Five Tips for Approaching Men in Real Life -- My Version

So, I'm sitting here minding my own business on Facebook a few minutes ago...when this story popped up on my Facefeed...so, naturally, I decided to make fun of it.  I don't know how things like this get published and I certainly hope they got paid what I thought it was worth to write it. Seriously...people get actual real money for this drivel?  I also hope you enjoy it somewhat...and, yes, feel free to share it.  Share it on Reddit and Twitter and hashtag sites and MomMe and every other damn website that could possibly start paying me to write content for them.  Whatever that Grumpy Cat person did?  Do that.  Do that a lot for me.  Yes, I'm dead serious. 

I think you have to read their article first and then mine for it to make any real sense...so...just skip down first and then scroll back up when you've read it and then read mine.  This was written by Lisa Copeland...who, I'm thinking, is a self-professed "Dating Coach for Women Over 50".  Yes, it actually says that in the blog...so I'm giving her full credit for it.

Okay, let me get this straight here...but...let me straighten you out here...these are my five "new and improved" tips for approaching men in real life...

Make eye contact with him for a full five seconds. Hold his face steady for all five of the seconds...and employ one or both hands to do so.

I have to ask him a question...such as..."Hey, there are 17 other empty chairs in this Starbucks - at six other tables...but, I like this one the best because the sun is in my vernal biological equinox...do you mind if I sit here and stare at you a while?" Or, perhaps..."I'm thinking of getting a blue Mercedes likes yours parked outside...would you recommend it? Oh, you're not the guy with the blue Mercedes? Okay...um...well...um...the Earth's orbital rotation just shifted a bit...I'm going to have to ask if that other guy over there's chair is taken...sorry."

Let him answer a question you have for him...such as, "Um...is that your blue Mercedes in the parking lot with the out of state plates? Are you interested in picking up someone from their house for dinner with you in your blue Mercedes with the out of state plates?"

Take a cue from an old "I Love Lucy" show - and shove as many chocolate bon-bons into your mouth as you can at one time...sorta like Lucy and Ethel did in the "Candy Making" episode. Trust me...I'm sure you'll get his attention with this one a LOT better than dropping some cheap cell phone you just picked up at the Dollar Store for the sole purpose of dropping and shattering in front of him.

Lastly...and I quote from her article and not mine: "His job is to ask you out if he's interested in you. If he's not, it doesn't mean he's personally rejecting you. He might be married, have a girlfriend or you might not be his type." Hmmmm...I'm thinking "...might not be his type" is possibly "dating tips for women over 50" code for "he's gay"...but, apparently they couldn't come right out and say that because...apparently we are still dropping handkerchiefs as fast as instilling old Victorian sexual mores on clichéd dating tips websites.


This was fun...maybe we can do it again some day.

5 Tips for Approaching Men in Real Life


Mariann Simms aka Mariann Eperjesi is a freelance writer who is currently writing whatever she can to get noticed by anyone who will employ her for doing so.  She can be found most nights totally perplexed by what she reads online...and can be found at her blog, "Blogged Down at the Moment".  She is the founder of the interactive comedy website, "HumorMeOnline.com" although it is currently off-line at the moment, but can be found if you use a search engine.  She is also the 2003 Grand Prize winner of the Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest.



I also apologize for nicking a photo off the Internet. As soon as I get my stuff back in the house (a tree fell on my house the end of June and we aren't back in there yet)...I will start taking my own photos again.  If you are the owner of this photo and I have infringed on any copyright you may have on it and have an issue, please just inform me and I will remove it promptly.  Thank you.

Day 1: Gouda Morning to All

"Gouda Morning to All"

 

Well, that's how I was going to start this first of "30 Days Minus 2" challenge, considering its birthday is today ("Good Morning to All" is the same tune as "Happy Birthday to You" in case you didn't know that).  Does this make it one or two years old?  Is it three...because it feels like four.  Well, it doesn't matter as I'm going to cheat a little and post up a blog from a few years back. 

 

Why?

 

Because it's about cheese...and Gouda is a cheese...and this website has the word "cheese" in the title...and today's prompt is "Gouda" (I think I neglected to say that).  Anyone see a pattern here?

 

Anyway...as I promised to Scott Rice (the originator of the Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest) ever since I won back in 2003...here again is a tiny bit of publicity, provided by me.  Yeah, I know that might sound cheesy...but I'm being sincere. Oh yeah, and don't forget to get your entries in for this year...you still have time.

And don't forget to go to "We Work for Cheese" to read all the other entries for this month's challenge...Day 1 being "Gouda".

(The following piece was originally written/posted at my own blog site on 4 April 2006.) 

 

The Best at Being Worst...and Proud of It!

