a knockout. And Roxan has opted for white -- with feathers -- unless she changes her mind again.

We have another prom date, Hale McKay, which brings the total to 3.

Today's Charm Pointer

Q. Is there any one thing, a Rosetta Stone as it were, that is the key to domestic tranquility, corporate success, romantic bliss, and world peace?

A. Yes. Eyeliner.


TWISTED LINGUISTICS

quanitities - Extra large bazoombas.

discection - Medical procedure for when you're having a baby too big for a standard C-section.

someeone - The one and only, the Great Somee Leader.

exluded - Someone who no longer takes Qualudes.

comon problem - Trouble between two Rastafarians; i.e., one mon doesn't like how co-mon does things.


Dear Miss Don't Care TWIT,

I KNOW you don't care. You ain't telling me nothing new. I ain't no idiot you know. I do think Mr. Riviera will like me just fine so there. If you dont want to go its your lost. I knew you was a PutridAsshat too. I ain't no idiot, you know. We will just see about that extra 3 years missy. I am going strait to my attorney once I get sprung from teh home and my attorney is bigger and smarter than your puny real estate lawyer. He don't repersent no terrorists neither. I WILL be free from you. I have my ways. Bwhahahahahaha!

Truly Never Yours,
Future Starlet
____________________
Dear Runaway:

We have ways of forcing you back in the fold. As long as you haven't joined a certain group that's not in Kansas any more, we should have no problems bringing you back into the fold. We've got a gallon of Kool-Aid waiting for you. What makes you think Wee Billie doesn't already go wee-wee-wee all the way home?

Sincerely,
Cult Member Handler
____________________
Dear Nasty Handler,

And don't think I don't know what nasty thing you been handling. Yes mam I did join up with that cult up there over there not no more in Kansas, the one what's going to kick your skanky butt to kingdom come. Ain't drinking no more Kool-Ade! I'm a strawberry wine girl now. Liquid currege to deal with nasty peaces of work like you. Thank you but I don't want to think none about Wee Billie going wee-wee. Ewwww. I feel a pukathon coming on after all that wine I done drank today. They make us eat strawberry shortcake with it too which is just a trifle two sweat but it is ok because it means I am away from you turrible people and your electric Kool-Ade. Hasta la vista!

Not very truly yours,
Running Farther
_____________________
Dear Putrid Authors,

A Timely Message From InfoSnot

Greetings, authors! It's that time again -- basher fever in the outside world. Cripes, when will they ever learn? They can't best us at our own game. When it comes to snarky wording and head games, we're the champions. This is our way of thanking you for supporting us, your beneficent and magnanimous publisher, and for turning a blind eye to all the basher sites and boards in the outside world.

Authors, you whined incessantly for years for a returns policy. We, in turn, worked for years trying to give it to you and we finally succeeded in late September of this year. People, we gave it a shot, for your sake. Unfortunately, it is now our duty to report to you that it failed. Abysmally. Bookstores across the fruity plains do not care about returnability. We offered them an extraordinary 5% discount on purchases, but they balked at the restocking fee we were forced to impose to keep our costs in line with the world economy. They have indicated that they do not want a returns policy attached to our books. Therefore, we are calling off this ludicrous experiment and calling it a draw. It's back to business as usual!

To celebrate the end of this nonsense, we are offering you, our cherished authors, our bread and butter, a one-time only chance to buy a resonatingly goodly supply of your books. Don't get caught by potential customers with no stock on hand! What an ungodly dramatic escapade that would be. We would hate terribly to see any of our authors embarrassed in such a manner. In order to permit you to restock after this debacle of an experiment which slowed us all down, here's what we're offering:

-100-200 copies - 2% discount
- 201-300 copies - 3% discount
- 301-499 copies - 4% discount
- 500 or more copies - 5% discount

No orders for less than 100 copies. If you can't afford 100 or more, we feel sorry for you. And in which case you should place your paltry order through Amazon or B&N, or through our bookstore if we get it working again. At these generous prices, we cannot offer you royalties on your purchases. We are certain you understand. The usual $3.00 per copy shipping/handling charge has been increased to $4.50 for this special event. We already know we can count on you to see this as not a deterrent but as a testament to the extremely high quality of our books.

As a special bonus, we'll send you a case of Kool-Aid, assorted flavors, with each order, as well as a tambourine and an order form which will enable you to buy Mr. Bill's "Sampson" bible at half price. Call in your order today! Phone orders only, please. Please have your credit card in hand when you place your call in order to avoid unnecessary delays. We hope you are as excited as we are about this magnificent, one-time-only offer, an offer indicating the new phase we are entering in our revolutionizing of the publishing industry.

Oh, and one more piece of exciting news: we've signed an additional 2,600 new authors to our Putrid Publishing family in the past week, for a total of 33,000 Putrid authors. We ARE the biggest publisher in America! Thank you for all you do for us. We love you!

Love and kisses,
AuthorApathy Team

You Are a Club Sandwich

You are have a big personality. It's hard for anyone to ignore you! You dream big. You think big. And you eat big. Some people consider you high maintenance, but you just know what you want... and when you want it. Your best friend: The Tuna Fish Sandwich Your mortal enemy: The Peanut Butter and Jelly Sandwich

What Kind of Sandwich Are You?

Serena's School of Charm

Scary Monster's announcement that he's gone off to Charm School prompts me to pontificate on the nature of charm schools in general. After a second's reflection, I have determined that we have suffered through a Great Decline and we need a better breed of charm school. And I'm not saying that just because I flunked out of charm school. No, in light of ever changing customs and mores which dictate ... new customs and mores, we really do need to devise a whole new system of etiquette.

Many of the problematic etiquette dilemmas one might encounter in everyday life are covered in my new academy's curriculum. Welcome to Serena's House of Pain Charm, the trifecta (and last bastian) of charm, grace, and self-defense.

In my classes, you'll learn the answers to these burning (there's medication for that) questions and more.

What do you do when someone bumps you with a buggy in a store aisle?
You kick them in the shins.

What is the proper way to eat fried chicken?
Rip it with your teeth (and fangs if you have them), fingers (and claws if you have them), and your toes, too, if necessary. And if you have a sword, use it.

What, if anything, should a young lady say when she encounters a gentleman with an open fly?
"Howdy!"

If you're in a pissy mood and someone you don't care for says good morning to you, what is the correct response?
Slap them senseless.

Is there any way to graciously handle being lied to, cheated on, stolen from, or plagiarized?
Of course, there is! Hire a hitman. (See the Teaching Assistant for the directory)

What is the proper reply to someone who tells you you look/seem a bit off today?
Break two of their smaller bones (that may stave off felony charges) with a good sized but tastefully polished stick.

What do you do when your partner has no rhythm and cannot dance?
Using your stiletto heels, step on his toes in a hard, circular, grinding rhythm.

What recourse do you have when you're being picked on by other young ladies, like the "in" clique and the cheerleading squad?
Start rumors about them. You know the drill -- they're easy, they have STDs, they buy their clothes at Big Lots, they had tummy tucks that didn't take, the prom queen's a transvestite, Muffy's brother is her daddy, the head cheerleader has 4 kids, they all belong to a blood-sucking cult, and so on and so forth. Rumors often take on a life of their own so this technique works spectacularly well.

When someone gently reminds you that you've perhaps had too much to drink, what is the appropriate course of conduct?
Dump your drink on his/her head and get a fresh one.

How does a woman gracefully deal with adultery?
White lace and silk scarves would be a good start.

In these modern times, is marriage really necessary?
Only if you'd rather make war than love.

What is the correct and well-bred response if you come down with an STD?
Hallmark has cards for that now.

How should you react if someone makes you cry?
Hit them.

How should you react if you make someone cry?
Scream. And hit them.

When you're riding in an automobile with someone whose driving is frightening you, what is the most effective way to extricate yourself from the situation?
Shoot them.

How often should one resort to taking drugs to keep one's attitude adjusted?
Only Sunday through Saturday. Any more and you face the dismal prospect of rehab with movie stars.

Is there any real reason to wear underwear every time you leave the house?
Yes, you moron! You could get into an accident, and there could be paparazzi.

You know it's impolite to say "Up yours," so what is the gracious way of expressing that sentiment?
Up yours, dear.

What should the well brought up young woman do when a 98-pound weakling simply won't leave her alone?
Don't even bother wasting time on a restraining order. If you weigh more than 98 pounds, sit on him. If not, then aim for his g-spot and execute a high, well-placed kick that will leave him squealing soprano. And remember, young ladies should always be properly attired for such functions. That means -- combat boots.

