Eve tagged me.
As Michael Corleone said—I will visit her soon. :razz:
Meanwhile, I’m supposed to list SIX WEIRD THINGS ABOUT ME.
The challenge, of course, was narrowing this down to SIX. 
And I’m not sure what constitutes weird, but anyway…
SIX WEIRD THINGS ABOUT ME
1) With the possible exception of skin color, I look like absolutely no one else in my family, and like no one has within anyone’s memory or since the advent of photography.
(So if my REAL Mom & Dad are anywhere out there—send the limo to pick me up, please, and bring lotsa money). :waving:
2) I don’t like my food mixed on a plate. Yeah, I know, it gets mixed-up in your stomach. Don’t bother me with logic. This is MY weirdness. 
3) I know the theme songs, including words, of virtually every tv show I saw before the age of 35. And yes, a mind is a terrible thing to waste… 
4) I have seriously out-of-whack chi. I’m talking exploding glass, lots of electrical malfunctions, etc., etc. Don’t believe me. But lock up your good stuff when I come to call. 
5) I’m a Mumford Supreme. People confide. Total strangers will start up conversations, and within 2-5 minutes tell me their most secret secrets. If I was into blackmail, I’d have enough stuff on people in this town to live comfortably for the rest of my life. :thumbsup:
6) As a child, I had a constantly recurring nightmare. Scary stuff. I still think about it. I was walking down a dark alley. Dirt, soot, trash cans, dark bricks. I’m this little kid, all alone. The only sign of light is at the other end of the alley. From where I am, it looks like a door. I’m scared, I feel like crying. But I take one step. Another. I get this deep feeling of foreboding. Another step, another. I just know something awful is about to happen…closer. Closer to the doorway. It has a window shade over the glass. No, wait— it’s not a window shade…it’s like a movie screen. With a still picture. And suddenly that picture begins to shift, to move. Like a monster, slowly, horrifyingly coming to life. And I’m too frightened to run back into the dark, and I’m terrified and I scream, and I recognize that person, that person on the shade is…is… :shock: :shock: :shock:
(more…)
Love alliterations?
Tongue-twisters?
Finely-crafted sentences by deviants?
Just feel like looking at a bunch of dirty words?
Go HERE.
(Eve, I’ll post the answers to your ‘tag’ on the next post.
The revenge, however, will be served COLD.) :twisted:
(Raine, a little tired and ready for bed, suddenly finds herself tinkering with the beginning of a story over the weekend…)
One sentence. I’m only going to write one sentence, I swear, just to say I wrote SOMETHING. Lessee…
“Vlad the vampire was out for blood.”
:neutral: :neutral: :neutral:
There it is. One sentence. Just like I said. But it’s kinda pitiful, isn’t it? I mean, I can’t just leave it that way. Maybe I can build it up, just a little…
Okay, lessee… “Vlad hunkered in the shadows of the grime-darkened street, weaving between the large metal cans, his fangs aching for flesh. His taste for blood, far more specialized than most, was nearly as keen as his taste for the ladies. And the tall, Amazonian woman strutting down the avenue would serve both purposes very nicely.”
Hey–that doesn’t sound too bad! :razz:
But crap–now that little paragraph brings up all kinds of questions…why is he hunkering? Is he a hunchbacked vampire? Why hang around a dirty street? Is he a soot-sadist? What’s with the metal cans? Is he Lord of the Toxic Waste Dump? And what’s this specialized blood taste? RH-Negative junkie, doomed to ask for blood type before sex?
And what about a history of his people? A biography of the character? A strict plotline for the action in the story? A bio of the heroine? What will their relationship will be like? What’s the time period? Is it an alternate-Earth story? How do those teeth work? Are they retractable? What happens when they get cavities?
(Raine, suddenly VERY tired, does not seem to have the energy for building the necessary vampire world, but wants to keep the essence, the dignity, the epic feeling of the story…)
“Vlad, staggering drunk in the alley, counted his change before he approached the cheap crack ho… “
:yesyesyes: :yesyesyes: :yesyesyes:
In 1847, Charlotte Bronte’s Jane Eyre, possibly my favorite book, was published. It was originally published under the author’s name “Currer Bell”. Why? Here, from Charlotte’s own words…
…”we veiled our own names under those of Currer, Ellis, and Acton Bell…assuming Christian names positively masculine, while we did not like to declare ourselves women, because… we had a vague impression that authoresses are liable to be looked on with prejudice…”
And in case you’re cringing at the idea of discrimination and thinking, “thank God we live in a modern society!”—take a gander at Cece’s Buzz, then a trip over to Millenia’s post about what her publisher is reportedly requiring her to do.
And this is WHAT year?
It’s called blog sluttage. :smile:
What does it mean?
It means thank GOD there are people out there with more interesting lives than mine! :thumbsup:
Cece has posted the results of a fascinating mini-poll on self-promotion, what attracts readers and what doesn’t, and why more and more people are e-pubbing. Go forth and learn.
Paperback Writer has been kidnapped. You may help save her from a fate worse than death.
Can’t find a thing to wear? Jordan’s shopping. :nonono:
Rumor has it that Jaye WAS the “happening” in Vegas, and so must stay there for the rest of her life. I’m working with a blogging underground to take over her site. 
Sometimes Sasha just can’t help herself. At least, that’s the story… :razz:
And THIS, shamelessly swiped from the Pub Rants of Agent Kristin, is a HOWL. I’m talking bwaaaa-ha-ha-haaaaaa!!!!!!!!!!!
Need a laugh? Go, with my blessing. :waving:
My nephew doesn’t view this site. That’s cool—he’s only 17, so he’d have no business here anyway.
But it doesn’t matter whether he ever sees this or not. He already knows how I feel.
Now, Auntie Raine has been known to torment be a little hard on her favorite children. :twisted:
But this is a treasure of a kid. Despite many problems, health issues, and obstacles, this kid has made it through high school with a 4.0 g.p.a. He’s worked every summer to save money for college. He recently applied to several, and was accepted.
He chose a PRIVATE college in California. When I heard that the tuition, housing, books, etc. would amount to close to $29,000 A YEAR, I damn near had a stroke. No one in my family has that kind of money. :shock:
This young man has just pulled in a scholarship for $24,000 a year. For each of the four years.
And he’s still working on grants.
I’m so damn proud of him I could burst. :mrgreen: :mrgreen: :mrgreen:
Besides the happiness the news brought, there was a quick rush of an old memory for me. For an instant, I remembered the sensation of being that young, that hopeful, that…indomitable. Having your whole life ahead of you, the entire world before you, and looking forward to the challenge. :yesyesyes:
How sad that most of us lose that to rules, society, seeming defeat, negative people, or just plain, old-fashioned getting worn down!
Experience is a wonderful teacher. It can also be a cruel corrupter.
It’s a very fine line to walk, isn’t it?
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