A Little Musing.

I’m not a particularly anything person.  I just am.  And I try to be.  But sometimes, dagnabbit, a girl needs her small moments of rage and squealing excitement.  And sweeties.  And when she doesn’t get sweeties, thus ensue rage and squealing excitement till she does.  Things can commence in this manner for immeasurable amounts of minutes, at the end of which, even she must stand back and say, “Oh my stars and garters!  Look what my fretful hedonism hath wrought!”

On the other hand, at least now she has two whole bags of Werther's Original hard butterscotch candies to enjoy.

Here is a tiny glimpse into how I spent part of my birthday:

I'm gonna say some more stuff on here soon.

That was all I wanted to say really.

But a new post is imminent.

For realsies.

Suspicious/Illegal/Just Plain Weird Things I've Asked Google

Before I commence with this list I want to make something clear.  This list I am about to commence with only exists because...well, wait, the list itself exists because I made it, but the things on the list, that is, the things I have asked Google, only exist as questions I've asked Google because I'm a writer.

Still confused?  Yeah, me, too.  Let me clarify: These were questions I asked in the name of research for my books.

Okay, so here we go.



My List of Suspicious/Illegal/Just Plain Weird Things I've Asked Google In No Particular Order*



1.    Best way to break into a house

2.    Date rape drug and how fast it works

3.    How long does it take to die from carbon monoxide poisoning?

4.    How to hotwire a car

5.    Effects of Nitrous oxide and how fast it works

6.    Guns with longest range/distance

7.    Fastest cars for fast getaways

8.    Anthrax

9.    How long before a person dies of starvation?

10.  Best places to hit someone to incapacitate them

11.  Parts of a gun

12.  Best Poisons to hide in food/drink

13.  Sedatives

14.  How long after you’ve been hit does a black eye show up?

15.  How long does a black eye take to heal?

16.  How long would someone be in a cast for a broken leg/arm?

17.  How fast does a tranquilizer dart work?

18.  Has anyone ever stopped to think about how many times James Earl Jones played characters who said they were the fathers of the films' heroes? (Okay, that one wasn’t for book research, but it came into my brain one day and I just really wanted to know.  In case you’re wondering, Google did not have the answer.  At least not a comprehensive answer.  It only came up with quotes from the two movies that were already on my list.)

19.  Death by choking

20.  Can a person die from inhaling the fumes of human excrement for too long?

21.  How long before a person dies from inhaling the fumes of human excrement?

22.  Self-mutilation

23.  Most popular forms of self-mutilation

24.  Sounds of leg bones breaking

25.  Most efficient way to dig up a grave

26.  How to break through a window

27.  How to correct a broken nose

28.  How to check for signs of internal bleeding

29.  Most commonly reported side effects of the morning after pill

30.  And last but not least: Beastiality.  But before you guys start getting all judge-y on me, remember what my books are about.  Or maybe you don’t know what they’re about and you’re just reading this post randomly because you stumbled (seriously randomly) onto this blog.  So for those people, I’ll tell you.  The Lone March series is about weres, as in were-wolves, were-cats, were-ravens, etcetera and so on.  So that’s people who are also animals and can take one of their forms at any given time.  When you think about were-people and then you think about relationships, naturally you think next about were-people in relationships.  And to the common human brain, the word relationship = sex.  So were-people sex can get confusing (read: interesting).  I was just curious.  Leave me alone.

 * This list may be updated in the future, as I see fit.  Or as I see fit to ask Google more strange questions.

You know, maybe if Google wasn't so smart I would stop asking questions like this.  So really it's Google's fault.  It is Google that has made me this weirdo, not me.  I'm pretty sure Google can be blamed for a lot of scandalous information distribution.  Let's all blame Google!

Oh, wait.  Shit.  Google owns Blogger, doesn't it?

Google, please if you could please not take down my blog, pretty please, that would be awesome.  Thanks.

Also, I love you.

And you are really smart.

And you make me smarter every day.

Because how else would I learn the best way to rip out the throat of a person/animal in such a way that he/she/it will most certainly die but not right away and thus have time for some extremely painful last moments/parting words to the world?  Nowhere else could I learn this but from you, Google.  So, again, thank you.

And also, again, I love you. 

Okay, Okay, Fine...

