Dear Charlie:

What a weekend! I finished a writing project, talked a blue streak with three people at once with YIM, hashed ideas over with my beloved sister, and managed to come home with a perfectly-shaped chili hand-print on my favorite shirt. *laughs* I guess that's what I get for having an infant niece who loves getting my attention, ne?

My Chiefs lost, much to my dismay, dropping them to 3-8. Even if they won every game for the rest of the year -- unlikely, no matter how much I love them -- they'd still only finish half on the season. My poor boys. I wonder if I cursed them with my little scoreboard in my sidebar?

Oh, well.

Dear Charlie:

This place is nothing but fake boobs and real assholes.

So says Ray-Ray in Walking Tall. Heh. Now THAT'S a description.

In other news, both football games ended up blow-outs today, though the Dallas/Chicago game took a while to develop.

BG will be distraught, as his poor Lions were trounced. And I mean TROUNCED. Sympathies, my good son. Sympathies. As for Dallas kicking Chicago? I started out rooting for the Bears, as they've really had a tough run of it for the last...oh...how many years? But the first half was an offensive bust on both sides of the ball, and the half-time show just...hurt. *grin*

The second half showed a bit more pep, but only on the Dallas side. And while I'm a football fan above all, I just really have never liked the Cowboys. I tried one year. Really, I did. But I don't like them. I watched the whole thing out of Thanksgiving football loyalty, though, watched the 'Boys make some touchdowns and trounce the downtrodden Bears, then turned on Walking Tall.

And now we're back to the beginning. *laughs*

Unfortunately, watching The Rock makes me wish it was Saturday (WWE SmackDown night, don't ya know?), and I really plan to enjoy the fullest length of this weekend -- all four days of it -- so I'm thinking about popping in something else.

Maybe Chronicles of Riddick? I could drool over Vin Diesel for a while....

Nah, I kinda like the soundtrack of Walking Tall, so I'll leave it in and just write instead of watching. *grin* I've already cranked out 8 pages today, so I gotta be doing something right, ne?

Funny Sidebar, Take 2:

Call the jeweler. TMQ just made another gem.

And one I particularly agree with.

Earlier in the season yours truly complained that officials seemed to be over-enforcing the new rule on defensive contact, calling too much pass interference. Now in my opinion the pendulum has swung the other way. In recent weeks I've noticed several obvious pass interference penalties that have not been flagged.

Last night, Kansas City trailing 17-10 with 54 seconds remaining in the first half, the Chiefs had third-and-goal on the Flying Elvii 9. Tiny Gonzalez was open in the end zone, Trent Green delivered a perfect pass; not one but two New England defenders grabbed Gonzalez while the ball was in the air; the Patriots intercepted, ending the half, and the Chiefs went on to lose by a touchdown. There was nothing arguable about the pass interference, yet zebras just looked on.

Officials sometimes say they don't want to be the ones to decide games, and officials can be prone to favor a defending champion, if only subconsciously -- assuming that if a team is a defending champion, that must be because it plays better than other teams. But failing to call pass interference on a decisive play near the goal line is "deciding the game" in every sense, just deciding it in favor of the team that committed the penalty.

Players will tell you that if you lose on your own, you accept defeat. If you match the defending champs on the field and lose because the officials let the champs commit a decisive penalty at the goal line, it hurts in a way that's hard to describe.

Now, what he didn't say was that Tony Gonzalez wasn't GRABBED, he was MUGGED. Dragged down, in fact. And no flags flew. No whistles blew. Game over, and poor Tony G's left with his hands in the air, waiting for a penalty that never came.

I've seen corners get flagged for an incidental brush over the shoulder pads, yet two -- count 'em, 2 -- players glomping another doesn't count? Uh, whiskey tango foxtrot, One-Niner?

Funny Sidebar:

I love stats like this:

Priest Holmes has not played in two weeks and still has more touchdowns than two entire teams, Washington and Miami.

Heh, thanks again to the Tuesday Morning Quarterback for putting nifty stuff together and slapping it out there with such panache.

Sidebar:

Despite incredible offensive numbers, my poor, beloved Chiefs drop another one. The defense just can't keep up. I love 'em, but they just can't do it.

