DISMEMBERED BAMBI ON MY FRONT PORCH... AHHH, MEMORIES

Wednesday's blog status: Encroaching on Thursday. I will not fail you! I will get this out on Wednesday! It may be boring, it may totally suck, but I will not give in! (Not that anyone is really waiting on pins and needles, right?)

Tuesday Dork Side status: First edition of the Dork Side (yesterday's post) went better than expected. Only one person threw rotten fruit (I'm not naming names, Cam) But she redeemed herself when she mentioned deer legs in the snow.

What did she mean, you may ask?

Let me tell you a little story about Cam's husband. His name's Ben and we practically grew up together. I was the little brother he never wanted. He was the bigger brother who used to engage in a grossly ritualistic and bloody rite of passage that most Utah boys ( due to a lack of oxygen from the inversion, no doubt) have instilled in them from their day of birth.

Can anyone guess to what I am referring?

Let me preface the rest by telling you something about my mother. Insects have feelings. Fleas just want to be loved. Spiders are angels trapped in an eight-legged hairy body. The 'least of these' have been did unto (does that make biblical sense) in my home.

Every little critter was given safe passage out onto our front porch. (Except for the random rat in our back yard. Those get squished by my dad's physician's desk reference. But, I digress).

Anyway, our little innocent Ashton family woke up one snowy morning to find a most disturbing sight in our front yard. Four deer legs sticking out of a mound of snow. Yes, Bambi had been slaughtered on our door step. Her body only half buried under snow, the four legs sticking straight up in the air.

After we revived my mother, we went out front to un-snow the little darling. Only guess what? The four deer legs weren't attached to anything! Bambi had been dismembered, and her legs had been stuck into the snow mound in our yard!

Curses, Ben Ballou! Curse your deer appendages! Now, if it had been anybody else, my mother never would have found the good graces to forgive. But this was Ben. Granted, he would soon find out he owed her a lifetime of servitude, but he was eventually forgiven. I never understood, until one day she told me she always wanted just two children: my sister erin and a son.

Let me just say that despite his infantile, and often juvenile influence, I kept my dignity. Ben's childishness never rubbed off on me, as I constantly refrain from stooping to his level. (Although he is very tall, passing six feet, so he has to stoop really really low to reach my level, and then I stoop even lower to show where his level really is, if it were physically possible for him to get that low).

So I leave you, Ben, with this one eloquent thought (Imagine me saying it in my best hoity-toity voice):

BYU SUCKS, AND THE QUEST FOR PERFECTION RESTS WITH ONE TEAM ONLY! THOSE BAMBI LEGS BLEED RED! TRUE UTE RED! THE ONLY WAY BYU WILL EVER WIN IS IF THEY START ALLOWING ALL THE ZOOBS TO BRING THEIR SMALL ARMS 30-OTT SIX RIFLES INTO THE STADIUM TO MASSACRE THE UTES! BECAUSE, SO FAR, SKILL HAS GOTTEN THEM NOWHERE!
Please understand that Ben brings out the three-year-old in me. So, Nyah Nyah Na-Nyah Nyah.
Thanks for the memory, Cam! I love you both!

And now that I have gotten that small little belch out of my system, I'm going to go make myself a cup of tea. Below, as promised, part two of Catch the Frak up!

WELCOME TO THE DORK SIDE

Book Status: To keep all of us mostly sane as I wait for the next revision letter, I will switch to a "when there's news, I'll let you know" strategy on the book status. I know we will all be much happier that way.

BTW, have any of you heard from Ted? Let me know, kay?

Now have you heard from him?

Little Red status: He lifts me up where I belong, where the Eagles fly, on the mountain high. (picture me in Little Red's arms, cue credits)

*for those of you new to the blog, Little Red is my computer. Yes, I name my laptop. Yes, this is a pattern you will find in most of my posts. Yes, I cremated my old laptop (Newt). No, I'm not clinically insane. Yes, sometimes I talk to myself. What do you mean, I'm fat?

I usually post on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, so I'm thinking that Tuesday is the perfect day to post some of my whackier, geekier stuff. (You didn't think that was possible, did you?)

Do any of you know my favorite thing about January? No, it's not Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD). No, it's not the "beef stew" we refer to as "air" in the Salt Lake Valley. No, it's not the deflated holiday reindeer scattered in the yard that look like they've all been massacred by my hunter ex-boyfriend.

