Mask Obsessed.

All of a sudden, I'm consumed by the fascination of things that does not look like what they appear to be.

Mask. Disguise. Undercover . Incognito. Et Cetera, Et Cetera, Et Cetera.

Lalala...

End of an Era.

Okay. So. Twu Wuv Week has ended.

I'm starting off this week extremely cranky. May I drink to all ze fitzbatch out there? It sux to be a girl, yo!

Watch out, World! Whitney got PMS. And a gun. Okay, granted, I don't know where the bullets are because my sister hides them but they're in the house!! Somewhere.

Twice. In the same week.

Valentine week was wonderful. Stop. Got another boyfriend. Stop. Paul Bettany. Full Stop.

So bad, it’s good.

Okay, now I really WANT to read this piece of trainwreck.

See, kids? You can be bad and famous! That is, if you are really good at being bad.

*****

Snatched from maeglinyedi:

Once upon a time, there was PublishAmerica, a self-proclaimed traditional, quality publisher, who took a shot at sci-fi and fantasy authors on one of their websites, saying that sci-fi and fantasy authors are:

writers who erroneously believe that SciFi, because it is set in a distant future, does not require believable storylines, or that Fantasy, because it is set in conditions that have never existed, does not need believable every-day characters.

At that point, PublishAmerica was already suspected of being a vanity press. Yet they said about themselves: We review not only the quality but also the genre of their work.... Like all serious book publishing companies we have to be picky as we can only accept the works that meet our requirements in both areas."

A group of sci-fi and fantasy authors got together, to discover just how picky PublishAmerica would be and what they thought 'quality' was. They wrote 'Atlanta Nights', by Travis Tea. They set out to write the worst possible novel they could:

The book was full of mistakes and inside jokes. There are two chapter 12s, no chapter 21 and a computer-generated chapter 34. Two authors wrote about a wedding of two characters, and there are many misplaced modifiers, malapropisms, spacing errors, incorrect descriptions and laughably bad writing (from Sherwood Smith's chapter 1: "Her [breasts] belonged to a beautiful face carved out of ice and whipped cream, with a pair of glowing
emerald eyes"). Even the author's name was a joke when spoken fast.

The authors offered 'Atlanta Nights' to PublishAmerica, and what do you know...PublishAmerica immediately contacted them to offer them a contract for publication of the book.

The authors then went public with their hoax, and awwww, PublishAmerica withdrew their offer to publish it.

But fear not. You can read all about 'Atlanta Nights' on www.travistea.com. You can even buy the book there (all profit goes to charity), and you can download it for free as an ebook.

Be sure to check out the 'official responses' to the book. Here are a few gems:

"The world is full of bad books written by amateurs. But why settle for the merely regrettable? Atlanta Nights is a bad book written by experts." — T. Nielsen Hayden

"Gripping, squeezing, mashing, bashing, this book will give a man cramps and a woman a prostate. It delivers." — Vera Nazarian

"Don't fail to miss it if you can!" — Jerry Pournelle

"ATLANTA NIGHTS: I haven't been this stunned since my colonoscopy." — Dennis L. McKiernan

"That's so bad it makes my skin hurt." — Raymond E. Feist

"The skin of your back, Ray?" — Dave Smeds

"No, actually, just about all of it, 'cept maybe this little spot of callous on the ball of my left foot . . ." — Raymond E. Feist

Tuesday funneh.

How many net forum (or lj, or Yahoo group) members does it take to change a light bulb?

1 to change the light bulb and to post that the light bulb has been
changed

14 to share similar experiences of changing light bulbs and how the
light bulb could have been changed differently

7 to caution about the dangers of changing light bulbs

27 to point out spelling/grammar errors in posts about changing
light bulbs

41 to correct spelling/grammar flames

6 to argue over whether it's "lightbulb" or "light bulb" ... another

6 to condemn those 6 as anal-retentive

2 industry professionals to inform the group that the proper term
is "lamp"

27 to post URL's where one can see examples of different light bulbs

12 to post to the group that they will no longer post because they
cannot handle the light bulb controversy

4 to suggest that posters request the light bulb FAQ

44 to ask what is a "FAQ"

4 to say "didn't we go through this already a short time ago?"

143 to say "do a Google search on light bulbs

1 lurker to respond to the original post 6 months from now and start
it all over again

*****

Omg!! So true, it hurts. But that's what I like about on-line debates, discussions, etc. It presents so many perspectives, some I don't neccessary agree with, but I cretainly acknowledge their possibilities.


Then again, I think I'm lucky. Most of my net-friends are quite open-minded and most discussions I've experienced are very civilize; building of arguement, provide supports, conclude. You know? The usual.

Hello V-Day. <3

I'm looking for at a new love, baby. A new love.

Bwahhaahaa!!

I think Misses White did it with a candlestick in the library. But that's just my guess.

HahahaHAHAHAHH!!! [Good Lord, I'm easily amused!]

I've been calling it "candle-sitting" all this time, thinking I'm the only one who knows what I mean. Okay, possibly my sister has a hint of what I mean, but YO! THIS IS A WORLDWIDE PRACTICED. Hahahahahh.

Oh Fudge, nevermind, same theme, completely different story. My sister and I, and now a few kids at the office, are the only people who know what I mean. Hahaha!!! Nibbit! I was so into voodoo mode.

HAHAHAHAA!!! OmgIcan'tbreathe!!! HAHAHAHAA!!!!11!!1

Another "From Zero to Bitch" episode.

You know? I believe people are kind in nature. At heart, humans are nice, compassionate, loving, peaceful beings.

I think I am one. Or, at least, I try struggle to be.

