Liloia.com Archives: July 2003
July 31, 2003
I've always thought that Steve Burns rocked, and now he does.
Knock Knock... Hey did someone order sweet sounding songs about science and love?"
That would be me, thanks. Just leave it on the table.
Just like the movie clip below says, I do love Steve Burns. First, for helping me teach my son to be a reader at 4. Second, for being a (big) part of one of the only children's television offerings that stands up to thousands of repeated watchings. Third, for being so doggone cute. Even with facial hair.
Go take a look at Steve's new job.
I listened to songs for dustmites (Steve is savvy enough to allow the entire album to be streamed from his site) and I like it. A lot. It's not like a "retired tv guy trying to parlay his fame into another genre that he has no business being in" album. It's more like a "oh yeah, that album really rocks and it's made by who?!" album.
And I take back my earlier statement regarding unchecked earnestness. Coming from Steve, earnestness is kind of like a vest. It leaves you all warm in your heart, but your arms are still a little chilly.
July 30, 2003
Geeks vs. Pols
(With apologies to Laura Numeroff... and the mouse.)
When you give a geek a problem,
He'll explore all the possibilities,
When he has an elegant potential solution,
He'll want some funding to test it.
He'll want you to take him to Congress,
Where he'll stand up and ask for money to make the solution a reality.
The Senators he asks will play on the fears of their constituents,
And label his solution a "futures market in death,"
They'll call for his head and his job,
And then the geek really has a problem.
July 29, 2003
Wait for it... wait for it...
I do realize the front page of Liloia.com takes forever to load because of the Blogathon posts, but all of the July entries will be archived on Friday (when the month changes over), so please bear with the wait until then. It's an easier fix than me messing around with a new MT archiving system.
Thanks-
Tara
You stole MY summer, Pete Jones.
Earnestness by itself is intolerably boring and Pete Jones' film Stolen Summer oozes with unchecked earnestness. No one ever slaps the earnestness in the face and forces it to choose between staying earnest and becoming cynical. No one ever makes earnestness work for its money. Earnestness gets to skip through the daisies while we waste 91 minutes of our lives watching it frolic.
Lemme tell you something. I'm a member of LivePlanet and I participate in Project Greenlight. As part of the script-rating community there, I've read several of the screenplays submitted to Project Greenlight and Stolen Summer was by far the best one I saw while I was there.
Unfortunately, I don't think that's a testament to the greatness of Stolen Summer, but rather to the shoddy quality of the other submissions. I read crap that wouldn't have passed a high school english assignment. People who thought they could make a film about an epic battle between heaven and hell for under a million dollars. People who thought that serial killers made good main characters simply because they were serial killers. I've met several serial killers in my life, and I'll tell you they're generally the most reserved and mundane group you'll ever meet. Okay, that's a lie. But really, you have to put some effort into your characters instead of relying on stereotypes to carry your work.
I also think there's a funamental flaw in the idea of letting a large group of people vote to select ten finalists. The scripts that evoke strong emotions in people are going to also create love/hate reactions in the community. Stolen Summer may be consistently rated with fours, but there may be a better script that averages out to a three because of mixed ratings of fives and ones. That may be the film that should have been made, but it was relegated to the slush pile based on Popular Opinion. Let's all just take a moment to remember that Popular Opinion is what brought us such entertainment gems as Menudo, The Real World, and Saved by the Bell.
Everyone's going to read Stolen Summer and say, "Awww" and give it a five. There's nothing not to like about it. But then again, there's nothing particularly challenging about it either. If I did a rewrite, I would have Pete set up his little religious drive-thru conversion stand and the members of the temple get so upset that they form a mob and set him ablaze and his father (the fireman) arrives and can't save him (How's that for a touching moment?) then Pete dies and finds out there is no afterlife at all. He haunts the temple, trying to send a message to the congregation that they're wasting their time with religion. Then they call in Whoopi who communicates with Pete and spreads his message and the congregation goes all heathen-like because there is no afterlife. The National Guard has to be called in to subdue to rioting and looting and finally Tommy Lee Jones comes in to negotiate an uneasy peace. I think that's a much better movie, don't you?
July 28, 2003
Orpheum - CAKE!
Ok, so one of my favorite bands in the world CAKE is going to be playing at the Orpheum Theatre in Boston on September 7th. I can't wait! The tickets go on sale in a week or so, I want to try to get the best seats possible.
Anyone have connections at The Orpheum? :)
Oh, I am also trying to see if anyone has some "They Might Be Giants" CD's that I can borrow. I used to have a few of their CD's and over the years my little brother and others have walked away with them I am dying to get a little birdhouse in my soul..
Spy Kid...
Trevor wants to see Spy Kids so bad. We wanted to go over the weekend, but there wasn't time with my parents visiting and the Blogathon. We tried to go tonight after I got home from work. He brought his spy sunglasses that let you see people behind you so he could be a spy kid too. He didn't last 10 minutes in the car. He had spent the entire day playing on the Slip and Slide at school and was wiped out. Maybe tomorrow.
July 27, 2003
Post-Blogathon Crash
No, I'm not really sleeping, but I am watching Stolen Summer, so I very well may be sleeping soon.
I made my goal of $200.00 -- a hearty thank you to my sponsors and an heartier thanks to those who stopped by to cheer me on.
I made a new friend who introduced me to a great singer.
I've got a craptastic 11,000 word, sci-fi story.
I never in my life want to see another "groovy" M&M.
Ten Cent Shower - Epilogue
In June 2005, a group of physicists from Boston University, led by Dr. Emma Rowe-Greer, made their first visit to the Swallow Hollow Campground. Armed with photocopies of a charcoal-smudged map and several powerful laptop computers as well as GPS technology, they were able to precisely pinpoint the location and direction of the moving campground entrance.
A team clad in biohazard suits was able to penetrate the fog and return with their observations of a sleepy community that seemed to be stuck within the vortex and frozen in time.
It was theorized that the back end of a powerful black hole halfway across the known Universe had somehow made an atom-sized hole in the bottom of the campground ravine. A stream of white “loose matter” had circled the camp for decades as it twirled down to the bottom of the vortex.
The singularity was subsequently contained and all residents of the campground were released, with the exception of anyone trapped pre-1954. Unfortunately, all non-corporeal beings disintegrated when the intense gravitational field collapsed.
Ten Cent Shower - Part 25
Brian looked crestfallen. “I almost had it.”
Emma rubbed his shoulder.
“You did have it, kiddo. You had every piece. Which is why you’re the Professor.” He looked relieved, but still in pain. “Anybody got a pen?” The guys looked at each other blankly.
“All the pens ran out a long time ago, babe. Someone might have a pencil, but I don’t know who,” said Bob.
“Oh come on! We’re this close and we’re going to be stuck here for lack of a writing implement?” Emma cried.
“We could get back to my cabin…” began Brian.
“Absolutely not!” interrupted Emma. “I can practically see the end of this nightmarish day and I’m not going back into camp just to get caught by the toddlers of doom.”
They all thought quietly for a moment until Gregg spoke.
“Bri, can you show us how to ride this thing?” he asked. Brian looked surprised.
“Well yeah. But I thought you didn’t like to surf the white wall.”
“Got to,” Gregg shrugged.
Brian struggled to his feet and instructed them each how to hold their extremities in order to be carried along by the tingling current.
“Where do you want to go?” he asked.
“To the farthest edge,” answered Emma. She was concentrating on the map, already trying to associate dates with locations and figure out what kind of calculation would be needed when she finally did get something to write with.
The surfed the wall until Brian called out for them to drop their legs and jump out. It was near Anna’s cabin, but far enough that she wouldn’t have noticed them had she been home. Gregg whispered something to Bob and he took off at a run for a spot in front of Anna’s cabin. He was back in a minute, holding out something black to Emma.
“A little charcoal pencil for my best lady,” he said with a bow.
Emma started writing on the back of the paper. The other three watched as numbers and vectors were drawn onto the map. She mumbled to herself every few minutes and at one point she examined the readout on her watch with studious care.
“…Barb in 68, then the Harlan family over here…”
After 30 minutes, she held the paper away from her face and frowned.
“I think that’s it,” she said finally. “I think I’ve got the spot where the opening will be in exactly three minutes. Are you coming?”
Bob answered affirmatively right away, but the two other boys were quiet.
“What? What is it?” she demanded, already standing up to leave. “We’ve got to move now!”
“It’s just strange to be suddenly…” started Brian.
“Leaving,” finished Gregg.
“Our parents probably think we’re dead. They won’t know what to make of us. We haven’t changed at all.”
Emma could understand their concern, but she wasn’t going to miss her first real chance to leave in the last several hours.
“Are you going to find out by staying here?” she asked quietly. Brian stood up and Gregg followed. Bob was already jumping from foot to foot with excitement.
“Yeah! We’re outta here!” he shouted, with no regard for disturbing furies anymore.
Ten Cent Shower - Part 24
Emma was tired of running back and forth across the camp, but Brian was one of the few people who had made an effort to help her. Or at the very least not to maim her. She could find Gregg later.
She followed Crazy Bob through the woods, trying to be as silent as possible. Bob wasn’t very good at stealth, so Emma’s efforts were wasted. They passed a sign tacked onto an old tree:
STEAM ROOM à
“Is there really a steam room here?” she asked. Bob nodded.
“This used to be a posh summer spot for families until the depression, then it all just got run-down and abandoned. Those girls lived here with their father until something wacky happened in the forties and they all ended up stuck here. And us… we just drifted in over time.” He fingered his lapels lovingly and looked down at her flared jeans.
“Chicks used to wear stuff like that when I was a kid. When’re you from again?”