What is the correct attire for a public pillorying function?
A little pink sarong-style dress and combat boots. This is to today's brave young females what the little black dress was to your mothers.

And is it important to also be properly coiffed for these events?
Do you want an F in this course? You'd better make sure your hair looks good. You will never go wrong wearing dreadlocks with dangling rat skulls.

When you're on a dinner date and having homicidal thoughts about your date, what should you do?
Tell the waiter your date is hyperventilating and ask for a paper bag. Place the bag over your bad date's head and, using delicate, genteel motions, gently suffocate him. Politely summon the waiter again and ask him to call an ambulance. During the commotion with the gurneys, equipment, radio chatter, etc., make a graceful exit. If you gave that date your phone number, change it.

If your date starts getting fresh with you in public, what is the most discreet way to handle it?
There are a couple of ways. You may (1) bite or pinch him in a place where the bruise won't show; (2) stick your keys in his ear; (3) whisper something that will cause him to wet his pants and have to flee the scene; or (4) Taser him. (No shooting in public, because even small caliber weapons make a noticeable noise.)

Well-bred young ladies never use 4-letter words, do they?
Of course, they do, you silly tw*t. You simply remove the vowels; i.e., "F*ck y**, y** s*rry p**c* *f sh*t!" Disemvowel it and you have leave to say anything you wish.

Is it ever permissible to fake an orgasm?
If you're in a position where you feel like you have to, then you need to change positions.

The Thrill Is Gone

The Chippendale Dancers at their 30th reunion. The thrill is definitely gone.


The thrill is gone
The thrill is gone away
The thrill is gone baby
The thrill is gone away
You know you done me wrong, baby
And you'll be sorry someday.

("The Thrill Is Gone," B. B. King)

Yeah, I think they were saying exactly what I thought they were saying, when I said that, wherever I said it. Whatever. Sometimes when one person is all happy-happy yuck-yuck, it just means somebody else got the shaft. You win some, you lose some. But ... the thrill is gone.

What the hell, though. Bite me. I'm going to the freakin' prom. And I'm sitting at the damned Prom Death Table -- where, if anybody messes with me, I'll be in the right place to take care of business. That thrill ain't goin' nowhere.

My ancient wind-up Timex finally gave out. I loathe friggin' battery-powered watches. I am hell on batteries and seem to have a knack for killing them dead in record time. They don't seem to make wind-up watches any more. I'm going to miss that faithful Timex. The thrill is gone.

Things come, and things go -- or break down, rot, become obsolete, give you grief, sue you, cheat you, get lost, fall apart... Damn it all, doesn't it just suck when the thrill is gone? Yeah, bay-bee.


yesturday - Think about it -- and you'll realize that this is not a word to use in polite company.

Sanquine - San Quentin alumni.



Dear TWIT,

Hellloooooo, up there! I done writ to you coupla days ago and you has not resplonded. Should I assume you agree with my position? Goody!

I'm scheduling a book signing -- you know, for that book that your slow in returning the cotnract to me? -- here at the home next week. Don't worry, you don't have to send no books. I got me a whole carton what I bought when I was raving sycotick. (I'm better now.)

I'm having billboards put up out on the road billing you as both publisher and sponsor of this here event. I'm not taking my meds that day. God knows what will happen. I'm sure you will here about it.

Sincerely,
Slightly Less Nuts Today, Thank You Very Much
_________________________
Dear TWIT,

Nobody never did answer me about whether you'd return a contract to a poor certifliable incontinent person. Meaning me. So let me aks you this. Would you sponser me to go on the Heraldo Riviera show about my book and your company and your bidness practises? He's that french reporter you know. Right me back and tell me if you will go my plain fair and even better if you want to go on the show with me. I think it will be grate fun for him to ask us both questions don't you? I won't have to rehearse my ansers and get them vetted by a attorney but I know you will so be sure and let me know soon so I can tell Heraldo.

Sincerely Not Yours,
Gonna Be A Star
_________________________
Dear Star:

Your language shows your idiocy. Geraldo Rivera is not interested in listening to you whine. We at PutridAsshats will not dignify this with a response.

Your contract is still firmly in place, in fact, your request has extended your contract by three additonal years. You will never be free from us, don't you and your cohorts get that?

Sincerely,
Don't Care About Authors Team
__________________________
Dear TWIT,

Hi how are you? I am fine.

I wanted to tell you sumthing. I have joined a cult. I know I said I didn't like being brainwashed and gagging on Kool-Aid and runned away from you cult but this is a better cult. And you know what? They are some pretty nice cult peoples and they told me to tell you they coming soon to kick your butt and put the feear of God in you and send you kicking and whinning to hell. Are you skeered? You better be. We got whine -- I mean wine. {{burp}} When we have had enough we are coming. Be ready. Oh yeah, as if. You got nothin'. We're gonna stick a appel in your porky leader's mouth and make him cry wee-wee-wee all the way home.

Love,
Little Runaway

Your Inner Color is Orange

Your Personality: A total daredevil, you'll try any thrill. You're easily bored and you prefer to be on the go. You in Love: You see love as an adventure, and you find most men dull. You need someone who challenges you! Your Career: Your ideal job is flexible, fun, and maybe a little dangerous. You have the makings of a private investigator or extreme athlete.

What's Your Inner Color?

Yeah, right, I'm going to be the next extreme athlete. Dumbfuck quizzes.

Demolishing Tradition In 2 or 3 Fell Swoops

I know what the word "traditional" means. I can spell it. I can even use it in a sentence. I have a really hard time relating to it sometimes, though.

I don't bake cookies, for example. Well, I mean, why would I when the stores and bakeries are full of them? Wouldn't that be redundant? I don't cook, either, much to my mother's dismay. To her, a woman's inherent worth is based in large part on her ability to cook. Listen, my kids survived childhood without starving to death. Granted, I never was all that good at it, but now that they're grown and cooking for themselves, why on earth should I cook? My mother has a green thumb, too, and can make anything grow and thrive. She makes a finger crucifix whenever I, Our Lady of Dead Black Leaves, go near her plants.

I'm pretty sure I was responsible for a lot of the premature gray in my mother's hair. She wanted big-haired debutantes. Instead, she got me, the hippie chick who ironed her hair and refused to go to the prom. She wanted me to date the upstart neighbor's dorky son who was in my class. Instead, I was partial to college boys. She wanted a prim and proper daughter. She got me, the girl who ran the gamut from Mary Quant miniskirts to faded blue jeans. She also wanted a reasonably intelligent daughter. I did do a passable job of that, I guess; she still talks about my GPA to people who have no interest whatsoever in that ancient history.

She wanted a daughter who would begin a career young and stick with it for the pension. She got a restless daughter who's reinvented careers several times, who's run a couple of businesses of her own before getting bored with them, who now works for an impoverished boss at slave wages. And loves it. What she got was a daughter who was much more interested in reading, writing, painting, causes, and ... dogs. I never told her about some of my other interests. I'd hate to make her faint any more than she already has on my account. I don't think her heart could withstand it.

She expected a daughter who at least pretended a polite interest in religion, politics, and ... ladies' clubs. When I try to tell her about the things I AM interested in, her eyes glaze over. I know she hates it that I refuse to follow in her footsteps to the DAR, but it is just Not Going To Happen. Stiff-lipped, straight-laced, blue-haired old ladies scare me.

On one occasion when I saw my mom recently, she asked me, "What's wrong with you?"

"What?" I asked, thinking I looked pretty darn healthy.

"Look at you," she demanded. I looked. I saw nothing wrong with my leggings, sparkly top, clogs, and ponytail with a spangled scrunchie.

"Don't you know how old you are?" she said. "Because I do. Do you have Peter Pan Syndrome or something? How long are you going to keep running around dressed like a kid?"

"For as long as I can get away with it," I said, quite reasonably in my opinion. "Ma, this is me. I am who I am. Maybe I'll start acting my age when I'm your age and your age when I'm about 90. In the meantime, this suits me just fine. Got an extra pain pill?"


Man who run in front of car get tired.

Man who run behind car get exhausted.

- Chinese proverbs


Notes for The Prom Squad

Here's who's revved up and ready to go so far:

1. Serena
2. Roxan
3. Leelee
4. Rubber Corndog
5. TFG, our date
6. Greenyflower
7. Pug says he's bought me a corsage, so I guess he's in.

Okay, so we don't have a whole lot of dates yet, with the exception of TFG and Pug who have graciously assented to escort us. What, no more boys brave enough to buy us corsages and take these girls to the prom?