It's because January 2009 means the beginning of the final half of the final season of the fraktacular Battlestar Galactica! This Friday, the cylons and the twelve colonies are back. Who is the last cylon? Adama? Starbuck? Rosslyn? Apollo? I have a theory that it's Apollo. They finally found Earth, only it's a cinged crusty wasteland. What-the-Frak?!

If you are not quite up to date on everything, here's your chance to catch the frak up. (It's like 9 minutes, so watch it when you have a longer moment). For an overview, it is quite funny. It's part one of two. 2nd part to come tomorrow. **Sam is making me warn you all there are spoilers. So if you haven't seen any of the show, and you want to start from season one, and you want to be surprised, be forewarned.)



So, I'm thinking as a blog community, we should reserve Tuesdays to dish about the latest episodes. I promise to keep my mother-frakkin geek-pie-hole shut on the other days. And for those of you who are nervous about tripping over to the Dork Side, join me. Take my hand. Together, we will search for that elusive thirteenth colony.

YOU CAN DO THINGS THE EASY WAY, OR JACK BAUER'S WAY

Book status: Revision Complete! Emailed to Ted last night (this morning) at 1:30 a.m. Signed email with this little gem: "I go ni-night now." Yes, I wish I had just used "sincerely" but hopefully Ted's accustomed to my verbal vomit by now.

Sister Author status: My sister author Bree Despain (one of Ted's other clients) just sold her book! It's huge news, and you can read about it here. (She also has a really cool soundtrack for her book, so check it out). Sherpa Ted rules the world!

As is the case whenever I've been working on a revision, my house has gone to pot, and my brain has gone to goo. I started working on the house problem this morning, but before I cleaned my computer desk, I just had to take a picture of the mess.

I defy any of you to find the following items on your own computer desks: Entertainment Weekly, Michael Moore's Election Guide 2008, a random shoe, spaghetti noodles, a candy cane that's actually a pen, and the rest of the junk.

How did the shoe get there? Why was there only one? And what was I planning on doing with the Spaghetti noodles that required close proximity to my computer? These are questions I will be asking myself over and over in the coming weeks as I slowly go crazy waiting for Ted's next revision letter.

Last night, I took a break to watch the season premiere of '24'. Any 24 fans out there? I got to thinking how cool Jack Bauer is, and how if he were in my book, he would totally kick alien butt.

He'd grab any sharp object (like a ball point pen) and hold it over the bad alien's ear, like he's about to skewer his brain, and then he'd yell something like, "GIVE ME THE CODE!" or "TELL ME WHERE THE BOMB IS!" or "GUESS MY FAVORITE COLOR!!! NOW, PUNK!!!"

His interrogation methods always work, because the guy with the pen at his ear has most likely heard of Jack Bauer, and his kick-butt-i-ness, and he knows Jack doesn't bluff. If he doesn't guess Jack's favorite color, he's going to get a pen through the ear.

Sometimes Jack's methods don't win him any friends. His methods tend to get him kidnapped by the Chinese Government. His methods also tend to get his daughter attacked by a Puma in the wilderness. But, his methods save lives.

So I commissioned Jack Bauer to revise my book. I told him he could use whatever methods he wants, as long as Little Red is in no way harmed.

So Jack took a pen, held it to my manuscript's ear, and started shouting, "GIVE ME 5,000 WORDS! NOW!!!!"

My manuscript whimpered, "But, Mr. Bauer, every word is important to the plot! I swear, none of them are expendable."

My manuscript obviously had not heard of Jack Bauer's famous interrogation techniques.

By the time he was finished, Jack Bauer had shot my manuscript in the knee, and ripped my manuscripts nails out, until my manuscript finally said, "Okay, Mr. Bauer. I'll give you what you want. I'll give you 5,000 words. Take them. Please."

So as you are revising your own personal manuscripts, remember this piece of wisdom:
When you come face to face with Jack Bauer, you can do things the easy way or the hard way. The easy way is ingesting your cyanide pill.

I READ IT FOR THE ARTICLES... I PROMISE!

Little Red status: We're in the Honeymoon stage: blissfully in love, but still working out the kinks.

Why on earth did anyone make a computer that doesn't have two separate buttons for the delete function? Like a 'backspace' button, and a second 'delete' button that sucks the characters right after it into oblivion? Am I crazy? Don't any of you answer that!