“I’m from 2003 – but all this retro stuff is in again. You would be at the height of hipster fashion, Bob,” she laughed.
Crazy Bob was pleased. And if there’s one thing you want to do in your life, it’s keep people with the moniker “crazy” somewhat pleased.
They came close to the area where Bea liked to wander, near the ramshackle group of cabins. Sure enough, she and a group of other girls were congregating in the center of the cabin area. Gregg stood off to the side, looking lost and distracted. Someone screamed and Gregg put his hands to his ears to block out the sound.
It was Brian, lying in the center of the group of girls. It looked like they were taking turns poking at him with their fingers. Each time a girl’s finger made contact he yelped.
“I don’t know where she is!” he wailed.
Neither Emma, nor Bob could get to him without being assaulted by all six sisters. Bob nudged his head in the direction of Gregg instead. They didn’t need to be that quiet while walking over to him through the forest. The girls’ shouting and Brian’s screams covered their noise. Emma got behind Gregg and whispered to him.
“When I run past, you and Bob grab your brother and head for the nearest patch of fog.”
Before he could protest, Emma had sprinted into the dirt path and caught the eye of two sisters. They squealed and alerted the other four. As she had hoped, all of them moved toward her at once, leaving Brian writhing in the dirt alone.
She led them into the forest where her longer legs were at an advantage. She looked over her shoulder to see Bob and Gregg lifting Brian and bringing him toward the fog wall. She looped around, keeping the girls many yards behind and jumped in at the approximate spot that the guys had entered.
Many hands poked through the fog wall and everyone backed up as much as possible in the space. Every now and then a girl braver than the rest would poke her face in, only to wince as she was carried down the wall with the current.
Brian was not in good shape, but he could speak. Emma leaned down, keeping an eye out for stray hands coming near them.
“Tell me about this map,” she panted, holding the map above him.
“It’s… the spots where… people came in,” he gasped. “Dates on back.”
Emma held the paper in her hands and for a long moment she forgot about the furious little girls trying to grab at them. Gregg leaned in.
“The fog is not a circle around the camp. It’s a huge spiral. Everything heads toward this spot,” he pointed to a star on the map. It was just about where the ravine was located. “But you can’t you just follow the spiral outward. The outside layer of the spiral is huge – like miles -- and the opening is very small. It’s constantly moving.”
Emma finished the thought.
“But with the map, we can calculate where the opening will be based on past locations. We can map the trajectory.”
Bob broke in, “But you’d need like a physicist or something to get those numbers right.”
Emma raised one eyebrow and grinned.
“How does a physics grad student sound to you?”
Ten Cent Shower - Part 23
Gregg eyed the hands and tried to stay out of their way. Emma grabbed him to leave the fog, but he pulled away again.
“You can go back the way you came, on that side. I have to go out over here,” he pointed back toward the roving hands. “They’re not looking for me. Go and I’ll meet you near the ravine!”
Emma didn’t want to leave Gregg, but getting away from the hands was a fine idea. She saw him hop out on his side and she walked out on her side. To her relief, no one was waiting there. But Crazy Bob was still waiting by the chasm.
“Hey baby, you find Gregg?” he asked, lying on a flat rock and picking his teeth with a splinter.
“Yeah, but those kids are after me.” Crazy Bob nodded with a thoughtful “Hmmmm.”
“Those babes are the furies; the daughters of the dude who own this place. He had six of ‘em. We call them the furies cause they’re just so furi-ous!” he smiled to himself. “They’ve been here since the camp was built. Decades ago… long time.”
Emma reached in her pocket and pulled out the map. She winced as her arm brushed her jeans; it was still sore from the furies’ touch.
“Do you know anything about this?”
Crazy Bob took the map and examined it. He traced a few lines with his fingers and handed it back to her.
“Something the Professor was working on. I dunno. Why’d he give it to you?”
Emma shook her head, “He didn’t. Bea had it.”
Crazy Bob sat up straight, alarmed.
“Then we’d better go check on little man! That girl probably did something nasty to him to get his favorite little map.”
[Poll closed -- results below.]
Should Emma go with Crazy Bob to check on Brian?
No 33% 1
Yes 66% 2
3 votes total
Ten Cent Shower - Part 22
Emma put a hand on Gregg’s arm to stop him.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
He shook her off and kept walking. “I’m getting out of here.”
She grabbed him harder and gave him a shake. She couldn’t actually hold him back, since he wasn’t moving anywhere, but it at least forced him to face her.
“No… you’re not.”
Gregg finally stopped moving and Emma let him just stand quietly for a moment. She noticed for the first time that he was wearing a faded Dokken tee shirt.
“Dokken fan?” she chuckled.
He looked down at the shirt and frowned. “Used to be. Are they dead now or broken up?”
“Nope, they’re still playing little clubs in South Dakota and Texarkana.”
Gregg thought about this for a second, took a long look at Emma, and asked what everyone else hadn’t gotten around to asking.
“So when are you from?”
“Two thousand three.”
“Wow. I didn’t think we’d make it past the year 2000,” he said in awe. Emma laughed, recalling the Y2K disaster planning.
“It was fine,” she assured him. She held up the paper map. “Gregg, I need you to help me with this now. Can you do that?” His eyes were a bit glazed, but he nodded.
“That’s Brian’s map.”
“I know. What are all of the X’s with names on them – are they where people live?”
“No, they’re where people entered the camp when they first got here. Bri has this theory…”
A tiny hand reached into the fog and groped around blindly. It wavered like a leaf caught in a windstorm as the current of particles hit it, but after a second it made contact with Emma’s arm and she screamed from the cold stabbing pain. Gregg pushed her sideways out of the way, but the hand kept groping. A second hand pushed inward, then a third, fourth, they just kept popping in.
“It’s the furies,” yelled Gregg. “They don’t like to come all the way in because they drift like Bea was, but they definitely want to get close to you.”
Emma held her searing arm and tried to dodge babyish fingers.
“What do we do?”
[Poll closed -- results below.]
How should Emma escape?
Grab Greg and run out of the fog. 50% 1
Leave Greg and run out of the fog. 0% 0
Grab Greg and run IN the fog. 50% 1
Leave Greg and run IN the fog. 0% 0
2 votes total
Feeling better...
Things got a little hairy there for a while, so I switched over the regular entries instead of the story. I knew I would be tired and probably shaky, but I didn't count on getting sick around 4am. Even putting my headphones on was making me nauseated.
I've got my fifth wind now and I'm back to writing. There are parts to post dammit and they're coming up next...
Working on the ending...
As if being up all night wasn't messing with my head enough... look what a friend sent me. Just pick a circle and stare at it.
[I'm working on the ending -- gotta tie up all of those loose ends!]
I hate when...
that happens. I am referring to when you put sunblock on and then it is sunny out. At first you are glad to hav put on the cover. Then pater that evening you look into the mirror and see a large stripe down your face where the missing sunblock was (or wasn't)
I don't think that I am even making sense to myself.
Ten Cent Shower — Part 21
Emma decided that Gregg, being Brian’s brother, might know just as much information about the map as Brian himself. Better yet, Brian might be there with Gregg for all she knew.
Emma stepped back out of the fog to find herself in a slightly different spot from where she had walked in. It took a few minutes of threading through the woods to locate the chalk arrow once again.
She took a step into the fog and wondered whom she would find next.
It was Gregg. Only this time she met him head-on.
He seemed startled to have someone approach from the front, but this time his pace didn’t falter.
“Bea is looking for you,” he said.
“I know. She’s drifting away down there.”
Gregg nodded, “Yeah, she came in to see if you were here and she just couldn’t hold up to the current. She’s not nearly as heavy as we are, you know.”
“Why is that?”
“She’s been here for decades. This place sucks the mass right out of you and into itself.”
5 AM
I keep trying to write posts with some other focus in them other than sleep. It's not possible. I am tired. Trevor fell asleep a while ago and even his 5 hour nap until 11PM didn't give him enough juice to stay up this long. Of course why would he.
I just walked into the kitched and the sun is starting to come up. There is a faint hint of sunlight on the edges of the night. Maybe we can make it through the night.
Minor change of plans
All right. Because A) the two people left awake seem to always vote for opposite choices, leaving me to break the tie and B) I just spent the last 30 minutes in the ladies room being sick from junk food, I've decided to nix the poll on the last few installments of the story. I'm just going to wrap it up in the remaining four posts. Trying to write to reader preferences is (literally) making me sick. Ugh.
Now I've done it.
Ugh. In my brash effort to create a witty retort to Tara's comment about me being sleepy I accidentally overwrote one of my old entries.
Tara...your point is proven. I'm still not giving up though.
Let him sleep
This whole staying up all night thing isn't working out so well for Dave, so I'll take over his half-hour posts now that things have quieted down for the night.
You see, Dave has a hostility level that (on a typical day) hovers around seven. But on nights when he's attempting to stay up all night and post coherent things at my request... well, that hostility level gets ratcheted up about five notches. It's just not worth the pain and trouble of waking him up yet again.
Here's to you Mr. Nearly Impossible to Wake After Midnight... make it a Bud Light.
Ten Cent Shower - Part 20
That paper was too much of a temptation. Emma could see some tiny X’s scattered on it, but she wanted to know more.
She stepped farther into the fog and stood unmoving behind the girl for a moment. After making sure that Bea was actually asleep and not just toying with her, Emma grabbed at the paper.
To her surprise, not only did the paper come free, but the girl herself appeared to come free of her Earthly moorings. Bea, still asleep, floated with the particle current past Emma and down the line.
