Friday, December 21, 2007

Nuthin' says the holicraze like baking

I would love to take credit for this, but, alas, it came to me in an email. Since I’m such a stellar cook, I think I’ll try this tonight…

1 cup of water
1 tsp baking soda
1 cup of sugar
1 tsp salt
1 cup of brown sugar
lemon juice
4 large eggs
1 cup nuts
2 cups of dried fruit
1 bottle Jose Cuervo Tequila

Sample the Cuervo to check quality.

Take a large bowl, check the Cuervo again,
to be sure it is of the highest quality,
pour one level cup and drink.
Turn on the electric mixer...

Beat one cup of butter in a large fluffy bowl.
Add one teaspoon of sugar...Beat again.
At this point, it's best to make sure the Cuervo is still OK,
try another cup ... just in case.

Turn off the mixerer thingy. Break 2 leggs,
and add to the bowl, and chuck in the cup of dried fruit.
Pick the frigging fruit off floor.

Mix on the turner.
If the fried druit gets stuck in the beaterers,
just pry it lloose with a drewscriver.

Sample the Cuervo to check for tonsisticity.
Next, sift two cups of salt, or something.
Who giveshz a sheet?
Check the Jose Cuervo.

Now shift the lemon juice, and strain your nuts.
Add one table. Add a spoon of sugar, or somefink.
Whatever you can find.
Greash the oven.

Turn the cake tin 360 degrees and try not to fall over.
Don't forget to beat off the turner.
Finally, throw the bowl out,

finish the Cose Juervo,
and make sure to put the stove in the dishwasher.

CHERRY MISTMAS

Thursday, December 20, 2007

Writing Atrophy

I read an article yesterday where a writer was giving pointers surrounding his success. One of his points really spoke to me: Write every day.

Of course, he’s right. I tell this to new writers whenever I speak at writers’ conferences. It doesn’t matter if it’s five, five hundred, or five thousand words. Write every day. If you don’t, your story and characters will atrophy. And so will your writer’s brain.

Finishing the article, I felt my head recede into my shoulders as the tiny translucent-winged pixie who sits on my left shoulder began her harangue: “See, you literary wasteland? I warned you about letting your day job interfere with your writing - that you’d move further and further away from your story. That’s why NaNoWriMo exists. But, no, you’re too cool for school. You suck. If you don’t immerse yourself daily into your main characters, you’ll lose the emotional flavor that defines your writing. Is this how you won a major writing award, you excuse for an ink slinger? You’ll lose the grasp and tightness of your plot. You’ll erode. You’ll crack and wither…”

I flicked the pixie off my shoulder and sent her flying across the room, where she landed unceremoniously in the dog’s water bowl. Shaking the water off her wings, she stuck her tongue out at me. “Bitch.”

“Nag,” I replied.

I wonder if my fellow writing buddy, Dino, has this problem…Either way, I’m off to go write.

Monday, December 17, 2007

About the angel tree topper...

Long ago and far away, Santa was getting ready for his annual trip....
But there were problems everywhere. Four of his elves got sick, and the trainee elves did not produce the toys as fast as the regular ones so Santa was beginning to feel the pressure of being behind schedule. Then Mrs. Claus told Santa that her Mom was coming to visit. This stressed Santa even
more.

When he went to harness the reindeer, he found that three of them were about to give birth and two had jumped the fence and were out, heaven knows where.
More Stress.

Then when he began to load the sleigh, one of the boards cracked and the toy bag fell to the ground and scattered the toys. Totally frustrated, Santa went into the house for a cup of coffee and a shot of whiskey. When he went to the cupboard, he found the elves had hit the liquor and there was nothing to drink. In his frustration, he dropped the coffee pot and it broke into hundreds of little pieces all over the kitchen floor. He went to get the broom and found that mice had eaten the straw it was made from Just then the door bell rang and Santa cussed on his way to the door. He opened
the door and there was a little angel with a great big Christmas tree.

The angel said: "Where would you like to put this tree, fat man?"

And that my friends, is how the little angel came to be on top of the Christmas tree.

Friday, December 14, 2007

Merry %*&#$ Christmas

This is not for "little ears."

video

Fridays are supposed to be my day...

This is a perfect summation of my day...and it's still early.

video

Tuesday, December 11, 2007

There are no words...

I just found out that my son's best friend in basic training was killed in Iraq by an IED. He was a goof of a Texan who made my son laugh. He was as big as a tree but could sneak under any bunk and tie the shoelaces of an unsuspecting Private before yelling, "Fire!"
Here's to you, Limone. Godspeed.

Sunday, December 09, 2007

One Smart Dog

Is there anything cuter than a dog and a baby? This dog gives a step by step instructions on how to properly hug a baby.

1. First, spy a baby.











2. Second, be sure that the object is indeed a baby by employing classic sniffing techniques. If baby smells of powder and the wonderful aroma of wet diapers, this is indeed a baby.












3. Next, flatten the baby before actually beginning the hugging process.








**Note: The added slobber should help in future steps by making the 'paw slide' easier.

4. The 'paw slide' Simply slide paws around baby and prepare for possible close-up.











5. Finally, if a camera is present, execute the difficult and patented 'hug, smile, and lean' so as to achieve the best photo quality.








This dog swears that if done properly, this methodology will guarantee a dog a warm, dry,climate-controlled environment for the rest of their life.

Friday, December 07, 2007

What's for dinner?

I have a mountain of work staring at me, but I don't feel like doing any of it. It's Friday - my favorite day of the week. Rather than work, I'd rather tell jokes.


















A man kills a deer and takes it home to cook for dinner. Both he and his wife decide that they won't tell the kids what kind of meat it is, but will give them a clue and let them guess.

The kids were eager to know what the meat was on their plates, so begged their dad for the clue.

"Well," he said, "It's what mummy calls me sometimes."

The little girl screams, "Don't eat it, Don't eat it, it's an ass hole!"

Things that make me go, "awww..."
















The pictures are real (taken from a zoo outside Bangkok), but the story accompanying them in various emails is not. For the real explanation, go to snopes.com. I've always wanted to write a novel about something like this but, alas, three other books await their completion...


















Frankie knows best










This is in honor of all those who will be taking to the skies over the Christmas holdaze. Damn, no one can sing it like Frankie…

Thursday, December 06, 2007

Getting the Spirit...

By golly, I’ve been elfed!