Tag: funny

So, This Happened.

Galley Cover

Just like that. I have a title. And a cover. And a description that is a bit of a Frankenstein’s monster in that it’s partially my original story pitch and partly what “they” came up with (whoever “they” are that tinker with these things at the publishing houses).

So, sure, it felt pretty real when I got the deal. And it felt a little more real when I signed the contracts. And then it felt realer still when I got that first advance check.

But, I must say, this sort of hit a new level of “oh my god – this is really happening!” Which is a pretty good level.

And, about the time the actual book cover showed up on my publisher’s website (Forge is part of Macmillan), it showed up for PRE-ORDER on Amazon and Barnes & Noble and even popped up on Goodreads!

Oh – and I now have my official release date: January 10, 2017.

So, I’m gonna ride this high until I get my copies of the galley (Advance Reading Copies) and am actually holding a copy of my book in my hands and then I’ll write a post about how that’s the realest real yet! I know. You can hardly wait.

Look at it this way…I’ll probably be a lot cooler on my next go-round. But this time? I’m gonna enjoy every, little, teeny, tiny step. Because it took about 15 years to get here 😉

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As Yet Untitled.

Insert-Title-Here

For those of you that don’t know – I’m going to give you the five-cent description of my novel. It is, at its heart, a romantic comedy about Kate Shaw, a 30-something starting over as a new lawyer (don’t get carried away drawing author parallels – besides, I’m 40-something). The twist is that, in this slight alternate reality – marriage doesn’t exist. All relationships are based on 7-year contracts which can renew or expire (or, more likely, wind up breached). So, much like there are men in our world who only date married women, this world has similar men who only date women already under contract. These men are called…wait for it…contract killers. Get it? (And yes, I realize women can be contract killers, too.) But, beyond this, it’s about Kate and her funny love life and her even funnier lawyer life.

Okay. Long story short, The Contract Killers was the name of Book 1 of the trilogy. The concern has been raised that this title sounds too thiller-y and might mislead the potential audience. So we need to <gasp> RE-TITLE the book. (Cue the Death Star music.)

While I loved my original title, I definitely see the need to change it. But how? I’ve spit-balled about 30 suggestions at my agent and editor but nothing is hitting home. So, while my manuscript is already in copy-editing and art is working up the cover design – I HAVE NO TITLE. Which is giving me anxiety.

So now – I’m putting it out to you. Because you are brilliant and creative, and had the perfect title all along that you didn’t even know you had. And because you want to be sure I include your name in my acknowledgments.

 

 

My Writer’s Streak.

Writer's Streak

Apparently, when you are rep’d by Michelle Wolfson of Wolfson Literary Agency, you become a member of the Wolf Pack. And, once my announcement came out, the other members of the Wolf Pack informed me of a Wolf Pack tradition. They told me Michelle’s authors put a streak of color in their hair when Michelle gets us a book deal. Shenanigans, right? Have no fear. I insisted on photographic evidence. Which was happily provided.

And since I have never been one to tempt fate – or miss an opportunity to do something ridiculous with a totally valid excuse – or, frankly, resist peer pressure when I don’t feel like it – here is my new writer’s streak.

And since, as Linda Grimes put it, some judges are lacking in a sense of whimsy, I strategically placed it so that it could be overlooked in court. Unless I meet a super whimsical judge, in which case, game on.

Writer's Streak 2

“Baby It’s Cold Outside” (aka “The Christmas Date-Rape Song”).

