Saturday, February 11, 2012

A glimpse inside the wonderland that is my brain.

I like to think of my mind as a high-functioning, well-organized machine that efficiently and quickly gathers information, sorts it into useful categories, and then retrieves it in an instant to make maximum use of what I’ve gathered up.

In fact, my mind works like this ACTUAL DEMONSTRATION:

Me: [appearing before the Seventh Circuit Court of Appeals]:  Good morning, your honors, may it please the Court, I…


[Realize I forgot what I was going to say.]

[Glance down at my notes.]

[Forget to read notes because my mind is for some reason remembering at that exact moment that I had coupons for Sonic breakfast and I could have saved $1.00 that morning on the drive to court, although I’m not entirely sure whether the coupons have expired, and, come to think of it, I’m not even sure I brought them with me, and now that I think of it, I’m pretty sure I left my wallet at that gas station.]

[Look up. Realize judges are waiting to hear what I’m going to say. Wonder why the chorus from the 1980s song Tarzan Boy is the only thing I can think of.]

Anyway, turns out that judges cannot summarily disbar you, so I’ve still got a job while that petition wends its way through the courts and I can talk to you about Clipix, which is how I learned to stop relying on my mind and start relying on computers to remember things, which is, after all, why we invented computers.  Well, that and to perfectly time our toast in the morning.

clipix is this new webservice that lets you clip and save and share things you find online.  Things like, say, a t-shirt that you think would be perfect to buy for your husband. (Hint Hint, Sweetie).

Here’s how it works: Sign up for Clipix at  All you have to have is a Facebook or Twitter and everyone has those because Twitter is cool and you have a Facebook page because everyone else has one so you got one too even though Facebook is boring, so you use that to sign up and then just drag the Clip button onto your browser bar, and then go about your ordinary web business, say,

Reading some celebrity gossip websites

See a t-shirt you like

Find the place where they sell it

And then BOOM! You click clip and you get a little window that asks where you want to save that thing:



And you save it and move on.

So Clipix is a great reminder, but it’s also a way to share – you can let certain people share your Clipix’s, so Sweetie could share my t-shirt selections and know what to buy me for Valentine’s day (hint hint) and you could have a group of bloggers share ideas, or a group of writers share blog posts, or more.

The possibilities are endless – and it’ll save you from having to remember. All. That. Stuff.


Leaving your brain free to remember things like Tarzan Boy, and also defenses to disbarment.  Which you could look up online and share with the lawyer appointed by your insurance company to represent you.  Always trying to help, Terry!

I’m sure I’ve missed some things you could Clipix; if you have ideas, leave them in the comments.  Or Like Clipix on Facebook, ( or follow them on Twitter (@clipix), or watch this:

But definitely sign up.

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"This Stupid Pineapple Is..." Part SEVEN. (Finally!)

Hey there! This post was removed and will eventually be in a book titled "This Stupid Pineapple Is...". Find all my books for sale here

Friday, February 10, 2012

A tiny stegosaurus thinks 'screw it,' and decides to stay in for the evening.

250=1, Story Three (And also the Blogfest Entry)

Day 3 of the I'm Hearing Voices blogfest is a happy coincidence for me: We're to write a 250 word story about an emotion, and this year I have been doing just that: Writing stories of exactly 250 words, including the title.

So the Love? story today is actually not about love at all but about a very specific kind of emotion:

What Happens When The Symbolism Of McDonald’s Cheeseburgers Is Questioned?

AJ is afraid all the time but not in an overtly-crippling way. AJ fears he is too happy about some things, and not happy enough about others.

He confides this one day to Tiana.

Tiana serves (in her mind) as a de facto therapist but stands (in AJ’s mind) as a potential love interest in the story that would be his life if AJ ever gets around to writing that autobiography.

An autobiography of nothing, Tiana thinks, taking AJ’s coupon from him. AJ has a coupon every day.

“Why do you come here every day?” Tiana asks AJ.

“Would you like to go out sometime?” AJ responds.

“This isn’t even good food,” Tiana whispers back to him.

“It’s the best food,” AJ says, “In that it’s unique. Anyone can make a burger. Nobody can make a McDonald’s Cheeseburger except McDonald’s.”

