Wednesday, December 24, 2008

It's beginning to feel a lot like Gremlins

I believe in gremlins.  Truly. Airplane gremlins, garden hose gremlins, apple tree gremlins, and most especially evil, sneaky-ass computer gremlins, who creep in at night to switch parts inside of my computer so that I can press the 'on'  button and make it explode in some virtual manner that - and I quote - the computer geniuses have 'never seen before.'

There's only so many times one can hear that phrase before you start to believe in either curses or computer gremlins.  Not that those around me are true believers, not yet.  They still have some foolish idea that all my computer issues are related to something that I did.  How silly.  Computer gremlins is a much more logical explanation, don't you think?

I now take pictures.  My computer dies, I take pictures of its death throws, and then when I take the computer to the gurus, I can show them my photo evidence so they know that even if it is currently behaving normally, my computer is actually carrying a demon seed of doom inside of it, just waiting to get out.

I believe that demon seed may have spawned concussion gremlins in my own home, actually.  I cannot think of any other explanation for the string of concussions that have attacked me recently: three in the past two months.  I feel like I need to start wearing a helmet and a sign - Please do not poke. Head may explode.

My friend's hubby has offered to buy me water wings so that I can eat my soup without fear of drowning. 

Well, at least when the computer gremlins and concussion gremlins collude, I don't have to worry about the screen setting up a seizure or something, eh?  No, instead, I get to rediscover the reason I love computers: my handwriting sucks.  Oh, does it suck.

If my handwriting were a whore, it could retire on the money it would make on blow-jobs, I swear. 

Fortunately for me, my computer has now been temporarily purged of its gremlin infestation and seems to be working for the moment.  My head is recovering from the ladder dropped on it(C'mon, doesn't that SOUND like a gremlin?  You know it does! ).  And now I get to celebrate my holidays by lounging around recovering while my husband has to cook and clean and watch the kids on his vacation.

It makes me wonder if I could hire out these gremlins to a few other deserving moms and employees with too much to do. A new money making scheme to help us get by in this economy: rent-a-gremlin.  Want a little time to rest?  Rent-a-gremlin can guarantee you'll be flat on  your ass within minutes. No money back guarantee.

But don't piss them off or they'll pee in your Christmas cake, the little buggers.

Have a great Holiday, everyone.  Hope you are safe, happy, employed, and enjoying the company of friends or family this time of year! 

Sunday, October 5, 2008

Yaoi Con, A Plethora of Penises, and Soap

The above soap was purchased at a little store in Japantown.  I went there for bento boxes, saw the soap, and started laughing hysterically because all that I could think of was this: 
Keep getting topped by your bottom?  Not sure if your chosen target is clueless enough to fall for your seduction?  Try our new soap!  Just drop this in the shower and see who bends over!  Guaranteed to find you an innocent uke, every time. 

Oh dear god, it still makes me laugh like a loon, no matter how silly it is. 

Now, as to what I was doing before Japantown and my newly discovered soap obsession?  Attending Yaoi con for the fist time.  Yaoi con - the land of guitar-playing, half-naked catboys and their stripping friends. I kid you not.  I even have access to internet-friendly proof, as a sweet gal I know managed to get some interesting footage.

Childish and perverted fun abounded, as you can see. And as with all things yaoi, I went on a roadtrip with Jessjess to get there. No zombies this time, more's the pity (Although a zombie penis did come into the picture.  More on that later.).  Singing for almost the entire drive really did a number on our throats.  Since you weren't able to join us in our automotive experience, however, here's a small taste. (it's like you were really there, minus the numb butt cheeks). 

Just elongate this to about 18 hours, add in a few crunchy snacks, and you'll have a pretty good idea of what it was like to be in our gas-conscious rental car.

As for the con itself?  It was interesting.  Costumes galore, including boys in short skirts and tight-clothing who looked much better in them than I ever would.  Sales of japanese manga,all things Naruto, ball-joint dolls, cat ears, and everything yaoi and anime I can think of.  Panels on topics both serious and silly, from the male perspective on yaoi to yaoi mad-libs.  

And the penises.  Note the title: a Plethora of Penises.  That's because at the y-gal meet-up, Forchan thought we should collect a horde of penises  (it finally got whittled down to 900 penises).  She had the crayons and pencils.  And who had the giant roll of paper?  

Yup, you got it. Me and Jessjess.

