Archive for the ‘Funny’ Category

Your Stupid

May 27, 2011

I finally broke down and bought the shirt I’ve been wanting for years.

click for larger image

I’ve refrained for so long because

a) I’m cheap and the shirt isn’t

b) I’m a mother and, apparently, am supposed to be setting a good example.

Now, personally, I think it’s setting a good example to teach your children WHY this is a funny joke and not the grown-up equivalent of “stupidhead!” Anyway, my ten year old gets the joke now but still thinks it’s rude.

Well, can’t win them all. I just won’t wear it when he’s with me. 🙂

No, Mom, I’m Not Looking at Internet Porn, or The Perils of Social Media

May 5, 2011

I do love my social media, don’t get me wrong, but it’s always good to know where the things you love can come back and bite you in the butt, no?

So, a lovely friend of mine sent my this message through Facebook the other day:

In the nicest most polite way possible, I was on stumbleupon, and apparently, my friends (more importantly, what they follow) are displayed. Not that I care/judge one way or the other, I’m just not sure if YOU were aware. If you have no idea what I’m talking about, please disregard.

Isn’t that nice? A heart-attack waiting to happen. I mean, how else do you react to that but ‘OMG! What!

Which is, of course, how I reacted.

Now, I don’t use Stumbleupon, but in setting up the social media widgets for my blog I’d interacted with it in the past, and I think it’s one of those things that if you’re on Facebook it knows who you are and the names of your still-unconcieved offspring too. So I raced over there in a panic to find out what in the world my friend had seen.

What I found was that I’d “stumbled” on Sex Scene, an Anthology. Now, I’ve got no problem with that, I’m in it. (No, not like THAT.) It’s an anthology of literary fiction. From the book blurb written by the editor, Robert James Russell:

Sex Scene: An Anthology aims to decontextualize sex, asking the reader to look at the act itself as not only a form of art, but also as the very basest of human urges.

The problem was caused by the fact that the tags applied to it were “porn” and “pornography.” (I’m not going to get into the erotica vs. porn or art vs. smut thing. Let’s just say this one ain’t for the kiddies.)

What all this boils down to is that my friend went to Stumbleupon and saw “Leah Petersen likes pornography.”

No mom, it’s not me. Promise.

Confess Your Deepest, Darkest, Writerly Secrets

March 17, 2011

Because, this isn’t the internet or anything. No one will ever know. 😉

OK, so maybe I’m a little crazy.

But, the point is, I know I’m not the only one who has a shameful little secret, something that, as a writer, I am embarrassed about, and rightly so. You too? Oh good. Well, I’ll show you mine, you show me yours?

I don’t like Tolkien.

That’s right. I’m a sci-fi/fantasy reader and writer and I don’t like Tolkien’s books. I’ve said it. I feel FREE!

(Don’t get me wrong, the movies kicked serious butt. And if the last man I ever see in my life is Orlando Bloom as Legolas, well, I’ll die a happy little writer.)

 

See?

OK, your turn. What’s your writerly sin?

 

National Grammar Day: A Funny

March 4, 2011

In honor of National Grammar Day, here’s a re-run of a flash piece:

I’ll admit, I had a reputation. I was the Comma slut. They all knew I was easy with the Commas. Well, you live and learn, right?

I had one of those epiphany things and fell for the respectable, mature Semicolon. We’ve been together a long time now; it’s been good. But I’m beginning to realize he may just be an enabler; that I really haven’t changed my profligate punctuation ways at all.

As much as I love him, Semicolon’s never been quite enough; I’ve managed to hide the affair with the Parentheses for a while now. (Yes, it’s so cliché, the hot encounter between the mysterious twins. You’d do it too if you thought you could get away with it.)

Thing is, I met Em Dash at a club the other night. He showed up with En-Dash and that should have been my warning right there. En-Dash is always trying to stick people together.

I really was just there for some innocent(ish) fun. It was Colon’s birthday and, come on, she’s as solid and predictable as they come — I’m still not quite sure how we talked her into that particular armpit anyway.  (I think exclamation point had something to do with it.  She’s so damned excitable sometimes you just do what she says so she’ll shut up already!)

So there he is, so dashing and exotic. Jesus but words just failed me – and I really hate it when they do that, the bastards. But Em Dash. So flexible and, well, don’t kid yourself, length does matter.

Apostrophe almost saved me. He’s such a spaz, always showing up everywhere, butting in, all OCD about everyone’s possessions, always there when someone drops something, and then bitching about everyone using him too much. Maybe I knew Em Dash was trouble for me and did that Freudian thing ’cause I dropped my purse twice and there’s Apostrophe, right there where it fell. “Hey hon’, it’s your purse again.” Yeah. And Em Dash looked away.

But I touched his arm and he was mine again. I shouldn’t have done it. I should have turned to Period. He was right there, and he’s seriously straight-laced. Just so definite and absolute about everything. I could have used him as a full stop to the whole situation; a cold shower. I didn’t.  I couldn’t. I didn’t stay until the morning, if that matters. Ellipsis came to pick me up at god-forsaken a.m. because she’s a sucker for innuendo and I didn’t tell her… much.

I don’t have his phone number — cause I didn’t ask for it, so wipe that smirk off your face.

Call me whatever you want; it’s my life not yours. And my sentences thankyouverymuch.

You Thought an Author’s Job was to Write?

December 6, 2010

Haha. Joke’s on you.

Oh, sure, authors write, but sometimes it seems that’s more of a sideline. It’s the spreadsheets you craft in your accounting job so you can get the real business of managing money done.

Lately it occurs to me that writing is what authors do so they can get the real business of waiting done.

You’ve written a book. YAY! Good for you. Now you wait: for crit partners and beta readers, for query responses, for responses from agents who requested your partial or full, from contests and mags you submitted shorts to, for editors who have your full, for your agent to let you know what happened with said editors. And THEN, if you’ve got contract in hand THAT’s when you finally… wait some more. For all the things involved in getting a book from manuscript to market.

Oh, sure, a lot of this process requires work and participation from you, but at least as much if not more is simply waiting.

You’ve probably seen it, as I have, the axiom: all it takes to get published is persistence.

OK, sure. But persistence sounds far too active for what my experience has been. I’d say persistence, of course, and a really huge, whomping dose of patience.

I’ve never been accused of being patient. So this whole journey has been a real learning experience for me. In the end, I think I’ve finally found my waiting zen in just pretending there’s nothing I’m waiting on. Send off my piece of the current stage of the process and then… ignore it and start something else. Then it’s like a nice, pleasant surprise when someone returns their piece  and I get to be active again until I turn mine in and… wait some more.

(Let’s be clear, lest I sound more virtuous than is quite true. There’s a fair amount of alcohol and moping and whining involved too. But less than there used to be, since I learned the stick-my-head-in-the-sand-and-pretend-it’s-not-there approach.)

What about you? How are you handling the waiting?