Well, seems it's that time of year again...the dreaded deadline looming ahead like so many ravenous vultures...like so many you lose count - even if you have one of those fancy hand-held metal clicker things that can be punched to 999 before it resets back to zero...then I guess you have to mentally remember that it spun around one whole time already, kinda like when you're dealing out cards and the phone rings and interrupts you midway and you forget who gets the next card, so you just start all over again because someone probably looked at your cards while you were gone anyway. Yep, the 15th of April is fast approaching and soon everyone will be asking each other, "Did you get it in on time? Did you get your entry in?"

"What the heck is she saying??" you might have asked yourself...and what about vultures? Is she talking about the IRS? Accountants? Huh...cards??? "Nay", say I...I'm talking about 'The Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest' also referred to as the 'It was a dark and stormy night' competition. You might have read about it when I won the Grand Prize in 2003. Oh, c'mon...it was on the front page of the Montgomery Advertiser...surely you couldn't have forgotten that? Well, okay...maybe you did. Sigh. Let me then enlighten and elucidate...

You see that long sentence I started my blog off with? The one that goes on and on and on and on. Well, that was intentional..and not just because I am a bad writer (oh, keep the remarks to yourselves) but because I was, at least in 2003, proclaimed as the BEST at being the worst. I won the dubious distinction of writing the worst opening line to a fictional novel...and that opening sentence, above, is a little bit like what you'll see in the competition. Need a better, er...um...worse...example? Here is my winning entry:

They had but one last remaining night together, so they embraced each other as tightly as that two-flavor entwined string cheese that is orange and yellowish-white, the orange probably being a bland Cheddar and the white . . . Mozzarella, although it could possibly be Provolone or just plain American, as it really doesn't taste distinctly dissimilar from the orange, yet they would have you believe it does by coloring it differently.

The rules can be found on their home page...but they are relatively simple. Write the opening line for a fictional novel...make it bad...but make it enjoyably bad. Longer is not necessarily better, but it seems they do tend to favour longer entries...but be careful on your punctuation...there's only so many words you can string together before it gets too monotonous. Monotonous doesn't cut it...badly well written does.

So, do you have what it takes to make the cut? Cut might not be the best choice of words...don't cut...but rather elaborate. Can you write famously bad...to get 14 minutes of fame? All forms of glory can be headed your way...I was interviewed on CNN Live (yes, in the daytime)...and a bunch of other radio/tv stations from California to Australia...I showed up on over 7000 hits on Google...more than Alex Trebek; less than Mel Gibson...my name and entry was in newpapers, literally from Albania to Zimbabwe...I even made the front page of USA Today. In a nutshell, I loved it...can you tell? Okay, so Letterman never called...and Conan O'Brien's people said I probably couldn't fill up six minutes of airtime. Uh huh...right. And Craig Ferguson wasn't around yet...what a pity. But I do try my best to get the word out to people who might not necessarily know about the contest because it really was both a fun experience and an honour to be chosen. Thank you again, Scott Rice.


(Professor Scott Rice, of San Jose University, is the originator of the Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest which has been running continually since 1982.)

"That's not a monster, Mommy...that's YOU!"

Well, my attempts to gain employment in this town have again been shot down and that got me remembering a pre-Christmas silliness I wrote up and posted on Facebook. This got about as much interest there as it will here, but I figured my calendar blog was going to be much better than it was, and it wasn't, so I scrapped that idea; you will get this one instead. This was "inspired" by countless Facebook "friends" sharing their "oh-so-talented" kids' drawings with one another -- and then their friends "oohing" and "aahing" over them -- sounding about as genuine as a porn film starlet.

In my world (which is about as wide as my sofa)...this would be the perfect job for me until some ad agency scoops me up right before I get hired to write my novel...



For a limited time only I will critique your child's artwork or story they've made up. The cost will be $10.00 for three; yep, you heard it right...THREE pieces of artwork and/or stories. Two stories and one drawing of the outside of the house with your whole family standing outside? No problem. Three stories...even if written in crayon -- heck, I'll take them all on.

As the 2003 winner of the "Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest", I feel I am more than qualified to do the writing portion - and as I've been attempting (not attempting very well, mind you) to be a docent at the art museum here...I also have some qualifications for that as well.

Afraid that your little Chagall or Michelangelo is only a three-year-old kid and not a protege? Do you want the validation to NOT have to stick that piece of crap they call "art" up on your fridge? Well, scan them and I'll do it for you. I will give you an entire write-up telling you my feelings...from a realistic and completely unbiased opinion standpoint.

If your son is more J. K. Cringing than J. K. Rowling...I'll be the one to let the hammer fall - and you can walk away with a clear conscience. You won't be disappointed in yourself when you hear those muffled sobs coming from the bedroom...because you will know you honestly didn't just break your little "writer's" dream -- I did.

So, again...this is a limited time offer - the price gets bumped back up to $5.00 each after the 1st of the year. Take advantage of our "Before Christmas Plan" -- a personalized lovely letter (sent by me) with gold stickers and happy faces all over it if your child has any talent whatsoever. Your little one will be running to check the "real" mail each day to see if their envelope has a "Mr. Happy" or "Mr. Yuk!" sticker on it. Either way, you'll thank me...plus they'll get exercise...OUTSIDE!