Last week my roommate and I finished the fourth season of Doctor Who, plus the two little movies that came between it and season five.  Since that day, however many it's been now, I have been mourning the loss of the 10th doctor, my beloved David Tennant.  In my mind he IS the doctor.  THE doctor.  The DOCTOR!

I was bawling as I watched those two movies and every time I thought about it in the following days, I found myself bawling again.  And every time I pictured that last scene in my head, after his regeneration, I just growled and cursed Matt Smith and spat on my floor--my own floor--that's how upset I was--and then cried some more.  "Stupid Matt-Stupid-Smith!" I would say, which, on top of making me angry, would confuse me to no end because I actually have a very good friend named Matt Smith, who, funnily enough, was born in England.  "You are not my doctor--you are not THE doctor!"  And then I would have to think about something else because I would be too upset to do anything but sit there being upset.

I warned Pruitt--that's my roommate--that when David Tennant's run came to an end I would have to take a break from the show.  I couldn't just dive right into someone new.  It's like when you're a kid and your dog or cat dies or runs away and your parent(s) ask you if you want to go get a new one.  No, Parent(s), I do not want to go get a new one on the same day I lost my dog/cat.  What's wrong with you??  (Just to be clear, that didn't actually happen to me.  I just know it's a thing that happens sometimes to kids who have dumb parents, who think pets are interchangeable and don't really matter.  Actually, I don't know what they are thinking.  I have no earthly clue what is running through the heads of such parents, but anyway...)  Not that I'm equating my doctor to a pet or reducing him to an animal at all, but you know what I mean.  It's just an analogy--go with it!  Where was I?  Oh, yes.  So I had to have a mourning period.  I was literally in full-on mourning.  The only difference was I didn't wear a black Victorian dress every day for a week.  Partly because I have a job and I can't wear the same thing every day or else people will think I'm a gross girl who wears the same thing every day and doesn't wash her clothes.  Partly because it would be impractical to wear the dress every day, come home and wash it and have it be dry in time to wear it the next day, because of course I don't have money for more than one mourning dress.  Partly because it would be impractical to wear a black Victorian dress during the Texas summer heat.  Partly because it would be impractical to wear a black Victorian dress in the 21st century.  And partly because I don't actually have a black Victorian mourning dress.  But that's neither here nor there really.  (Man, that reason had a lot of parts.)

So I mourned him, as I said, for a week.  Then I started to get the itch.  Actually, the itch started a couple of days ago, but I ignored it, refused to let go of my doctor.  But the itch got worse and worse.  And finally, tonight, I had to scratch it.  It was funny how it happened.  Pruitt came home from work and I was in the laundry room, doing laundry room things, thinking, 'Maybe I should suggest starting season five...'  And Pruitt, who had been extremely understanding about my need to grieve, for the first time in a week, asked me how my mourning period was going and if I was ready to move on.  That settled it.  It's fate, I thought.  What else could explain the fact that he was literally voicing my thoughts concurrently as I thought them?  (Is that redundant?  Oh, well.  Anywho.)  And don't say 'coincidence' you skeptic, black-and-white non-believers.  It was fate.  That's all there is to it.

So first, I caught up on Legend of Korra.  And while we're on it: season finale?  Major. Epic. Brilliance.  Then, Pruitt tentatively asked me if I'd like to watch the first episode of season five.  I sighed, took a moment, and said, "Yes, let's get it over with.  Let's just do this and be done with it."  I mean I was really looking forward to the fact that Steven Moffat had taken over the show as head writer.  He's amazing.  Sherlock, anyone?  So maybe the awesome writing would make up for the now David-Tennant-less show.  (FYI: It did.  Mostly.  Though my loyalty stands and I still say David Tennant would improve the show, as he improves everything he's in.)

And I found that, while I didn't swoon over the 11th doctor, like I did with my doctor, I did enjoy him alright.  He doesn't have the--I'm sorry, Matt Smith--blatent good looks and cute boyish charm of David Tennant, but he does seem to have mastered the energy and comedic timing.  So, we'll see.  I ended up watching episode two as well.  I like Amelia Pond.  She is cute as a button--might be the hottest sidekick yet.  Hm, no I think it's still a toss-up between her and Martha Jones--oh and the last version of Rose Tyler we got.  Season Four Rose was the hottest Rose of all.  I realize I'm talking about the same actress as if she were multiple people.  But dude, she goes through a pretty big overhaul from season one to season two to season four.  Like a fine wine, Rose got better with age (ie. hotter).  And that doesn't usually happen with girls, so good for her.  But I'm digressing big time here.  All I wanted to say was that I love Doctor Who and I'm enjoying season five so far, even though I still miss David Tennant like whoa.