“Why do you want to go out with me?” Tiana asks.

“I think it would make me just the right amount of happy,” AJ responds. “And I’ve asked you out now 14 times. So you should say yes.”

“You like unique stuff, huh?” Tiana asks him.


“I’m a twin, you know.”

AJ has to think about that.

“And,” Tiana says, “Every McDonald’s cheeseburger is like every other McDonald’s cheeseburger.”

AJ looks down at his tray.

“So nothing,” Tiana says, “Is less unique than a McDonald’s cheeseburger.”

AJ does not know where to fit this new idea into his life.


Read more exactly 250 word stories under 250=1, by clicking here.

Thursday, February 09, 2012

The last post is by Middle...sorry for the inconvenience...

Paint is my LOVE! (Middle What the H?)

It is a rare occasion that I share my artwork with people that I do not know but at the same time I thought that it would better than showing people that are close to me.

A friend of mine recently saw some of my painting and has now encouraged me to show more people. They believe that with each artist no matter what they think of their own artwork it is beautiful. Each piece represents the artists themselves and it reflects who they are.

My paintings are a representation of me and my life. There is no coherent theme and they are
chaotic but organized at the same time. Which is more or less how I would describe my life.

I hope you enjoy!!

Thursday Scramble!

Thursday Scramble! is when I take a post from one of my blogs and put it on all of my blogs, to show you what you're missing if you're a uniblogolist. Which is a thing. Today's random number came up with Lesbian Zombies Are Taking Over The World!, so I decided to give you the first-ever post from that site, a good intro to the ongoing serialized sci-fi erotic story that is taking the world (well, three people) by storm:

WARNING! NSFW! (I'm not just saying that to guarantee that you'll read it, but I'm sure it had that effect.)


"Lesbian zombies are taking over the world!" Reverend Tommy hollered. He was in a lather.

So was I but that's because Brigitte was sitting next to me and had her hand on my knee. Above my knee, actually. Her little, soft, pink hand was resting right where my miniskirt would end if I wore my miniskirt to the Church of Our Savior of Living People Only, but I don't wear it there because Reverend Tommy wouldn't approve.

He wouldn't approve of my thoughts, either, or of what Brigitte and I had been doing just before we left for church in our church-y clothes: We'd been having sex, which Reverend Tommy disapproved of. Reverend Tommy disapproves of any sex, and he's not one of those preachers who say they disapprove of sex but then they're fucking the girls (or the boys) behind the curtains by the chapel; he was the real deal. Reverend Tommy hated only one thing more than sex, and that was zombies. And he hated only one thing more than zombies, and that was lesbian zombies.

That's what he was tearing on about, and it made me wish that Brigitte and I had not rushed to get there because if I'd known the whole sermon was going to be about nothing but how I'm supposed to be taking over the world, I would have skipped. But I doubt Brigitte would have skipped. She's not like that. Even though she's a lesbian, she's very religious. I don't know how she got mixed up with the Church of the Savior of Living People Only. I don't know how she got mixed up with me, either. She's going to be mighty confused when she finds out. If she finds out.

And I don't want to let her find out. Not yet, anyway, because I've got plans. I may just make her like me, for one thing. But even if I don't, I can't resist her lips. That's what almost made us late for church. I took a look at her lips as she was putting lipstick on them, and couldn't resist. Without even strapping on my bra, I had to lean over behind her and turn her head to face me and started kissing her.

I pushed my tongue into her mouth, forcing her lips apart so I could feel them on either side of my tongue, soft and pliable and gently sucking on my tongue and she pushed her tongue into my mouth, so I tried to return the favor, but my lips are always a little dry, probably (I think) as a result of being me and probably because I'm not very ladylike except in public and I associate wet, soft, moist lips with ladies. We kissed like that for a while, pressing our lips more and more firmly together, and I couldn't take it anymore, I wanted those lips everywhere else on me. I moved her mouth away from mine and stared into her eyes for a few moments and then lowered her head down to my breast. She took the hint, and she took my nipple and she nuzzled it and sucked on it. God, her lips were so soft that I almost came right then and I cupped her hands in mine...