It's a win-win situation for all!

Eschewing the Obfuscation of the Profundity

"You've made an egregious error."

"A what?"

"An egregious error."

"What kind of error?"

"Egregious."

"What does 'egregious' mean?"

"You know...something that's egregious."

"Yeah, but WHAT does it mean?"

"Something that's egregious is...you know. Look, if YOU don't know what it means, I'm not going to explain it."

"So, in other words, you don't know what it means?"

I have to admit - I enjoy doing this: calling people on it. Many people use words they have absolutely no clue what they mean. Oh, sure, they've heard the words plenty of times...and always in the context they use them -- and they are using them correctly, but they are merely "parroting" what they've heard. They honestly have never bothered to look the word up in the dictionary.

Personally, between you and me...I do it, too. Using "ten-dollar words" can be awfully impressive and downright convincing when, say, you're trying to get a lower rate on your telephone bill...or talking to your doctor...or trying to impress the stranger you met in passing...or speaking up to that guy in the office that just irks the hell out of you.

Using big words is like that animal making its hair stand on end to appear larger than they really are. Big words said by certain (not all) people make them appear smarter than they really are. But, just as a turkey displaying its feathers - strip away the feathers and what you've got left - well, is still a turkey.

I guess we all need to ruffle some feathers once in a while and appear larger than life. Words, are, after all...mightier than the sword...or at least they supposedly are when you write them down with a pen.

And good thing (at least for me) there's spell-check, too, as when I originally "penned" this blog, I spelled it "aggregious".

Sheesh...talk about an egregious error, right?

(Originally written, but never published, about two years ago.)

Cougar? I Didn't Even KISS Her!

Cougar—A Cougar is a female, usually between thirty and fifty years-old, who enjoys the sexual company of younger men. Cougars are only usually interested in men under the age of twenty-five.

Well, I guess I could possibly fall into that category if: 1) I was attracted to 20-year-old guys; and 2) I'd enjoy sexual company of them. As it stands I'm about as asexual as I am apolitical. (I know...line forms to the right, guys...what a catch, huh?)

Anyway...

...the male equivalent, I'm guessing , would be the "dirty old man" or "that creepy old dude".

Now, I know it's nothing new for older men to have younger girlfriends, but in my opinion:

1) If you are the guy - other than sex, what's the point? It's not like you can reminisce about the "good old days". But maybe that IS the thing. It's that age-old problem: "My husband/boyfriend never talks to me." Well, this is an excellent way around that, isn't it, guys? Hmmmmm...there might be some logic in this thinking after all.

2) Why would any hot, young chick want to see an old naked guy? I've seen one. Trust me, it's not that pretty...nor is it remotely comical enough to lend itself being seen on a routine basis. Face it, even the best joke gets stale if you hear it a couple times.

But, while I can't relate, personally, with a man's point of view, I can relate to a woman's. There's a couple things I'd like to get off my non-plastic chest (the last of which would be my bra) about this whole "Cougar" phenomenon.

No, seriously women. Think about it. We are vain creatures...you can fess up...it's true. The guys all know anyway. They're worse than us...but that's another blog.

As vain creatures we buy all sorts of things to make us look attractive. We endure 3 and 4-inch heels, that only a handful of people can actually gracefully walk in. C'mon, you know what I mean...and those of you who can't, you know who you are. If it weren't for the fabulous outfit you got at the mall and the impeccable nails you just had done, that hunched over bent-kneed walk you're sporting looks less than runway and more like "run away!" It's a pretty spot-on impersonation of that large striding Bigfoot sighting caught on film...and walking like that or a mountain goat coming down off the cliff side isn't that becoming. If you're doing that, you might want to rethink that heel size.

But I digress once again.

Lipsticks, hair dye, haircuts, manicures, tanning beds, facial creams, eyebrow and bikini waxes, palates, thongs, and push-up bras...are only a small sampling of the things we do to keep up our appearance...but it's inevitable, we WILL age. Gravity happens. "Perky" is not a word you will ever hear describing anything about you once you are on the "slide down side" of forty, unless you are Katie Couric - and even then it's said in a condescending tone.

Why then...WHY...would you subject yourself to the humiliation of some 20-year-old guy seeing you "sans" clothing?

You girls all know you play a certain game when you get in the bedroom and it's not the one the boys think. You've practiced it in countless mirrors...you got it down to a science...it is a science - the science of looking better than you do. You pose yourself in certain ways in certain lights...candles and darkness are your friends...and a couple well-timed Martinis don't hurt, either.

