The Things You Blog About Before You Shower

I'll probably not elaborate on any of these.

Bright spots: reading, mini quiches, lunch with the girls in a bar with a baby, finishing a story, starting a story, submitting a story, receiving a story from someone else, having a dream I lived in a gigantic old house with Julian Zugazagoitia (the foxy new director of the Nelson-Atkins), new blender, new table, clean house, writing so I can get out of myself (yeah, yeah, I know--ugh), being recognized for one of my stories last month, still being in love with Josh after all these years.

Burnt spots: a story rejection, snow, snow, snow, possibly freaking out a friend with an honest compliment, early episodes of the Twilight Zone, working out till my body's sore, broken new blender, lumpy hummus, blogging when I have nothing worth blogging about.

Kinda crispy spots: my last paycheck from the museum, renewed toska, French.

Anyway, it's Friday and that's great. I'll get drunk tonight, I think. Pick my poison? If you pick wine or bourbon, you can be my drinking buddy. If you pick beer, yeah, that's more than fine too.

How About I Say Some Things

Listen, I think I just killed the new blender. I made lima bean hummus in it, and in my pursuit for the creamiest hummus ever, I think I burned out the motor. Whoops. Maybe it'll come back to life when it cools down? Yeah, I know, probably not. Damn, damn, damn.

I finished the ostrich story, which is really not an ostrich story, but a story in which ostriches make a minor appearance. It's totally a NSFW story. I guess. NSFW doesn't mean much when you don't have any work. That was unemployment humor. *cue the sound of deflating balloons*

It's snowing right now. Beautiful and annoying. I'm sick of winter. Blah, blah, blah. Let's complain about winter some more. I'll put on my fur-lined hoodie and you put on your mittens and we'll have us an old-fashioned bitch fest out on the snow-covered front porch. You bring the cigarettes and I'll bring the makings for hot chocolate. Minus the marshmallows. Plus the bourbon. I'm on this anti-marshmallow/pro-bourbon kick. It comes and it goes.

I'm going to make tiny crustless quiches in muffin cups now. How's that strike you?

A New Family Member (OK, It's Just a Blender)

Recently, I received dubious advice. It's the best kind of advice to receive. I like when conversations start with, "Let me give you some advice," or, "If you want my advice. . ." If people want your advice, they'll ask you for it. I always ask for the dubious advice I receive, otherwise, it's worth nothing. I don't know why I'm talking about advice. It's because I don't want to talk about why I was asking for advice in the first place. Seriously, it's none of your business.

Josh's stepmother bought us a new blender, a nice one with a glass pitcher. Let's hope Josh doesn't break this one too. Between you and me, I think he broke the old blender on purpose. Don't tell a soul, OK guys?

I've been watching some good movies. In no quantifiable order: The Red Shoes, The Class, Charade, Fantastic Mr. Fox, and The Last Days of Disco.

I've been reading some good stories, too. Most of them online, but some in Amelia Gray's Museum of the Weird. I also started War and Peace on my e-reader, mostly because I think that's hilarious. Reading is important. I'll probably say that a lot on here. If you're not spending any part of your day reading a book, I at least hope you're baking something delicious.

The story I'm working on right now has ostriches in it. I had to look on YouTube for ostrich noises. I had no idea they sounded like that. I bet you didn't either. When you read my story, you'll know how they sound. I'm not going to waste the image here.

I kind of want to use this blender, but all I have in the house is bourbon.

Pleasure Me Guilty

There's this Chinese take-out place a few blocks away that Josh and I kind of like. I mean, it's not the best, but it's take-out, so what do you expect?

I've started getting the "special" Phad Thai from this place and I really, really like it. There's this sweet and smoky flavor that I can never quite place, but it's so familiar and delicious. Last night, I placed it. It's barbecue sauce. Hmmm. Yeah, I'm still going to eat there, like, all the time. Maybe even more.

Another rejection, another day. But another submission, another chance. I'm polishing one story. Wait, sidebar. I really have trouble with the word "polishing". I always read it as "Polish-ing". And then I think of sausage and then I think of currywurst, which I've never had, but I'd probably like because I love curry. I almost named this blog "Vicious Curry". OK. No I didn't. But I really love curry. I seriously hope I die with the taste of curry on my tongue. If you plan on killing me, do it after I've had curry, please.

Actually, don't kill me. If you're planning on it, don't.

Anyway, I'm polishing this story about my coming out experience. I've been trying to write it for nine years, but only now am I removed enough. I know, right? Being gay is such drama. I'm also shopping this museum guard story around, but it keeps getting rejected. I fiddled with it today and submitted it somewhere I've never submitted anything before. Let's all cross our fingers, m'kay?

I've started this story about a man stuck on a sailboat in a hurricane. He's mourning the loss of his lover. It's a further exploration of this stupid poem I wrote in college. So far, it's a pretty good story. Especially since I know NOTHING about sailing.

Speaking of sailing, I was once part of the crew of a sailboat. Back in my teenage churchy days, I sailed to the Bahamas with my youth group. We all "learned" how to sail, but the only thing I really did was draw in my sketchbook. Oh, and collect seashells. We all laid around on a beach one day, and I brought back some shells and scattered them on the deck to dry. The captain threw them overboard and then went on an Ahabesque tirade about unnecessary clutter. Yeah, I was pretty pissed. But really, they were just seashells.

We also used dish soap to bathe in the ocean . That's what I know about sailing. Lemon-scented dish soap.

New Year, New Blog, New Stories

I used to have a blog, not this blog, but now I have this blog, so you better get used to it, OK?

I have a story at Necessary Fiction. I have a story at Staccato Fiction. Read them, if you please. I plan to have other stories elsewhere. I'll let you know how that works out for me.

I've received three rejections in 2011 so far. No acceptances. I won't make this into a rejection blog. Roxane Gay already does that far better than I ever would. Read her blog. Read her stories. Just read, God.

I'm a museum guard, sometimes. Right now, I'm not. I mean, I guess I'm on reserve. There's a special exhibit in April and I'll go back to work that for a few months if nothing else comes along. My most recent stint there ended yesterday. I liked the other temporary people I worked with. Out of the group of us, I liked almost all of them. That's a rare treat indeed, like those foreign candies you buy at World Market because they seem so exotic even though they're really just chocolate or gummies or licorice with different names.