So you can see why we were almost late. And here's Reverend Tommy, who's actually not a bad guy except he says I'm going to hell and he wants to kill me, and I don't even know why, ranting and raving:

"These lesbian zombies walk among us. They dress like us, they talk like us, they look like us..." although technically, Reverend Tommy, I don't look like you, because you are a man, I wanted to say. Brigitte squeezed my thigh. I thought she did it inadvertently but she leaned over and said

"They don't look like him," in a whisper that tickled my ear and made me start to perspire. She was so much like me already! Could I make her more like me? Would she like me more if she were more like me? Word games in my mind were better than Reverend Tommy:

"And they will come out in broad daylight and mock us, and then after dark they will steal into our houses and steal your wives and your daughters, they will corrupt them and drag them down to the bowels of hell with them. They move freely between the Life and the Afterlife."

That startled me. Do I? Do I move freely between the Life and the Afterlife? I'd never thought of it. Maybe those dreams I have where I go to Hell aren't just dreams?

"And they will leave our women in the fires of Hell and return to take your souls and eat them." I looked around, furtively. We sat midway back in the Church, and the Church attendance was evenly divided between men and women and children. Most of them were attentively listening to Reverend Tommy. Some of the women looked a little flushed. I guess maybe they wouldn't mind a little corrupting.

"And Jesus doesn't want them. He wants YOU. He wants to save you, but you've got to be vigilant against the newest trick of the devil. The lesbian zombies are out there. They are after your souls, and they are taking over the world!"

I should a few things straight.

First, I am a lesbian.

Second, I am not a zombie. I don't think so, anyway. I'm not a revenant, either, because nobody controls me. I'm some kind of creation. I think that because none of my parts match. I have dark black, straight hair, but my pubic hair is brown. My left hand is larger than my right and doesn't look the same. I have one green eye and one blue eye and who ever heard of that? Plus, my right shoe is size 6 and my left shoe is size 9. I have a slight limp. At least my torso appears to be all one piece and I don't have any scars, so I'm not a Frankenstein. I don't think. I've never met anyone like me. Or at least, anyone who I knew was like me.

Third, I'm not sure why I'm here. Not here in the Church of Our Savior Of Living People Only. I'm here because Brigitte goes here and I'll do anything for those lips. Not here in this town, either. I wandered here a few months ago after living in New York City for a while and then deciding that I couldn't go on working at a diner and wondering why I didn't have parents, or didn't rememer any parents, or even a childhood, or even anything before one day I was just there, working at the diner and serving people egg platters and refilling their coffee without any idea of who I really was. People called me by my name (Rachel) and seemed to know me but nobody talked to me much and I didn't live with anyone. That first day was kind of scary -- I left work at 5 and I didn't know why I was leaving at 5 because I didn't remember being scheduled to work or even that I worked or who anyone was, and then I started walking home and got on the subway but I didn't know what a subway was, and I was riding the subway and I realized that I was going home but I didn't know where home was or if I had one at all.

I got really scared, then, and then tried to clear my mind and relax, which worked because when I stopped thinking about it I just headed home, which turned out to be a kind of crummy little studio apartment that had a view of a wall and some furniture and a TV in it. So maybe someone is controlling me because I went home, but I don't think so because why would they let me just wander away?

But fourth, I think maybe I am trying to take over the world.

Go on to part two-- Meet Doc-- by clicking this link.

Or click here if you'd like to download the entire story for free.

A tiny stegosaurus thinks, 'So this is what it will be like when they build a statue of me someday'.

Wednesday, February 08, 2012

I'm Hearing Voices (Blogfest Entry)

True Fact1: 68% of all blog posts currently on the Internet were written on a Wednesday.
1 Not true at all.
The SECOND ROUND of the "I'm Hearing Voices" Blogfest calls fro two characters from a book to introduce each other via a dialogue.

In my book the After, Saoirse (pronounced: SEER-sha) dies in a plane crash and wakes in 'the After,' a world where everything is exactly the way you want it --even if you don't know you want it that way.

And here we go:

Saoirse: Will you turn the music down?

Ansel: Why? What’s going on?

Saoirse: I have to introduce you.

Ansel: To who?

Saoirse: To them.

Ansel: Who’s them?

Saoirse: All these people. [Sweeps arm to indicate everyone, even you, back there]

Ansel: What are they doing here?