And when you're alone...you have another game you play: you lift your head and angle your face just so in order to take all those photos you take of yourself. You experiment until you get it right. You might even have collagen or Botox injections in all the right grooves...you might even have a boob job, but do you want to see something which will stop you right in your Jimmy Choo Cougar-tracks? If you don't have some surgical interventions...go grab a couple tissues.

Now go and grab a hand mirror outta the bathroom. If you have one with the regular mirror on one side and the magnifying one on the other side...all the better. Now hold it up to look at your face - you still look pretty hot, right? Now, holding that same exact mirror - bend forward at the waist so your face is now facing the floor.

Scary, huh?

Now, take that same mirror and lie, face-up, on the bed. Whoa! Instant face lift...a good 10 years shaved off without any surgery...maybe 20 comes off if you HAVE surgery.

But, unfortunately for all us ladies, there's not too many legitimate jobs which require you to lie flat on your back all day. So, this is why my next piece of advice is one I'm sticking to.

I don't know about you, but I certainly would rather be the better looking naked one out of the pair of us. Maybe that's why I was never attracted to those Chippendales guys...I don't want to compete with someone whose body looks better than mine. I already have a complete lack of self-esteem...give me the most out of shape guy (well, maybe not THE most out of shape guy) with a brain. Sixty? Fine. 40? Eh. 20? Hell, no! I'm not incredibly vain but I'd also like to keep those last three shreds of confidence that I do have.

So, me...a Cougar? Nah, more like a gray panther.

(Originally written, but not published, approximately three years ago.)

Write On

A few of you might know that I passionately entertain the thought of one day being a "real" writer. That being said, I like to extol the virtues of writing...or at least using your imagination once in a while and writing something with it. I also believe there should be a lot more writing in school, especially in the elementary grade levels.

A few years back I talked my daughter's (name withheld because I'm like that) English teacher (also name withheld because I'm like that) into allowing me into her classroom to talk about my limited (but still very special to me) writing experiences. Some of the things I touched on were my methods of undertaking various aspects of writing...and how I hoped they'd embrace writing instead of being scared of the whole entire process.

This is that talk I gave to my daughter's 6th grade class...and, as such, you have to remember I tried to appeal to a year 2007 6th grade English class. Also, I ad-libbed a LOT as I tend to talk a LOT...and that's not in this basic outline of this "speech".

By the way, last year I was invited to speak at AUM (Auburn University at Montgomery) to a group of English students regarding my 2003 Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest win...and if you're interested, I'd be more than happy to share my limited "life-long" writing experiences in other settings (classrooms, auditoriums, etc.) as well. All you have to do is ask me.


Allow me to introduce myself - I am Mariann Simms...Mrs. Simms...but most of you know me as my daughter's mom.

The reason I'm here today is because I talked your teacher into letting me come here and tell you that you should all WRITE some more. LOTS more!

A little about me...when I was young, about your age, I wanted to be a writer...then I grew up not knowing what I wanted to be until I realized, not too long ago, that I still wanted to be a writer. Imagine my disappointment knowing how much further I might have actually gotten had I just listened to myself years ago.

I have an online interactive humour website that I've been doing since 2001 that you shouldn't go to and I've also won tons of prizes, including a TiVo, by entering "funny" and or "writing-type" contests online. But my biggest claim to fame to date was winning the prestigious Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest in 2003. For doing this, I was interviewed by CNN...American, Australian and Canadian radio and television programs, and had a front page write-up at the Montgomery Advertiser. I was on the front page of USA Today...and was literally (and I Googled myself, so I know for sure) mentioned in newspapers from Algeria to Zimbabwe. Yes, my name was mentioned in the Zimbabwe Times...or whatever they call their paper.

How many of you have ever heard of the Bulwer-Lytton Fiction contest? (Excluding my daughter.) How many of you are now somewhat impressed by the fact I won it? Professor Scott Rice, the man who came up with this contest back in 1982 and still judges it, asked all the previous winners the other month (for his upcoming Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest book) what, if anything, did we notice that changed or happened to us since our winning it.

I told him I found that people whom I've told about my winning this contest seem to look upon me with an amount of admiration and respect...ESPECIALLY those who hadn't a clue what it was. Who here ever heard of the saying "The pen is mightier than the sword?" Well, the man who wrote that saying was Edward George Bulwer-Lytton, who lived back in 1803-1873. He also wrote a novel entitled "Paul Clifford" which has the distinction of having, possibly in all of history, the worst opening sentence ever written and printed. How many of you have seen those "Peanuts" cartoons where Snoopy is typing and starts off..."It was a dark and stormy night..."? Well that was how Bulwer-Lytton started his novel...but then it went on and on and on and on...and really ended up getting worse by the word...only I'm sure he wasn't trying to do that intentionally. What I did was intentional. In 2003, I was judged to have come up with the "worst opening line to a fictional novel"...but keep in mind...I was the BEST at writing the WORST. It's not easy to write badly well...or is that badly good? Anyway, here's my winning entry:

They had but one last remaining night together, so they embraced each other as tightly as that two-flavor entwined string cheese that is orange and yellowish-white, the orange probably being a bland Cheddar and the white . . . Mozzarella, although it could possibly be Provolone or just plain American, as it really doesn't taste distinctly dissimilar from the orange, yet they would
have you believe it does by coloring it differently.

