TWILIGHT WITH A NEW TWILIGHT VIRGIN

Follower status: 28. Wow. The pressure. I feel a little like I'm tap dancing, in a room with no music, singing a really bad version of "Let Me Entertain You" a capella.

Welcome to all of you Newbies. I've already received several book requests (a lot of Sarah Dessen... interesting).

For those of you who have yet to request a Young Adult book, click here to email me your choice.

THE BASICS
Purpose of the Blog: I write Young Adult fiction, and I'm in the process of trying to get my first book published. You can vote on the best title here. But the blog has sort of devolved into an amalgam of ramblings from my mutant mush brain.

On your right is the schedule of when you can expect a blog. Toward the back, on either side, are the emergency exits, in case my blog begins a sudden descent into the pits of virtual doom.

Ummmm..... How about a tour of the main players on the blog?

1. Rafael Nadal/Rafa/Mocha-honey: Tennis player. (#1 in the world). My virtual main squeeze. You can read about him here.

2. Ted/Sherpa Ted/Sensei Ted: My agent in New York. He's like the Yin and the Yang; he brings the joy (Yay! He's my agent! He loves my book!) and he brings the pain (Ah crap. Another revision letter). Find out how he got the name "Sherpa" here.

3. Sam: The third man in my life. (Number one in Utah, babe). AKA- the man who puts up with me. (Even though he eats my cake. You can read about it here.)

4. Little Red: my Mac Book. Wanna know how a PC dies a slow, painful, bloody death? You can read about it here. Yes, I named my laptop. I'm a dork, striving for full geek status.

5. Milky Way Cake.

Now, onto the main festivities!

TWILIGHT WITH MY NUMBER THREE MAN








Many of you may know, Sam lost a bet to me and therefore was forced to see Twilight with me. (The bet involved his incredulity regarding the existence of the phrase "Hang on Spider Monkey" in the movie).

You can read his own version on his blog. He took the whole experience better than I would have thought possible. And in some places, better than me.

For instance, in the meadow/sparkly skin scene. I have a really hard time with the lovey-dovey, and so I was just cringing. But Sam kept his cool.

me: "Each time they talk, don't you just die a little death, inside?"

Sam: "No. I could live without the porn glitter on the vamp, but when is the 'So the lion fell in love with the lamb' line?" (Because I've been complaining about that line a lot. Some lines are better read, not spoken).

me (Yelling at the screen): "It's right now! Please don't say it! Please let this time (my 16th time seeing it) be the time you don't say it!" But, of course, they said it.

Sam: "It wasn't that bad."

me: "Are you kidding? It shaved another year off my life!"

Sam (visibly exasperated): "What would you have written?"

me: "I desperately wanted Bella to answer that line with 'Okay, so which one of us is the lion, in your scenario'."

Sam: "And that's why you can't write romance. But I have to admit, the 'personal brand of heroin' line made me taste my own bile. A little."

I feel sort of like a 10 year old boy when I watch romantic scenes. Like, I'm thinking to myself, "Ewwwwww, he just kissed her. Yuck." Seriously, I need to grow up.

So, Sam survived. And I think he liked it more than he cares to admit. In fact, I know he liked it, because yesterday he says to me, out of the blue, "You know who would play a great Lane?" (Lane is the main character in my book. We like to pretend it's going to be a movie someday. Right after Rafa asks me out.)

"That girl who played Alice Cullen. She's quirky, and spunky. I could totally see her playing Lane."

As he's speaking, he's staring off into the distance. So I check out his blog, and he's got a picture of her on his blog. Oh well. I can't blame him. I haven't really stopped talking about Jasper. Then there's the whole Rafa thing. So Sam's free to like Alice Cullen. Technically, I'm his number three woman, behind Alice Cullen and Rebecca De Mornay.

WELCOME TO THE DORK SIDE... AND HOW SAM MIGHT NOT SURVIVE THE WEEK

Revision status: Keepin' on keepin' on.