Another heart-breaker.

20-27 at New Orleans last week, 19-27 at home against New England this week. That's...kinda eerie. At least it'll be easy to figure out the "points allowed" average, ne? *weak smile*

They do so many good things, both offense and defense, but the defense just...doesn't have it. And I don't know why.

'S all right, though. We'll maybe get a break in the draft next year, ne? And an easier schedule.

*sigh* Love ya, guys. My fanatacism and admiration doesn't suffer from this loss. Long live the Chiefs.

Dear Charlie:

Watching Swordfish.

Not the best movie ever made, by any stretch, but a jolly good romp, and that opening scene with the ball bearings? Top notch.

Picture it: hostages strapped with C4 and 3/4 inch steel ball bearings, necks tapped with dog-intended shock collars (proximity monitors). Walking claymore mines. Shrapnel galore.

The bad guys drag one hostage out to show her off, a trigger-happy sniper caps the hostage-holder, and the hostage, knowing she only has a certain safe radius, tries to run back into the building. Well-meaning coppers grab her and drag her to "safety". The boss bad guy realizes she won't get away and tells everyone to get down. The "smart" cop realizes the same and grabs his nearest and dearest.

Then, the proximity is pushed, and BOOM.

The hostage and well-meaning cops are all but vaporized instantly. Steel ball bearings pepper the entire area, vicious holes just magically appearing in buses, cars, cops, building, pavement. Swiss cheese at its finest. Instant destruction.

When the chaos dies, the disturbing rattle of pelting ball bearings diminishing, one single, bloodstained ball bearing rolls toward the camera, bouncing jauntily over the debris until you see your reflection in the red-streaked, mirror surface.

Beautiful.

The rest of the movie can go to Hell. *laughs*

Ridiculous Sidebar:

Okay, this has to be the most retarded, bass-ackwards slogan of all time:

Tie one on for safety!

What the -- ??

Do they not know what "tie one on" means? I think that...kinda defeats the purpose! Geez Louise!

Does this make sense to anyone?

Dear Charlie:

I must admit to a growing, grudging respect for my cunning adversary. None of his comrades lasted this long. No, my devious mind tracked their supply lines, you see, and placed traps accordingly, thinning the herd.

I may have shot myself in the foot.

You see, if another frickin' field mouse stumbles into my abode and hooks up with this rodent genius, I might accidentally breed a better mouse without the benefit of a better mouse trap. Egads. I'm facilitating Darwin's theory.

However, my cunning adversary's days are numbered. You see, I like to think outside the box. Thus far, I've used conventional weaponry -- glue traps, mouse traps, D-con....

Now, I will step outside those confines and stand victorious. It's only a matter of time.

Some weisenheimer suggested I get a cat. *rolls eyes* Shyeah. Do I look like a cat person to you? *grins* Besides, that's BORING.

Oh, and my beloved sister is feeling a tad bit better today by last report. Woo-hoo!

Dear Charlie:

So, I was supposed to go see my beloved sister today. Unfortunately, poor Sis has what might be a migraine. Poor, poor Sis.

And she has 3 little ones. All under the age of 5. And all at home.

Poor, poor Sis.

So, I'm staying home, though I'd like to be of some help, because we tend to laugh a lot when I'm up there. There's that negative-IQ thing her husband complains about....*grin*

At any rate, just thought I should sent blog-o-sympathies to her, since I can't be there to hug her myself. Love you, Sis!

Bizarro Sidebar:

Several things today seem to point in the same direction, while others do a complete 180 and point the exact opposite way. It's like the frickin' Scarecrow off The Wizard of Oz.

One direction:
I have an old Green Day song stuck on my head, the same two lines popping out in my mind, almost in bold font.

Cold turkey's gettin' stale
Tonight I'm eating crow

Then, I wandered over to my beloved sister's blog and found this heart-wrenching entry. It's heart-wrenching not only because of the haunting clarity of the writing, but also because I know exactly what she's talking about. *sigh* I wish to God I didn't.

Other direction:
I'm still in the odd-ball laughing mood, but...perhaps it's because of some bizarre combination of those two oddities? I honestly don't know. I just know that entirely too much has struck me entirely too funny today, and I've caught myself several times with a sloopy grin on my face for no good reason whatsoever.