Seventy-one words...yep, 71 words...in one opening sentence; many different forms of punctuation, but only one period allowed. And I did this all on my first attempt ever at sending in an entry...and I only sent in the one entry. Yes, I had to throw that in for posterity.

This brings us to one of a writer's most annoying, perplexing, head-banging, paper-crumbling, pencil point breaking event: Coming up with that "stupid" first sentence to anything you write. Face it, after you get that part written, the rest usually comes a lot easier, right?

My advice to you...is to write the way you speak. How would you say it if you were just telling your friend? Just write the way you'd say it. Try it...it works.

Most of my favourite authors don't write to baffle and impress - sure, some do - but I find it most annoying to stop every 8th word to go look it up. Ray Bradbury, a science fiction writer who wrote such classics as "The Martian Chronicles", "Farenheit 451", "The Wonderful Ice Cream Suit", and countless other stories...writes extremely simplistic...but since it's told WELL, it captures you and draws you in. You WANT to keep reading to find out what's going to happen next and he hardly ever gets all "super intelligent" with you. Not that writing with big words and expanding your vocabulary isn't a good thing...I just don't think most people talk like a scientific journal reads...so, especially when you have characters in a story having a conversation...it's best they talk the way they would if they were real people.

My second piece of advice...get a good dictionary and thesaurus - a REAL one, not one of those online ones...and just keep it handy when reading or writing. How many times do you just skip a word that you read but you don't know its meaning? LOOK IT UP! When I was a kid or when I worked, during lunchbreaks, I would read the dictionary. No, seriously, I would. Sounds kinda spooky, huh? One of the most fun things to do with a dictionary is to just open it up on a random page and look at a word you don't know. You really can't do that kind of thing with an online one...so invest in a real one.

Now on to the "flow" of words...how they are strung together...how they sound. Are you redundant...using the same word over and over again? At the risk of sounding redundant here...get a thesaurus! Altho, sometimes redundancy is called for...as one of my favourite movie lines of all times from "The Shawshank Redemption" (which was a short story written by Stephen King...you know that scary guy?) shows. Bear in mind the word "hope" itself is used throughout the movie in many scenes...and it's used again toward the end of the film by the character Morgan Freeman plays, a man who's just been released from prison after serving about 40 years. As he's sitting on a bus that will ultimately take him to see his former-inmate friend, he thinks to himself:

I find I'm so excited, I can barely sit still or hold a thought in my head. I think it's the excitement only a free man can feel, a free man at the start of a long journey whose conclusion is uncertain. I hope I can make it across the border. I hope to see my friend, and shake his hand. I hope the Pacific is as blue as it has been in my dreams. I hope.

Anyone know a quote from a film or book? What would have happened if it were strung together differently...think about that when you write...does it flow...does it sound nice when you say it? Does it have the impact you want it to have? How about if you change it around? Would it lose or gain something?

Coming back to myself here...I also write a blog at the Montgomery Advertiser's online site...only if any of you have seen blogs, they are all like "Oh my cat jumped on my car today and I think I have to get it washed...bummer." In other words, I don't think they're very interesting. Well, I write a blog there, but I like to think of them as "blogumns", or better yet, very short stories. But I'm not talking about newspaper-type stories...let me explain...

When you read a news story in a paper, there's a format journalists are supposed to follow. How many of you read the paper or have ever read an article in the paper? How far down in that article do you usually get? Do you read the whole thing...or stop after the first couple paragraphs?

Now, how many of you read books...like the Harry Potter ones? Did you read the whole thing or stop after a few pages? You read the whole thing, right? Did you ever stop to wonder...WHY?

You see, in the paper they have this thing called the 5 W's. Who, What, Where, When, and Why? They typically put all the most interesting and important bits in the first two paragraphs. The rest is just incidental stuff, filler, and probably some back history, quotes, and biography work-ups.

What would happen, say, if JK Rowling would have said ALL her interesting ideas in the first couple pages...or even the first couple chapters and then just dwindled off into "filler" the rest of the story? Wouldn't be much of a story, would it?

And don't get discouraged if it doesn't come out right the first time...JK Rowling took six years to write her first book...and she was turned down nine times before someone signed her. And guess how many times Daniel Handler aka Lemony Snicket was turned down for his first book? Thirty-seven times!

My last piece of advice to you would be the next time you sit down to write a STORY, keep in mind you need to capture AND HOLD the reader's curiosity to get him to turn that next page. Remember not to cram ALL your good stuff in the first sentence...or else it just might end up being a worse sentence than even MINE was...but probably not intentionally.