Emma opened the paper to see what looked like a map with many little X’s dotting the landscape. There didn’t appear to be any rhyme or reason to the placement – although each one had a name next to it. On the bottom of the page, in neat printed letters, was a name… Brian Greer.
[Poll closed -- results below.]
Where should Emma head next?
Continue on to find Gregg. 25% 1
Take a detour to ask Brian about his map. 75% 3
4 votes total
Let her rot
What?!?!? Me!??!?!?!?!? Hostile?!?!?!?! Ok, well maybe a little. I am not going to go down that easily though. I am here (I think) and I will not give up, especially not if Tara is going to be mocking me about it. Now if only I could find my hands...where did I leave them.....and my head keeps floating away...
Ten Cent Shower - Part 19
Emma considered the two marks. Chalk was transient, so she figured that the ribbon marker was the more permanent indicator.
She moved over to that spot and stepped into the fog. Bea was waiting there.
Emma expected the little girl to immediately reach out for her, but she was apparently taking a nap in the churning powder. Bea’s eyes were closed and she was snoring gently. It was almost cute if you didn’t know that the child was capable of freezing your body at the subatomic level.
There was a folded paper hanging out of one calico pocket in Bea’s dress. It made a tempting target – Emma could easily walk out and be home free now or make a grab for the paper to see what critical information it might contain.
[Poll closed -- results below.]
Should Emma grab for the paper?
No, she should go back and find Gregg. 0% 0
Yes, there might be some helpful information on the paper. 100% 4
4 votes total
Ghostbusters
For as good a movie as it is, Ghostbusters has potentially some of the worst special effects I have ever seen in a movie. I was just looking at the scene were Rick Moranis' charachter is having a party and one of the demon dogs jumps through the door to his apartment. Man, just awful.
Back when this movie was good, I never thought twice about the fact that 'Slimer' wa a popular character, especially from the cartoon that came a little bit later in the Ghostbusters franchise. Now I am thinking about it a little bit more. Over the course of the movie, we see very few actual ghosts. One of the more memorable ones is obviously Slimer. I think my brain is starting to melt. Bubble bubble.
Ten Cent Shower - Part 18
“No way, baby,” chuckled Bob. “I wouldn’t kid about this.”
Emma considered going the long way back and trying to sneak past Bea, but the sore spot in her thigh nudged her closer to the ravine. It looked so far down that her scalp tingled at the drop. But as she looked closer, she could see an area where little ledges made a ladder-like structure for descending the cliff side.
She edged close to the drop off and tentatively hung one foot over the side. Her toe caught the first ledge and she decided to give it a shot.
Inch by inch, Emma descended the rock face with Bob watching and encouraging from the top.
“Go baby, go!” he cried when she found her groove and the descent picked up speed.
“Now stop,“ he shouted from above. It was the narrow spot where she could jump, but Emma couldn’t see the right spot to make the leap. He coached her until she could see the ledge that was only four feet away, but across the chasm.
“There it is, you’ve got it now!”
But Emma hadn’t got it. It was too awkward to turn and jump at the same time – she was sure she wouldn’t make it. It took a full ten minutes before she felt ready to try. Bob cajoled, pleaded and encouraged from his perch the entire time. When she was finally ready to jump, Emma held her breath and pushed off from the wall.
Something odd happened on the way across the gap. Instead of dropping straight down, Emma seemed to float for a few moments before slowly descending. She had enough time to put a toe on the opposite ledge and guide herself gently over to it before she came to a stop.
“What was that?” she shouted up to Bob.
“Same crap that goes on all over this place,” he replied. She couldn’t say that she completely disagreed with his assessment.
The ascent seemed faster, knowing that falling wasn’t as perilous as usual. Emma rose quickly and edged over the cliff side in half the time it took to descend. Bob applauded as she reached the top.
“See? I wasn’t kidding!” he cried to her. She waved him away and walked forward toward the fog, looking for a sign or marker. She found it quickly, a chalk arrow drawn on a rock. It pointed straight into the fog. Just as she was about to enter the powdery wall, she spotted a blue ribbon tied around a tree close to the white wall in another area. Which one marked Gregg’s spot?
[Poll closed -- results below.]
Which spot should Emma try first?
The chalk mark. 25% 1
The blue ribbon. 75% 3
4 votes total
Time..
It doesn't seem like it has been this long. It feels like I have just begun, new, first day. I am talking about my job. As of Friday I had completed one full month with the Product Management group at my company. Each day is presenting new challenges and experiences. Before accepting this position, I had absolutely no idea how much work was involved in this side of the business. How many people it takes to get our product out the door and how many more people it takes to keep it out there, and not returned.
I am really enjoying the position so far, it has allowed me to really take something larger than my recent challenges, head on and give it a go. The coming month will be interesting as many people are on vacation during the month of August.
Some thoughts that are coming to mind right now.
- Why have I never been to Canada?
Ok, so that is all that I can think of right now, although not an insignificant concept. The hulking mass that is the land mass of Canada is a big thing to miss. I've been close, ok well not that close, but within 100 miles. It's late...early...no late.
Ten Cent Shower - Part 17
All of the people with “crazy” in front of their names seemed to congregate in this part of the forest, so chances were good that Crazy Bob would be hanging around nearby. Emma went out the front door and made a quick scan for the two girls – they didn’t seem to be nearby anymore. She called out softly for Bob.
“Hey Bob, are you around?”
There was no response.
“Bob? Crazy Bob? Are you there?”
“Mmmm, baby. You’re lookin’ fine,” came the response from behind the cabin. Crazy Bob sauntered around the corner, polyester pants making a whizzing sound as he walked. Emma rolled her eyes and asked for an escort, which Bob was more than happy to give.
“Sure, I can get you to Gregg, but I can’t surf the white tide like the little guy can. I get all lost and end up in people’s bathrooms and shit.” He realized his own pun and laughed out loud. “But I can walk you there a way that little orphan Annie definitely won’t be going.”
Emma accepted the offer and they headed in a direction that circumvented the cabins and stayed close to the edge of the fog. Bob yammered on as they walked and Emma asked him a few questions to lend some direction to his ramblings.
“So why is your name Crazy Bob?”
Bob was ready with an instant comeback. “Cause I’m crazy about you, baby,” he answered with a suggestive wave of his hand. Emma didn’t respond to the come-on and he quieted a bit.
“I think it’s because I’m going a little nutso, babe.”
“Seems to be catching,” she answered and Bob nodded.
“The longer you’re here, the crazier you get. The Professor knows the nuts and bolts of it, but it has something to do with the little particles in your brain getting sucked into the fog. Along with the rest of you.”
Emma was quiet while she played around with this nugget of information. If Crazy Bob meant that individual molecules were being drawn into the fog, it could be a possible explanation for Bea’s incorporeal form. But that was supposing a lot of highly unlikely conditions were true.
Before she could delve deeper into the particulars of Swallow Hollow madness, the fog curved sharply inward and Bob stopped.
“There used to be a bridge here, girl, but it’s gone now. If you climb down this side of the ravine, then hop yourself across the gap where it’s narrowest, you can climb up and come up on Gregg’s spot from the other side. Miss Queen Bea is too short to get up the other side, so you won’t be seeing her over here. There’s no string over there either, but the Professor left some kind of marker.”
Emma peered down into the ravine – it was at least a hundred feet down to the bottom. She couldn’t see any spot that was narrow enough to “hop” across.
“You’ve got to be kidding me?”
[Poll closed -- results below.]
Should Emma attempt to jump the ravine?
Yes, she should take the chance. 100% 3
No, it would be safer to sneak back to the twine. 0% 0
3 votes total
Blogging by moonlight
Most of the day has passed without significant problems. Aside from Tara toiling away at her detailed story and me having to deal with a hostile almost 5 year old, this hasn't been too bad. Now comes to the hard part. As we hit the late part of the evening, our energy is waning. Trevor is awake now after taking a four hour nap, and he is chipper as usual. Only 8 hours left.
Ten Cent Shower - Part 16
The girls were long gone before Emma felt safe enough to scoot out from under the bed. She stood in the center of the cabin and paused. She wanted to get back to Brian and Gregg, but Bea was heading straight there. She would have to find a way to get there without using the twine.
But first, something was nagging at her curiosity. Emma went over to the piece of slate that both girls had looked at and traced a finger around its edge. It seemed to be firmly seated except for one edge that had a little divot in the dirt grout. Emma stuck her finger in the divot and lifted.
A smell like mildewed cardboard hit her nose and she nearly dropped the slate back into place. She coughed quietly and held the slate up with a couple of straining fingers. It only took a moment to see what was under the rock, but it would take a lifetime to get the image out of her head.
Twisted up inside a narrow hole under the flat slate was the desiccated body of a woman. The skull was the only part that looked full-size, and even then it wasn’t quite a skull. Skulls are bones bare of flesh, but this one was covered in leathery skin hanging off the white bone like a latex mask. The dark, papery skin reminded her of women who spent most of their lives at the beach. The empty eye sockets of the bones and skin didn’t quite match up, giving the woman’s expression a stretched and hollow look.
The skull had been wedged in on top of the rest of her skeleton, which had been folded into the cramped space accordion-style. Someone had done the job quickly and sloppily. Her arm wound around her gaping head and one leg poked straight up into the cavity in a way that no human leg could ever mimic. There were still rings circling fingers and earrings in the distended earlobes.
What sickened Emma most was the hair. Mounds of reddish-brown hair on the top of the scalp was hanging limp like a wig. She dropped the slate back into place and a puff of stench blew in her face. She gagged and grabbed at the handkerchief under the kitchen table to mash over her nose and mouth. The sweet cookie smell covered up the foul cloud of death.