Follower Status: Wooo Hoo! We now have 20 followers! So, all of you newbies, please email your book of choice pronto. (You can find my email address here )

And just because my heart has grown three sizes since yesterday, I'll also give three more books to the next three followers! (I prefer Young Adult book choices, but I am willing to negotiate). Sam will be so thrilled when he reads this!

Milky Way Cake Status (a.k.a.: how my husband will spend the next week suffering my wrath in the pits of my despair!): So, last night some awesome neighbors invited us over for dessert. Actually, dessert doesn't do it justice. They need a new word for the cake my friend made- something that encapsulates Heaven, gooey-goodness, bucket of butter and Yummmm.

She called this mound of paradise "Milky Way Cake."

Here are the ingredients in a nutshell:
100 milky way candy bars
100 pounds of Butter
pinch of flour
truckload of sugar

How can you go wrong?

So, she sent us each home with a giant chunk of the delectable goo. I couldn't eat any more last night, so this morning I was anticipating the yumm.

But when I woke up, the cake was nowhere to be found. Anywhere. Not a crumb. And I licked every crumb around just to see if it was the crumb I was looking for.

There could only be one culprit to this debauchery. So I took a deep, calming breath, and dialed Sam.

Upon answering, he could tell I was about to transform into a fire-breathing Medusa (he knows me so well), so he thought it would soften the blow somewhat if he told me this little gem:
"Well, yeah, I had a couple of bites, and then I... um... threw the rest away."

I don't know why he thought I would be less mad knowing it was in the trash. The pathetic part is, I actually hoped he was telling the truth. That the cake was in the trash, and somehow salvageable.

But it was a lie. The booger ate the cake.

Yeah, my heart shrank back down to its regular size.





DORK SIDE

I have got to say, it's a good time to be a geek. This week was totally tubular for geeks around the world.

24
Day seven of the crappiest days of Jack's life focuses on a missing "C-I-P device" that, apparently, can bring about a buttload of destruction by... um... well, I'm not really clear on how it happens.

Anyone else think the writers randomly picked three letters out of the alphabet, added the word "device" and threw it into the plot? Just once, I would like one of the characters to suddenly say, "CIP device? What the heck is a CIP device? It doesn't make any sense. Nothing like that exists."

LOST
The island is still on the time skip, and at one point, Sawyer got to see Kate again. And I nearly cried, the scene was so sweet. There's something about seeing a big, strong, manly man going all softy over the "memory" of a girl.





BSG
I have saved the best for last. BEST EPISODE EVER! The conclusion to the coup attempt by Gaeta had me on the edge, yelling at the television screen.

I made two main discoveries about myself (one of which is quite disturbing):

1. I never want to be on the receiving end when President Laura Roslin yells, "We're taking every gun and every bomb and we're coming for YOU!"

2. When Gaeta and Zerick were sitting in front of the firing squad, about to be cast out the airlock, I found myself chanting, "shoot, shoot, shoot, shoot, open the airlock, open the airlock, open the airlock."

It made me wonder if I would have been one of those bloodthirsty observers at the Guillotine, eating popcorn and shouting things like, "Drop the blade, kill ze rich! Down with the monarchy!"

Did I mention Sam ate my cake? I bet he's excited to come home tonight... Mwah ha ha.

A KAMAKAZI MOTH... AND YOUR CHANCE FOR A FREE BOOK!

Book Status: The Sherpa has spoken, and revisions are underway. Again.

Suicidal moth status: So I’m making myself my morning hot beverage, just the right ingredients, blended into perfection, and suddenly a kamakazi moth decides there’s no better way to exit this world than to dive into near boiling froth. I hadn’t even taken a sip, when the little suicide bomber crash-landed on the foam, where he spread his wings like an angel, regretted he had but one life to give for his cause, and promptly melted away.
As I stared at the ruined drink, I couldn’t help wondering if this random act of violence was any indication of how my day would be.

Then I got my revision letter from Ted. And I started desperately searching for some boiling liquid into which I could swan-dive.