"It was a dark and stormy night; the rain fell in torrents--except at occasional intervals, when it was checked by a violent gust of wind which swept up the streets (for it is in London that our scene lies), rattling along the housetops, and fiercely agitating the scanty flame of the lamps that struggled against the darkness." --Edward George Bulwer-Lytton, Paul Clifford (1830)

Prelude To Some Blogs

My next series of blogs (don't get bent out of shape...I am not doing another three-parter on Sea Monkeys)...will be older ones. Not that I've posted them before...but they remain old, nonetheless.

A little back-story if I may...

A while back I took to carrying around this brown, faux-leather notebook in which I would write when I had to sit waiting in doctor's offices and whatnot. I even half-convinced myself that I would look massively impressive and "writer-ish" like Johnny Depp did in "Finding Neverland". And anyone who was fortunate enough to glance in my direction would automatically think of Depp's portrayal of J.M. Barrie...and be stricken with the worst case of awe he ever experienced (good thing they were at the doctor) in his entire life. Imagine me...a budding Oscar-winning, future Pulitzer Prize-winning, AND former Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest-winning (yes, that last one already happened - go read my side-bar) writer, sitting right there next to them and they'd not even know it! Oh, they'd sense it alright as I had, clutched in my hand, a highly elaborate "look at me...I'm someone important" pen...and no one need ever know I purchased quite a few of these for next to nothing when the Office Max store up on the bypass went out of business a couple years back.

Yes...while I basked in the glow of my pseudo-self importance - in the end I probably just came off looking like an aging buffoon who hadn't yet realized you could email people instead of write them. So much for instilling people with a sense of "awe". Awesome? No. Awe-kward? Yes.

Then I misplaced this notebook for a time and only found it the other day. While it is true that common sense dictated I could just pick up another one at TJ Maxx and start anew, which I did; the new ones, equally majestic as those "on sale" pens, just didn't hold the same kind of magic to me, so I decided I'd start bringing a book along to read instead. Yes, I traded writing for reading...but the arithmetic undoubtedly came out the same: I still probably looked like just another old ailing chick sitting in a doctor's office.

As far as these blogs (or very short stories, as I like to call them) go...I was thinking about just scrapping them all, but then I figured I'd use them and let everyone know why they might seem out-of-date...as "I do believe" they have some worth.

So, there -- I've said it...and with further delay, I present to you...some old blogs.

The Write Stuff

I am writing a book.

Yeah, yeah...I know what you're thinking, "What??? She can READ??" Hey, Leno could really use you...talents like that are a "rarity" in the comedic realm...

...but, yes...yes, I can read...to answer your above question...and if Sarah Palin can write *cough cough* a book, well, darmit, so can I.

What I originally thought you were going to think was "but it says in her profile that she's been writing a book...you'd figure she woulda had it done by now"...but, little things like...oh, depression...and my pathetic health issues...and lack of a job...and a marriage that didn't turn out like I envisioned, and no money...and...no real friends (other than online ones)...and the fact that no one beat down my door after I won the Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest back in 2003 -- altho they do a reality show now about anything and everything...so I totally missed the boat on that one...and okay, what was my point again?

My book.

I started a book once...when I was about 13. Then I put it down and never really picked it back up again. Then I graduated, got a job, got married, had a couple kids, and one day while on a trip to a Science Olympiad competition my daughter was attending about four years ago - I ended up talking to a fellow parent's child regarding what they might want to do after they graduate (like any kid of 12 or 13-year-old really knows what they want to do with the rest of their life). They just did what I expected...shrugged and said, "Uhhh...I dunno". And I said, "Yep...I know what you mean...when I was your age I had no clue what I wanted to do...in fact, there were only two people I went to school with who did. One wanted to be a dentist...and he went on to be a dentist...and the other was Eddie Gillespie, who wanted to be a political speech writer."

Odd, huh? I mean, c'mon...who the heck's ambition in life in 8th and 9th grade centers around writing speeches for politicians...especially in Browns Mills, New Jersey? Well, for those of you who are curious...here's what he ended up doing: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ed_Gillespie

Anyway...as I was having this conversation I relayed how I always "wanted to be a writer"...and then it dawned on me, not unlike a ton of bricks, that geez...I just wasted like 30 years wondering what I wanted to do with my life (other than the role of being a mother...which I always wanted to be)...only to find out I KNEW when I was just a kid.

Imagine my initial shock and subsequent "Eureka moment" after the realization of time wasted consisting primarily of sitting on my butt lamenting my great law career...(I always figured I could find a loophole in anything and thus would be an extreme asset to any corporate entity) only to find out that, like Dorothy from "The Wizard of Oz"...I didn't need to go searching anywhere...my "no place like home" was my childhood dream of writing.