It was absolutely certain that she needed to get back to Gregg before those two found her again. Her mind raced through possibilities. There were two ways to get back to Gregg – the trick would be picking the one least likely to end in a spot under Anna’s kitchen floor.
[Poll closed -- results below.]
How should Emma get back to Gregg?
Attempt to ride the fog back to his spot. 16% 1
Walk through the woods to the twine. 33% 2
Go outside and call for Crazy Bob. 50% 3
6 votes total
July 26, 2003
Maniacal Marketing Monks
As long as I am talking about companies that are pushing their wares on the unsuspecting masses, I might as well comment on something that has been bothering me for a while. Why is it that companies feel that the best way to sell their product is to show us Monks using it. Better yet, monks who have taken a vow of silence. Nothing moves product off of the shelves faster than silent, religious men who live together and pray all day long.
Firstly, (did I just say firstly?) how many of us have even seen a monk? I mean a real live monk, brown frock, shaved head, no speaking, yadda yadda? I haven't.
Next, these are guys that decided to give up all of the conveniences of modern life to live in poverty and silence. Are we really supposed to believe that they are the model by which the best decisions in the world are made?
Should I be looking at these whacko's flipping around, crunching on loud chips, cereal bars, sending emails, playing video games, testing shampoo, eating sub sandwiches and saying to myself "Hey, if an antiquated caricature of a monk likes PRODUCT X then I would like it too!"
Sheesh.
Ten Cent Shower - Part 15
“Oh crap,” whispered Emma as she took in her surroundings. It was the abandoned cookies under the kitchen table that helped her make the connection. The cabin was tiny, so it was clear in an instant that no one was home. But that was not going to be the case for long. Crazy Anna had left a pot simmering on the stove and she wasn’t likely to be out for long.
Emma could hear voices approaching the cabin, she searched frantically for somewhere to hide. The only places remotely big enough were the freestanding wardrobe and under the bed. Anna might need something from the wardrobe, but probably wouldn’t be peeking under her bed anytime soon. Emma slid under just as the door swung open. Two girls entered, Anna and the girl who had attacked Emma and Brian.
“Where do you think they went?” asked Anna.
The other girl bit her lip thoughtfully and fanned the fog that was retreating from the room in an undulating wave.
“I’d bet a nickel they took her to see Gregg, because they certainly weren’t at the Meeting.”
“How rude,” Anna retorted.
The other girl nodded, “Time is just slipping away and they’re dilly dallying around with that kooky boy.” She sighed and stuck a finger into the boiling pot without flinching. “I touched her leg and she was so… thick. Like swirling your hand in a rock, but warmer. I haven’t felt that in years and years.”
Anna was listening intently, her hand poised to stir the pot with a spoon, but waiting until the other girl’s fingers were out of the way.
“Go on, Bea,” she urged.
“I don’t think she knows all the little secrets of the fog yet. If we can keep her away from Gregg, maybe we can use her.”
Anna stared at a spot in the slate floor, then back up at Bea.
“I dunno, Bea. That didn’t work out well last time,” she said with the hint of a shiver in her voice. Bea also looked toward one stone in the floor and bit her lip again.
“We know better this time, I think it will be less… messy this time.”
Anna nodded and licked the stirring spoon and frowned.
“I can’t tell if this is done, can you check it?”
Bea reached her hand all the way into the pot and gave the hot liquid a swirl with her fingers.
“Ayup, cooked all the way through,” she confirmed, wiping her hand on a dishrag. Anna picked up the pot and carried it out of the cabin. Emma could hear her say one last thing to Bea before their voices were too distant to catch.
“Go back to the twine and make absolutely sure she doesn’t talk to Gregg. If there’s anyone close to getting out, it’s him. And then you can…”
[Poll closed -- results below.]
Where should Emma go from here?
Back into the fog to find Gregg and Brian. 40% 2
Over to examine the slate that Anna and Bea referred to. 60% 3
Out of the cabin and into the woods. 0% 0
5 votes total
Shameless Promotion
Tonight in an effort to drive away the madness and sleep, we are watching a little television between posting to the site. FX is running their "DVD on TV" specials featuring the third Batman movie and X-Men. During these shows they let us see some behind the scenes footage, deleted scenes, and cast/crew interviews. While I like the idea of this show, I am appalled at the subliminal efforts they are making.
The two hosts fake fight over the DVD case and make offhanded comments like, "What a stylish slip cover" and "I love the free coupon for Dairy Queen included in every case! - One per family". How dumb do they think we are?
What time does Best Buy close? Gotta run out for a minute...
Ten Cent Shower - Part 14
Faced with the choice between being stabbed with the icicle-like hands of an evil little girl and disregarding the request of a fifteen-year-old kid, Emma’s path was fairly clear. She grabbed the twine and followed it into the fog.
She immediately slammed into Crazy Bob, who bumped into the man in front of him. It was not Brian – the guy looked how Brian would look after being a POW for a few years. He was tall and thin, dark patches framed his eyes, and shaggy hair hung in his face. Aside from that, he couldn’t have been any older than Emma.
He was walking forward into the fog when Emma arrived and Bob bumped into him. The jolt knocked him forward a step and he stumbled in his path. When he righted himself again, the man seized Bob around the neck and shook him violently.
“No, no, no!” he wailed. “You’ve ruined it – I have to start all over again!”
Brian whirled on Emma, “I told you to wait back there! Jeez, look what you did.”
Emma did look and it appeared that the man was sobbing as he followed the string back out of the mist. She was about to follow when he reappeared just a second later. He resumed his spot, walking forward, but not gaining any ground. After a few more muffled sniffles, he was oblivious to them again.
Brian got close to the man’s shoulder without actually touching him.
“Hey, Gregg? Can we talk for a sec?” He reached out a hand to Gregg’s shoulder and let it hover there, unmoving. Gregg didn’t answer, so Brian continued.
“I thought that maybe you could take a second – since you just started over anyway – and tell this new girl how things work here.”
Gregg either didn’t hear or did a great job pretending it. Not a single muscle in his face reacted to Brian’s request. His step never faltered. Brian cleared his throat to try again, but Emma interrupted.
“He’s not any help to me. I want to leave here, not just walk around in this misty crap all day,” she snapped.
Gregg’s feet stopped moving forward and he seemed to sway for a moment before getting his land legs. He spoke without turning to Emma.
“I am getting out. Don’t you know? You just have to keep walking long enough.” His feet resumed moving and his face was set in that emotionless gaze again.
Emma couldn’t resist the lure of a sarcastic barb.
“Oh yeah? How’s that been working out for you? Because from here it looks like you’re getting pretty far. I had to walk, like, two steps into the mist to find you. In a few hundred years it might be three.”
Gregg stopped again, his shoulders slumping lower, “It’ll work someday. You watch.”
“I’m not hanging around here until ‘someday’ to watch you walk in place. I’m leaving today. Have fun with infinity.” She stepped out of the fog and into Crazy Anna’s kitchen.
[Poll closed -- results below.]
What should Emma do in Crazy Anna's kitchen?
Jump back into the fog. 0% 0
Stay and talk to Crazy Anna. 25% 1
Hide. 75% 3
4 votes total
No-MAH!
I am getting tired of taking pictures and frankly the camera has been a bit shoddy for the last few. The fading sun, along with the lighting in the room I was in was just making it look pathetic. I found out something interesting today at the baseball game. Nomar Garciaparra (spelling?) is not actually named Nomar. His name is Ramon, named after his father. At a young age his mother started calling him Nomar, the backwards version of his real name. Apparently it stuck because he uses it today.
This was cool to me because we call Trevor by a similarly derived nickname. Rovert.
By the way, I think it was No-MAH's birthday today. Some people had signs at the game for him. You gotta love people who bring signs to games, signs that they have spent hours and hours on at home. I wonder if the players even notice them. Hah.
Ten Cent Shower - Part 13
"Hey there Bob, how goes it?" Emma called out casually, even though her stomach did a flip-flop when she smelled his minty breath again.
Crazy Bob was taken aback just enough that he stepped back to let her pass.
“Uh, rolling on baby,” he responded warily.
Emma smiled to herself as she stepped out into the underbrush. Brian greeted Bob similarly.
“Hey Bob. Where’s the party?” he asked with a self-conscious smile.
“Man, it’s right here!” Bob grinned wide and spread his arms, having recovered himself after the surprise of meeting the new arrival again. He turned back to Emma.
“Baby, did the Professor take you for his wild, wild molecule ride?” he waved his hands back and forth in front of his face, presumably indicating molecules.
Emma frowned without understanding. Brian stepped between them and started searching for something in the grass.
“Yeah, Bob. We rode the atomic train all the way to Bobville.”
“Man, I dig it!” shouted Bob with exuberant joy. Then he caught himself and covered his mouth like a Japanese schoolgirl. “Oh man, I gotta pipe down so the furies don’t hear. You lookin’ for Gregg?”
Brian nodded and Bob joined him in the grass to search. They picked among the bushes and saplings until Brian came upon what they were looking for.
“Got it.” He held up the end of a piece of utility twine -- thin but strong. It was hard to see in the shadowy spots between the leaves, but the three of them followed the string as it wound its way through the forest. It had twisted itself around a large tree and they followed it outward from there toward the fog. The black string disappeared right into the misty powder. Brian traced it with his finger and stopped right before he disappeared into the fog.
“Wait here a sec,” he told her and walked until he was obscured by whiteness.
Bob did the same and suddenly Emma was alone in the forest. She heard something stirring to her left – leaves shuddered, but there was no breeze. A tiny hand flashed between two trees and was gone again. Something small coughed behind her, but she couldn’t see anyone. Emma’s skin began to prickle. There were others in the forest with her.