Book status: Nearing the end of revisions. To get rid of words, I've taken to rewriting nearly every sentence to make it them each one word shorter. I'm beginning to think this may not be the most pragmatic approach. So next, I'm trying a machete.

So, book trailers. Have you heard of them? There are a ton on You Tube- It's like a trailer for a movie, only it's for a book. My new author friend Emily Wing Smith has a Young Adult book out called THE WAY HE LIVED (excellent read) and she has just finished creating a trailer for it. Click here to check it out.

Do any of you know how to do something like this? Or know someone who can? I would appreciate references! I think Emily's is seriously so cool. So naturally (because it's all about me) I started thinking about my own book trailer. About what my characters look like, and who I would pick to play their parts. I hesitate to do this, because I value what readers create inside their own heads. I loved hearing who my nieces would pick, and I didn't want to influence.

But if I don't do this, I won't have an excuse to show you gratuitous pictures of Rafael Nadal. He is the honey. And the jam. Yummm.

He's like number one in the world for tennis, and last month when I received my Tennis Magazine it was like Christmas came early. Actually, since it was last month, it was like Christmas came right on time. He is tall, Spanish, flowing hair mocha goodness. Coolest nickname: "Rafa".

Now I don't want to spoil anything, but there's a chance one of the characters in my book resembles him.

Check out his centerfold.

I'm only showing you this so you can get a sense of his... technique. Especially in the top left picture, which gives us an excellent perspective on the western grip of his racquet. What? You can't see his racquet in the top left pic? Hmmmmm. Well, study it a bit longer. All day, if needed. Now do you see it? Okay, try closing your eyes. Now do you see it?

The top middle shows you his playful side, with his devoted fans. He's like a soccer star! They cheer, and wave flags, and start brawls, and ingest a few pints during the match, and then when Rafa wins at Wimbledon, they stampede the royal box, trampling the Duchess of Kent. Every year! Rafa is so good, England has run out of Duchesses for them to trample.

And check out the left middle. He can do a one-handed push-up without even his feet touching the ground. He's got superpowers.

And he knows how to win matches. At the high cost of everything around him. He'd break his own bones, just to show the matches that he loves them. Wait a sec... I'm getting him a little confused with my book.

I can't really remember what my point was... Something about honey? Oh well, I'll just have to find some articles to read while I try to remember... As I come across possible candidates for my trailer, I'll post them.

UP TO HERE WITH THE STATUS UPDATES...

Today's post will just be a series of status updates, for your sake and mine.

Book status: cut all the "that"s. Turns out there were 10,000 of them. Just kidding.

Newt status: I have officially transferred over to Little Red (My Mac Book. I thought about calling him "mac", but that seems too obvious.)

In a last ditch attempt to grab my attention, Newt went out and got implants. I had to break it to him gently: implants just don't do it for me.

He asked to be cremated, and his ashes spread all over the new Mac Book. I agreed to cremate him, but instead of smothering Little Red, I told Newt he would leave his legacy by causing a small hole in the ozone. (What with the burning plastic and all.)

In fond farewell, he has left you all a message, and I quote: "WHHHHHIIIIIIRRRRRRRRRRR"
(That's the sound of his fan working overtime, to no avail. The darn thing still burned a hole in my blanket).

Sanity status: abandoned ship long ago. Thought of creating an Oedipal complex just for fun, but couldn't find any spare daggers. Anyone have a few windmills I can chase? Speaking of windmills (which I'm sure you all were), I always wanted to marry someone with the last name Quixote. I would have changed my last name for that one. Just say it. Brodi Quixote. Marrying Truman Capote came in a close second. Just random facts to illustrate the sanity status.

Archie the Great: still a tool. But, when he attacked me yesterday, I laid a trap for him. Yes, he killed most of my troops, but my troops took half of his cavalry with them. My soldiers were very brave, and died honorable deaths. The ones who survived have been charged with the task of revising my book. I can't wait to see what they come up with.

Cheap Thrills status: nothing more entertaining right now than the U.S. senate showdown. Here's hoping it turns into an Old West shootout. (A girl can dream, can't she?)

Any more suggestions as to words I can cut, send them along my way.
For those of you still reading, thank you for hanging in there!

This may be the crazy in me talking, but I love you all. Like really really a lot a lot. (I stole that last line from my book. Stellar isn't it?)

BRAIN FLATULANCE... AND DOWN WITH ARCHIE THE GREAT!!

Book Status: Must cut. Must fight strange compulsion to add and add.