First direction:
Then, those song lyrics pop up or I think of a few choice lines from Sis's entry, and it's like the sloopy expression never existed.

Second direction:
Five seconds later, it's back again. Bizarre.

Hn.

It's like my bizarro good mood is warring with the underlying bad mood, ya think?

*pales suddenly* Dear God, don't tell me I'm becoming bipolar!! *snickers* Heh, wouldn't I be the last to know?

Dear Charlie:

I just realized I've been painfully neglectful of my beloved blog lately.

Now, part of this travesty is that I'm still pissed to the roots of my hair over that little gut-shot incident I tiptoed around a couple of weeks back. I'm no longer so terribly hurt or betrayed, but...I'm still pissed. So, rather than pretend everything's all right, I've simply stuck to safer subjects -- like other people's bizarro articles on teleportation and ancient cheese sandwiches.

But that's hardly fair. And it's REALLY not fair to the current WIP, the back-burnered WIPs, or the mind-numbing multitude of hijinx (hijinxes? *smirk*) I get up to every day. *grin*

So, Charlie and folks, I've decided to pontificate again to the best of my ability. Woo-hoo! I'm sure there's great rejoicing....*laughs*

Oh...and did I mention that I'm in a really, REALLY weird mood today?

I had the most bizarro dream last night. Now, the field mice have decided that my nice, cozy-warm house is preferable to the pre-winter elements, so they've moved inside. Naturally, I've brought out the glue traps and rat poison. *wicked grin*

And a note for everyone who thinks it's cruel to let a poor, defenseless mouse suffer in a glue trap until I see fit to put it out of its misery? The true cruelty here is that I have to really, really clean my house this time of the year so the little bastards have only one reason to come inside -- the warmth. *grumbles* Be glad I didn't get industrial rat traps that'll snap their defenseless little heads off, okay?

Anywho, needless to say, this situation has annoyed the hell out of me, but I've managed to remove all the little...err...rodents but one. Now this, my friends, is a cunning adversary. He's seen his comrades removed one by one on these strange, sticky panels, and he's learned to avoid them on sight. Tricksey.

A new tactic is required, and I think I've come up with it. However, my dreams beg to differ. In fact, my dreams got downright pissy.

So, I dreamed all last night that I just went around my house, stomping on the invading mice until they were all gone. *blinks* Geez. I'm a cold bitch, but even I'M not THAT cold!

And I'm pretty sure you guys can do without the incredibly gorey visual of my subsequent dreams of cleaning mouse goo out of the carpet. *sigh*

I guess this is the price of living as close to out of town as I can without actually living out of town, ne?

And now you're all wishing I'd go back to the relatively incommunicado posts of the past week. *laughs*

Dear Charlie:

Hn. The sex scene is no longer a problem, folks. *laughs* In typical mad scientist style, I simply hacked off what offended me and started over.

Really. I axed about 5 pages of text, saved it with the rest of the crap I've cut from this baby, and started where I left off, letting myself go with my more usual, more...upfront style. Hn. It's no less nice because it's not so damn touchy-feely-sweet. It's just...more me.

I can live with that.

Thanks for the kudos and pointers, though. It's nice to know I'm not the only one to stumble over something that's usually pretty easy for me. *shakes head* I guess you can tell when I'm writing something that just ain't gonna fly, ne?

And yes, beloved sister, it's what you think it is. Which makes it that much more...challenging....

But, it's getting late, and I seem to get up earlier every day, so I'm headed to bed. Guten nacht. Alles klar.

Yeah. What I just said. *grin*

Dear Charlie:

Well, I've been writing a blue streak all week up 'til now. And now?

A sex scene.

Mind you, these usually aren't a problem for me. They just kind of naturally flow, most of the time. I'm not terribly romance-y, even at my best, so sex scenes don't usually trip me up with the feelings involved or the meaning inherent in each gesture. All that crap. This time? Well, it's supposed to be slow and tender.

I'm rarely slow, and I am absolutely NEVER tender!

