Happy Monday Y'all.
1. Pool of Blood Update:
I think some of you were under the impression that the pool of blood from last friday's post was a mere few drops. I should've put a ruler next to the picture, because the entire spatter was probably a foot long.
I did some checking in at the police station for what could've possibly happened. According to police reports, some sort of mystical being - whom eye-witnesses say was dressed all in white with white feathery objects sticking out of its back - spontaneously bled out right on that spot.
At the same time, 9-1-1 was flooded with phone calls about a canine with watery eyes and a whimper that would break your heart.
So, I guess it is true: Every time a puppy cries, an angel dies.
(Is that a real saying, or did I just make that up?) Ha ha. I'll be here all night. Did I tell you the one about where the Priest, the Rabbi, and the Pope walk into a bar? And the horse says, "Why the long face?"
2. My weekend:
The writer peeps and I went to the Costco in Lehi for a book signing. Author Becca Fitzpatrick was there, signing copies of her debut YA novel "hush, hush". Dark, creepy, paranormal romance. (You hear that, Cam?) I can't wait to read it.
There's a chance a couple of copies will make their way into the Free Book Friday pile this week...
Afterward, we were hangin' in the parking lot, chatting. Read that as: I was trying to push my cart to my car, but Bree Despain was blocking the aisle so I couldn't move.
You see, Bree is sorta, kinda, just the tiniest bit... freakin' nuts. She's got a deadline approaching for her sequel, and simple words like "and" and "the" just aren't coming to her.
Valynne and I were giving her a pep talk in the parking lot. I tried to be quietly encouraging, but it wasn't working.
So, out of nowhere, I shout: "Gimme me 25 pages by next Saturday, or I'll break your legs!"
She gave me a hopeful look: "Really? You would do that for me?"
Me: "Yeah. I totally know a guy."
Bree: "I don't know if I can do it."
Me: "If you don't, I have a powerful blog, and I know how to use it. I'll spread lies."
Bree: "You would never."
Me (shouting in a parking lot near Provo, site of the BYU Cougars, just before their homecoming football game, packed with snack-buyers): "Bree hates B-Y-U! She thinks Cougars are Pansies!"
Her: "Shhhhh!"
Me: "BREE LOVES TAMALES!! SHE WANTS TO MARRY THEM!!"
Understand that there was a guy wandering the parking lot, selling hot tamales out of a plastic zip-lock bag. I didn't realize that when I yelled this, he was right behind us. So, Mr. Tamale Guy, I apologize. No offense to tamales. I am a friend of the tamales.
But I was serious about invoking the power of the blog. Bree needs to know that we are a formidable blog, and we follow through on our threats. Because she was all, "Your blog readers don't have the guts!" And then we threw down right then and there.
So, I thought it would be nice if y'all went over to her blog and left her a cryptic comment. Something along the lines of, "I'm watching you..." or "I know a tamale guy..." If you do, you'll be automatically entered in the FBF drawing this week. (But leave me a comment and let me know you if you did, so I'll know which commenters were from me.)
BTW, I upped the demand to 45 pages from Bree by one week from today. For bad behavior.
3. I thought shaving kits were fool-proof.
So, I've been cutting the kids' hair. Yesterday, Sam's all, "Cut my hair."
I'm like, "I don't think that's such a good idea. Remember last time? the infamous 'bald patch of 09'?"
He says, "Cut my hair. I demand it."
Last time I cut it, the sides were a little long. I didn't know they had those nifty slanted left/right ear attachments until after I cut it. So this time, I used the attachments. Here's the result.
Why is guy hair so hard to cut? And why is Sam so stubborn when I suggest he fill it in with a black sharpie for a couple of days?
1. Pool of Blood Update:
I think some of you were under the impression that the pool of blood from last friday's post was a mere few drops. I should've put a ruler next to the picture, because the entire spatter was probably a foot long.
I did some checking in at the police station for what could've possibly happened. According to police reports, some sort of mystical being - whom eye-witnesses say was dressed all in white with white feathery objects sticking out of its back - spontaneously bled out right on that spot. At the same time, 9-1-1 was flooded with phone calls about a canine with watery eyes and a whimper that would break your heart.
So, I guess it is true: Every time a puppy cries, an angel dies.
(Is that a real saying, or did I just make that up?) Ha ha. I'll be here all night. Did I tell you the one about where the Priest, the Rabbi, and the Pope walk into a bar? And the horse says, "Why the long face?"
2. My weekend:
The writer peeps and I went to the Costco in Lehi for a book signing. Author Becca Fitzpatrick was there, signing copies of her debut YA novel "hush, hush". Dark, creepy, paranormal romance. (You hear that, Cam?) I can't wait to read it.
There's a chance a couple of copies will make their way into the Free Book Friday pile this week...
Afterward, we were hangin' in the parking lot, chatting. Read that as: I was trying to push my cart to my car, but Bree Despain was blocking the aisle so I couldn't move.
You see, Bree is sorta, kinda, just the tiniest bit... freakin' nuts. She's got a deadline approaching for her sequel, and simple words like "and" and "the" just aren't coming to her.
Valynne and I were giving her a pep talk in the parking lot. I tried to be quietly encouraging, but it wasn't working.
So, out of nowhere, I shout: "Gimme me 25 pages by next Saturday, or I'll break your legs!"
She gave me a hopeful look: "Really? You would do that for me?"
Me: "Yeah. I totally know a guy."
Bree: "I don't know if I can do it."
Me: "If you don't, I have a powerful blog, and I know how to use it. I'll spread lies."
Bree: "You would never."
Me (shouting in a parking lot near Provo, site of the BYU Cougars, just before their homecoming football game, packed with snack-buyers): "Bree hates B-Y-U! She thinks Cougars are Pansies!"
Her: "Shhhhh!"
Me: "BREE LOVES TAMALES!! SHE WANTS TO MARRY THEM!!"
Understand that there was a guy wandering the parking lot, selling hot tamales out of a plastic zip-lock bag. I didn't realize that when I yelled this, he was right behind us. So, Mr. Tamale Guy, I apologize. No offense to tamales. I am a friend of the tamales.
But I was serious about invoking the power of the blog. Bree needs to know that we are a formidable blog, and we follow through on our threats. Because she was all, "Your blog readers don't have the guts!" And then we threw down right then and there.
So, I thought it would be nice if y'all went over to her blog and left her a cryptic comment. Something along the lines of, "I'm watching you..." or "I know a tamale guy..." If you do, you'll be automatically entered in the FBF drawing this week. (But leave me a comment and let me know you if you did, so I'll know which commenters were from me.)
BTW, I upped the demand to 45 pages from Bree by one week from today. For bad behavior.
3. I thought shaving kits were fool-proof.
So, I've been cutting the kids' hair. Yesterday, Sam's all, "Cut my hair."
I'm like, "I don't think that's such a good idea. Remember last time? the infamous 'bald patch of 09'?"
He says, "Cut my hair. I demand it."
Last time I cut it, the sides were a little long. I didn't know they had those nifty slanted left/right ear attachments until after I cut it. So this time, I used the attachments. Here's the result.
Why is guy hair so hard to cut? And why is Sam so stubborn when I suggest he fill it in with a black sharpie for a couple of days?