We'll keep a running commentary on who's going, what they're wearing, who's got wheels, who's the designated driver, who's got fake ID, who's got curfew, yada-yada.

It's true that I like pink. A lot. But jiminy christmas, a pink prom dress would be just too foufou for words. I don't want to go looking like Little Bunny Foo-Foo. I'm going with black. That'll look good with my Doc Martens. What are the rest of you wearing?



Morman church - The chapel where it's raining men.

I new here - Not no more, you ain't. You in good company now.

bizzare - The sound made by strange bees.

Cheif - When Che Guevara cooks.



Dear TWIT,

Attached for you're conslideration is my finished manuskrip of a very sweet and timely childrens book, The Little Hellicopter That Could. I have alreaady edited it to perfection so it won't not be necessary for you to do any editing and I would like to have it fast tracked assuming of course that you except it which of course I am hoping you will because it is a very good storie.I look forward to hereing back from you at your earlyest convienence about this exciting projector.

Sincerely,
Asspiring Author
_____________________
Dear Asspiring Author:

I regret to inform you that we have met our quota for the day. As your writing is something we feel will resonate with our childish readers, I'd like to invite you to resubmit your manuscript in one week's time. After your book is published, I will extend another invitation to you -- an invitation to purchase as many of your books as will fit in the trunk of your car. You will need them to take them from bookstore to bookstore, flea market to flea market, etc., so you can sell them in order to make a fraction of the money you spent when you bought them.I don't, however, wish to hear about how no one wanted your 25 page children's book priced at the low, low price of $14.95. I also don't want to hear how upset you are because you do not get the standard discount most Putrid authors get -- your book contains full color art -- therefore, we cannot give your a discount. You will be required to pay full price.If I do hear from you, chances are I will send you one last invitation -- an invitation to go fuck yourself.

I look forward to your resubmission, and all the crap I'll have to put up from you just to get a few lousy bucks!

Sincerely,
Quota Girl
___________________
Dear Quota Girl,

Tomorrow, huh? Bummer. But that's all righty roo, I'll send it back off first thing in the AM. Oh I forgot to say it's not 25 pages its 5 pages. How much will it cost then? If they ain't over $5 I will buy sum. Only -- only how comes I can't get the discount? What did I ever do to you? Pleaze give me the discount Miss Quota Girl. Because if you donut, I might could only by 10 instead of 5 see what I mean?Oh! Oh! You said the F-word to me! I'm telling the BBB up there in Freddrik. You will have to pay DOUBLE dues before they give you a excellunt raiting again. What do you think of them apples?

Sincerely,
Pissing My Ass(piring author) Off
_____________________
Dear TWIT,

I have just learned that I was incompetent when I signed my contract with your company. Apparently, I still am. At least, that's what the cop who arrested me last night said, backed up by the staff in the Psych ward.

So, could you apply your new returnability policy to my contract and return it to me? I'm told I'm capable of some weird affect and inappropriately bizarre behavior if you don't. Wow, fire is really pretty. And those covers of yours produce some really far-out colors when they burn.

Sincerely,
Nuts and Loving It

You Are a Mai Tai

You aren't a big drinker, but you'll drink if the atmosphere is festive. And when you're drunk, watch out! You're easily carried away.

What Mixed Drink Are You?

Untitled

• Sometimes when I get an itch, I ignore it and make it a test of wills. Can I will the stupid itch away without having to resort to scratching it? Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't. Some itches will go away if you refuse to give in to them, some you just have to do something about. Nose itches are the worst; they almost always have to be scratched. I seem to be unable to ignore toe itches as well.
  
  
• Sometimes I'll see something written somewhere or another and think, "Huh? Are they saying what I think they're saying? They'd better not be saying what it looks like." Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar, but other times it might be a big stick with which to hit you in the head. Never accept cigars from strangers.
  
  
• Am I too old to go to the prom? I only ask because I got some spam offering to sell me prom dresses at bargain-basement prices. I didn't go to my high school prom. I was a hippie kid who thought puffy-dressed, big-haired proms were dorky. Now I'm thinking this might be the perfect age to become a first-time prom queen. Give 'em something to talk about. Who wants to take me?
  
  
• I had something else I was going to put on the list but now I can't think of what it was. SJ is diiiiistracted.
  
  
  
  nobelmen - Males who have won Nobel prizes.
  
  porn sights - Stuff you shouldn't be seeing.
  
  formated - An especially unseemly mating habit.
  
  i'm curios - You are -- a collectibles cabinet?
  
  
  Dear Disemvoweled,
  
  The CIA? Please, bring them on. We welcome the wonderful publicity that would bring, to have a book written by the CIA prin...um, published by Putrid. We welcome any and all publicity we can get. The more we are in the news, the more marks...um, authors that will contact us daily and the more they will buy their own books and the more money we will make.
  
  You will never stop us! Not so long as there is one uninformed person left in this world, we will never be stopped. We have crushed the dreams of thousands and have hundreds of thousands more to go. Get over it.
  
  Mondo Betty
  ___________________
  Dear Mondo PugnaciousAsstwit,
  
  Well, I'd say 'uncle' but I'd be afraid Uncle Billie would appear in front of me like some demon spawned outta hell. Therefore, I have no choice but to keep ragging your butt 'til you either do what you promised or drop dead. Either one suits me just fine.
  
  Just so you know, I don't think you want to mess with the CIA. They know stuff that would make your cult look like kindergarten. Not that I have any problem putting a bug in their ear about you, because I don't. And you won't know when I've done it. Bwhahahaha!!
  
  Bottom line, I be infromed and I wants some words printed on a nice pink cover, with a PICTURE, and you get it done pronto, you here me? Oh, God, now look what you've done -- you got me writting like a ship again. Baaaaaahhhhh. But guess whut? My dreems ain't crushed, not by the licks of you. Neener-neener-neener.
  
  Sincerely,
  Pretty in Pink
  __________________
  Dear TWIT,
  
  I have ran into a problem I hope you can help me out with. You're company published my book 'Whoops - Redfaced Wherewolfs' last summer. Then I applicationed for membership in Wherewolf Writers World Federation. Well they has turned me down saying that I am not a published arther and not elageble for membership. What? I am two published. I am setting her looking at my 2 free copies of my book. It has my name on it not nobody elses. I do not beleive this. So can you write a letter to WWWF and tell them I am to published and they have to let me join? I sure wood appriciate it. And thank you.
  
  Sincerely,
  Wherewolf Writter
  
  
  

  You Are In a Fantastic Mood

  You're confident, focused, and on top of your game. People are attracted to your energy right now. This is the time to go for it - you're likely to get what you want!

What Mood Are You In?

Bwaaaak!

Big chickens sometimes pick on the little chicks, jeering and squawking and pecking. The results are usually pretty predictable. Peep-peep.

And sometimes, just because they're too young and inexperienced, the little chickies make a show of taking on the big chickens, jeering and squawking and trying to get in a few pecks. In many instances, little chicks should never take on the big chicks. They ain't gonna win. Other times, however, the wiley little chicks had better go after the big chicken before Big Chick gets a chance to peck them to shreds. When the peeps are right and the pullet ain't, little chickies have big teeth. Pluck that skanky poulet. Peep-peep.

Why am I talking about puffed-up babs chicks and power plays and shows of bluff and bravura? I can't say, because I don't want to end up in the same steaming soup pot as some of my brother and sister chicks. All I can say is that this, too, shall end. And when it does, when some tainted, smelly feathers have flown and the flea-bitten carcass is stripped of ego and attitude, we'll throw the mother of all barbecues. Once the grilling (and the cross-grilling) ends, that scrawny thing is going to get roasted.

There will be baked chicken, barbecued chicken, chicken and dumplings, chicken fritters, chicken tenders, stir-fried chicken, chicken chow mein, chicken lo mein, fried chicken, boiled chicken, chicken soup, chicken pot pie, chicken patties, chicken chunks, and fricasseed chicken.

We'll just see how far one mangy old chicken will stretch. Right now, it's a waiting game and mum's the word. Just hang on to your appetite. The countdown is on.

Moving along from parasitic fowl to the scientific front, I find this absolutely fascinating. Astronomers have discovered a planet outside our solar system with Earth-like temperatures that is potentially habitable. It might have water in liquid form, and in galactic terms is relatively nearby at 120 trillion miles away. But the star it closely orbits, known as a "red dwarf" and called Gliese 581c, is much smaller, dimmer, and cooler than our sun.

Red dwarfs are low-energy, tiny stars that give off dim red light and last longer than stars like our sun. Until a few years ago, astronomers didn't consider these stars as possible hosts of planets that might sustain life. The discovery of Gliese 581c will give rise to new studies of planets circling similar dim stars. About 80 percent of the stars near Earth are red dwarfs.