In order to cut, I ask for your help. Please send along a list of words you could live without, and then I'll cut them from my book. The problem is, my book currently feels like it's exactly 5,000 words long, and I'm supposed to cut 5,000 words. I'll cut a 'the' from the manuscript, and then I'll re-read it and the entire book falls apart in its absence.

I need to not be so attached. So I keep chanting to myself: Kill those darlings! Kill them all! Death to words!

In all seriousness, Sensei Ted has once again proven his worth. His changes really have made it a better book. Curses!

Newt Status: Divorce proceedings have begun. I got me a shiny new Mac Book. I'm trading Newt in for a newer model. Not in the 'younger hotter wife' sense, but literally a newer model.

My new Mac Book is beautiful, and red. But it currently falls in the same category as my remodeled kitchen: It's too pretty to mess it up by cooking something in it. So for now, I'm typing this on trusty old Newt, and the Mac Book has been bronzed and is hanging above my fireplace.

Geek status: Enormous. Bigger than ever, and here's why. I've been playing this online game called Travian. I've built my own little kingdom, and I'm not going to tell you the name of it, for fear of being targeted, but I will say it's something along the lines of Brodilvania, or Ashtontonia, or even geekier. Here is an example of what a village looks like.
And let me tell you, it takes, like forever, to build up your resources and your village. Seriously, I've had to hire an extra nanny just to give me the freedom to do this.

Anyway, over the weekend, another village (whose leader calls himself Archie the Great!!) attacked me over and over, and raided my kingdom, and massacred my troops. And my little dog too.

It was so rude. And I cried. Out loud. My only excuse is that my revisions have messed up the emotional cortex of my brain.

So here is my second plea... If any of you are on Travian, or know of someone who is, could you pull some strings and attack Archie the Great!! for me? (When you are searching for his village, include the two exclamation points). He's a big fat meanie, and he needs to be destroyed.

That being said, I am fairly certain none of you even know what I'm talking about, because my readers have a higher coolness quotient than I do, but just in case there is a fellow geek out there, who can feel my pain, I am swallowing my pride (as I do nearly every post) and asking for help.

My sis-in-law Eden says with this new little obsession of mine, I have surpassed even trekkies in geekness. To which I reply: I may play Travian on my computer, but I have never dressed up as a "land-owner" or an invading "conquerer", I have never donned any sort of alien pointy ears, and I have never adopted any sort of catchphrases like "Live Long and Prosper" or "Darn you Kahn, Darn you straight to Heck!"

To the members of my Travian alliance (the totally cool "Wolf-Divine Light" pack), I leave you with this message: "Loyalty to the alliance, now and always!"

What? You're telling me that's a catch-phrase? Crap. Well, one for three ain't bad.

A BLOW TO MY EGO BY THE HAIRLESS CAT

New Year's status: Survived the first day of 2009. No bloodshed. Maybe this is the year we have Peace on Earth...

Book status: I thought there was no bloody way I would have to add 5,000 words. So, I'm halfway through my revision, and I've added 4,998 words. Crap. At this rate, it will be 10,000 words too long. (Because for every word I add, I have to take another one away.)

Needless to say, this will affect my...

BLOG STATUS: sporadic, at best.

But I would like to leave you with this quick thought:

Meet Smoky the Hairless cat. Believe it or not, Smoky was our cat for an entire two week period.

Isn't he cute? Kind of like a chihuahua had a forbidden love affair with a rat, or possibly a menage a trois with the addition of a bat.

Why did we only have this dear cat/rat/bat for two weeks, you may wonder? Well, I am insanely allergic to cats, and apparently it has nothing to do with hair.

So Smoky went for an extended 'sleep-over' to my sis-in-law's Eden. (We told little Carter he was just visiting. He's now been there for three months.)

I know what many of you are thinking when you look at his picture: Is there anything creepier on the face of this Earth? Or in Hell? those are demon eyes!



Before you go thinking you're all that, with your normal eyes, and your over-rated hair, and your non-creepy ways, ponder this:

Smoky's friend list on Facebook has topped 200. And he's been on Facebook for only a couple months. I've been on Facebook longer, and my friend count is only at 135.

Now, don't go shaving your head just yet, but take away from it this eloquent lesson:
(To view lesson, look at picture and press "play")




His latest friend request is from a cat named "Bogey Sniggles", so I guess that makes me feel a little better...