It's killing me. I've rewritten the first few paragraphs twice already. The paragraphs I cut weren't BAD, and they certainly weren't unsmutty, but...but they just weren't...RIGHT. I'll know when I hit the mood right. It'll flow like warm honey, and I won't be able to stop it. Until then....

Well, until then, I have to suffer through these painfully slow and irritatingly tender moments. Egads. What did I do to deserve this? *smirk*

Bizarro Sidebar, Take 2:

Egads! Where do I find this stuff??

I'm not sure if I should be proud of Ebay for removing this...thing...or prouder still for them putting it back up and letting people be painfully frivolous with their money. Lordy! I mean, the bidding is already up to like 16 grand! That's...insane!

Look at it this way: I don't make too terribly much more than that in a year, and some sap is willing to pay THAT MUCH for half of a 10-year-old cheese sandwich that looks more like Tasha Yaar off of Star Trek: The Next Generation than the Virgin Mary!

Holy monkey! And people wonder why Christians are always portrayed as nuts in movies, books, and the media....

Bizarro Sidebar:

I think I'm speechless, folks. Check this out.

Is this funny...or not? I truly can't decide.

Dear Charlie:

Well, as I managed to eat a bite of eel and a nibble of spicy-crab-rice-roll-thingy without yakking up my guts, I can no longer say I'm averse to sushi. *grin*

Yes, I dipped my toe into the vast pool of rawish food, and I wasn't burned. Yikes. Is that a mixed metaphor or just really unfortunate phrasing? Heh.

Great weekend. Prime rib. The best bread rolls in the history of the world. My own apple cobbler. Chicken wings en masse. Japanese buffet. Egads. I shouldn't eat for a week. Did I do anything but eat? Lemme think....

Watched Shrek 2...I remember that....

At any rate, on with the show.

My poor, poor Chiefs, though. *sigh* At this point, I'm kinda relieved that at least next year we'll have an easier schedule and maybe a break in the draft. Yowza. Plus, we can always mess up everyone else's schedule! No one does that as well as we do!

Dear Charlie:

The Alamo.

A lot of people hated this movie. I can't, for the life of me, figure out why. It's a beautiful thing. So many little details, so many little parts, all building on each other in harmony until the melody of the story becomes a choir in perfect harmony. Each new scene is a new movement, each tempo change handled with a velvet touch.

I just savored the scene where Davie Crockett jumps up on the wall and plays his fiddle along with the Mexican Army's band, the performance of which usually precedes the cannonade. But this time, you can see their hearts lift, see the music bind them in a moment's perfect accord.

Beautiful.

But now, the shit's getting ready to hit the fan.

I still can't see how anyone could not appreciate this flick. And I usually don't like war movies. I love military movies, but you couldn't pay me money to watch, say, Saving Private Ryan again. Hell, no. Excellent movie. Incredibly well-made. You'd have to hogtie me, sit on me, and tape my eyes open to get me to watch it again. Same with Full Metal Jacket. Same with Platoon, though I was just a kid when I watched that one and it might not affect me the same way now. Same with Hamburger Hill. Again, I was a kid, but it lingers.

Or maybe I do love war movies, and I just love them too much? Is that possible?

I know I'm a war junkie and I drool over warriors. I'm one of those chicks who does dig scars, especially if they have some fight-oriented story behind them. I've been known to listen to old blowhards wax whimsical about their army days for hours, then beg for just one more story.

So maybe I do love war movies. I certainly love this one. Perhaps I should watch one of those others again, ne? See how it settles?

Oh, and one last thing about The Alamo?

Billy Bob Thornton absolutely makes it. Dennis Quaid [*blush*...thanks, Jane!] is excellent as General Houston. The guy who plays Jim Bowie is fantastic. But Billy Bob Thornton as Davie Crockett....

The man is...inspired.

Funny Sidebar:

It's a '76. It's not supposed to come out until next year, but I know some people who know some people who robbed some people.

Heh. Only Snoop Dog playing Huggy Bear could utter that line convincingly.

Man, for a goofy cop remake, Starsky and Hutch has a KILLER soundtrack. Take a Load Off, Fanny. Dream On. Fulsom Prison Blues. *sigh*

Oh, and I'm risking the wrath of the gods by having my computer on right now. Yes, it's a thunderstorm. Yes, it's November. *shakes head* Only in Missouri.