Just kidding! The revisions are not that bad. And I have no wings, so it couldn’t possibly be as poetic an act as the moth’s. So instead of a graceful exit from this existence, I will just sit at my Little Red (my MacBook for you newbies) and crank out the revisions.

SPECIAL ONE TIME OFFER! ACT FAST!

Okay, so perhaps you have heard of the doom and gloom of the publishing industry at present.

I figure the best reaction is pro-action. (Is that how the saying goes?) The best move is a re-move. Wait, that can’t be right. The best course is a re-course. Whatever. So here’s my big, evil plan. Mwah-ha-ha.

Through my blog, I will gain so many viewers who will buy my book, so the publishers will look at me as a very safe bet. This is where you all play a part.

I currently have 11 followers. (Already enough to guarantee a best-seller, I’m sure).

So, for the next five people that sign up to follow my blog… I will send a brand new book of your choice!! And I would love it if I don’t know you already! (But since chances are slim, it’s okay if I have already made your acquaintance.)

Here’s how it works: sign up to follow my blog using the link at the right. (Or however you do it.) Then go to my website www.brodiashton.com and click on the contact me button, and send me an email with your address and your Young Adult book choice.

And I will send it to you! You have nothing to lose, and everything (well, one book, at least) to gain!

For my current followers, I have not forgotten you! If you want a free book, all you have to do is convince two people to follow my blog, then email me and let me know the two you referred, and I will send you a book as well.

So by the end, I will have doubled my followers (let’s aim for 22, kay?) plus I will have single-handedly rescued the publishers! No Congressional Acts necessary!

Now that’s change we can believe in.

To reiterate, here’s the plan in three simple steps:

1. Gain 22 followers.
2. Take over the world, Pinky and the Brain style.
3. Get my book published.

My next plan of attack will involve figuring out what the heck a Twitter is, and how it is fundamentally different from a Tweet.

If this doesn’t work, I will dive into hot lava. I would really like to postpone this move, since it would probably be my last, so let’s all cross our fingers that option #1 works.

Tweet y’all later!
Tweety out.

(Am I tweeting right?)

WHEN CHILDHOOD BITES YOU IN THE BUM.....

Hi Y'all. Hope you enjoyed your day off from my blog!

A Great and Terrible Beauty status: I have to admit. I'm taking my own sweet time reading this. And I keep looking longingly at the other books on my nightstand.

I know I should just 'love the one I'm with', but I can't help it. I'm sort of ogling 'Graceling'.

A GIRLS' NIGHT OUT and HOW I MADE THE NAUGHTY LIST:

So, I was out with my lady cousins (A, K and W) the other night for a girls night out. We went to Paradise Bakery for dinner, and then we went shopping at Barnes and Noble, where I told them each to pick a young adult book and I'd get it for them.

Their reactions ran the gamut.

First there was cousin K. Excited about the prospect.
Cousin K: "Great. I pick The Hunger Games."

Then there was cousin A. When I said "I'll buy you a book" she must have heard "I'll drown a couple puppies in your honor." Her face was a mixture of confusion and terror.

Here's the transcript (slightly embellished by moi):

me: "I love puppies. I would never drown them. All I want to do is buy you a book."

cousin A (looking a little scared): "But... but... Libraries!"

me: "That's the whole point. Buying you a young adult book helps me. Stimulates the economy. It will all come full circle. So, pick one."

cousin A: "Which one?"

me: "Well, cousin K is getting the Hunger Games. How about that one?"

A: "Is it dark?"

me: "Um... no. It's about puppies."

A: "Because I don't like dark books."

me (wondering how in the world to describe the Hunger Games so it doesn't sound dark): "It takes place in a dystopian future."

A: "Dystopian?"

me: "Yeah. Kind of like Disneyland. It's about a fun group of teenagers, who were handpicked to compete in a contest-"

A: "That doesn't sound so bad."

me: "-Where they fight to the death."