[Poll closed -- results below.]
Should Emma follow Brian and Bob into the mist?
Yes, she should follow. 60% 3
No, she should wait for them. 40% 2
5 votes total
Blurry Mommy
Blurry Mommy Taking A Power Nap. Good Job Writing Mom, The Story Is Great!
- P.S. - the camera/phone doesn't have a falsh or zoom, so we get what we get!
Ten Cent Shower - Part 12
Brian shook his head between heaving gasps. He clearly did not want Emma to answer. She walked past the little girl and pretended not to hear, but the tyke wasn’t going to be put off that easily.
Emma felt a sudden cold in her thigh; like being skewered with an icicle. She turned to see the girl’s hand vanish into her leg as if it was made of air. She screamed at the horrible sensation and instinctively struck out at the little head. Her hand made contact with nothing and the girl laughed at the lack of comprehension on her face.
“You’re new here, aren’t you?” she mused. “You feel so… solid.” The girl looked down at her hand and wiggled the fingers. “It’s almost too hard to get through you.”
Emma balanced on the leg that wasn’t throbbing and tried to hop over to Brian. He was straightening some, but his breath was still coming in ragged gasps.
“Run,” he panted.
Emma certainly couldn’t do that. The best she could manage was a feeble hop over to the teenager.
“God, what did she do to my leg?”
“She’s moving things in your leg. Like at the atomic level. At least that’s what I think it is.” He took a few deep breaths and was able to stand straight again. The girl was slowly walking over to their spot and listening to their conversation intently.
Brian grabbed Emma’s arm and half-led, half-dragged her into the nearest patch of fog. The flowing mass hid them from sight, but Emma was sure the girl would jump in right after them.
“She won’t come in,” said Brian reassuringly. “It’s hard for her to hang on in this current.”
The pinpricks of fog were almost pleasant next to the stinging in Emma’s leg. It had started to subside into a frigid numbness, but it was still too tender to stand on.
“How long do we have to wait in here?” she asked. “Will she walk away soon?”
“This is so cool, wait ‘till you see,” Brian grinned. “Just wait here for a few minutes and then we’ll hop out.”
Emma rubbed her sore thigh while waiting for Brian’s surprise. He fiddled with a small stack of paper slips from his pocket and asked her a few things as he wrote.
“What’s your name?”
“Emma Rowe.”
“How did you get here?”
“I told you, I hit a tree and came here looking for help.”
He looked up and rubbed his eyes the way a tired man in his forties might clear his head. He was quiet for a long time.
“Time to step out,” he said finally.
They took two steps backwards and Emma expected to find herself right next to the same vengeful girl from a few moments ago. Instead she found herself in a completely different spot in the forest, face to face with Crazy Bob.
[Poll closed -- results below.]
What should Emma say to Crazy Bob?
Nothing, she should run. 0% 0
Nothing, she should let Brian do the talking. 50% 4
"Hey there Bob, how goes it?" 50% 4
8 votes total
Fooey!
Since the Red Sox won today, I determine that they have won the right to be on a bag of peanuts...
Ten Cent Shower - Part 11
The word “meeting” conjured up images of religious zealots hanging snakes over each other’s shoulders and healing the sick. Emma was definitely not in the mood for that. And The Boss, he sounded like a cross between Springsteen and Michael Corleone. Brian’s wariness notwithstanding, his brother felt like the safest choice.
“Let’s go see your brother then,” she declared.
Brian looked forlorn. He was hoping to get to the Meeting tonight with his honored guest in tow, but he couldn’t force her. He knew others that could make her go, but they weren’t available at the moment.
“Oh. Okay.” He led her past a clay tennis court and several more run-down cabins. Faces were pressed to glass in a few of the windows and a few people even came outside to gape. None of them looked particularly old, but they were all very slow moving with heavy-lidded eyes. She felt positively spry among these shuffling folks. A little girl came plodding up to them.
“Hey Bri,” she called. Brian nodded back to her, but kept walking.
“Whoya got there?” she persisted. He shook his head and gave Emma a warning look. She knew better than to open her mouth at this point.
“Come on, Brian. Tell me who you got.”
He shook his head at her again and she parked herself in his path.
“Tell me!” she shrieked. She reached out and swiped at him with five long and bony fingers. Her hand passed through his chest and out the other side. Brian wheezed a little bit, but deliberately stepped around her and continued walking.
The girl turned away from him with a defiant stamp of her foot and instead focused on Emma.
“Who are you?” she demanded. Emma looked to Brian for guidance, but his attention was still tied up in his own efforts to draw breath. He had a hand on his chest and he was starting to stoop over while walking. The girl held up her hand for a jab at Emma.
“One last time,” she said in a voice that was almost too low to hear. “Who… are… you.”
[Poll closed -- results below.]
Should Emma answer the girl?
Yes. 42% 3
No. 57% 4
7 votes total
Cry me a river.
Trevor's just sleeping after a hard day of tormenting Dad, but doesn't it look like he's at the bottom of a river? He was soooo incredibly annoying today. It makes you wonder...
Ten Cent Shower - Part 10
Emma reached into her bag and felt around. There was a novel from Literature class, several pens, nail clippers… she ruled that one out immediately. It was too much like handing Son of Sam the gift of a new puppy. She settled on something round and flat that might hold the attention of an insane woman for a while. She held out a small compact mirror to Barb.
Barb smacked it onto the ground where it shattered.
“Another flimming-flamming mirror!” she spat. “All of you new Nancys think that mirrors are the way to solve every problem in the world. Well get it through your head, they don’t fix what’s broken here!” She stomped off, bringing one heel of her loafers down on the pile of cracked glass as she walked away.
Emma turned back to Brian for an explanation. He rubbed his hands together thoughtfully.
“Would it help if I told you she can’t help it?” he asked. Emma shook her head. It didn’t matter why any of these people were crazy. Just that they stay the hell away from her. Brian smiled.
“I know. Trust me, most of them are a little over-zealous, but they’re also harmless. The ones you have to watch out for… well, you won’t be able to see them.”
It was an alarming thing Brian had just said and Emma intended to press him further, but at that moment a loud beep sounded from inside of her backpack. Thinking that her phone might have suddenly found service, she pulled it out and read the display.
BATTERY LOW
--POWERING OFF—
It was gone. She threw the phone back into the bag hard enough to crack it against a bottle of foundation. Brian put a hand on her arm.
“Hey, be careful. You might have something in there we can use,” he cried, losing his composure for just a moment. He recovered himself quickly; “I just think we should keep our options open.”
He stared at the bag for a long moment, wondering what else the new arrival had to share. Emma followed his gaze and knew what intrigued him. She put the backpack on and crossed her arms.
“No phone?”
Brian shook his head.
“Anywhere?”
Another shake. Emma sighed angrily and shook her head. Now that her adrenaline was ebbing, her patience was on the wane as well.
“So what the hell do I do?” she yelled. “My car is embedded in a pine tree back there and instead of a campground, I seem to have stumbled onto summer picnic day at Arkham Asylum. What next?”
Brian shrank back at her tone. She guessed he wasn’t yet fifteen. He scratched his nose without quite looking at her.
“Well… you could come to the Meeting with us. Your only other choice is to go directly to the Boss.” He thought for a long moment. “Or – and I only say this because you asked – you could try to talk to my brother.”
[Poll closed -- results below.]
Where should Emma go?
To the Meeting. 14% 1
To speak with the Boss. 14% 1
To speak with Brian's brother. 71% 5
7 votes total
Ten Cent Shower - Part 9
Emma did actually want to try walking through the fog. It seemed ridiculous that one wouldn’t be able to come out on the other side. Fog always ended somewhere. She put her hands out into the frothy mix and they tingled with a thousand infinitesimal pinpricks. She took them back out and they were fine again, flexed painlessly without any broken skin.
“Holy mackerel, would you just go already?” sighed Barb. She was filing a pink nail with a metal file. Emma hated to think where Barb might want to shove that if she got angry again. She gulped a lungful of clean air, held it, and stepped forward into the thick whiteness.
The first thing she felt was the burning of her own lungs. It hadn’t been more than a second of airlessness, but it felt like several minutes. The stale air burst from her mouth with a cough and she sucked in a mouthful of the tiny particles. They stung for a second each, but it was slight enough that one could get used to it.
Emma looked around, but nothing was visible. If she extended her had too far in front, it also disappeared into the fog. She turned and walked back toward where she thought Barb was waiting. It was a few feet off, but close enough. The woman was waiting and the nail file had been relegated to some hidden pocket of the paisley jumper.
“Satisfied?” she asked.
Emma nodded. She wasn’t really, but it’s never in one’s best interests to disagree with a psychopath armed with grooming tools.
They moved quickly through the forest. Barb seemed to know a way that, while not really a path, was at least clearer of underbrush than the areas surrounding. Any time Emma opened her mouth to say something, Barb reached a hand into her pocket and she thought better of it.
In a matter of minutes, the forest gave way to grass and a dirt path did appear. It led to another gray cabin; similar enough to Crazy Anna’s that Emma had to look closely to be sure it wasn’t the same one. A bearded man stood on the tiny porch, sucking on an unlit pipe.
“Is the professor here?” Barb asked him. Emma could see was toying with some instrument in her pocket.
The man nodded and went inside the cabin. A teenager in jeans and a polo shirt came out alone. As he got closer to Emma, she could see a tiny alligator embroidered on his shirt. He extended his hand and Emma shook it.
“Hello, I’m Brian. I take it you’ve just arrived?” He was cheerful and Emma had hope that she might have found someone sane at last.