Dear Charlie:

Wow. This is one for the record books, folks. This week has been....

There are no words.

So, I won't bother with them. I'm on a writing jag, so that's good. I can bury myself in that and forget everything else. Yay for writing, ne? Unfortunately, it's on a totally new story, which I told myself I wouldn't do. *sigh* I have no discipline.

Heh. But I love a good story idea.

At any rate, I've also managed to finish those doodles for my friend. That made me VERY happy. They turned out way better than I thought they would, but I probably should have painted them instead of using colored pencil. I'd hoped the glossy finish would give it the look I wanted, but I'd rather have the better flesh tones next time.

*sigh*

Give and take. Plus and minus. Pros and cons.

Now I want to paint. *snicker*

Anywho, gotta get back to my writing jag. I'm even missing Woody's tonight because I know I'd just sit there, only half-listening to the music, thinking about my plot, about what this character would say, about what'll happen next. *grin*

A distracted GutterBall is a scary thing, folks. Not a pretty picture!

Dear Charlie:

Grrrrreat weekend!

Okay, so the Chiefs lost a heart-breaker, which wasn't cool, but the rest of the weekend was fabulous! I've discovered that my ridiculous sense of humor is as insidious and infectious as a disease, and I've made spreading it like the plague my noble goal.

So far, so good.

In other news, my pathetic attempts at drawing have actually progressed quite well. I have the outlines set and inked and one picture fully colored. The other is half-colored, but I ran out of time before my D&D campaign. They're nowhere near perfect, and I'll probably wince and enumerate each mistake every time I look at them, but they're WAY better than I thought they'd be.

And when I got back from D&D last night, I was just in time for an on-line chat with an author from the e-zine I published in back in September. That was nice! I gleaned all sorts of information from people In The Know, people who are published and prolific and popular in their circles. Invaluable. And I was invited back anytime with the warmest, nicest words, which made me very happy.

Plus, I spread my humor-infection a bit further and got several hearty chuckles. Heh. One little group at a time, ne?

At any rate, good weekend. I could have hoped for a Chiefs victory, but then the weekend would have been perfect, and we can't have that.

I'm not totally over the blind-side that so knocked me off my stride last week, but my ADHD-riddled mind just can't hold on to that kind of anger and gut-shot hurt for very long. I'm much better at being chipper than pissed. Just call me Dori, and I'll just keep swimming. So, while it still nags, I just shove it aside and find something to snicker about. Works every time.

Until I stumble across a solution, it'll have to do.

Bizarro Sidebar:

Thought for the day:

Momma says alligators are so ornery because they have all those teeth and no toothbrush.

*helpless giggles* I don't know why, but that's cracking me up! I haven't seen The Waterboy in YEARS, but Dave piped up with that one, and we've been laughing ever since.

Heh...all those teeth....*laughs*

Dear Charlie:

I don't have the words today, folks.

Perhaps in a few days or weeks, when I've stepped back from the situation, when I can see the humor in it as I always eventually do, I can talk about it here. But now? No can do.

Until then, my poor beloved sister must listen to me weep and wail incoherently (and repetitively) and rage against the unfairness of it all like a small child who has just learned that earning something doesn't mean GETTING something.

Sometimes, folks, the center doesn't hold. Cause doesn't end with effect. Hard work doesn't pay off. The ends don't justify the means.

Until they do, or at least until I can laugh about the lack therein, I'll keep my mouth politely shut here. I don't ever want people to feel uncomfortable at my blogosphere, and I don't want you all to feel the need to comfort or solace me. I'm a big girl. I'll get along fine.

I simply wanted to explain the lack of words. Or at least beat around the bush until it looked like I made an effort to explain. It's all the same in the end.

Dear Charlie:

Has anyone else noticed that they've suddenly stopped touting the "Redskins lose = incumbent loses" equation? *thoughtful grin* I wonder why....

Well, folks, that's about as close as I get to talking about politics without making a joke, so let's move on.

Woody's last night was LOADS of fun. I didn't go last week because I wasn't feeling well, but this week was great. I left earlier than usual, so no Word Dojo ass-kicking, but hey. I had to get up early this morning!

