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Marissa In Savannah

I learned a new word

“Wanksocks”.  I didn’t say it was a nice word, just that I’d learned a new one.

Editing on Cliodhna should be wrapped up this weekend, for me anyway.  I’ve got the two still out to my other editors that I have to hang on for, but I can start the corrections I had planned.  Mainly grammar and wording in a few places, not at all like last time.

I took a look at my first draft of Clio, and almost didn’t recognize the story.  I didn’t think it would stay the same, but I didn’t think it would change that much either!  I should probably have edited all my other stories, then I would be old hat at it.

“We’re not sure if we’re going to Waffle House… or Huddle House.”  I love this city.

The One Where I Piss Off The Politics

The VP canidates have been chosen.  And I am sorely disappointed in McCain for picking Palin to be in charge of this country.

Why?

She’s pro-life, anti-abortion.  Pro-life, great wonderful!  Pro-life’rs are great, I’m glad you’ve got an opinion on the matter.  But where are the pro-life hordes when that kid is born?  Nowhere.  And, is it just me, or is it a hell of a oxymoron that pro-life is fine when said life is in the oven, but they have no problem blowing up free health clinics that offer abortions? 

She wants to remove sex ed from school.  Huh?  Isn’t her 17 year old pregnant?  Is that some sort of twisted dreams mothers have, their teenage daughter getting knocked up?  If it’s not, wouldn’t a little more sex ed have been helpful in this case?  You know, in case they didn’t read the instructions on the condom box.

Drill oil here and now, and fuck the environment.  I’m hurting at the pump too, believe me, and I don’t have a cushy pay check like she does.  Right now, I have no pay check.  But I suck it up and deal with, and try to find a ride with friends when I can.  I ride a bike.  I walk.  Considering we’re known as the “Fattest Country” maybe walking won’t hurt us.  I know I can use the exercise, and it saves some money in my wallet.

The stance she’s taken on wildlife in Alaska.  Aerial gunning.  Because shooting unarmed animals from a plane as they run in fear is just oh-so-sporting.  

I cried when I watched that.

And McCain wants her help to run the country?  I’m as likely to vote for her as for Butch Otter. 

I’d rather lick a bubonic rat.

I’m looking for fleas

This is the week from hell with my dog.  First the Frontline is an arm and a leg (and various vital organs) to get, and once I have a light at the end of the tunnel for that, she’s now got two “hot spots” that are raw and bloody.

I am never again using that damn white and blue box with the Golden Retriever on the cover.  It doesn’t work for shit.

One of the hot spots is rather small, right on the outside of her lips a la Ms. Monroe, and it’s healing along nicely.  The one I’m worried over is about the size of a dollar coin and it’s one inch from the base of her tail.  I cut the hair away earlier (she’s worse than a calf during cutting and branding to pin down) and now she’s sporting an oh-so-pretty bald spot on her butt.  To complete the ruffian look, it’s a glossy dried-blood black because of scabs and the pound of Neosporin I massaged into the skin around it, trying to kill off both her urge to bite at it and anything that might have gotten in there.

The glamorous life of a (wannabe) writer.

Oh dear god it’s morning

Whoever thought early morning was a good idea, was a bastard.

Can someone explain to me the draw of this post to spammers?  I have spam comments for just that one post daily. 

“If you’ve got spammers, at least you know your name is circulating.”  I don’t like glass half-full people in the morning either.

Life with Chubby Puppy

There is only one thing more expensive than a dog. 

And that’s a human child. 

Chubby Puppy was out of her flea/tick meds, so, like a good little owned person, I ran to the vet on Friday.  Only to find out that Frontline is now almost triple what I used to pay for it.  I offered the vet my arm, one leg, and an ovary, but they like cold hard cash. 

I sure hope this writing thing comes to fruition, otherwise I’ll be selling my husband on E-bay to afford the dog he wanted.

Mention of writing, so far so good.  Just under 9,000 for Cyndra (which isn’t much I grant you, but it’s not the current project right now either) and before the other edits, I’ve got over 100,000 for Cliodhna.  Making my target word counts make me a happy writer.