What tipped the scales, not of justice...but of determination that I possibly COULD do this, was after I watched a program on A&E's "Biography" - quite some time ago...you know, when A&E actually showed "quality programming". They profiled well-known horror author, Stephen King...whom I never did hold in any high esteem...until after I watched the show...and what he said "literally" changed my mind. He stated that he was determined to write and that he had a game plan: to sit at his typewriter every single night and peck away...for three hours, regardless of what came out. What came out ended up being a "stupid teen angst story" (his words...or something to the effect of) later to be known as "Carrie"...and if it weren't for his wife salvaging it from the trash bin and encouraging him to finish it...well, no one really knows now, do they?

So, I've gotten back in the saddle again...and instead of relying on someone to "co-author" with me (like I did once before), I'm going to sit back and try to go this one alone. I figure if I peck away each night and churn out three pages, I'd have something to edit and re-edit...and further re-edit in about four months.

And, as King had his wife...I have my kids. I told my son the other day of my idea - consisting of the general outline of the book...and...he thought it was GOOD! That might not mean anything to you, but...my son never thinks anything I write is good. It's always "lame", "it's emo", "it's pathetic"...and a few other choice words and phrases I won't go into detail about here. I don't think I've ever written a blog to elicit any other response out of him...so when I told him of the plot I wasn't expecting anything other than the usual. But, he said it was good! He even read what I'd written so far - and praised it...he even went so far as to give me some ideas.

My daughter is helping as well - playing my conscience...always trying to light the fire under my butt..."You REALLY need to start writing your book again before someone else comes up with your idea." And she's right. I've got to hunker down and "Stephen King" it. Well, not "It" it...but just plain "it"...oh, you know what I mean.

Things Are Going From Bad to Worst...

Well, it's been a very bad couple weeks in the entertainment industry...Ed McMahon, Farrah Fawcett, Michael Jackson, and now Billy Mays. Very sad indeed.

So, I thought a little levity might be in order. But, be forewarned...these are really bad. In fact, they are amongst the worst out there...and therein lies the rub: they are SUPPOSED to be.

Imagine sitting at your desk in school when you were young...and the teacher just told you to write a story about summer vacation. If you were like me...it was an exercise in futility, imagination, and worst of all...getting it all started. The dreaded opening sentence. It all hinged on that. Once you got your story started...it usually came easier after. But...oh...that "starting off" point.

There's a myriad of ways to start off any story. Now, granted, first grade English class compositions probably weren't exactly going to garner you any movie deals. The number of screenwriters who struck it big at seven...well, you can probably count them on any cartoon character's hand (bear in mind...cartoon characters typically only have four fingers...or, three fingers and a thumb, if you prefer). In other words...there probably aren't many. But even at the tender age of seven...you came to realize just how detrimental the wording of that opening line is...and how hard it is to just...well...start...period.

And the Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest capitalizes on just that. Period. Yes, up until that dreaded period...you can string words together any way you like...all forms of time-honoured punctuation is accepted...except the period. Once you place that dot at the end. That's it. That's all folks...that's all you get...that's all she (or he) wrote.

So, Professor of English, Scott Rice, started this contest way back in 1982 - as a lesson of sorts I figure...highlighting the pros and cons of opening sentence structure. It goes something like this:

Good: "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times." -- Opening line to A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens.

Bad: "Me and Mommy and Daddy went to Disneyworld and we rode the rides and then we got popcorn and then my brother, Timmy, threw up, and the lady had to clean it, and then we went back to our room." -- Opening line reminiscent of countless children's' essays (around the world) the first day of school.

Worst: "It was a dark and stormy night; the rain fell in torrents--except at occasional intervals, when it was checked by a violent gust of wind which swept up the streets (for it is in London that our scene lies), rattling along the housetops, and fiercely agitating the scanty flame of the lamps that struggled against the darkness." -- Opening line by Edward George Bulwer-Lytton, Paul Clifford.

Do you see where this is headed?

Well, perhaps Professor Rice didn't either...but from a small beginning with, I believe, three whole entries...from his English class the first year...to what it has become: A literary legend. To win this prize is [almost] akin to the Nobel Prize, the Pulitzer AND the Oscar...rolled into one. It has ballooned into the juggernaut that it is now.

And how do I know this?

I won it back in 2003...but you can read all about that in a blog I wrote back in 2006.

But back to the winner at hand, David McKenzie, of Federal Way, Washington, who won with this flowing refuse of writing:

"Folks say that if you listen real close at the height of the full moon, when the wind is blowin' off Nantucket Sound from the nor' east and the dogs are howlin' for no earthly reason, you can hear the awful screams of the crew of the "Ellie May," a sturdy whaler Captained by John McTavish; for it was on just such a night when the rum was flowin' and, Davey Jones be damned, big John brought his men on deck for the first of several screaming contests."

Bravo, David. Bravo, everyone else who won sub-categories and got mentioned...but most of all, bravo, Professor Scott Rice...for your monumental contribution to [would-be] writers everywhere.