Plus, they wanted me to do another "car bomb" after the first one went down so quick, and I just don't like to drink that much anymore. Something tells me two would have turned into four and four into God only knows how many. So, I cut out after one. Like I said, I had to get up early. *grin* Convenient excuse, ne?

In other news, I'm shelving writing for just a few nights (surely no more than 3) to see if I can draw some characters a friend described for me in a lovely written gift. Yes, the Ice Queen has a heart. No, it's not totally melted...but it was...very nice.... *glares to cover suspicious gleam*

At any rate, it's only right that I should reciprocate, and if I can get these to look just right, I think that friend might get just as non-melted as I am now. *smirk* Plus, I just wanna see if I CAN. My drawing skills aren't quite as well-developed as my writing skills, and it takes a helluva lot longer for me to draw a pic than write a fic, but I like to push myself every now and then. We'll see what happens when push comes to shove and the bowling shoe is on the other foot and someone's left holding the grab bag.

Egad. That might be the worst mixed metaphor I've ever heard. I should, by all rights, delete it before publishing this post, but it's so patently awful, I think I'll share it with the world. *grin*

Heh. Happy Thursday, folks. And remember, it'll all be better tomorrah, because tomorrah is...FRIDAY.

Shyeah. Like I'd quote Scarlett O'hara. Who do I look like? *smirk*

Happy Sidebar:

Today has been a good day.

I don't know why, but I've laughed more today -- those good, long, belly laughs I love so much -- than I did all last week. That, in and of itself, would normally make for your every day, average good day, but there's more.

I received A LOT of unexpected, unsolicited support from a bunch of people who usually never step forward. These people metaphorically stood up (over e-mail -- hence, the metaphor) and lauded my talent, which blew me away, and renumerated my...kindness...which totally floored me. I mean, I'm not saying I'm mean by any stretch of the imagination, but I didn't realize that such small kindnesses would ever be repaid quite so fully. *blinks* It meant the world to me, and I don't say that lightly.

And still, that's not all!

A friend sent me a hilarious link that just about made me fall out of my office chair laughing. It's perfectly work safe, but you might want to turn down your speakers before clicking here.

Heh.... Did I just say I wasn't mean? I may have lied....

I've managed to avoid several nasty political discussions. I've done a boat-load of new work that was piled on my desk this morning with a big, stupid grin in record time. My beloved sister wrote an absolutely lovely poem to share with the world that made my heart hurt in the best possible way.

Oh, and I made someone LAUGH. Now, again, this isn't terribly unusual. But this person rarely laughs, and never writes an e-mail specifically for that purpose! And it wasn't just LAUGHING. It was HOWLING -- in his own words -- with laughter. Woo-hoo!

Now THAT...is a good day.

Sidebar:

Wow. I never thought I'd ever be glad I didn't get to tailgate.

I thawed out 4 bacon-wrapped filet mignon(s?) to take to Arrowhead yesterday, but we ended up leaving a little late, getting there too late to really fire up a grill, so I just brought them back home again. Now, there's nothing like tail-gating at Arrowhead. I'm sure every NFL stadium (and probably several college stadiums) say the same, but even national gourmets say that Arrowhead takes the cake. If I had a link to the article proving that fact, I'd put it up here, but I read it like two years ago and never thought to preserve the link. *sheepish* Who knew I'd have a blog?

At any rate, when I came home from work tonight, I decided I'd better eat those filet mignon(s) before they go bad. I can't refreeze them, you know? So, I diced some potatoes, added butter and herbs, and wrapped that mess in foil. Then, I fired up the gas grill (though it was already dark out and a wee bit chilly outside), slapped a filet on the grill, added the potato packet, and let 'em cook.

Monday Night Football hasn't tasted that good in QUITE a while! God, filet mignon is GOOD. Medium rare. No sauce needed. The meat itself is just sooo juicy and tender and lean and...smokey-tasty....*drools*

And with the Jets beating the dookie out of Miami, I have a feeling Dave will be in a great mood, so maybe I'll grill the other three tomorrow night in celebration. Woo-hoo!

Now, if I'd only had a good beer....