The Journal :: Nekkid, Clueless and Feelin' Good


Thursday,
March 15, 2007

Happy birthday, Michael!

My little brother turns 36 today -- I feel so old! Still, he's a great guy, with a great new wife and family, and I hope your day was absolutely splendid, big guy!

And keep an eye on the mail -- you've got something on the way.

Sometimes, you need a little ice cream

So there I was, in quite a lot of pain (sit back so that my upper back touches something -- ouch; sit up straight so that my lower back starts spasming -- ouch...), wondering about the mechanics of making a voodoo doll, and wishing that 1) House was real and 2) Vicodin worked on me so that I could mug him for his stash.

Despite a reasonably decent lunch of a peanut butter sandwich, a banana and a bottle of diet green tea with citrus, I decided in the midst of an increasingly irrational foul mood that I wanted something sweet and cold. So I limped to the ice cream machine in the break room and obtained a Butterfinger ice cream bar. I now feel much calmer and not quite so likely to go stabbitystabbity on someone.

But I'm still making that voodoo doll...

I have been writing Bubba stories for waaaaaay too long

So Esther Friesner had a friendly little competition on her SFF.Net newsgroup to celebrate the 25th anniversary of the movie CONAN THE BARBARIAN, where you had to come up with a variety of remake. Being, well, me, I came up with a post-apocalyptic comedy-adventure in which Conan (played by Larry the Cable Guy) and his best gal Sonja-Sue (played by Jaimie Pressley, aka Joy on MY NAME IS EARL) set off in their pickup truck Big Snake on a mission to locate the last functioning brewery on earth.

It was a joke. However, the Queen of Hamsters reminded me that her "Cthulhu worshippers in a trailer park" story "The Shunned Trailer" was a joke, as well, and yet it was published, adding that I really should write this down and get it into the submission stream. As a result, "The Brewery of Doom" is unrolling from my fingertips like toilet paper in the hands of a playful toddler. So far, Rusty (the name is an in-joke that informs the story's punchline) and Sonja-Sue have set off from the No Name Trailer Park to find a microbrewery where they hope to scavenge hop seeds and yeast cultures, and things are about to take a turn for the weird.

This is all your fault, Friesner.


<< Back   |  Email  |  Home  |  About  |   Forward >>

© 2007 Melanie Miller Fletcher   •   Website by Belaurient Web Design   •   Visitors: 208    Lions: 0