A: Stunned silence. Awkward pause.

me and cousin K: "On second thought, how about the Goose Girl?"

Then there was Cousin W: "Do they have any Young Adult Kamasutra books?"

me: "How about 'Pants on Fire'?"

So, we each left with a couple of books (some of us more grudgingly than others), and the glowing feeling that we helped the struggling publishing industry.

Cousin Facebook status:

At dinner, we got talking about facebook updates, and discovered that only half of us were getting updates from cousin... um... Z.

Cousin Z finally fessed up to having "naughty" and "nice" lists, and so some "nice" people don't get to see all of her conversations.

Apparently I was the only one who made the "naughty" list.

Cousin K was all, "Why am I on the nice list?"

And I'm all, "Maybe I should be asking what I did to get on the naughty list?"

While we were shopping later, I think I discovered how I made the list. Cousin W started reminiscing about when we were all little kids, and we had sleepovers, and, oh yeah, remember the time Brodi kept drawing all those naughty pictures?

I'm like, "What naughty pictures?"

W: "You kept drawing pics of a certain part of the male anatomy." (Sounds like an ex-tenz commerical, I know)

me: "Like on a piece of paper?"

W: "No. Like on a chalkboard. Big drawings."

me: "Ah man. Did you have to pick that moment to have a photographic memory?"

So, I'm pretty sure that's how you make the naughty list.

Enjoy the weekend. I'm going to my friend's shower tomorrow (this time it will be scientifically impossible to show up a week early).

HAPPY WHIPPLE-VERSARY DAD!

A year and a half ago, my Dad was diagnosed with Pancreatic Cancer.

And a year ago this week, he had one of the most complicated and intense surgeries ever.

The procedure is called THE WHIPPLE. I know, I know, it sounds harmless, right?

It should be called something like: THE BEASTMASTER or THE VORTEX OF FIRE or something else along those lines.

Doctors love their diagrams. One particular day, pre-surgery, we asked a doctor a question, and he answered it by drawing this:

I have no idea what the original question was, but the answer must have been "BANANA."

Before the procedure, they will show you pictures like these:









I prefer my own interpretation of the surgery, with my own diagrams.














The basic rules of THE WHIPPLE (In Brodi's mind) are threefold:

1. Anytime you find an organ, cut it in half. Remove the half that was closest to the pancreas.

2. Sew the remaining halves back together. Keep in mind, after THE WHIPPLE, the knee bone will no longer be connected to the thigh bone, except via the jawbone of an ass.

3. If you hear a loud BUZZ, or if the patient's nose turns red, you must start over.

Congratulations, Dad, on surviving! Happy Whipple-versary!

TUESDAY'S DORK SIDE... STARBUCK FINALLY GETS TO KICK SOME...

Don't forget to vote on my book title! (My niece Lily is hosting the vote...)

Mother of the Year status:
In a moment of sheer stupidity, I taught my 6-year old son the joy of answering questions with this little gem:
"I know you are, but what am I?"

Seriously, at this point I really am wondering, what AM I? What was I thinking?

Me: "Carter, do you want spaghetti?"

Carter: "I know you are spaghetti, but what am I?"

Followed by hysterical laughter. Repeat 200 times.

Tomorrow, we're working on "I'm rubber, you're glue..."

Anyone want a gently used 6-year old? For free?

24
For being shot in the neck, covered in a plastic sheet, buried alive and left for dead, the red-headed FBI chick sure has attitude problems. It's like she's never heard of Jack Bauer!

Favorite moment: Jack Bauer finally uses his awesome rep when the President asks him how she's supposed to know he's trustworthy.

"With all due respect, Madame President, ask around."

Dude, she just got Jack'ed!

BSG

We are hanging on to a serious cliff...
The coup has begun.
It was so refreshing to see Starbuck get back to her kick-butting roots. I'm hoping the conclusion will somehow involve these five ingredients:

1. Starbuck
2. Gaeta
3. Her foot
4. His bum
5. No windows and no doors

Yeah, you better watch your back. She's coming for you. And it's not going to be pretty.