Saoirse: We’re standing in an abandoned farmhouse surrounded by a carnival, a house you know doesn’t exist anymore, where the furniture fades in and out as needed, and you’re wondering where the people came from?

Ansel: When you put it that way…

Saoirse: [Facing the crowd]: So this is my husband, Ansel, and while I may be critical of him at times, I really shouldn’t be because while I ended up here unwillingly, or at least unexpectedly… I mean… well, I didn’t expect to come here when I did, although unexpectedly isn’t exactly the word I’m looking for, but to be fair, this…[waves hand around vaguely] was really pretty unexpected.

Ansel: What did you expect?

Saoirse: I don’t know. I mean, not clouds or angels or something but I didn’t expect there to be, you know, restaurants.

Ansel: And this is my wife, Saoirse. She’s stalling.

Saoirse: I am.

Ansel: You don’t have to feel bad about it.

Saoirse: I do.

Ansel: You didn’t make me do it. I just…

Saoirse: I can’t stop thinking about the plane crash.

Ansel: I couldn’t, either. [looks around the house]. It’s too bad we never bought this, isn’t it?

[Saoirse begins crying].

Ansel: Don’t be sad.

Saoirse: I’m not. I’m happy.


Want to know more about the After? Click here to go to the Amazon page, or watch this: (For best effect, hit "Autoplay" and "Full Screen" in the lower right corner.)

Tuesday, February 07, 2012

A tiny stegosaurus calls it a day.

To tell you the truth, I kind of wanted to watch "Hotties vs. Nerds Wipeout", too.

This is a Sponsored post written by me on behalf of Walgreens for SocialSpark. All opinions are 100% mine.

This is the part of the blog where I ordinarily give you a little bit of a tip from someone, helping you save money and maybe have a little bit of a better life.  But today, I have decided to turn that responsibility over to Mr F, so that he can begin taking his part in the family business.  Mr F? Take it away.

*silence.  Then the sound of Mr F walking away to go swing*

All righty, then. How about Mr Bunches?  Mr Bunches, would you like to help out Daddy by telling the people about today’s tip?

MR BUNCHES: I want to watch “Hotties vs. Nerds” Wipeout on TV downstairs.

Okay. Moving smoothly.  Let me check my notecards here.  Um… ummm… oh, right. The Prescription Savings Club at Walgreens.

I’ve mentioned before the Walgreens Prescription Savings Club, but it bears bringing up again because it SAVES YOU MONEY, which is, like 90% of what life is all about. (The other 10%? Pizza.)  The club saves you money by getting you discounted prescriptions, saving on over 8,000 brand-name medications and on ALL generics.  

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And it’s just $20 for an individual plan, or $35 for families.  Your family membership willit cover everyone in your immediate family including any dependents under 22, and it provides coverage no matter what they’re doing.

*Looks around, sees Mr F running through without pants on while Mr Bunches sets up his own Wipeout course on the couch*

Don’t tell Sweetie, OK? The club is only $3 a month. If I haven’t convinced you, get more info here:

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The Silent O: My new favorite letter. (Quote Of The Day)

"It was either a opossum, or a kangaroo."

-- Sweetie.

Today: The dangers of almost watching a reality show, and also, why you'd wish for chickens in the bathtub.

Sweetie watches The Soup, which I used to watch but I don't so much anymore because most days I begin to fall asleep at about 7:45, which technically means that I am already dropping off a little when I give Mr F and Mr Bunches their bath before bed, but I get woken up by "Cold," which is a game we play in which I dump cold water on them and they get cold water dumped on them.

It's not a very complicated game.

Also: They request it, so don't look at me like that.

Anyway, when I'm not falling asleep or definitely not torturing my 5-year-olds because, again, they like it, so get off my back, will you, I am, in Sweetie's words, "On the Twitter or whatever."

Which is true, but it's to my benefit because that means that last week I didn't watch the episode of The Soup that now gives her waking nightmares of the sort that led to her quote today.

The Soup, if you watch it a lot, lets you quickly gather all the information you need to know about reality TV shows, which is this:

They all work from some kind of Reality TV Show Bible that gives them various storylines to film.

Reality TV is, after all, supposed to be filming people doing their real lives -- just walkin' around, lookin' around -- but it doesn't film that at all because real lives are boring. You know what real life is?