“God, yeah. Do you have a phone I could use? My car hit a tree and I’m stuck.”
Brian smiled at her sadly, “My dear girl, you certainly are.”
He was interrupted by the sound of someone cleaning her throat behind Emma. Emma turned to see Barb standing with her hand out.
“I brought you here, you know. The least you can do, you silly Sue, is give me a little something for my trouble,” she nodded, as if agreeing with herself.
[Poll closed -- results below.]
What should Emma give Barb?
Nothing. 14% 1
Nail clippers. 14% 1
A cell phone. 0% 0
A mirror. 71% 5
Money. 0% 0
7 votes total
Ten Cent Shower - Part 8
“Um, I’ll take the Professor,” said Emma. She raised an eyebrow in a sarcastic query, “Unless, of course, you think I should see the Skipper?”
Barb’s face started to redden and she balled her fists at her sides.
“Are you making fun of me? Because this is definitely not Gilligan’s Island,” she fumed. Barb reached into her pocket and pulled out a pair of silver eyebrow tweezers. She put a reassuring arm around Emma and held the tweezers up for her to see. “And if you ever talk to me like that again,” she whispered, “I’ll shove this so far into your eyeball that it’ll stab your brain.”
Emma jerked away from the sharp metal points and disentangled herself from Barb’s arm. She turned to run, but the sweet voice of her companion stopped her.
“Oh forget what I said, I’m such a ninny sometimes!” giggled Barb. Emma turned and the tweezers were gone and Barb was tossing her blonde bouffant like a debutante. With the retro hair and the paisley jumper, she looked like someone out of The Avengers.
Emma trailed Barb through the underbrush. She looked overhead and wondered how it had gotten so completely cloudy. The forecast had predicted sun and heat for the whole weekend, but here they were in sixty-degree weather under a white cloudy sky. Barb caught her looking up.
“It’s always like that. Just like at the edges. You can’t get through it either way,” she said.
“What is it?” asked Emma.
Barb stopped walking and turned to her. “We call it fog, but that’s not right. Fog doesn’t sting. And fog you can walk through and come out the other side. This stuff, you just keep walking and going nowhere.”
Emma looked up, trying to process the information. She looked back at Barb, trying to say something that wasn’t dripping with sarcasm. She valued her eyesight.
“So…” she faltered.
“Oh don’t pretend like you don’t understand,” snapped Barb. “You had to have walked through it to get here. Didn’t it sting? Wasn’t it all grainy and choking you?” She turned and started shoving through the trees again. Emma followed.
“Yeah.”
“Then you know what it’s like. And let me save you some time by telling you that going back through the fog is not the way out. We’ve all tried it – some more than others – but we all end up right back here.”
They had come to a wall of the blowing white powder. It swirled and churned violently, but didn’t the wind didn’t stir a mote just a foot away. They stared at it silently for a moment, and then Barb whirled on her.
“I know you want to try it, so just hurry up. I want to get back in time for the Meeting.”
[Poll closed -- results below.]
Should Emma try to walk through the fog?
Yes. 66% 2
No. 33% 1
3 votes total
Ten Cent Shower - Part 7
Emma thrust her hand into the splayed fingers. They immediately squeezed and pulled her through the leaves. Emma flung her arm in front of her face to protect from the sharp branches. They still scratched and dug into her cheeks, but the hand kept pulling. When she could finally open her eyes, Emma saw the owner of the hand tugging at her paisley jumper, trying to detach it from some thorns. She looked up at Emma.
“Could you help? It’s the only one I have,” the girl admitted.
Emma bent down and untangled the heavy fabric from the branches. The girl smoothed the jumper and when satisfied that it was unharmed, she extended a hand – this time to shake.
“I’m Barbara. Barb, actually.”
When Emma didn’t move, Barb put down her hand awkwardly.
“Did you just get here?”
“Yes.” Emma stood with her arms crossed, waiting for some explanation to manifest itself. The other woman fidgeted with her hair and tried not to look her in the eye.
“Oh. I’ve been here for years and years. Greg said it’s been at least twenty.” She tilted her head and thought for a second, “But that was a while ago, so I suppose it could be more by now.”
“Is everyone here insane?” asked Emma with a hefty dollop of hostility.
Barb stopped fidgeting and locked eyes with Emma.
“Of course.” She looked down once more. “But we didn’t start out that way. And I don’t think I’m that bad yet. But then again, how would I know?” she giggled and Emma rolled her eyes. Barb sighed and shrugged.
“Fine then, be a sad Suzy. But I’m at least trying to make this whole experience more interesting.” She emphasized every syllable of interesting and flicked her hair like a cruise director. “So who do you want to see? The Boss or the Professor?” she asked impatiently.
[Poll closed -- results below.]
Who should Emma see?
The Boss. 0% 0
The Professor. 75% 3
Ask more about the Boss. 25% 1
Ask more about the Professor. 0% 0
4 votes total
Ten Cent Shower - Part 6
Emma headed deeper into the uncut forest. Crazy Bob shouted and thrashed through the underbrush with all the finesse of a walrus, but he was nowhere near able to keep up. He continually screamed at her – she needed him; he could help her, and a hundred other desperate pleas to stop.
She ran forward, away from the crazy people (she hoped) and into the forest. Eventually, Bob’s cries died away and all she could hear were her own shoes smacking on the dirt. Her feet had fallen into a rhythm to match the mantra in her head, Cra-zy Bob, Cra-zy Anna, Cra-zy Bob, Cra-zy Anna. She thought she might be the next crazy one.
A voice broke in and threw off her rhythm.
”...all the trees are brown, and the sky is gray…”
It was someone nearby – a woman – but the trees were too thick to see her. Emma stopped and listened; she couldn’t hear Crazy Bob’s flailing any more. It might be safe to call out.
“Hello?” she whispered tentatively. The singing stopped for a second, then resumed again.
”…I've been for a walk, on a winter's day…”
“Where are you?” asked Emma into the clouds of green.
The voice stopped again and an arm poked out through the foliage.
“Come on,” said a woman’s voice and the hand opened to accept Emma’s hand. Emma hesitated, unwilling to put herself at the mercy of another loon.
[Poll closed -- results below.]
Should Emma take the anonymous hand?
Yes. 57% 4
No. 42% 3
7 votes total
Ten Cent Shower - Part 5
When the girl saw that Emma wasn’t about to move, she shoved her fingers into Emma’s curly hair and started twisting.
“Get… out… now!” she screamed. Her rosebud mouth twisted into a sour sneer. Emma scooted from under the table and stood up. She was a good foot taller than the girl, but she had to stoop because of the sticky hand still entangled in her hair. The girl gave one more yank and pulled Emma toward the door. She opened it just wide enough to shove Emma through, and then slammed it shut.
“Nine indeed! I look at least twelve,” Emma heard from inside.
Emma turned to find her nose about two inches from Crazy Bob’s face. His hot breath hit her in the face and she smelled mint.
“Thank god she let you out,” he cried, dragging her away from the cabin and farther into the woods. Emma struggled to free her arm from his great paw-like hand, but he squeezed tighter.
“Crazy Anna looks all sweet and cute and shit, but she can really mess with your head.” He was sweating heavily in the cool air, the polyester leisure suit he wore didn’t breathe very well. They came upon a spot where the trees had been clearned and Crazy Bob stopped to catch a breath.
“Did you ask her how old she was? You must have for her to boot you out like that.” He laughed and Emma could see several gold fillings in his mouth. They matched the chains around his neck. Emma nodded and wondered how much faster than Crazy Bob she could run. He stooped over to wheeze from the exertion of running twenty yards.
“I need a… freakin’ cigarette,” he gasped. “Got any?” he looked up hopefully.
Emma didn’t waste the chance. She turned away and before Crazy Bob or Crazy Anna or Crazy Anyone could grab her again, she ran. Bob’s hoarse voice trailed along behind her.
“No! Get back here! You’ll screw it all up without a guide. You need me!”
[Poll closed -- results below.]
Where should Emma run?
Back toward her car. 50% 2
Farther into the woods. 50% 2
Back to Bob. 0% 0
4 votes total
Ten Cent Shower - Part 4
Emma ducked down on the floor with the girl. They scooted behind a table where Crazy Bob couldn’t see them.
“Why?” Emma asked.
The girl gasped when Crazy Bob tried the door handle and found it locked.
“Because he doesn’t have any answers. Even though he says he does,” explained the girl. She peeked her head around a table leg and confirmed that Crazy Bob was back at the window, trying to see in.
“I saw you go in there!” he wailed. “I know I did…” He didn’t sound completely sure of himself.
The girl took a small bundle from her dress pocket and opened it. There were three sugar cookies, wrapped in a tidy white handkerchief.
“Want one?” she offered. She settled herself down to wait out Bob’s curiosity – or attention span.
Emma shook her head. There were lots of things she wanted right now, but sugar cookies were about seven hundred on the list.
“Where are your parents? Are they around? Can I talk to them?”
The girl laughed and a spray of crumbs went all over Emma’s shirt.
“My parents have been dead for 45 years,” she sputtered through cookie bits.
“How is that possible?” Emma snapped. “You’re like nine.” Her neck was starting to ache from whiplash and she had had enough of this kid’s messing around.
The girl threw the cookies down on the floor indignantly. She crawled out from under the table – much to Crazy Bob’s delight – and drew herself up to a full four-foot-three.
“I am seventy-five years old, thank you very much, missy.” she declared. “And you can just get out of my house.”
Emma eyed Bob’s flailing arms at the window.
“Lemme in, lemme in! I just wanna talk to you…” he persisted.