The new planet is about five times heavier than Earth. It’s not known yet whether it is rocky like Earth or if it’s a frozen ice ball with liquid water on the surface. If it is rocky, it has a diameter about 1-1/2 times bigger than Earth. If it is an iceball, it would be even bigger. Based on theory, it should have an atmosphere, but what's in that atmosphere is still a mystery. If, for example, it is too thick, that could make the planet's surface temperature too hot.

Of course, the hotter and soupier it is, the more habitable it might be for pesky poultry.

Ladies, I'm declaring a Dress-up Day. Y'all know what to do. I even put on a dress and heels for the occasion.


























Here's today's Words Gone Wild. I found 'em -- y'all define 'em.

woulod
dafted
obay
intensionally
expidited

And today's installment of Dear Twit.

Dear Booty,

{{yawn}}

Candy Lane
_________________
Dear Zoned Out Candyass Has-been,

Oh, man! You called me Booty! Them's fighting words! Nobody can call me that and expect to live! Do I LOOK like freakin' Booty to you?! If I do, you tell me right now so I can off myself! You apologize, and I mean right this very instant. Call ME Booty, will you? If I don't have your prompt apology in my inbox inside of five minutes, that's it. I'm siccing the entire Rainbow Tribe on you and your candy ass is grass. Eat them words or prepare to die, TWIT!!

Sincerely,
Better Dead Than Booty
__________________
Dear Angry Better Dead One,

Candy Lane is no longer in our employment. She was late for her appointment with Mr. Billy today. If we were a reputable company we would issue an immediate apology for the way she addressed you. However, we have a reputation to uphold so therefore no apology will be forthcoming.

We hope this explanation fits like a glove and will resonate with you from sea to shining sea and all across the fruited plains. For further lollygagging see our testamony page at Putrid Publishing.com.

Have a nice day!

Some unknown person deep in the bowels of Putrid.
__________________
Dear Bowel Obstructed TWIT,

Bowels? You want to see bowels, you fruitcake? I'll show you bowels -- YOURS, turned inside out and wrapped tightly around your neck. How's that for imagery? I'll steal all your vowels, too.

Hey, I'm glad Candy got the hell out of Dodge. That leaves YOU to stop lollygagging, get off your dead ass, and fix my book before I give some testimony to the CIA about you.

Are we simpatico now?

Ta-ta and have a nice day, idiot.

Sincerely,
Th_ D_s_mv_w_l_d _ _th_r

Your Quirk Factor: 67%

You're so quirky, it's hard for you to tell the difference between quirky and normal. No doubt about it, there's little about you that's "normal" or "average."

How Quirky Are You?

Snakes + Estrogen = Hisses & Misses

What fresh hell is this?
~Dorothy Parker

I'm not quoting Ms. Parker on behalf of myself today. Nope, things are pretty darned good in my little world. Very good, indeed. I just like the quote; always have. I utter it a lot, in fact, in various and sundry situations. But not today. Although ... it is still early and I'm dealing with a difficult and impatient client. Between her and me and all the barely cooperative (clearly hormonal) people with whom I've had to coordinate her newest motions, it was like Estrogen City here for a little while. It's a good thing none of us had swords. Things are calm again now, knock on wood.

I do realize that the second I admit to having an excellent day (and no homicidal thoughts), the gods could throw a sucker punch my way for their amusement.


So, there was this guy in Lynchburg doing some yard work the other day when he got spooked by a snake. I don't even know what kind of snake it was. It was just ... a snake. Chances are it was a harmless garden snake or black snake; i.e., it probably wasn't a cobra. Anyhow -- Boo! It scared him. I wouldn't be at all surprised to hear that he squealed like a little girl. At any rate, he got his knickers in a bunch and ran and grabbed the gas can from the garage.

Not satisfied with nearly drowning the hapless reptile in gasoline, this Mensa candidate lit a match. Snake must have said "Boo!" again, because the whiz kid freaked again and dropped the match. The poor snake, of course, pretty well immediately fried. But the story doesn't end there. Ohhhhh, no. This is super evolved intelligence we're talking about here.

Smoldering Mr. Snake ignited the porch, which burned to the ground and set the rest of the house on fire. Our hero proceeded to grab the garden hose and douse the flames. He "thought" he'd gotten the job done, but nooooot quite. He kind of missed the hot embers down inside the walls. By the time the fire department arrived on the scene to do the job properly, half the house had burned down. How many of you think dude would have been much better off to have simply altered his course a little, given Mr. Snake his space, and gone on along with his own business? And how many of you blame me for laughing my ass off at this little gem of at least quasi poetic justice?


antholody - "Anthology, the Musical."

perfudy - Extra-bad stuff that Elmer Fudd does.

weather you do or don't - Proof that you really can't control the climate.


Dear Candyass,

You want a prolem? I'll give you a prolem! What's worse than a FEMA worker showing up on your doorstep? TWO FEMA workers! I'm calling right now.

And I'll have you know my maiden aunt and my awkward cousin twice removed saw my book, too. Ha! Put that in your crack pipe and smoke it.

Sincerely,
Smokin' Pissed
_________________
Dear Ss or whatever,

Candyass? Ohh, thanks for the new name! I'll bet Uncle Billie is really going to like that one!

FEMA workers are so lame, we have no fear of them and in fact, welcome the chance to resonate with them. Could you please hasten them along to us?

I'm tired of your whining now and it's time for Billie's knob to be polished.

Tata.

CA
_________________
Dear CA,

Then I take it back! I'd rather cut off my 2 typing fingers than do anything that pleases your nasty ol' Uncle Billie.

If you don't fear FEMA, then it's only because you're too stupid to come in out of the rain. You wait 'til they swarm all over your townhouse and tell you it's totaled and you have to move out, to a government issue trailer, in the hot sun, with no water, and no grocery voucher. Ha-ha-ha! We'll see who gets the last laugh.

I'll decide when I'm done whining, thank you very much. Lord, Lord, I cannot believe you are admitting in public that doing wicked things with your dirty old uncle is part of your job description. I'm calling the EEOC and Erin Brockovich on you both.

Now, then -- what are you going to do about my book cover?

Sincerely,
Undeserving of Brown Paper Wrappers
_________________
Dear Undeserving,

Boy, did you get that one right! LOLOL!

I was speaking of dear Uncle Willie's bald head. It has to be polished every day to give it just the right sheen. What did YOU think I was talking about?

Book cover smuck cover. You aren't getting a new one. Read your contract, dummy. Your book got the cover and the chance it deserved, just like they all do.

Signed,
Candyland
________________
Dear Sucker,

And don't get all offended and send me tone -- suckers are candy.

Listen, if I were you, I'd still be looking for another job because, honey, a knob is a knob is a knob. A knob by any other name... Well, you get my drift. You shouldn't ought to have to be putting your hands anywhere on Uncle Billie's person as part of your job. Comprende?

Yo, who you calling dummy? I read my contract. Twenty-seven other people read my contract. Nobody could make heads nor tails out of the gobbledygook you call a contract. So don't tell me to go read my contract. Just fix the damn cover. I know one thing my contract does state in black and white and English: that my book will have an attractive cover! You tell me what's attractive about plain brown paper! You don't fix it, I'm going to take the next chance I can get to give you the ass-kicking you deserve. Your hurt will resonate from sea to shining sea and your humiliation at getting whupped by a girl will fit you like a glove. Tone that cover up NOW, you TWIT!

Sincerely,
Wunderkind in Combat Boots

You Should Get An Asian Inspired Tattoo

Mysterious and expressive You like to show off, but you also like to keep some allure

What Tattoo Should You Get?

Wired Weird

It was a weird weekend. All in all, I'd rather have been in Philadelphia. (I've never been to Philadelphia, but I'm sure it's fine. Really.) What it was, the weather was weird, the news was weird, the relatives were weird, and it was like the very air was full of weird vibes all weekend long. I didn't much like where my head was a lot of the time. Time to think is good, but too much thinking, too much time on hands make SJ dull girl -- or get her in trouble. (Not that I mind an occasional spot of trouble, as long as it's fun.) I'm actually kind of glad the weekend's over and I'm back at work, though. Not that this place isn't weird a lot of the time, but it's a different kind of weird. And rest assured, there is weirdness to be found here today. I haven't told anybody to bite me, though. Yet. Not that I would. Noooooo. Not moi.