Baby its Cold Outside

Because nothing says Merry Christmas like a little GHB. So this song is catchy and disconcerting at the same time. You’ve all heard it, right? It’s a duet between a girl making poor decisions and a guy who is apparently a follower of the philosophy that 50 “no’s” and a “yes” means “yes.” Let’s look at the lyrics:

“Baby, It’s Cold Outside”
I really can’t stay
(But baby, it’s cold outside)
I’ve got to go away (Yes, girl. Run.)
(But baby, it’s cold outside)

This evening has been
(Been hoping that you’d drop in)
So very nice
(I’ll hold your hands, they’re just like ice)

My mother will start to worry
(Beautiful, what’s your hurry?)
My father will be pacing the floor
(Listen to the fireplace roar)

So really I’d better scurry
(Beautiful, please don’t hurry)
But maybe just a half a drink more (Let the poor decision-making begin.)
(Put some records on while I pour)

The neighbors might think
(Baby, it’s bad out there)
Say, what’s in this drink? (DANGER, Will Robinson! Seriously?)
(No cabs to be had out there)

I wish I knew how
(Your eyes are like starlight now) (Undoubtedly from whatever you doped her with.)
To break this spell
(I’ll take your hat, your hair looks swell)

I ought to say no, no, no, sir (See what I mean? 50 no’s and a yes?)
(Mind if I move in closer?) (Creeper.)
At least I’m gonna say that I tried
(What’s the sense in hurting my pride?)

I really can’t stay
(Baby, don’t hold out) (Getting creepier.)
Oh, but it’s cold outside

I simply must go
(But baby, it’s cold outside)
The answer is no (Seriously. Is anyone keeping count?)
(But baby, it’s cold outside)

This welcome has been
(How lucky that you dropped in)
So nice and warm
(Look out the window at that storm)

My sister will be suspicious
(Gosh, your lips look delicious)
My brother will be there at the door
(Waves upon a tropical shore)

My maiden aunt’s mind is vicious
(Ooh, your lips are delicious)
But maybe just a cigarette more
(Never such a blizzard before)

I’ve got to get home
(But baby, you’ll freeze out there) (Translated to: if you don’t spend the night with me, you’ll die.)
Say, lend me your coat (I have a feeling he isn’t gonna lend you a coat.)
(It’s up to your knees out there) (See?)

You’ve really been grand
(I thrill when you touch my hand)
But don’t you see
(How can you do this thing to me?)

There’s bound to be talk tomorrow
(Think of my life long sorrow) (Wow. Guilt trip much?)
At least there will be plenty implied
(If you caught pneumonia and died) (Once more, sleep with me or die.)

I really can’t stay
(Get over that old doubt)
Oh, but it’s cold outside

Yeah. Cheery little Christmas ditty. So what have we learned? (Aside from how creepy men in the 50’s were.)

50 No's and a Yes

Even at Christmastime, apparently. So have fun singing along with this song in the future and good luck not focusing on the fact that this guy kinda needs his ass kicked.

And to all a good night.

If It’s Good Enough for Jenny…

So, as I’ve mentioned, I’m a big Jenny Lawson (the Bloggess) fan. Jenny’s hilarious ramblings and questionable love for taxidermy always make me laugh and her occasional heart-warming, insightful posts always seem to be interjected just when we collectively need a little inspiration (or a kick in the ass).

Well, Jenny decided to play along with this thing going around the internet where you Google your first name plus the word “meme” and see what you get. And then she posted about it. And I thought it was pretty hilarious so I yes, I’m copying Jenny.

Here are my equally disturbing results:

53351650

Um. Thanks? For the nightmares.

54487478

Not sure why we need to make this about age, Ron.

b70c1b2c02cf6040c4236d516dd6f3118adb2f70691df9d8aa1d8335aa58eb42

Look at that adorable little demon-spawn. And this one doesn’t even have my name.

Who-the-fuck-ekfsnl

If I had a nickel for every time I heard that one.

images

I feel like this one is both a little judgy, but also sort of issuing a challenge. Thanks, Bill.

This was good – an exercise that’s both frightening and fun. And makes me think that people should probably have to submit to a breathalyzer before creating memes online.

They Forgot to Include ‘Zombie Apocalypse.’

I was reviewing radio contest rules today that included the most complete disclaimer regarding force majeure I’ve ever seen. Except for their glaring omission of “zombie apocalypse(s).” (I guess it wouldn’t be plural…one would probably take care of it.)