What you're doing right now: You're reading a blog post on the computer. That's real life: You reading a blog post, me pouring cold water over the head of an already shivering 5-year-old who's yelling "Cooolld!")

(When you put it that way...)

So we're agreed that my life, what with the cold water and Twittering, would make a great reality show (TV PRODUCERS TAKE NOTE, and also: We will have to not tell Sweetie, as she nixes my every attempt to get someone to pay me to just live my life), but that your life is probably not a good one for reality TV, which is why when people who are not me get on Reality TV, they have to spice things up, which they do in one of several ways:

1. They Drop A Bombshell: Someone is getting divorced or married or pregnant, or divorced from a married pregnant person.

2. They Go Someplace, like sending Snooki to Italy to pay them back for that terrible night Yossarian had wandering around almost getting killed by Nately's whore.

Or, my favorite:

3. They Put A Chicken In It.1Link

1. Put A Chicken In It is TM me, Copyright me, and even :() me. It's my new phrase that I just now decided to start using to tell people how to spice things up a little. It'll be a self-help book from me if I ever finish that stupid pineapple story, "This Stupid Pineapple Is...", which I'll probably do some day, "some day" being probably Thursday or Friday. Also:


is the emoticon I invented to express righteous indignation.

That latter plotline was stolen originally from an "I Love Lucy" episode where Lucy raises chickens because "Life in the country is very costly, [so] the Ricardos devise a plan to offset expenses." That plotline was resurrected, nearly two centuries after anyone stopped caring about "I Love Lucy" (seriously: It was a mildly-amusing TV show. Get over it, boomers.) when the Kardashians decided to raise chickens in their house to help save money, leading to possibly the best (but least significant) quote ever to be said on TV: "What's the deal with the chickens in the bathtub?"

Since then, countless other TV shows have decided to Put A Chicken In It, leading viewers to get tired of The Chicken Storyline, which required producers to up the ante and bring it even more Reality Style, which brings me to the episode of The Soup that haunts Sweetie's every moment, the one last week or so where a woman has an opossum living in her house because that happens.

From what I gathered by half-listening/half-Tweeting, a woman has her life filmed, and as part of that life, somehow there was poop in her shower which led her to look in a cupboard under her kitchen sink, where she found nothing, but upon standing up from peering into the cupboard the woman found herself



I felt like drama-ing up this post a bit with that.

I thought maybe I had misunderstood the point of the clip, but Sweetie confirmed I was in essence accurate: This woman has a life that is being filmed for some reason, and there was an opossum on her kitchen counter.

Rather than doing what I did with that information (1: going back to Twitter 2: trying to defend myself against the onslaught of feelings that maybe "Cold" isn't, after all, such a great game 3: wondering whether the people who watch that show are really so stupid as to think that the opossum would somehow be able get, undetected, from the bathroom to the cupboard then to the kitchen counter, always being one step ahead of the woman), Sweetie instead stored that information in the part of her mind that makes her see things, which led to the following two actual conversations I had with Sweetie this past week:

The first was after her return from the health club where she'd been working out:

Sweetie: On the way home, I almost hit a opossum.

Me: It wasn't a opossum.

Sweetie: It was either a opossum, or a kangaroo.

And this one, which occurred when I left the door from our family room to our garage open to encourage Mr F to begin getting into the car while I went to find Mr Bunches, who had wandered away:

Sweetie: Why is this open?

Me: So Mr F would begin getting into the car?

Sweetie: I don't want the door open! Things could get in!

Me: Like what things? [mentally picturing maybe wolves or perhaps some sort of alien]

Sweetie: Opossums.

Me: We don't even have those around here.

Sweetie doesn't believe me that opossums don't live in Wisconsin, which brings me to this question: Should I write an opossum, or a opossum? Since the o is silent, after all which, when you think about it, is kind of cool. How many words start with a silent O?

Not many, I'll bet. Or, for all we know, all of them do but we just never heard it.

Monday, February 06, 2012

A tiny stegosaurus, feeling a bit ridiculous for doing so, wonders whether microwave popcorn counts as real popcorn.