Now, for your amusement, the Beggin’ Strips commercial that captures life with Chubby Puppy.

Time to say ‘good bye’

Friends of mine got orders cut for DC, and left today.  For… lord, about three years, they’ve been here and part of my ‘group’.  The ones you go out to dinner with, watch movies, and, if you’re feeling froggy, a drink or two.  As a child, the military (plus civilian moves) taught me to make friends fast, because you didn’t know when you were leaving again. 

And DC isn’t that far.

Technology is against me

Wait, my computer still loves me *knock on wood*. 

For the third month in a row, my cell phone provider has managed to screw the pooch on my bill.  I love text messaging.  It’s quick, easy, and my friends who work in an actual office can do it without getting in trouble with their boss.  Everyone wins.

My provider had run a special for their customers, to check out the voice-to-text feature that would convert all your voice mail into text messages.  Great idea, right?  Not really, as it cost your first born in order to keep it running.  Naturally, I call and cancel said feature.

They removed it all right, including the free add-on that gives me x amount of text messages per month. 

For three months they have been screwing up my bill because they forgot to add that feature back.  After I called them several times to tell them they need to add it.  They always credit me back, and apologize profusely.  And I am always polite. 

But, after three months, I’m convinced they’re just doing this to piss me off.

Peeve

I’ve read most takes on the vampires, the werewolves, and the fey.  Including I Was A Teenage Fairy by Lia Block.  Didn’t expect that one, did you?

What I cannot understand is how the vicious killer of Stoker and Rice is now the wise-cracking, reformed Bad Boy (gender profiling not withstanding, but ‘bad girl’ makes it sound like rather porn-like) who helps at the local animal shelter and over-pays a little on their taxes.

Not that I don’t like the new version, but can’t we blend the two and see what happens?  It seems you need one or the other for it, and I personally like having my cake and eating it too.  (Testament to this is the size of my butt)

I’ve got edits on Clio to do, and I’ve started researching agents.  Mainly, I see which ones my most-read authors are using and then research that agency, always coming up with another one along the way that I need to read up on.  Hopefully, I can have a working list of agents who I can query.

First, I need to finish the editing.  And the query…

A Chihuahua on angel dust did their organizing.

As stated yesterday, I went to register for classes in the afternoon.

After sitting through an orientation that did absolutely nothing, I had to sit through a speech from the campus Rent-a-Cop, who told me (repeatedly) that the smokers area is outside to the right.  Just go outside, turn right, and there’s the smokers.  The smokers are outside to the right.  (Yes sir, Mr. Lemming, I got it.) 

I wait in line to see an advisor, there were three working, and I don’t think any of them had a clue as to what was going on.

So I get to the advisor… and I’m told that I’m not really a student.  I show them my paperwork that, yes, I am a student, and then I have to go… somewhere, and ask them.  They had no idea where I was to go.

I track down the woman in charge of that little snafu, and she tells me to check the front office.  So I go to the office, passing by nurses hocking goodies, and other people who look just as confused as I felt.  In the office, the nice woman working the desk told me I needed to take a placement test as my SAT scores are over five years old. 

“How come I wasn’t told of this before?”

“It should be on your acceptance letter.”  I show her said acceptance letter, which is free of anything suggesting I take a placement test.  “Oh.  Well, it should have been here.”

“Can we just give me a perfect score and let me register?  It’s been a crappy day.”

“No, but we can schedule you for a placement test.”

I’ve seen better organizational skills out of Chubby Puppy when she attacks invisible bugs.

When the “old artist” gets emotional, she gets knitting.

Which is not good for a writing deadline.  However, it does keep the emotions at bay, so it’s not all bad.  I’m going to get started on a February Lady from Pamela Wynne for my trip to Germany coming up in a few months. 

A friend of mine, who I tried to teach to knit (she’s now sporting holes in her wall the exact shape and size of a pair of U.S. size 9 needles) made the comment that, if not for people like me, all the old arts would die out.

Glad to see I’m keeping some of pioneer America alive.

And today is student registration.  I haven’t done this since I was nineteen.  Lord help me.