The End.

xxDo I sign my name at the end of my posts in this blog, or do I only do that in my other blog?  Can't Remember...I think maybe I don't but oh, well.

PS. I really, really, REALLY want this to be a tee shirt and not just a funny picture I found on the internet:

Drunk Poem

This poem is gonna be—oh, wait, I can’t say ‘gonna’ in a poem.  No slang contractions.  That’s not allowed.  Okay.  This poem is going to be about what it’s like—oh, wait, that’s another…but it’s not a slang contraction, so it’s okay, right?  Okay.  This poem is going to be about what it’s like when you spend all your time alone and you…  Wait.  I think I forgot the poem.  I lost it.  Yeah, I did—wait.  …  No, yeah it’s gone.




Really all I wanted to say was that my poetry book just got published.  It's only $3.99 and it's in print!  That's cool, huh?  I think you will like it if you don't like the above paragraph.  I think you will also like it if you do like the above paragraph.

That is all.

There are links to buy on my other blog.  Not puttin' 'em here.  Too lazy.  Long day at work and on my 3rd glass of wine right now before me and the gang go see Prometheus tonight (woo hoo!) so there you have it.


Guys, guys, guys, FYI: I am using the term 'gang' loosely and I'm in no way implying that we carry guns and knives or any weapons really besides our rapier wits;)


Although, some of us (not me) have inherited or simply been gifted various weapons like and including guns and knives.  My fiance has what can only be described as a short sword, which was given to him by his dad for like no reason.  There wasn't a holiday.  Apparently they were just having a sale on swords.  I dunno--this is Texas, what do you want?


Our friend Corey, my fiance's business partner, has about 10,000,000 guns he got from his dad.  And he doesn't even hunt.  At least not very much.  Or at all anymore.  There was a girl I went to school with at UNT--we swam together; I'm an awesome swimmer, don't even care that I'm bragging; it's the truth--and she was this tiny little bubbly blonde girl and she revealed to us (us being her fellow swimmers...swim-mates?) one day that she has no less than 3 handguns.  Whoa.  Hardcore blonde.


What am I talking about?


I also want to clarify that when I say Corey has 10,000,000 guns that I don't actually mean that exact number.  Obviously.  It's probably closer to like 8,000,000.


I have to stop this post now.  Or else you will all think I'm crazy.


But just remember, whenever you think about Erin Irvin as a "crazy" that really she is a "drunk".  Oh, wait.  That's wrong.  I'm not a drunk.  I am just drunk right now.  A little bit.  Not totally gone or else how would I be able to type?  So there!!  I mean, if you think this post is crazy, just scratch that word out in your head with a brain-pencil and replace it with 'drunk' just for this one post.  I rarely drink.  I haven't had any wine in too long to remember because I'm drunk right now.  But it's been a long time.  And it's merlot.  And I can't remember the last time I had merlot because it's been "all Cab all the time" for the past 6 months.


I gotta go, you guys.  Stop distracting me and trying to make me stay here on the internet.  I have to go be with the 3-D people in the other room now or else they will think I am antisocial, which I am not.


I'm not.




Oh, yeah.  PS. My poetry book is called Scrawlings.  There's a tab for it on my other blog.

Tonight there were clouds.

They were moving very fast.
And they were dense.
And they were very low to the ground.

They looked like they were going to hit me in the face and knock me down, even though clouds can't do that because they're just foggy vapors.  They still looked like they were going to.  But I wasn't scared.  I just said, "Wow, how cool is this?  It is cool a lot."

And then I sat down in the parking lot of my complex and watched them because my neck was starting to hurt from the craning.

My betrothed was not so happy about this as he was tired and wanted to go upstairs to our apartment and retire for the evening.  I told him to go and I would go later, but he wouldn't have this.  Thought it was dangerous or something, I dunno, he's crazy.

Finally, I got up and started walking with him to our building.  But then I beheld a new wonder.  We were walking in the same direction the clouds were moving, so we moved with them.  At like nearly the same speed I think.

And it was sensational.

The End.