The Contest Entities are not responsible or liable to any entrant or winner … for failure to supply the prize or any part thereof, by reason of any acts of God, any action, regulation, order or request by any governmental or quasi-governmental entity (whether or not the action, regulations, order or request proves to be invalid), equipment failure, threatened terrorist acts, terrorist acts, air raid, blackout, act of public enemy, earthquake, volcanic eruption, war (declared or undeclared), fire, flood, epidemic, explosion, unusually severe weather, hurricane, embargo, labor dispute or strike (whether legal or illegal) labor or material shortage, transportation interruption of any kind, work slow-down, civil disturbance, insurrection, riot, or any other cause beyond the Contest Entities’ sole control.

Now, is that any ‘public enemy’ like Bin Laden or Kanye West? Or is that ‘Public Enemy,’ the rap group. Cause I would be pretty pissed if Flavor Flav interfered with my winnings.

Chicken Soup For the Soul…Unless You’re a Chicken.

I spent half the day yesterday making delicious, homemade chicken soup…‘for the soul’ as they say. Unless you’re a chicken, in which case I spent half the day boiling your dead and then barbarically ripping their flesh from their bones before unceremoniously dumping their ravaged carcass into the garbage.

Poor chicken

“Why, you rotten son of a bitch!”

Yeah. Sorry about that.

I Look Like a Movie Star.

If you’re a movie star from the 90’s with big, curly, red hair. I’ve gotten the whole, “you know who you look like?” question for decades. Inevitably, it is a big-haired, redhead that I don’t resemble at all.

Case in point, Julia Roberts and Nicole Kidman. No, no, no. Not today’s more glamorous Julia and Nicole…the circa 1990 big hair versions.

Julia

Nicole

And of course, the one defining trait that makes this make any sense at all – me sporting the big, curly, red hair.

Erin 1999

Holy shit, right? I’d like to take this moment to thank the inventors of the ceramic flat iron. Anyway – point being – I don’t actually look like Julia or Nicole, but people could seldom get past the hair. The only other consistent I’ve gotten throughout the years, curly or straight, is Elizabeth Perkins.

Elizabeth PerkinsWhich, I guess I can see, but no offense to Ms. Perkins, I’ve never really taken as a compliment. Then this last weekend at a conference, I randomly was told that I look like the “woman on that episode of Agents of Shield who could control men.” Luckily, I’m a nerd who feels obligated to watch every Marvel show they throw out there so I knew he meant Lorelei (Elena Satine).

LoreleiWhich would be awesome (however unlikely) but I’ll take it if for no other reason than the fact that this chick is probably at least 10 years younger than me.

So – given the frequency with which I hear the “you know who you look like?” question, I went and found a Celebrity Look-a-like Generator online. This is what it came up with.

Celebrity lookalike generator Now, I’ve gotten Celine Dion on more than one occasion, but let’s skip right to the elephant in the room: Rob Schneider? I am an 86% match to Rob Schneider? Go home, Celebrity Look-a-like Generator; you’re drunk.

But Was It a Radioactive, Genetically-Engineered Spider?

So, I was in Maui last week. It was lovely. A bad week in Maui could trump a good week most other places, I think. I did find Maui to be a little bitey, though.

Radioactive genetically engineered spider bite

I didn’t see the biter, but it looks like an odd bite to me. So I told Steve I thought there was a decent chance he was about to married to a super hero. He asked if my spidey-sense was tingling, but after locating my spidey-sense, I still couldn’t decide whether it was tingling or not. Then again, what if it wasn’t a spider? Maybe it was a radioactive, genetically-engineered mosquito and I’m checking the wrong sense for tingles. Although, despite hating spiders, I do think I would prefer to be a spider-based super hero than a mosquito one. Or, God forbid, a bed bug.

This post got weird fast. Anyway, I think there’s a chance I could be one of the Avengers in a few months. Like one of the freaky-deaky ones – not one of the ones that are just really good at shit. Although I’d settle for being that kind, too.

I’ll leave you with this sexy picture of Maui. Lest you think it’s all about the spiders.

IMG_20141027_113103_638Aloha.