I think that the phrase "bite me" is an appropriate rejoinder to end most unfortunate (and highly charged) confrontations. Don't you? Well, except in instances where there's a distinct possibility that the person you have cornered would really adore biting you. And you certainly wouldn't want to say that to a vampire, so you do have to use a little common sense.

What other two short little words pack such a wallop and convey such a rich depth of emotion -- or evoke such ridiculously humorous imagery? Alas, I haven't used "bite me" much since it became the battle cry of one of the biggest biwitches in this hemisphere. Now I'm thinking of taking it back. If she doesn't like it, she can bite me.

What happens if someone not too smart, someone who takes everything literally, takes you up on your invitation and bites you? Should you sue? If you do, is it ever appropriate to answer adverse counsel's questions on cross-examination with "Bite me"?

I haven't seen any real rules covering points like these. Then again, they're not so much rules as they are guidelines. We know that judges enforce rules, but what about guidelines?


In today's Weird News, we learn that the Chinese government has imposed a strict new set of regulations on Beijing cab drivers for the 2008 Olympic games. They can't, among other things, smoke, spit, overcharge, wear big earrings, or ... have red hair. I'm a little bit insulted that I won't be allowed to drive a cab in Beijing next year. Why the discrimination against redheads?! We're people, too.


povided - When you gave stuff to da po.

rainment - A tearful lament during a thunderstorm.

deaefening - The sound of some peoples' writing.


Dear Dot Girl,

Whoa! Such hostility from a lowly plebe such as you! We here at Putrid Publications cannot have that. Surely, you must know by now that while we may address you in any terms we please, you must remain respectful and obsequious at all times.

You are hereby ordered to catch the first Greyhound from your town to ours. You will be picked up at the station by one of our editors and brought directly to our offices. You need not bring anything with you, as you'll be shackled and/or straitjacketed for the duration of your mandatory 2-week stay. You will spend the first week in intensive psychotherapy with Uncle Bobby-Bill. The second week, you belong to Billy-Bob. Don't ask. Trust me, by the time your program is over, you'll be begging to drink Kool-Aid and stare at dots. Feel better now?

Sincerely,
Bitsy,
Head of Reeducation Services,
Putrid & Purely Awful Printing
______________________
Dear Twit,

Why did I ever send my ms to Putrid Publishing? Why did I ever think I was qualified to write a ms? I feel like I am in the middle of a swift moving stream and I can't go back and I can't go forward. I am stuck and the water is swriling by me on both sides. I don't even want to write any more. I want to forget I ever thought I maybe could write. I totally thoroughly suck at writing. I hate the pure thought of trying to write.

Thank you Putrid Publishing for opening these blind eyes and reconfirming how totally undeserving of any nice thing I am.

Signed,
Dumbass
_____________________
Dear Ms. DA,

You know, we get so tired of you people moaning and groaning all the time. Do you not realize that we have given your book the chance it deserved, at the cost of not one red cent to you, and made it available from sea to freaking sea and all over the damn fruited plains?

In all honesty, we could not care less about the quality of your or any other author's writing. You can submit anything you wish to us and we will print it up for you -- as long as you hold up your end of the bargain and buy it. So, please, stop e-mailing us and get busy writing another book for us. Try to get it in in time to take advantage of our next sales pitch to you authors.

Naturally, we will accept your thanks any time you wish to send them. We won't delete those e-mails. Any e-mails not containing thanks and general kow-towing are, of course, deleted unread. I trust I have made myself crystal clear and that my sentiments are resonating with you. In other words, we want your book, and we wanted it yesterday. If you need more Kool-Aid, you have only to ask and we will be more than happy to oblige.

When may we expect your next manuscript? We may wish to send out a free press release about it. Then again, we might not. Don't you love guessing games?

Sincerely,
Bambi@Smug AzzHat Support
_____________________
Dear TWIT,

You people are irking me to death! My book was released with a plain brown cover. It looks like a paper bag. You didn't even print the title on the front, just on the spline. Hey, it's a childrens's book, not porn! WHEN are you going to fix this problem? This is about the forty-eleventh time I've asked. I already reported you to the BBB but you just changed your corporate status from LLP to DMWT and paid more dues and they called it 'resolved.' If you don't do something about this, and I mean right now, I'm sending a FEMA representative to see you. I mean it.

Sincerely,
Brown Bagging It
______________________
Dear BBI,

We have addressed the prolem and see no needs in fixing anything on your book. You and your mommy and daddy are the only ones that will ever see it anyway, so what's your beef? As for sending FEMA, send 'em on! That's just the type of idiots we are looking for.

Candy Lips @smartass.com

You Are 32% Phobic

Scared? You? Not really. Everyone has a few normal phobias, and you're no exception. It's okay to be afraid of a few things. You wouldn't be human if you weren't.

How Phobic Are You?

Round Here

Round here we're carving out our names
Round here we all look the same
Round here we talk just like lions
But we sacrifice like lambs
Round here she's slipping through my hands.

Sleeping children better run like the wind
Out of the lightning dream
Mama's little baby better get herself in
Out of the lightning.

(Round Here, Counting Crows)


It's been a long, surreal week 'round here, with a lot of (too much) stuff to take in and assimilate and try to make sense of -- the good and the bad, the stupid and the shocking, the happy and the sad, the tragic and the indefensible. It's been a time for reflection, for introspection, for reexamination. You process it as best you can, do whatever it takes to keep it in a quiet place through the looking glass that lets you make it through the night and, if you're smart, you learn something from it and keep things moving along.

Sometimes things happen that cause us to question who we are and what we're about. Maybe even why we are. When we can answer those questions with a modicum of intelligence and a glimmer of understanding, we're probably going to be okay. When such questions are grounds for an epiphany, the discomfort they might have caused is perhaps worth it.

Is there any guarantee that we stop doing dumb things after we're dead? If I can't be assured that I won't stumble stupidly all over myself on some other plane, then I'm staying on this one, thank you very much. I'd rather see the the moon and the sun and the stars and feel the earth beneath my feet while I'm being eaten up with dumb.

I can say I'm not going to do that again. I can promise that I won't say such a thing again. I can swear that I won't go down that path again. But I probably will. (The stupid, ubiquitous) They say you live and learn. They never tell you how long it takes.

I got a piece of mail from my erstwhile publisher yesterday that threw me for a loop. At first, I laughed at the sheer outrageous effrontery of it. Then I got angry and spent some time contemplating what, if anything, I should do about it. And then I had a short cry, because sometimes that's the only way to get rid of that mounting bank of pressure that builds up during the course of sensory overload. And then I started laughing again, which is as it should be. Somebody will have the last laugh, and I do believe it will be me. Getting mixed up with that outfit was just one more entry in an unbelievably long litany of stupid things I've done in my life. Maybe some day I'll learn. Probably not, but it's a nice, optimistic thought.


nuclear perliferation - Guide for the Apocalypse put out at the behest of the people who plan to ration out life.

reccommend - Reconnaissance on the mending factory as suggested by the general.

solicitating - I don't know WTF that is. It's probably something salacious.

Graffic - Explicit graffiti.

challanging - Nice people do not challang. Ever.



Dear PPT:

It wasn't hard to figure out your lousy company would sign someone like Anna Nicole Smith. She is about as big an idiot as you people are. As far as your email announcement, don't bother sending it to me. I won't be buying any books from the Asshat Brigade! As to apologizing to Jamie Farr, I think it's you who need to do the apologizing. You took a well known celebrity and made him look like an idiot. I'm sure you'd like people to believe he didn't read his contract either, but I'm betting he did and didn't understand it any better than we did. So, take your tone and stick it where the sun don't shine, I'm through with your ilk!

Sincerely,
Enlightened
___________________
Dear Most UNenlightened One,

Gal, take a pill!
Chill!
Apologize to the man.
Say you're sorry to me
Or your book's in the can
With no royalty.

Such drama! Such an escapade!
You call this tone?
Girl, I ain't made
You pay yet and cry and groan.

Mr. Farr is da man
Anna's our next big one
I know that you can
Learn to love 'em both a ton.

We'll send you what we please
And you'll read it with glee
You're such a tease
Oh, tee-hee-hee.

I'll tell you what will stick
Where the sun don't shine
It's your royalty check, you hick
It'll be mine, all mine.

I'll be expecting your apology in my inbox first thing in the morning, girlie. Have a nice day!

P. Twitty Bett in
Bad Zobmi Poetry Mode
____________________
Dear P. Twitty:

You've just proven how seriously insane you are! I hate poetry, don't ever read it. Don't ever assault my brain with this crap again!

Go play with Anna Nicole and leave me the hell alone!