[Poll closed -- results below.]
Should Emma leave the cabin?
Yes, take her chances with Crazy Bob. 50% 3
No, try to make up with the girl. 50% 3
6 votes total
The Worst
I think I should warn everyone that Something Bad happened to my Compuserve connection around 11:20 this morning. I'm unable to log on again.
I had a backup plan -- yay for Girl Scouts -- and I'm now posting from my work laptop.
I'm a little freaked out now. I don't have a backup for the backup. *shudder*
Ten Cent Shower - Part 3
Having visions of asbestos and anthrax, Emma was not thrilled by the prospect of walking through unidentified white powder. She turned to the cabin instead. The door smelled like a thousand campfires – acrid and smoky. She knocked.
The door swung open before her knuckles could hit the door a second time. A tiny girl with long black braids hopped from one foot to another with a wide grin on her face.
“Welcome!” she cried and flung her arms around Emma.
It was a gracious embrace, but Emma was too surprised to return it. She stood stiffly, waiting for the girl to let her go.
“Um, can I use your phone?” she asked.
The girl let her go abruptly and shook her head. She walked back into the cabin and motioned for Emma to follow.
“You people always ask that first – isn’t there anything to do besides talk on the telephone in the future?” she giggled.
The phrase “in the future” filtered into Emma’s understanding and lodged there like a wad of taffy in an esophagus. Something was very wrong in this cabin, but it was hard to place what it was. All of the normal niceties of life were there; sink, stove, table, and bed. They were old, but clean.
It was the girl herself that looked out of place. If Emma had been forced to describe it, she would have said that the little black-braided girl looked just like that American Girl doll she had as a child; the one with glasses and a plaid dress.
She and the girl both jumped when someone rapped loudly on the window.
“Hey in there! Are you new? Do you need help? I can help you! Come out to me!” shouted a man pressing his face against the pane of glass. The girl crouched down on the floor and grabbed Emma’s hand to drag her down to the floor.
“Don’t go out there yet. Wait until Crazy Bob passes,” she hissed.
[Poll closed -- results below.]
Who should Emma talk to?
Continue talking to the girl. 60% 3
Go out and try to talk to Crazy Bob. 40% 2
5 votes total
Bobble Dogs
They're blurry, but they're dogs. Like 30 of them trapped in the back of someone's Corolla. Won't someone please help the Bobble Head 30?
Ten Cent Shower - Part 2
“What?” she barked, startled. She took a breath and started again.
“I need help… I hit a tree back there and my car… I think it’s totaled.” Her throat began to constrict and she knew tears were not far behind.
“Not my problem,” chuckled the old man, shaking his head.
“What?” Emma asked again, this time it was little more than a squeak.
His face contorted into an angry grimace, “My problem is this campground and the people in it. So get yourself out of here!”
Emma was spooked by the sudden change in his demeanor. She backed away from the door and returned to the paved road.
The old freak couldn’t be the only one in the campground. It was mid-July, prime camping season. Emma figured she could find another person – maybe a safe (and sane) family – to help her out.
With every ten steps up the mountain, the temperature seemed to drop another five degrees. At first it was refreshing to have a break from the summer heat, but it quickly became too cool for a tee shirt. Emma started to shiver. She set down her backpack to find a sweatshirt and that’s when she noticed the cabin.
Pieces of siding were falling from the front façade and the color had faded to the gray of an urban sidewalk, but it looked like there was a light on inside. It was something flickering, like a lantern or candle, but it was at least an indicator of human activity.
Emma kicked through the tangle of bushes and had gotten three feet from the door when something swept her off her feet. She landed in the foliage with an, “Oof.”
Looking around for what had pushed her, Emma got a face full of tiny white particles flying into her eyes and mouth. It was like being in a snowstorm of baby powder, only this stuff made tiny pinprick sensations when it made contact.
Emma scrambled forward and out of the tingling storm. She was right against the cabin door now, but looking back, she could no longer see the road. Swirling white powder blocked her view. It worried her that the powder had appeared so quickly and completely obscured things just a few feet away. It looked sort of like ash, but it smelled like… like electricity.
[Poll closed -- results below.]
Where should Emma go next?
Try to get back to the road through the powder. 0% 0
Explore the cabin. 100% 6
6 votes total
Ten Cent Shower - Part 1
There was a 74% chance that Emma Rowe would die on Saturday morning. It was a good thing for her that chance placed her in that lucky 26%. But the odds that the cat would die were never anything but 100%.
It skittered under the front wheels of her Volkswagen before her mind could process its image. Her left front tire had already crushed its ribcage before her hands moved the wheel to swerve, but she didn’t know that.
The road was narrow – barely enough room for two cars to pass – so when Emma turned the wheel, she ended up face to face with a hundred-year-old blue spruce. The tree she hit was already scarred and twisted; as if something big had hit it years ago and knocked it senseless. Her Jetta forced itself between bushy branches and wrapped itself lovingly around the trunk.
Emma sat.
Her consciousness hadn’t ebbed, her bones were intact, and blood didn’t seem to be coming from anywhere unusual. The door handle swung freely, but the door itself wouldn’t open. Emma climbed over an array of junk in the passenger seat and tried the side door. It opened with a groan and a makeup case spilled out onto the carpet of brown evergreen needles.
“Jeezus…” she breathed to the Jetta, which answered with only a faint clicking noise.
Emma climbed out of the mangled car and reached back in for her phone. On the display was a revolving smiley face and the cheerful message, “Searching for service!” She tried it anyway, hitting the Emergency Mode button. It beeped at her obediently, but didn’t connect to anything.
“Damn.”
Emma looked around, searching for anyone. In the city, three people would have stopped to help already, but up here in the mountains it might be hours before a truck came along. She tramped up to the pavement and looked up and down the roadway. There was a sign right next to the tree with an arrow pointing up the mountain:
Swallow Hollow Campground
Est. 1936
Emma’s hands shook as she swung her backpack onto her shoulders. She could just about see the turnoff for the campground in the distance. As she got closer, she could see it was just a dirt turnoff that led to a wooden shed. There was a sign labeled “Office” on the door, so she turned the handle.
“I don’t know that you want to do that,” said a voice from nearby.
Emma’s head snapped up. It was a dry old man leaning on a chair nearby.
[Poll closed -- results below.]
What should Emma do?
Open the door anyway. 0% 0
Talk to the old man. 100% 6
Other (post as a comment) 0% 0
6 votes total
Time to make the donuts.
Writing furiously... must finish Part 1.
Just a last minute note:
Ten Cent Shower is rated at least PG-13. Some parts may graze the vicinity of an R rating. Keep the kiddies away.
July 25, 2003
Poll Test
Polling is a major part of our Choose Your Own Adventure theme, so in the spirit of good pre-planning, we're going to do some poll testing.
And at the same time, we'll clear up the details of our story:
[There were polls here, they're gone now.]
July 24, 2003
Just a thought..
I was watching Cartoon Network tonight and X-Men Evolution was on. Jean Grey and Professor X were talking to each other on cell phones.
Maybe you didn't hear me.
Jean Grey and Professor X were talking on cell phones!
Plan B
I can't possibly plan for every contingency, but I'm darn well going to try.
If something should happen to Liloia.com during the Blogathon — my hosting company is superb, but you never know — you'll find me online here:
http://liloia.blogspot.com
It's like a Liloia.com fallout shelter.
July 23, 2003
I miss all my friends..
Hah. :) I really do! The last few weeks have been very strange for me here. It feels like the summer right after graduation in high school. All (or most) of my friends are gone. Moved on to their new (or old) lives. Those that I still see (the few that I work with and those not at work) are all busy with their new schedules as I am with mine. We talk some, and we say that we are going to hang out, perhaps make some tentative plans, but that's about it.
Sometimes it feels like I am destined to lose all of the friends that I make in life. I know that this happens to everyone, as we move along and become adults and develop our own seperate lives. I am by nature a very passionate person and tend to develop very strong attachments to people. Because of this, the natural progression of life tends to hurt a bit. Recent events have been tough because so many of my friends at work left at once.
This picture is something that Megan and I would see when we would go to lunch sometimes. I work very close to the Boston University Medical Center and they have about 5,000 parking lots for employees in the area. This one is apparently Lot A, but they chose to list it this way. I always saw the sign and wanted to take a picture of it, but who takes a camera to work with them? I got a camera/phone recently when I upgraded my cell phone so now I can nab gems like this one.
July 19, 2003
Ten Cent Shower
I have chosen the title of our short story/novella for next week's Blogathon. We'll be writing a piece called:
I'm still leaning toward the sci-fi/fantasy genre. It's my favorite, I can't help it. But I'll leave that very open-ended until we get closer to the Blogathon.
Charlie's League of Extraordinary Terminator Pirates
Trevor took a little hiatus with his paternal grandparents last week, so Dave and I were free to see a batch of summer movies. Out of everything we caught, Charlie's Angels was by far the best film. Clearly, that the three lead actresses were having fun -- their laughter and cameraderie was infectiously real. Drew Barrymore looked a little weird. Maybe directors should stop trying to make her play a sexy bombshell and let her be the quirky cutie that she is.
Sure, the scene where Drew flings herself onto a plummeting helicoptor is flatly unrealistic (even for action movie standards). And Cameron Diaz bullriding in slow motion is plain old gratuitous sexuality in its most vanilla form. And no one could ever run in heels like the Angels do. But it's all done with so much style, fun and coolness that we didn't care. I've said many times, you don't need the most original story to make a good film, you just have to make it enjoyable to watch.