If Apollo never wears a tie again, it will be too soon. He needs to ditch the politics, loosen the tie, and get back to ... um... whatever it was he was doing before.




Anyone else think Admiral Adama is really the dying leader, and not the President?

BLAH BLAH BLAH... AND MAYBE A WORD OR TWO ABOUT RAFA

New Addition: My cute niece Lily is holding a vote on possible titles for my book.* (Echo vs. The Echo Lives in Blackfoot). Which title would you sooner buy? So please click here to vote on your favorite!

*This is all for fun, and may or may not have any bearing on the actual title.

Patience Status: Patience runneth over. Zen holding strong. Peace aboundeth.
So, for the love of the universe, STOP ASKING!!! Or somebody is gonna lose a finger! AARRRRRGGGGGHHHHHHH!!!!!!

I kid. But I may have been exaggerating about the patience...

It was a long weekend, filled with gumby-headed moves. I hope they entertain.

GUMBY-HEAD MOVE #1:
Showed up to my friend's baby shower one week early (but still 45 minutes late):

Yep. Knocked on the door, big huge purple present in hand, and the husband answers. In his pajamas. (Keep in mind, I've never met him.)

Him: "Um, I think it's next week."

me: "Don't be ridiculous. I checked the invitation like a hundred times."

Him (asking his wife on cell phone): "Yep, it's not til next week."

me (totally embarassed): "Whoops."

Him: "What's your name? So I can tell my wife?" (So he can tell his wife who the gumby-head is).

me: "Ummmmm..." I momentarily considered owning up to my mistake, but instead I took off running! "You'll never know my name!! So long sucker!!!"

Him (To his wife on the phone): "She's running away. So I'll just point her out next week."

So, yes Monae, it was me.


GUMBY-HEAD MOVE #2

Mother of the Year Status:

So, I'm taking Carter (6 years old) to tennis, and Beckham (3 years old) is tagging along. I get following Carter in to the tennis courts, and I'm talking to my sister and her daughter (Necie- 5) and I'm thinking: "Boy, Necie and Carter in the same class. This could be trouble. I hope Erin keeps her eye on Necie."

When all of a sudden, Erin turns to me: "Where's Beckham?"

And I'm stumped.

So here was my thought process in response to Erin's question:
1. Beckham who?
2. Oh yeah, Beckham my son.
3. I brought him, didn't I?
4. Yes. So, at what point did I lose him? Retrace your steps, Brodi.

I ran back through the courts, out the heavy doors, where Beckham was wandering aimlessly, like a little lost street urchin.

So, for those of you wishing to nominate me for mother of the year, maybe rethink that decision...

Congratulations, Rafa! Australian Open Champion! First hardcourt major title!

I bet you all thought I'd have started this post talking about my mocha-honey's stellar performance in the Australian Open Championship match. Well, I am not that obsessed. I mean, perhaps it deserves a mention. But nothing more. Because, as the saying goes, woman shall not live on biceps alone.

He has so much more to him. Like intensity.My sister-in-law Emily says he's boring. He's only got one face; that look of determination. But below is proof he has another face besides the look of determination. And it's kinda goofy.


After the final point, he levitated inches off the ground just to entertain the crowd.

His greatest rival is Roger Federer. A totally classy player, who's made tennis practically an art form. When Rafa beat him, Roger was going for his 14th major title, to tie Pete Sampras' record. But Rafa stood in his way.

I wish he'd stand in my way. Do any of my readers have the ability to make it so?


Okay, okay. Calm down. Fine. I'll include one gratuitous shot of Rafa, just because I'm giving in to your demands. But I am rolling my eyes the entire time, and I am grudgingly obliging, because I like you all so much.


Reading other people's book status:
Still working on "A Great and Terrible Beauty." I think a few of my readers are joining in, so feel free to do the same.

In the cue: "Graceling" and then "The Book Thief."