Sincerely,
Not Effing Kidding!
____________________
Dear Effing,

Apparently, you were raised by wolves. No well brought up young lady would ever address her betters in such a tone. I see what your problem is: you are poetry dyslexic. In order to round out your introduction to refined culture, may I suggest that you go immediately to the Putrid bookstore and purchase a selection of poetry books.

And speaking of well rounded, I've already played with Anna Nicole -- it was a requirement of our accepting her ms -- and liked her just fine. Hubba-hubba!

You should be very careful, my dear, about calling me or my flunkies insane. Do you see the yellow dot in the lower right-hand corner of your screen? Drink your Kool-Aid and then watch the dot, dear. Stare at it. Contemplate it. Be one with it. You're getting very sleepy, aren't you, dear? And when you awake, you will write me a courteous, concilliatory letter -- in verse.

Sincerely,
Billie-Willie Wonks 'Em
_____________________
Dear Willie,

To quote a recent Hurricane Katrina victim to Vice President Cheney, "Go f*ck yourself."

I don't drink Kool-Aid and I won't be staring at any of your dots. Why don't you give yourself a Kool-Aid enema? Then sit and stare at your own dot.

Sincerely,
Dot Girl



So, who needs a new start?

Your Life is 56% Off Track

Right now, you're taking things one day at a time. Some things are going well, but you can't help but wonder if you're getting the most out of life. It's time for you to slow down and reflect a little. You can change your life - but it's up to you!

Are You Living The Wrong Life?

The Saturday Duck Chuck & Bimbo Bash

If it walks like a duck and it talks like a duck and it looks like a duck but it's not a duck, what is it?

I get so damned tired of thinking something is one thing, only to find out it's some other thing. If it's a wombat, call it a wombat. If it's an orangutan, call it an orangutan. If it's a warthog, then call it a warthog and ... not a duck. Stop calling it a duck already when it's not a duck. Who the hell wants a fake duck?

People are fickle as hell. It irritates me to death to see some twit -- we'll call her Barbie -- badmouthing Mattel in one hangout so she'll appear to agree with Midge and Skipper and then running over to some other hangout to praise Mattel to impress Ken and G.I. Joe. That's not even fickle. It's actually plain old-fashioned hypocrisy. If I were Midge and Skipper, I'd yank that blonde bimbo baldheaded. And Ken and G.I. Joe ought to cut the brake lines on her stupid looking little pink car. Hear Barbie whine. Then pull her sequined tube top up over her head to shut her up. And slap her upside the head with a fake duck for good measure.

*No live ducks were harmed in the making of this post. My research was strictly confined to fake dead ducks.

82-year-old Venus Ramey, Miss America 1944, got in some sharp-shooting practice last week. When she caught intruders on her Kentucky farm, she balanced herself on her walker to draw her snub-nosed .38 and proceeded to draw down on them. After putting the fear in them, she then shot out the tires on their car so they couldn't flee before police arrived. Yeah. I wanna be like Miss America when I grow up. Betcha anything Barbie couldn't do that. See Barbie whine.

Man who eat many prunes get good run for money.
- Chinese proverb
















Sickening and discusting - Sick and tired of discussions that devolve into cussing matches.

neightbor's - Talk-a-thon at the horse farm next door.

dion't - Someone who's been besotted with Celine Dion.

weary of most people - Not just cautious around strangers but sick and tired of everybody.




Daer TWIT,

I have a delemma. That means you have a delemma. You are being named as co-respondent in a divorce action by my husband. He is claiming that I spend more time on your boards than with him. This is true. He is claiming that you has aliunated my affections. This is true. He is accusing me of being more in love with you than him. Well that might be true. I do sneak out of bed in the middle of the night like a real back street woman to get on the boards. He is sighting in his complaint a copy of a post by one of my dear dear Putrid Publishing friends. I had said he was trying to make me choose between him and Putrid and my dear dear friend replied that there is something wrong with me if I don't choose Putrid over him.

I don't know what to do. I've been married for 72 years and now he's making me chews. He says he'll take me back if I'll get off the Kool-Ade. Please tell me what would happen to me if I kicked the Kool-Ade habit. Is it true what Billy-Bob said that my hair and teeth would fall out and I'd go blind? Is it really true that if I just stay on it a little bit longer and keep beleeving in myself and promoting my book is going to sell some day? I mean, I've renewed my 7 year contract 7 times now but it could still happen, right? Should I maybe switch flavors? Pray to Betty instead of Bobby-Bill?

Sincerely ticked off with you right now,
Lemon-Lime Jezebel
_____________________
Dear TWIT,

Since y'all run such a dirty company anyway, would you mind explaining to me why the rules on your message board are so strict? Why, for example, can't people cuss? Call each other names? Tell filthy jokes? Use 4-letter verbs and adjectives? Have cyber sex right there on your boards? Which one of you TWITS is reading this, anyway? Is that you, Plumber Boy? Hey, baby, wanna play?

Uh-oh. Oh, hell. I'm banned. Again.Please, dear, darling, sweet, honest, honorable, respectable TWIT, won't you please unban me? I'll behave. Until I don't.

Sincerely,
Bored Board Slut
_____________________
Dear BBS:

This ridiculous nonsense is exactly why you are banned. You are coming onto our message board to start something. Well, I'm here to tell you, I'm going to finish it! You can call me anything you want, you will not be unbanned, unless you submit your request under another user name, of course. We're not too swift and seldom check IP's. So, stop bothering me. I have a quota to make and Bobby -- I mean Mr. Bobby-Bill -- is breathing down my neck!

Sincerely,
Barbie the Banner
______________________
Dear Barbie,

I think you're wrong. Sleazy sex on the boards virtually guarantees increased page views. Have it your way, though. If you could show the marks Mr. Bill and Betty getting all hot and heavy -- whee-doggies! So, I'd like to request to be reinstated. My user name is BubbaInWonderland. When can I get my password?

Sincerely,
GI Joe
______________________
Dear TWIT:

When are you morons going to stop using Jamie Farr to intice people to submit their books. The Hollywood Squares has been off the air for about two years now. Do you really think anyone cares that Jamie Farr took his book on The Hollywood Squares? Really, you need to come up with a new celeb who can get people hooked for you. How about Anna Nicole Smith, she's about your IQ.

Sincerely,
Puzzled
______________________
Dear Puzzled,

Of course, you're puzzled. We here at Putrid Publishing count on that. Why do you think we write our letters in Doublespeak and our royalty statements in Gobbledygook? We will thank you to immediately cease and desist referring to Mr. Farr in any way, shape, or form. Mr. Farr is an icon here at Putrid. The fact that Hollywood Squares was cancelled is of no consequence. He maintains name recognition; i.e., his name on our site draws in new customers -- er, authors -- every day. And, you see, therein lies the rub -- everyone knows his name, nobody knows yours. Therefore, you have no input whatsoever into the way we conduct our business.

We are extremely pleased and excited to have signed the aforementioned Anna Nicole Smith as a new author. We are proud to be printing her book, "A Foot in the Grave is Worth Two in the Bedroom." We are dismayed that you know about this prior to our announcement in an e-mail next week offering authors a deep discount for books purchased pursuant to our "Can You Draw This Figure?" promotion. Yes! It's true! Authors who can draw their own cover art will be allowed to purchase their books at 2% off the normal discount. Ms. Smith drew hers. I'll Double-D bet you can't guess what it is before the cover is officially unveiled at a Kool-Aid reception on a date to be announced. While you are invited to participate in this offer, we will still expect an explanation of how you learned about it ahead of time.

Meanwhile, please e-mail your apology for your insults to Mr. Farr ASAP. Otherwise, we will have no choice but to revoke your board privileges. We know you don't want that. Without our boards, what life do you have? Bwhahahahaha!! Have a nice day and Happy Halloween.

Sincerely,
Patently Patronizing TWIT

The Movie Of Your Life Is Film Noir

So what if you're a little nihilistic at times? Life with meaning is highly over-rated. Your best movie matches: Sin City, L. A. Confidential, Blade Runner

If Your Life Was a Movie, What Genre Would It Be?

Strange Brew

Some mornings I wake up feeling restive. Restless. Wondering. Questioning. Searching. For what? I have no idea. If I knew, I probably wouldn't be restlessly searching for it. Why would I admit that? I have no idea. If I ever find what I'm searching for, will that be the end of the road? I've had that "seeking" feeling since I was a child. I described it to my grandmother once -- "I feel like I want something, but I don't know what it is." My grandmother, a down to earth, plain-spoken lady, said "Child, if you don't know what it is you want, how will you ever know when you've found it?" Granny was a pretty smart cookie. I'm wondering if perhaps Bono could help me wrestle with the dilemma?

