Day One: Ten things you want to do some day. Day Two: Nine things about yourself. Day Three: Eight qualities you think are awesome in other people. Day Four: Seven (semi)interesting things you've pondered or thought about recently. Day Five: Six things you are glad you did. Day Six: Five books/movies/tv series/etc that you'd recommend Day Seven: Four silly quirks Day Eight: Three pet peeves Day Nine: Two things for which you're proud of yourself. Day Ten: One secret plan.
Day One: Ten things you want to do some day. Day Two: Nine things about yourself. Day Three: Eight qualities you think are awesome in other people. Day Four: Seven (semi)interesting things you've pondered or thought about recently. Day Five: Six things you are glad you did. Day Six: Five books/movies/tv series/etc that you'd recommend Day Seven: Four silly quirks Day Eight: Three pet peeves Day Nine: Two things for which you're proud of yourself. Day Ten: One secret plan.
1) Get an actual book of my own stuff published in such a way that I get paid well for it 2) Meet Tom Baker, buy him a drink, and tell him "thank you" 3) Have a high ranking politician complain about me in specific, but only for the right reasons 4) Meet Grant Morrison and talk about magic, aliens, and Scotland 5) Go see the UK, especially London, Scotland, Wales 6) Meet Warren Ellis and watch him browbeat the snot out of someone deserving 7) Eat a meal in a five star restaurant - and not pay! 8) Meet Gary Numan and not make a stumbling fool of myself 9) Get a walk-on in a tv show I like because I'm famous, yo 10) Be able to say I lived happily and well
The former head of Michigan’s GOP wants Michael Steele’s job, but he has one massive skeleton rattling in his political closet. What’s his connection to the notorious Kyle Bristow?
Election day nears, and electoral disenfranchisement can happen everywhere -- even on a certain street we know and love. Come and meet the people who want to make sure you don't get to vote on November 2nd.
In 1979, I was 8 years old, and my parents listened to an oldies / soft rock station whose principal selling point was having really good updates on morning traffic patterns. When I heard "cars" for the first time it was like something flipped a switch in my brain. I didn't know music could sound like THAT. I didn't understand the lyrics at the time, but it had the coolest pre-MTV video I'd ever seen (this was the age when video pioneers were folks like Poco) and that sound... THAT SOUND!
I was supposed to do this in fifteen minutes, and not think about it, and tag people... but screw it. I'm a writer. I can break rules. Here's my "fifteen," in some semblance of order.
What a great party! If that was, indeed, the last of its kind, it was a great way to end the chain. Thanks to Jason and Ari for putting them on all these years, and allowing us to meet and make new friends, and hang onto old ones we don't see as often as we'd like. Thank you, thank you, a million times thank you
So last night i discovered just how terrible cat farts can smell. Not exactly the greatest start to Coming Out day, but there you have it.
I was asleep in bed when something woke me. I'm not entirely sure what, anymore, but as soon as I was awake I noticed the smell. It was the ungodly, overwhelming, "a cat just took a shit" smell that kitty litter thankfully blocks from our sensitive noses, only ramped up to ten with the horrendous scents of dead fish, rotten eggs, burned tire rubber, and wet burning cardboard mixed in for an evil bouquet of intestinal malfeasance.
And leila was walking around the bed, making no noise whatsoever, with what might have been a guilty face...
Now, Leila's had some bad turns. She has had dingleberry issues, and one time she just looked at me, squatted down, made a weird GLURF noise, and proceeded to blow out a frightening machine-gun load of cat turds right on the bedroom floor for no discernible reason. Sometimes I think this has to do with the ongoing turf war between her, her sister Fionna, and Spider, who is both invader and current top cat. And sometimes I think it's just because she's a doof.
So you can imagine, given how bad the smell was, what I was thinking. I leapt out of bed, and, panicking and cursing all gods of things feline and scatalogical, pulled back all the sheets and pillows looking for what I imagined had to be the smelly, horrid, genius of all misplaced cat turds. I feared to find it on CJ's side of the bed, in an indelicate place, preening itself in the light and saying "howdy do!" I wasn't keen on finding close to my head, either, whether it talked or not. I just prayed the mess could be cleaned up without a hazmat suit.
I looked, I looked, I looked. Nothing. I looked several damn times, and ran around the bed, looking for it there. Still nothing. Nothing in the clothes pile. Nothing in the guest bathroom. Nothing nowhere from nobody.
And there's Leila, sitting on the bed purring and going GLURF.
About now, with the panic subsiding, I realize that it was, most likely, a false alarm. The evil smell was most likely produced through gas, in a perfect example of just how foul and distressing pet farts can be. I think we are truly fortunate that, in most cases, our animal friends find discrete moments to blow their wind so as not to offend their owners (or staff, in the case of cats) but accidents do happen.
That said, if I go to bed tonight and discover there's a cat poop shoggoth underneath it, sipping an umbrella drink and listening to Steely Dan, friends nearby may need to be summoned to deal with the beast. You have been warned. Bring gas masks.
jedwardtremlett
