Didn't expect this new title, did you? That's what I thought...
All sorts of wonderful things have passed since I last posted—a heated debate with Ryan and Denise about the vices and virtues of babies (I’m an antibabian, in case you’re wondering, while Ryan is so pro-baby that he withheld vital adult beverages from us until we gave lip service to his ridiculous ‘babies are cute’ postulation), too much videogaming, and the unexpected return of Dave and his satchel of bizarro artwork. I haven’t written anything here lately because I have been devoting all my free time to becoming a wildly successful author, an endeavor that is always either tiring or disastrous, and usually both. But damn it, I will do it.
Also, it’s been so long since I posted on that tiny little sub-blog I started up (slimyprincess) that I’ve forgotten the username or password or both, and so until the right vaults in my head swing open again that sheet’s closed down. I liked it because I could vomit up all manner of photos onto it. Can we do that here?
My days of idleness at the office are temporarily suspended. This all happened last week: I was happily frolicking through the flowery glade of my taskless job, slipping through the eight hours in an almost hallucinogenic semi-consciousness, when some counselor from one of our outposts came in along with the bureau chiefy (who is married to my partner here in research). The counselor handed us this request that got lost in the post system (maybe because there is no post system for us—they’re supposed to email the damned things) and asked if we had time to get to it. Bureau chiefy laughed a bit and said yes, send us whatever needed done. So she promptly emailed us five requests along the lines of “my client is vaguely interested in these so please do up several detailed reports and we’ll use them to make paper hats if we don’t need them. Which will almost certainly be the case.”
But the real killer blow, the real bite to the jugular, came yesterday. The bureau chiefy came in to see his wife and casually mentioned that the higher-ups wanted a network of contacts with which to find jobs for their clients, and so could we compile a list of employers in Iowa with multiple branches, offices, etc. I waited for clarification, specification, but that was it: he wanted us to list every business in Iowa with multiple locations—yes, every Hardee’s and Fareway and Pioneer and Home Depot and CarEx and Baskin Robbins--then find out the name and contact information of whoever handles hiring, and put it into a report. Not sure how we’re going to go about that yet. The consultation of dark forces will almost certainly be required.
If you read the few posts on slimyprincess, you may recall that I was going to buy the fuck out of a particular book. Well, I did, and holy fuck, it has even more fuck than I expected. McSweeney’s Enchanted Chamber of Astonishing Stories is fucking fuckgreat, it’s full of spookyass stories as well written as anything in literary magazines but with actual plots and twists and interesting characters. A Stephen King short kept me up for an hour and a half waiting to be eaten by blind lovecraftian beasts. But it was worth it.
Oh. I just got an email informing me that a story I wrote for a contest (what was the contest? I don't remember. Something inconsequential, involving brevity or subject or time used to write or something) is online. I'm guessing the site is not too picky on their writing, but anyway the story is up there so if you're bored, go ahead and read it. I think there's some voting system to see who gets published in an anthology, but I am too tired to figure out how to vote. Just vote for me if you figure it out, or a curse is upon your house (the same one that's on whoever formatted these pieces for the web and failed to line break between paragraphs).
Also, it’s been so long since I posted on that tiny little sub-blog I started up (slimyprincess) that I’ve forgotten the username or password or both, and so until the right vaults in my head swing open again that sheet’s closed down. I liked it because I could vomit up all manner of photos onto it. Can we do that here?
My days of idleness at the office are temporarily suspended. This all happened last week: I was happily frolicking through the flowery glade of my taskless job, slipping through the eight hours in an almost hallucinogenic semi-consciousness, when some counselor from one of our outposts came in along with the bureau chiefy (who is married to my partner here in research). The counselor handed us this request that got lost in the post system (maybe because there is no post system for us—they’re supposed to email the damned things) and asked if we had time to get to it. Bureau chiefy laughed a bit and said yes, send us whatever needed done. So she promptly emailed us five requests along the lines of “my client is vaguely interested in these so please do up several detailed reports and we’ll use them to make paper hats if we don’t need them. Which will almost certainly be the case.”
But the real killer blow, the real bite to the jugular, came yesterday. The bureau chiefy came in to see his wife and casually mentioned that the higher-ups wanted a network of contacts with which to find jobs for their clients, and so could we compile a list of employers in Iowa with multiple branches, offices, etc. I waited for clarification, specification, but that was it: he wanted us to list every business in Iowa with multiple locations—yes, every Hardee’s and Fareway and Pioneer and Home Depot and CarEx and Baskin Robbins--then find out the name and contact information of whoever handles hiring, and put it into a report. Not sure how we’re going to go about that yet. The consultation of dark forces will almost certainly be required.
If you read the few posts on slimyprincess, you may recall that I was going to buy the fuck out of a particular book. Well, I did, and holy fuck, it has even more fuck than I expected. McSweeney’s Enchanted Chamber of Astonishing Stories is fucking fuckgreat, it’s full of spookyass stories as well written as anything in literary magazines but with actual plots and twists and interesting characters. A Stephen King short kept me up for an hour and a half waiting to be eaten by blind lovecraftian beasts. But it was worth it.
Oh. I just got an email informing me that a story I wrote for a contest (what was the contest? I don't remember. Something inconsequential, involving brevity or subject or time used to write or something) is online. I'm guessing the site is not too picky on their writing, but anyway the story is up there so if you're bored, go ahead and read it. I think there's some voting system to see who gets published in an anthology, but I am too tired to figure out how to vote. Just vote for me if you figure it out, or a curse is upon your house (the same one that's on whoever formatted these pieces for the web and failed to line break between paragraphs).