What is the meaning of life? For all these thousands of years people have been debating the question and diligently searching for a definitive answer. Nobody's come up with anything yet. Everybody's still in the dark. Why am I asking you that? I have no idea.

I have a few issues. A bit of baggage. Some bad habits, a few vices. Sometimes I cuss like a sailor. I have a hedonistic side, a light and playful side, a serious side, a dark side. How many sides does it take to make up a whole person? I want what I want, like what I like, and refuse to budge on those points. Every now and then I throw stuff -- and I don't mind admitting that I rather like the adrenaline rush from that. If it doesn't bother me, why should it bother anyone else? Why am I telling you this? I have no idea.

I laugh at the stupidist jokes, watch some of the dumbest movies, read some of the weirdest novels, sometimes get myself into the damndest jams. In my defense, I usually don't know it's going to be a jam 'til I'm already in it. I mean, I do have sense enough to avoid intentional stupid damn jams.

I love pretty-pretty, shiny-shiny girly things. I hate icky, ugly shit. I might tell somebody a white lie every now and then (only because I'd rather set my hair on fire than hurt their feelings), but they'd better never lie to me.

Yeah, I know -- girl's in a weird mood today. It happens.

Which reminds me, for the nonce I've replaced my wind-ravished magnolia flag with the maroon and orange VT banner. Half the neighborhood is flying the Tech flag in a show of solidarity and remembrance.

One of my high school English teachers died this week, Miss Mary Frances Petty. Miss Petty had much more of an influence on me than she knew. When I started her class, I was much more interested in boys and parties and rock 'n roll than stodgy old gerunds and prepositional phrases. I gave her a hard row to hoe, but she taught me in spite of myself. It is thanks to her that I not only read but learned to love the classics and don't today write sentences like "He done got his butt whupped, Pa."


explaination - The purpose of speeches to the country out of Washington.

estatic - When your keyboard shocks you every time you read e-mail.

religated - Alligators that get religion.

experinced - Title of the first draft of a song written by Jimi Hendrix really late one night.

comngrad you - Do NOT let anyone do this to you. It's nasty.

couped up - Everybody's in the garage with their little deuce coupes.



Dear Death TWIT,

Boy, you must think I'm relly stipid. Don't you be calling me no idiot. Somebody should come up there and shot you down like a rabit weezel foaming at the mouth. I'll have you know I am a Putrid auther and you have to get up mitey early in the morning to fool me. If you won't bring me back than I'm not getting dead. Period. I will only do it if its for free, not one red pennie, and you wood bring me back like you did teh Halfwit Prince. He did not pay to get arose. I will not pay to get arose.

If you will conspire with me in this then we could both get sum grate publicity. Just think of the photo op potentiality with you front and center in the middel of a later day Laserus story. I have writ my obit and I think that for methed of death I will chuse death by boarddom. Go with me on this and I will write you my 14th book next week and sent it to you. I ain't worried about no royalitie's since you ain't paid me nun on the othre 13. With this powerful ryzing from the dread story maybe we both make some big buck's on the next one. Let me know post hate so I can get my death posts wrote.

Sincerely,
Waiting my turn to die
______________________
Dear Waiting:

What is it with you people? I have clearly spelled out the conditions of this marketing plan in as few words as possible (most of which were correctly spelled.)

The above quote makes you appear idiotic. How can you know whether U. B. Munchbag paid to be reborn or not -- you can't -- so quite bitching and make up your mind. You are wasting my precious time, which I need to edit your fellow sucker's -- I mean -- author's books.

We would not take advantage of any "photo op" that you may schedule. We make every attempt not to have our photos taken, that way we won't be recognized abroad when we flee the country with the money your work has garnered us. Some people say this is a scam -- I can only shake my head as I think -- Man, if they only knew!

Putrid Publishing has never been late paying royalties to any of our authors. You may ask why -- Because we pay them when we are damn good and ready! We know that none of our "authors" -- yourself included -- read the shitty contract we sent them, thus allowing us to screw more than 15,000 authors and we've yet to kiss a single one!

If you chose to continue with this plan, your posts will be immediately deleted until we receive the check/credit card payment for $250.00. This isn't a charity after all. Ha, I just made myself laugh -- Putrid Publishing a charity! I just may have to spread that rumor around the office. We like to laugh too -- and often do at the resounding stupidity of our authors.

Sincerely,
Death Squad
_____________________
Dear TWIT,

I got one for you all. Putrid Publishing has been trying to get me to sign a contract for the third book in my series. Of couse I have no intention of falling for your crap again. But to have some fun I went ahead and submitted my third book for you to review. Your acquisitions editor jumped at it and sent me a contract via overnight express. Of course when I emailed her back and told her I had sent the MS to them by mistake she became outraged. I told her the MS was meant for another publisher who had shown interest in my work. Now for the joke part. I simply submtted a copy of my first book to you with one difference. I changed the title to see if you would bite. You did, and that editor girl bit hard. She wanted to publish the same book you had already publlished. The only thing she looked at was the title. If I thought it would have been legal I would have waited until you fools published it and then told you about it. But I still got a good laugh at your expense. I have not told the AM what I did yet. I'll save that for another round.

Billy
_________________________
Dear Billy,

We here at Putrid Publishing do not appreciate such pranks. It is our considered opinion that once we have your ms in our hands, we have it for 7 full years. Count 'em -- 7. We will proceed to print whatever book it is you have sent us, and will expect you to purchase the requisite number of copies. We could not care less whether the text of the book has been printed by us previously. If the title is different, who cares? It is just one more title to us.

We will, of course, expect your prompt apology for attempting such drama with us. Your tone is in dire need of adjustment, and you are hereby ordered to drink the extremely large cup of Kool-Aid being messengered to you personally by Jessimo at this moment. We are certain you will feel better once you have consumed the magic elixir.

Please feel free to send us your 4th book. If you wish to simply change the title of #3 and send it along, we have no problem with that. You'll buy it regardless; otherwise, you'll be required to sign up for some of Uncle Bobby's biofeedback classes.

Sincerely,
Twittish AzzHat



Apropos of absolutely nothing, if you were a rapper what would your name be?

Your Rapper Name Is...

Busta Twist

What's Your Rapper Name?

You're It

My blogging friend Leelee has tagged me. The quest is to list 5 -- and ONLY 5 -- blogs that I love. This is a hard, hard quest, because there are so many more than 5 blogs I love and read religiously. I won't tag Leelee since she tagged me (and she already knows I adore her). Man, it took me a LONG time to come up with this pared down list of some of my favorite blogs. In truth, it was pretty much a case of eenie, meenie, miney, mo... You should know that I love every single blog listed in my sidebar, and you should go and read them if you haven't already.

This one, Don't Read This Blog!, is a relatively new discovery, and I like it a lot. JL4 is alternately funny and intuitive, and always relevant.

I love this guy's wit and offbeat humor -- Assclownopolis.

Rubber Corndog is so funny she makes me wet my pants laughing probably more than anybody else I know.

Littlebird Blue is a smart and classy woman whose blog is a veritable playpen for the thinking person.

There's a little bit of everything in the Kanrei Home for Wayward Lemmings, from satire to humor to politics.

All right, that's 5, and the rules say 5. But -- y'all know how I feel about rules. They were just made to be broken, no? Everybody in the sidebar -- like Roxan and Scary Monster and Southern Writer and Pug and Liz and Steve G and Hale McKay and Miss New Orleans and MXI and so many more -- is a favorite and I love them all dearly. Go! See for yourself.
====================
Notes From A Thursday

~ Cho Seung-Hui, the Virginia Tech murderer -- Having seen some of the pictures and video he mailed to NBC in between his rampages, two words which best describe him come to mind: Fucking. Lunatic.

~ The average college student may not be able to discern the difference between eccentric and psychotic, but you'd think adults working in academia and health services could.

~ I'm maybe not always such a good judge of character, but I know when something feels hinky, feels off. And when it feels really creepy, you can bet I'm going to err on the side of caution.

~ I still think that what I was stewing about yesterday was, in fact, wrong and not just me, but I'm over it. 'Til next time.

~ It's my jeans day -- stone colored ones, with a pink button-down shirt. I enjoy being a girl. Do not even bother informing me that I haven't been a girl for a very long time. I won't believe you, and I could hurt you (because, after all, better you than me).