One night, Mr F somewhat unwillingly helped me make Rice Krispie treats. (A Photo Essay)(Life With Unicorns)

If using 70s catch phrases won't convince you I'm right, nothing will.

This is a Sponsored post written by me on behalf of Sprint for SocialSpark. All opinions are 100% mine.

“Hey, who loves ya, baby?”

Is there ANYONE alive who still gets that joke?  I’m not sure I get it.  It’s from Kojak, right?  I’m pretty sure it’s from Kojak, although I have only a vague notion of who Kojak is.  Bald guy, detective… that’s all I got.

The point is not that my knowledge of 70s television detectives is garnered exclusively from old Mad magazines that I bought as a kid and didn’t really understand because I didn’t pay any attention to the pop culture they were lampooning.  The point is that I love you, my readers, and for that reason – my love of you, and Kojak references, I’m gonna let you in on a deal:

For the next four days (that’s counting today), you can get a Nexus S™ 4G for FREE

The Nexus S



is the new 4G phone that’s coming from Galaxy and will be available on Sprint.  It’s got front/rear cameras, an Android platform, panoramic 1080p photos, and it can handle Google Wallet – so you can make your phone be your credit/debit card and lose the wallet.

“Heh: Wallet.”

That’s at least a little more timely, right? Okay, so you get this free phone that does everything except sort your socks and there’s probably an app for that just by opening a new line of service at Sprint or adding a line, and with that, you’re in business for the fastest phone service around, even faster than those guys who sit around on commercials saying “That was so 12 seconds ago.”  Don’t you hate those guys? Me, too.

You could, if you were so inclined, skip the Nexus S, but why would you do that? Maybe because if you didn’t get the Nexus S, you could get the the HTC EVO™ 3D for only $49.99 when you open a new line of service or add to your account at Sprint. The EVO has a perfect-for-web-browsing display, call capability around the world, and also has the 4% speeds with a 1.2GHz processor which, I’m not going to lie, that’s faster than my work computer, which’ll be nice for using the 250,000+ apps you can get at Android Market.

These are online deals only, with waived activation fees and free shipping at, and they’re only good until February 8, so get going on getting a new phone.  Honestly, I can’t even believe you’re still using that hunk of metal you lug around.

Facebook_EVO 3D.jpg

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I'm Hearing Voices (Blogfest Entry).

"You can't hold a blogfest and then not take part in other people's blogfests. That s**t ain't right."--

Abraham Lincoln.

Today is Day One of the "I'm Hearing Voices" blogfest hosted by Live To Write... Edit When Necessary," and as the host of the wildly-successful The Stupid Pineapple Blogfest, I'm gonna try to be part of society here and maybe give a little back, in the form of "secretly advertising this book that I just released..."

Today is "Characters on the couch," the challenge being to have a character answer the questions posed by the bloghosts.

And... what? 250 words? That doesn't count intros, does it? Better not! Here we go:

Saorise from the After takes an online profile test to help pass the time, as she is actually dead and living in an afterlife in which everything is supposed to be exactly the way you want it... which poses some interesting problems when what you think you want is not what you actually want...

1. What is your biggest vulnerability? Do others know this or is it a secret?

I have a great deal of difficulty accepting that this particular life... or state of existence, or whatever it is, is what I've got and I should make the best of it, even when I can make things better simply by accepting just that. Almost everyone knows this about me -- especially William Howard Taft, who tried to use that facet of my personality to get me to lead him to a way out of the After.

2. What do people believe about you that is false?

That I didn't love my life. I realize now that I was happier than I thought I was -- but I didn't know that at the time.

3. What would your best friend say is your fatal flaw? Why?

If I have a best friend, it's my husband Ansel. He would probably say that my fatal flaw was making the decision I made when I finally found what I'd been looking for for so long. Maybe it wasn't my place to determine that outcome for everyone, but I did what I did because it was for the best for everyone else but me.

4. What would the same friend say is your one redeeming quality? Why?

I never give up. Even when I was feeling lost in that house, even when the lightning was crashing all around me, even when the only choice I had was to keep on swimming down, down, down into the water and I didn't know where I was headed... I didn't give up.

5. What do you want most? What will you do to get it?

To go back. And there's nothing, and everything, I wouldn't do to get that.

Click here to read more about the After.