Monday of laziness, y/y?
This weekend I pulled out several shrubs that have disappointed me for the last time [/Darth Vadar exhale/inhale] and have made way for an enlarged prostate vegetable bed. Which means I had to get some veggies in, so carrots, garlic, onion, and peas are all settled. And just in time for the rain today, which is just hard enough to induce laziness on my part, YAY. Also, holy crap, my back forgot how hard gardening is (if you do it like I do - with a trapeze, balancing a Volkswagen on your shoulders, and tap dancing - what, it's an ART FORM) so I really really want to be lazy today.
So the big question is: do I watch Persuasion, a fabulous BBC adaption of a Jane Austen book and call it "working on my craft" because the performances are truly masterful, do I hole up in my bedroom and read sci-fi, do I do chores including but not limited to vacuuming, mopping, and general tidying if you pick that one, you are DEAD TO ME, do I write more revisions in my book that is going nowhere, or do I add more to these WiPs of cracktasticness?
"I Gave My Soul To Jesus, But I Left My Heart For You" A wicked tale of a Buffy Roper (what them cowgirls what ride atop them harses and circulate them barrels on said harses do) who tries to make Bull Rider Spike lose ever-damn-thang. Meant to make fun of so many things. So many. Haven't touched this in years. Probably won't touch it again, because IT IS RIDICULOUS.
"The crowd about came undone. Everyone was on their feet clapping and cheering and hollerin', and since I promised to be straight with you, leaning forward hoping to catch a glimpse of some bloodshed. Not since Jim Bowie was bayoneted in his cot and the dreams of independence were put on hold for a year have a people been more disappointed. The buzzer chimed, the chute opened, and the bull walked out. Folks, I'm telling you that Satan's Helper, a bull that took away the procreation ability of scores of men, sauntered outta that damned chute and began to scratch his nose on his leg.
Well, you don't need me to tell you that you could'a knocked that crowd over with a feather. And sittin' high and pretty on that tamed beast's back was that feller'd broke our gal's heart and soul, lookin' just as confused as a Pentecostal preacher on a Gay Pride float. Not that I have nuthin' against them peoples, I'm just making a point. "
Maybe my most favorite thing, even though most of you questioned my sanity and steered clear, STALLIONCREST. I have rewritten this as a screenplay, because - by god - this is going to be animated and put on the web, I just need to write the last two chapters. And Skidoodle is Oirish, as every soap opera should have a proper Oirish hero, that is, if by proper soap opera I mean Days of Our Lives, which I of course mean. Also, it should go without saying that a "bridal bridle" is maybe my most favorite thing I've ever written. As well as the obligatory soap opera fawning over a wedding and all the accompanying accoutrements.
And who wouldn't love to be able to write "Meanwhile, back at the ranch" and mean it? Or bedeck a horse in platinum and diamond-crusted horseshoes? LOL. "Tree-tirty-tree, lads, the most magical toime in all of Oirland!"
Fancy trotted to the fence, tossing her majestic golden mane into the sunlight. She knew she looked beautiful in the fading light of day with her chestnut coat gleaming and her freshly combed mane and tail ruffling in the breeze. She hoped the shiny glint would attract a certain somehorse to realizing that she was out of her corral, and all alone at that. But for all the prancing and whinnying she did, no one came to see her, to touch noses and be off like the wind, racing along the fence with her until her limbs were trembly, her mouth filled with foam, and her haunches soaked with sweat.
But a filly could dream and, it seemed, dream was all Fancy could do these days at the Star W Double T Walking F Rocking U Flying C Circle K Ranch in the heart of Kentucky. (Branding was a real bitch.)
Fancy rested her hoof on the bottom rung of the split-rail fence and dreamed. Dreamed of being out and away from the WTFUCK Ranch, maybe making the Kentucky race circuit, but mostly she dreamed about Skidoodle, the handsome colt that Hank, the ranch hand with the thick Maine accent, had brought to the Ranch earlier that day. Skidoodle was a glorious Appaloosa with a mottled ashen-grey body, an unknown and heavily rumored background, and eyes full of mischief.
No, no, no, THIS is my most favorite thing ever, and you all suck (except for four people on the planet) that read it, because ARE YOU KIDDING ME THIS IS GENIUS. I'm talking, of course, of me re-writing Squidbillies putting Rusty Cuyler in the place of Harry Potter. DOUBLE TRUCKIN' THE TRICKY TWO. I MEAN, COME ON. He's the bastard offspring of Early Cuyler and Ron Weasley. And his family kept shooting the Owls coming to deliver his Hogwarts letter and eating said Owl. Filled to the brim with the rich taste of North Georgia Redneck!
When you live in the mountains of North Georgia with a father that considers education of any sort to be "puttin' on airs," it's likely that your view of the world beyond the pine trees and deer stands is murky at best. Rusty Cuyler had never set foot off his family's mountain, which, coincidentally, was a covered up strip mining dump site, which before that used to be a landfill, and before that served as a nuclear testing site. If we go back further in time, even the native Indians used that particular spot for a dumping ground.
Rusty Cuyler was also a squid, so to say his opportunities in life were limited was an understatement. His father, Early, was working on his truck boat truck - a truck hitched to a souped-up boat, which was in turn hitched to another truck - one afternoon when something flew close overhead.
"Rusty, go get me my shootin' piece."
"You gonna kill something, Daddy? Kill it dead, whoo!"
Rusty loaded the sawed off with two rounds and handed it over. Early aimed and shot true. A hail of bloody feathers rained all over the truck boat truck.
"Aw, hell no. Now I gotta tump the rain barrel over and clean this summbitch again."
A piece of paper floated down among the feathers. Rusty picked it up and saw that it was a part of an envelope. What he could make out under the singe marks was his name and the return address that read only "Hogw-".
"Daddy, I think that bird done had a letter for me."
"Don't be an idjit, birds don't carry letters. Them carrier pigeons is a damned lie."
...clearly I enjoy writing stereotypes and accents. But to make fun of us, never them. Except for in these three cases. Lol. In conclusion, I am doing everything I can to avoid laundry, mopping, and toilet cleaning. Won't you please help?
Not related to anything, but simply hilarious to me, I came across the sentence (in a description of a story) "contains an erotic ass message." WHAT. So I have come up with some erotic ass messages, as I didn't have the heart to go digging through the crap to find the actual thing.
- "Pffffffffft - but chocolate and rose scented" [I'm 12, I can't help myself.]
- "Dear Barbara, this isn't for you, but for your hammy globes of sititude and seat resting: I <3 you and want to do things to you that do not involve filling in your tight pants, unless by filling in you take that to mean ME, Love, Barb's Booty Call - see what I did there?"
- "Dear Ass: I want to clothe you in the finest silk panties, take you on a hot air balloon ride over Paris at night where we will eat the finest in sparkling cider and maybe some strawberries and Velveeta, and then I will blow ya mind with some hand-picked rose petals that I will trace your flesh with before taking you on a one-way ticket to pound town on the finest 250 thread count sheets in my parent's basement apartment, girl."
- "Pfffffffft - but scented with Booty Juice air freshner and the finest cuts of deli meat known to man, damn"
~Brought to you by Smoove B. Lol. OH MY GOD I AM BORED.
[ETA] I can officially announce that Blood on the Highway has a US DVD distributor and will be available in June, ALSO: it will be showing on SHOWTIME. Awesome!! (And it pisses me off every time I see that ONE review on imdb screwed the overall star count, because the person didn't get that this wasn't a proper horror movie, but a SPOOF. Good hell. 'I wasn't skeered.' Moron.)