~ My dog is sick. She's been listless and uninterested in food since dinner time last night. I know that sometimes dogs, like us, just plain don't feel good, but with the recent pet food nightmare, you can't help but worry.


somewhow - Whoa, that was some kinda hot!

cowardess - Well. This is a new one on me. I can think of two possible definitions. (1) A female coward; (2) A female prison co-administrator.

psycihatric drugs - I'd like to recommend psychedelic drugs for this person. They're much more fun.

innaccuate - Baba Wawa telling somebody they're wrong.


Dear TWIT,

It has came to my attencion that every time I try to post a question about Jamie Farr to the messege boreds, yawl delete it. So maybe you could anwser my question by email. Is Jamie Farrs book selling and is it returnble? Has he done solt 40 copies? Did he bye them hisself? Can you also told me why come yawl delete every link I try to post about other boreds that is telling the strait facks about Putrid Publishing? What are you skeered of? The truth never hurt truthtellers did it? Somebody told me Betty hooks on the side to make ends meet. I don't even wanna think about who's ends shes meeting but is that true? You dont plan to make all your emploees including the arthurs do that do you? I did not sea that in my contrak. And if I did I would then need a gag claws.

Sincerely,
What About Jamie?
_____________________
Dear TWIT,

Excuse me. Hello! Is anybody working there? Yawl ain't not answered my question abowt Jamie Farr yet. If you won't give me a answer I got one word for you -- Rainbow. Boo!

Sincerely,
What About Jamie?
______________________
Dear WAJ:

Do not take that tone with us. We will answer your questions when we are damn good and ready!As far as Jamie Farr is concerned, he is our biggest supporter. He has brought us many new customers because they figure if he was stup -- uh -- smart enough to sign with Putrid Publishing, they should too.Your use of the word Boo convinces us that you are not feeling well. We certainly hope you get out of the mental facility soon.

Sincerely,
AssHat Extraordinarie
_____________________
Dear AssHat Extra,

I don't know why you have to be so meeeeeeannnnn to me. And cuss me. All I done was aks you a question.So what your tailing me is that Jamie is on the level. OK. Thats good.Thank you yes I am out of the mental home now. I am reddy to recur my writting carrier. If Jamie can do it I can do it. I have a marketing play in my mind that I need you're help with. I want to off myself on a major holliday and then get brung back to life like a mirakle. This will make for grate pubicity. Since I know yawl hepped that guy what died 3 times with that I want too know if you will do me to. I can tell you that I went to the cematary and practised berrial but I did'nt like it so much. Is their another way?I a wait you resplonse.

Sincerely,
Dying to be famus
______________________
Dear Dying:

We would be more than happy to assist you in your plan to "off yourself." Unfortunately, we no longer allow our authors to return from the dead. If you do this, you will be buried -- along with your book, as it is as dead as you will be -- and never return again.It's a win/win situation. You get publicity and we no longer have to pay you the ridiculously low royalties in the future.Please indicate which major holiday you would like to use. We only have two left -- Groundhog Day or Martin Luther King, Jr. Day -- all other holidays have been booked well in advance. If you would like to schedule for next year, it would require your submitting a new manuscript.Hurry and take advantage of this amazingly effective marketing ploy before our last two slots are taken! When we have received your check for $250.00, (our expenses in getting the word out), you will have fourteen days to submit your method of death and your obituary. If you have any further questions, please read this email again, it's self explanatory and if you can't figure it out, you're an idiot!

Sincerely,
The Death Squad

Just Call Me Hester

Maybe I should have the No Crap sign hanging from my neck today. I don’t want to see any crap, hear any crap, or speak any crap today. I am not in the mood. And let me tell you, there is plenty of crap to go around. I’m all over the map with it – a little bit here, a whole lot of it there, and a bunch of it jammed in between. Or no, wait – maybe it’s a big scarlet A I should be wearing. For Attitude. I have attitude OD going on today, no doubt about it. There’s a situation going on that I perceive as unethical. More than that, I believe it's just plain wrong. And more than that, it reminds me of the kind of feeding frenzy you'd see when a pack of sharks is circling one of its wounded. Some crap just makes my hair stand straight up, my blood boil, my middle finger get itchy, and makes me want to yell, "You stupid, stupid -- beeyotch!" Yeah, of course I was thinking of a word a hell of a lot stronger than that one but I'll play nice. I’m not going to discuss it, because to do so would be throwing fuel on the fire, not to mention giving it more exposure than it deserves. I’d just as soon see it die out for lack of oxygen. And frankly, I wouldn't mind depriving the whiny, the supercillious, the pompous, and the supremely egotistical of a little oxygen. If I’m an attitudinal, snappish shrew today, that’s why. 'Nuff said.


ajitated - Over-stimulated by the use of Ajax.

look at this from a different angel - Good girls gone bad.

quit pedaling this garbage - Someone with a crappy bike.

courious - The curious courtier.


Dear Saber-toothed (soon to be toothless) Tiger,

You mite be the power-mongering bastard today, but I'd watch my back tomorrow. Ha-ha-ha! You never know when the IRS, CIA, FDA, WHO, USDA, FBI, FEMA, DOD, etc., ad nauseam, just might show up on your doorstep. Who'll be laughing then, Mr. Tiger Man?

Yeah, you called one thing right -- I got my reality check okay. But thats ok becasue you will get your's.

Hey do you think you talking to some moeron? I know theirs no such thing as a splell-cheek. I just wanted to cee if you wood admit it.

Yes your lawyer does represent terrorists. I think saber-tooth tigers are terrorists so you must fit rite in in that there townhouse. I have a Jack Russell Terrorist what I would like to have bit you and make you squeal like a little gurl. All in good thyme.

This war aint over Mr. Tiger. And a good bwhahahahaha to you to.

Sincerely,
Poor But Not That Pissy
____________________
Dear TWIT,

I have been over took by aliens. They has made me send you a book they maid me right. I think they have gone home now because they have not ben talking to me and I donot want to do this. I no this book would have to be edited a hole lot before it would be plublished. I need more time to do this. You have give me the dollar and I am giving it back. You will find it taped to the back of this letter. Look under the tin foil. Can we call the contract nill and vode and not do this and cancel the book. Thank you.

Oh the name of the book is A Mussel Car Named Desire As Drove by Zorba the Geek Down Tobacco Road at the Speed of Light.

Thank you.

Sincerely,
Disalienated
___________________
Dear TWIT,

I wish to order 100 copies of my book. My credit card number is xxxxx. As I understand it, this puts me within the 40-sales parameters of my book qualifying for returnability. I'm now going to get fully stocked in every bookstore from sea to shining sea, right? And I won't have to visit every one of those stores and beg any managers, right? And I won't have to make up weird souvenirs to hand out to strangers on the street trying to get them to buy my book, right? And you're not lying and scamming this time, right? Because I'm counting on you being honest for once -- this charge will max out my credit card and risk putting my house in foreclosure.

Sincerely,
Risking it all one more time

P.S. -- If you are lying again, I'm calling those Rainbow people on you.
___________________
Dear Risking (more than you know).

Now that you will soon be homeless you can order 100 more books. Hell we gotta sell em somewhere. We have charged your card and will ship your order shortly. We forgot to give you the discount, but I am sure you won't mind. As I am sure it won't matter that we don't pay you for these books either, because there is no way in hell we will do that.

Of course they will be returnable, sort of eventually anyway. Don't even think of trying to return them to us. You can buy them back from any book store dumb enough to pay the price we plan to ask for them.

Now we will still demand that our authors drink the Kool-Aid and peddle their worthless books from their cars (provided they have one.) What the hell, you didn't think we were gonna get off our collective asses to do it did you?

If you mention those Rainbow people again, we will delete that e-mail before we read it.

PunishAll Lies and Misinformation Department
____________________
Dear PAL,

Homeless? Who you callin' homeless? If it don't discount, the sale don't count. I've called my credit card company and cancelled your skanky charge. So there. I can now take my credit card and go get my car out of hock. You can't tempt me with no Kool-Aid, neither. I'm going to meetings for that. Hi, my name is Risking and I'm a Kool-Aid junkie. Well, Mr. PAL, I don't do that stuff no more. No, siree. I'm clean now and I won't never go back to the Kool-Aid gutter. Um, y'all could send me some flowers to mark my great achievement. Or do I have to off myself first and hope I can remember how to resurrect? Ah, fuhgeddaboud it. I'm just calling the Rainbow people. Rainbow people, Rainbow people. Neener-neener-neener.

Sincerely,
DeKooled


What kind of cheesecake are you?

You Are a Classic New York Cheesecake

Simple and sweet, you are a smooth operator. You can get along with anyone ... though after a bit of time, you're too much to handle!

What Kind of Cheesecake Are You?