But sometimes, it's so hard; misunderstanding, over-compensation, consideration, stupid bogus martyrdom of one sort or another, my own masochistic streaks, et cetera and whatever; and the little bottle of captive emotions explode. The nice Fairy Godmother turns into the Wicked Witch of the West and eat Baby Jesus for Valentine.

You have no clue how many anger management classes I'd underwent.

The point is I don't want to be this - mean spirit Bitchy Queen of Urban Banshee - but effing smite on a bicycle, I let the world gets to me.

And at night, I tossed and I turned and feeling guilty about how I treated the world. I'm afraid that I will turn into Wrath, one day, sooner or later.

Sometimes I wonder if I can end it before that happen.

*****
Note to self:
1. Schuldig versus Schuldbewußt
2. Schadenfreude versus Weltschmerz
3. Loki, the "trickster"

Angst. It's what for dinner.

It's snowing. And foggy. And misty. The whole deal.

I was checking my e-mail. Surfing friends' pages. The usual.

A friend posted a poem called Boats by Cyril Wong on her page. Didn't have time to read the whole thing. However, being the spoiler-hor that I am, I proceed to read the last paragraph.

The last sentence made my heart bleeds.

Love, if this is how
you choose to leave me,
let me let you.

Still too incoherent to analyse my own head as to why, but yeah, Ouch! [with a capital "O"]

OHH MAH GAWD!!!!!

omgomgomgomg!!!!
Oh my God!!
::flails::

The little things you do.

I feel like bad mommy, neglecting my blog and all. Meh.

Still busy, but think I should update to feel less guilty about ignoring the world. Besides, the entire human population needs my 2 non-sequitur cents and wants to know what the topic of the day is, of course. Of course.

So, today’s topic of the hour, DOOM!. DOOM!! DOOM!!! I shall leave you with an excellent quote from Jim Carrey.

I challenge anybody in their darkest moment to write what they're grateful for, even stupid little things like green grass or a friendly conversation with somebody on the elevator. You start to realize how rich you are.

Ummm...happy thoughts. Happy thoughts.

*****

Oh, interesting take on Dan Brown’s The Da Vinci Code. I’m not quite that picky, so I think the boobies are GRATE! Just make sure that you remember, though the supports are quite believable, it is a work of fiction. F.I.C.T.I.O.N. Yes, boys and girls, that means make believe. But, yeah, women are beautiful and worthy of worship. Hooray for soft, squishy holy boobies!! XD

*****

Oh #2, this just came in from a wise, wise friend.

"Never apologize for showing feeling. When you do so, you apologize for the truth."
-Benjamin Disraeli

*****

Oh #3, what is this "Lookit me! Lookit me!! I am sooo suuuupah specheil" trends going on around me.

People? This is your Drama Queen speaking. I am the spawn of all spendifulous over-the-top, attention-grabbing, extreme acting, make small things bigger than it seems, blow things out of proportion, pet me pet me I’m a good girl I am, spoiled and rotten individual.

Dood! If you can top me, Drama-wise? I ph34r U!!
Like, rillyrilly PH34R U!!!!!!11!1!!!eleven!1oneone!!!11
Mad kudos, yo! Like power to rule the world or something. Yeah!

Baby, you give as good as you get.

TEAM /tim/ n. [3] two or more animals that are used to pull a vehicle.

Inside you.

I am bored out of my mind. I need to get inside someone's head, preferably a psychopath or sociopath.

Maybe a character study - break someone's mind apart and put it back together just to see if I can figure out, not only what makes him tick but also how and why.

That's what I like about books and movies, for a moment or two, I can get inside someone's else head and see things through their eyes and think things via their understandings and perspectives.

Dunno. Feeling a wave of laziness coming on though. Maybe I'll just be couch potato.

Oh, got a new boy. Farfarello is his name. Any Dante taker? Also, becoming extremely curious about fork-tongue.

So, let me leave you with this to think over this weekend - taken absolutely out of context, of course. I really think my mind need a good race. It could be a cry for help, a hint of what's going on inside my mind, or it could be nothing but a bunch of pretty words. After all, there's only 26 letters to the alphabet, but when carefully arranged, can send a man to his demise.

I despised myself and the voices of my accursed human education.
And I thought of the albatross.
And I wished he would come back, my snake.

For he seemed to me again like a king,
Like a king in exile, uncrowned in the underworld,
Now due to be crowned again.

- D. H. Lawrence

Schuldig.

"You do have a thing for tongue, don't you?"

My co-worker walked into the office and that's the first thing he said.

I blinked. I mean, I know I do - been aware of it for a long time, mind - but is it that apparent to others?

Thinkofsomethingfast.Thinkofsomethingfast.

"Yes," I told him, "it's my way of being expressive."

I don't know. Snake by nature, I guess. I breathe with my tongue. It slipped out of the corner of my mouth and waved to innocent passerby without my input when my mind was concentrating on something else. It acts on its own accords and it likes to "hang out." What can I say?

No point to this story. Or there may be one, but you have to squint just right and read between the linesssss.

Been a while, since I tasted sin on my tongue.

The things they don't tell you about heaven
by Jill Alexander Essbaum

Apples still taste like apples. Funny thing,
serpents taste like apples too, and kisses

and bread. In fact, it is all about apples,
this place. Everything you touch is smooth and red.

Your skin is comfortably heavy on your bones,
like that sleepy moment between being awake and falling

into a dream. The moon is a pendulum clock,
and light from the sun comes down in drops, as rain. And,

as any child will tell you, what we call rain is really tears,
the soul of God weeping over something great or small,

as anything with a soul will do from time to time.
Mostly, it is the apples, and a longing kind of sad.

They are firm as musculature. They smell like the flesh
and juice of unrequited love.

-From Heaven

Call me anal. It would be an honor.

"Your wit. It bites. How I laugh."