Writer's Cramp

Kudos to David Letterman (Worldwide Pants) and Craig Ferguson for reaching an agreement with their writers. As many of you know, I think Letterman and Ferguson are tons of times better than Leno and Conan...especially since Conan's people were considering having me on their show when I won the Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest in 2003...only to say "oh, we don't think she could fill up six minutes". Oh, please, anyone who knows me knows I could fill up six hours...let alone six minutes. All I have to say is I wish Craig was on back then...his three year anniversary tonite by the way...as I'm sure HE would have had me on his show and I would probably NOT be on strike right now.

Oh, think about it. ;)

Anyway...glad to see you two back on the air, where you belong.

Mariann

In Hog Heaven

Here's a story I could really sink my teeth into...and definitely would for the "sowbucks" both these people managed to trot off with. Yes, I'm in a silly mood tonite, and in honour of the Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest to be releasing their winners this Monday...and also as an homage to their "Vile Puns" section, I'll be doing most of this commentary in puns...puns - good and bad...all right, puns mostly bad. But this isn't at all a work of fiction, but rather a real-life story that is definitately prime for a good ribbing. If ever I find myself in a similar situation I just might bite, too.

"But what is she going on about?" you are undoubtedly asking your collective selves. "Is she just too long in the tooth to write a coherent sentence, let alone a paragraph...dare I say, story?" No, I'm not just going to pepper the whole story throughout with vile pig and dental puns, but rather, make it replete with them. In fact I'm going to hog up every one I can...and then drill them into your head...and with any luck it won't be boaring.

The process one goes about choosing a befitting blog is a difficult chore for some - for others it comes quite easily, but most aren't nearly as verbose as mine...I tend to put pen to paper and hog up a great deal of words by the time all is said and done and at the virtual table. So, I am picky doing my blogs...certainly I have many I can choose from - a whole herd of them...and many ideas which have come before me I've read that I would have given my eyetooth to have thought of first. But I just grit my teeth and muddle through to the next topic which catches my mind's eye.

This blog was inspired by an incident which occurred recently in Olympia, Washington which I only read a few moments ago. I suspect some people reading this slice of life might go hog wild on this one...others will probably just give it nothing more than a grunt and bury it under the other daily things they are doing, never to give it a second thought. The story is about an oral surgeon, Dr. Robert Woo, who, while giving his female associate, Tina Alberts, two new dental implants, thought it would be a silly, harmless prank to pop a couple boar tusks in her mouth while she was under anesthesia, take a couple of photos unbeknownst to her, pop the tusks back out and finish up the job...all the while never giving it as much as an afterthought. It was, what he whole-heartedly believed, just a little office prank done to a colleague who would always bring up the fact her family raises potbellied pigs...and these pig conversations were pretty much joked about in some manner or form in the office for years.

Now, I don't know if the oral surgeon thought this alone was funny or if he was just sick and tired of hearing the ongoing pig stories. Regardless, Dr. Woo didn't show the photos to Ms Alberts...which makes me think it was more of a joke done not for her amusement, but for the others, and as the workers circulated these photos amongst themselves...you got it...they eventually made their way to Ms. Alberts.

One thing led to another as quickly as you can say "I have a lawyer in the family" or "I know someone whose brother's uncle's friend's sister is a lawyer"...because the next thing you know, the assistant is claiming these distressing photos caused her to quit her job because of the ongoing humiliation. Now someone has to pay and her boss is just the guy to do it...and one could naturally assume he's probably living pretty high on the hog owning his own business and all.

Now keep up...this part will go faster than Boston Butts on sale at a church fundraiser. So, Ms. Alberts goes to sue Dr. Woo; Dr. Woo in turn, turns to his office insurance company to root the money out of them and they say "no dice...what you did wasn't standard office procedure and therefore wouldn't be covered". Sounds logical to me. The next step is that they settle out of court and Ms. Alberts walks away $250,000 richer. All's well, that ends well, right? No...Dr. Woo decides he's not exactly satisfied with the ruling the insurance company initially doled out and decides he's going to sue his insurance company right back...to the tune of $750,000...making a whole lot of bacon if it works.

Well, it did indeed work and now he's sitting pretty after clearing nearly half a million (give and take lawyer's fees and Ms. Albert's initial $250k cut)...and Dr. Woo has definitely learned an "extremely costly lesson": Do not mess with people or play practical jokes on unwilling victims. Unless, of course they can't take a joke...then, by all means, do your best...or should that be wurst.

Perhaps there's a "Practical Office Joke Book For Dummies" book deal in the good doctor's future. Obviously, by these lucky turns of events, Dr. Woo's a master of turning on the charm and flashing those pearly whites...by all accounts, a natural ham. I wouldn't doubt it if he even has a few publishing houses interested in him right now, and if he doesn't, I'm sure his finding one would be relatively easy. As easy, you might say, as pulling teeth.