Pirates of the Carribean wasn't bad either. Dave warned me that he anticipated Johnny Depp's character would be overdone to the point of stupidity. Instead, it was overdone to the point of hilarity. That's a hard distinction to make, but it meant the difference between rolling your eyes at him and giggling along with the silliness of it. Johnny Depp is like a planet with a large gravitational field. Your eyes can't help being pulled to him -- even if he's just standing in the scene. He's not particularly attractive in Pirates, but he's interesting to watch. Johnny gets a big thumbs up from me for taking a movie that could have ended up halfhearted and half-baked and giving it 100% of his effort. His over-the-top, twinkle-in-your-eye roguishness was a fantastic contrast to Orlando Bloom's plaintive earnestness.
I also give cred to the neato special effects in Pirates. When cursed pirates dueled in the shadows and moonlight, they meatmorphosized from skeletons to men and back again with seamless ease. The magic of the cursed gold was logical and conformed to the rules set out in the beginning of the film. The characters used the rules of the curse to their advantage in a logical and smart way. Fantasy that makes sense is that much more enjoyable.
The heroine, Keira Knightley, was fairly the fairly commonplace "spitfire who doesn't know her place". We've seen her before and we know her fierce independence will either land her in trouble (in need of rescue) or on the windswept cover of a Harlequin Romance novel. Nothing new here.
League of Extraordinary Gentleman was a qualified disappointment for me. Qualified because though the film itself was a letdown, the characters piqued my interest. Dave swore it would be awful, but I insisted that it would be a nuanced and intelligent literary film. (It was a guess. Sue me.) LXG was actually a little from Column A and a little from Column B. The characters, with the exception of one, were intricate and intriguing. They were fierce with seamy pasts that demanded atonement. And though there were many extraordinary "gentlemen", we got to know a little about each one's talent and past. Not an easy thing to do in 100 minutes.
What LXG lacked was focus and clarity in the story. I still don't know who the villain was, what he was after, or why his fortress in Mongolia spouted fire. The invisible man disappeared for a good part of the film, only to reappear later with some offand comment about leaving to deflect suspicion. And American-as-apple-pie Tom Sawyer was painfully inserted into the storyline in the way one might insert a wooden wedge under a fingernail. Some things just didn't make sense. Like why a villain would steal only one vial of Dr. Jeckyll's formula when he could take the entire case and stop him from becoming Mr. Hyde at all.
Let me just finish LXG with this thought: If you were a man whose only mortal weakness is a portrait that ages in your stead, would you keep said critical portrait in your stateroom loosely wrapped in burlap and halfheartedly tied with string?
Least intriguing of last week's movie going fare was Terminator 3. It's just no fun to watch your favorite film cyborg get bested time and time again by the latest hot chickie model. Neither is it fun to watch an invincible killing machine raze everything in her path. Without some sense of vulnerability, the character is a one-note song.
One other thing I dislike about all of the Terminator movies is that they try to lead us to believe that the action in each film can change the supposed future. We know that can't be the case because without the global war and rise of the machines, the movie has nowhere to go. We learn early on that Claire Danes (who does a good job cowering throughout most of the film) will marry Nick Stahl in the future. They vehemently deny it and spend most of the film bickering and pretending not to like each other. But as the audience, we know they'll end up married; because a Robot from the Future said so. I'd believe a Robot from the Future, wouldn't you? For once, I would love to hear a character say, "Well thanks for the info, Robot From the Future! Since you say I'm going to marry her and you know the future, I'll assume you're right. Nice to meet you hon, I'm John Connor. Someday I'll be your husband and leader of the free world. You could do a lot worse, you know."
Dave and I concur in our ranking of last week's summer releases:
1. Charlie's Angels
2. Pirates of the Caribbean
3. League of Extraordinary Gentlemen
4. Terminator 3
Clearly, if you have to pick a film about futuristic robots hunting down a group of rebel humans, go with The Matrix Reloaded.
July 18, 2003
Finally, someone I can thank!
Jess has the honor of being my first sponsor who isn't anonymous. Go check out her Blogathon page -- she'll be staying up late for Animal Rescue League of South Rhode Island.
Thanks Jess!
July 17, 2003
Give a Dollar, Pay a Bill
I've got two anonymous sponsors — thank you whoever you are!
If you would like to sponsor my all-night blogathon, simply click below. My goal is a modest $200.00 for Modest Needs. Even a dollar on your part will make a difference.
July 15, 2003
Stuff..
Finally back to normal....well as normal as it gets in our house. Last night was the first time in almost three months that we were all able to eat together as a family during the week. It's been a long time, and I am glad that we now have the chance to come together again. After such a long period of change, it can sometimes be hard to slide right back into old routines. On top of that, old routines are gone, replaced by new schedules and responsibilities. I am sure that in a few weeks we will be one again humming along like a fine tuned machine.
This weekend Tara and I went camping in Monson, MA with my brother Paul and his girlfriend Melissa. We had a great time. It has been about three or four years since we had been camping, and it was sorely missed. Although I am not sure that Tara truly appreciates the finer points of sleeping on the ground so we may be picking up an air mattress before our next outing. (Actually, my back was killing me so I think I need one too!)
Can we ever go someplace without being the center of some kind of controversy? We were camping in this huge field, perhaps marked out into 15 different campsites with no physical barriers between the sites so it is difficult to tell where one ends and the next one begins. The entire field was empty except for the four of us on one site. When Tara and I arrived it was late and we accidentally setup on the far side of the site next to ours. Paul and Melissa arrived at 3AM (they got lost) and popped their tent onto the next site over. Now considering that we were the ONLY people on the field you might think that they would let it slide that we were a little past our boundaries? Nope.
Tony a.k.a. - Cletus came over to us and harrassed me for a good 5 minutes about the situation. I immediately accepted our error and asked how I could fix the situation, at which point he continued to repeat the harrassment. Ugh. Ultimately I got him to leave but not before he tried to make me feel like I had murdered his own mother. The rest of the weekend I noticed the staff giving us dirty looks.
Note - Partridge Hollow in Monson, MA is owned and staffed by a group of Lead Paint eating half breeds. Avoid it at all costs. The campgrounds were nice, but the bad attitude wasn't worth it. Plus, they charged more per night that most other places.
July 11, 2003
Blogging for Bills
For someone in America, today is that dreaded day. The day that there's $57.24 in the bank and suddenly their transmission grinds to a sickening halt. Or the day that their son falls at school and suddenly needs $350.00 worth of reconstructive dental work they haven't budgeted for.
Thankfully for them, the Modest Needs Foundation is around to help. This unusual charity operates on the principle of "recognizing that regular folks who are working but living paycheck to paycheck might sometimes encounter an unexpected expense that could spell financial disaster for that person/family if they do not receive some assistance."
That could by many of us, right?
Modest Needs offers aid to people with a small, unexpected, necessary expense by evaluating a request for help, then sending a check made out directly to the billing company. You can read more about their charity work here: www.modestneeds.org
This year, I'll be participating in Blogathon 2003 and all of my sponsor donations will be going to Modest Needs. The Blogathon consists of 24 solid hours of weblogging to be performed by yours truly on July 26th, 2003 and will result in no less than 49 (forty-nine) posts as well as a hefty donation to Modest Needs (we hope!). The transfer is risk free and secure. Donations will never touch my hands, 100% of the funds will go directly to Modest Needs.
Now I'm sure you think that blogging for 24-hours is easy, but this Blogathon will be no simple task. I have committed to not only posting my required number of entries, but they will be written in real time (no prewriting) and each post will be based on the feedback of visitors. My theme is an old-school "Choose Your Own Adventure" and will result in a fictional story in 24 parts which you can have a hand in creating. With a pledge of $25.00 or over, I'll even write you into the action. That's better than any PBS tote bag I've ever seen!
For added incentive I will be completing one (1) entire pushup for each hour that passes for a staggering total of twenty-four (24) pushups in total. Will I make it? I don't think so.
If you've heard enough and are ready to sponsor me, simply:
(a) click here and make a pledge.
(b) pat yourself on the back for being a conscientious citizen.
(c) send me a photo of your attorney's dog (no Polaroids, please).
July 9, 2003
July 8, 2003
Formula for misery
n = The number of children someone else has brought forth.
x = The number of children you have.
The Universe craves symmetry, so it is constantly trying to make n-x=0. If n-x is a positive integer, you're screwed. The other person will feel compelled to urge you to sire more children in order to bring the equation into balance. Likewise, if n-x is a negative number, you'll be the one asking "So, when are you two going to have another one?"
It's all scientific, really. You can't blame people for what the Universe compels them to do.
Weapons of MD
Thanks to Daryl we have something to crack up about now.....
Cannot find Weapons of Mass Destruction
July 7, 2003
Tales from the Easily Amused
On my windowsill is a little fluffy yellow bird that looks kind of dense. If you're wondering how I can judge the intelligence of our little avian friend, it's the way he's walking, head cocked to one side and eyes slightly crossed. Maybe he hit the window -- it happens -- and I didn't hear it because I had headphones on. But he's decided that the fluffy yellow dense bird in the mirror is worth having a chat with. I don't know who's more easily amused, me or him.
Hey, if Jon Carroll can make a living from cat columns, then you can grant me a bird post now and then.
July 1, 2003
Global...I think
One aspect of my job that I hadn't mentioned was that the products I am responsible for include the equivalent materials that we sell overseas in Europe and Asia. Since today is only my second day on the job, I didn't really expect to encounter global issues so soon, but first thing this morning I received a message from my new boss requesting my assistance with our Swiss counterpart. I was very excited for a potentially interesting issue or problem, but it turns out I just had to convert something from US dollars to Swiss Franc. :)