So what did Jessjess and I do for most of the con?  We went around with our giant roll of paper, collecting penis drawings.  We even had a few of the con guests contributing.  Most of the bishounen running around the con added their art to the endeavor. Artists of all styles and abilities added a penor for the cause.  

The final count is still unknown, as I'm slowly trying to add them up.

Think of a paper that unrolls for probably about 15 yards, filled with penises in all shapes and sizes, and then imagine trying to unroll it in a house with kids, without being seen.  It's a slow -and very, very careful - process.  When it's all counted, I'll be putting up pictures of them all, on-line, because it was probably the most childish endeavor I've ever done, and it was also ridiculously fun.  We met a ton of people, even had a few help us flag down other people to come and sign their phallic signatures, one of which was - I told you there would be more on this - a zombie penis with a bite out of it. 

I can't escape the yaoi/zombie connection.  Looks like I better start stocking up on the twinkies.  And if you don't know why, it's because zombies hate twinkies.  They hate rainbows and unicorn princesses, too.  That's why when the world ends from zombification, it'll be the zombies, the cockroaches, and the frilly little girls who make it.  I think I might be more frightened of the roaming bands of girly-girls than I would of the zombies.  And considering my daughter's love of all thinks pink and lacy, I speak from experience.

Beware the frills.


Friday, September 12, 2008

Secret Society of the Computer Inept

Yesterday, I was startled by the sound of my sweet, geeky, computer-guru husband laughing hysterically in our bedroom.  It didn't take long for him to come and show me what had made him laugh so hard it gave him stomach cramps.

And what does he say when he shows it to me?

I saw this, and all I could think of was you, honey.

Thanks, dear. And no chortling allowed over the fact that I own both a box of crayons and an abacus at this precise moment in time.  It's nothing but a cruel coincidence.

There is a shining light in the dark truth of this comic, however (aside from the gut-busting humor involved).  It's a reminder that we computer idiots have a connection.  You might think we're all alone in our oblivious world, but no!  We think and act against computers as one mind.  Did I not say in my very first blog that we would save the world someday?  Didn't I?!

You thought I was simply a computer idiot spouting my foolishness to the internet, but now, now you can see that I am not alone.  This highlights a little known fact: not only are we anti-computer geeks your future saviors, we are organized.  Knowing our duty to humanity, we have slowly been banding together.  Most of us have actually been initiated into the Blue Screen Avengers - a secret society that was started at the dawn of the computer age to prepare for the day when those overly logical, micro-chip carrying bastards would try to topple their masters.

Every meeting opens with a clip of the first Terminator being crushed to death by a hydraulic press, mostly to remind us that we need to figure out how to kill one of those suckers in ways that won't require us to use any computers whatsoever, including the damn hydraulic press.

For some reason, it grinds to a screeching halt whenever one of our members tries to start it up. Never fear, though, we're working on a viable solution. So far, the most promising one involves a key lime pie, mittens, and a salt water enema.

Don't ask.

Really, don't.  The computers might hear you.  So simply go about your business and enjoy your life, safe in the knowledge that your future is secure from AI machines coming after your ass in ways too gruesome to mention in mixed company. 

The Blue Screen Avengers will be there to save the day, so long as you don't have a computer lock on your house that we need to get through in order to save you.

Saturday, August 2, 2008

Another Yaoi Day, Another Yaoi Dollar

Yaoi Day was yesterday! 

For those who don't know what the heck this holiday is, I'll briefly fill you in.  The Japanese have practically made an art out of making up holidays.  Not official ones, simply holidays that we regular folk might like to play around with.  

One of these is August 1st: 'Yaoi Day.'  It's all in the numbers.  The kanji for 8 can be pronounced as 'ya' in the right circumstances.  0 can be said as 'oh,' like two-oh-nine for 209.  And while 1 is pronounced 'ichi,' it's shortened for the purposes of the joke.  Ya. o. i.  801, which is slang for yaoi in japan anyway.  

I'm sure you can make the jump to 8/01 right?  

Now, I have to be honest with you.  I only discovered this holiday existed half-way through the day in question when Magnetic_Rose at aarinfantasy mentioned it on the forum.  As a good yaoi fan, however, I celebrated the hell out of it in the limited time left to my uninformed, fangirl self.   I finished editing a chapter of The Last Pure Human, I looked at manga, and I even got a little Yaoi Day present, as it were.


There is nothing that makes a writer's heart go pitty-pat like something created for them by a fan of their story.  Yes, getting a million dollar book deal might affect the heart, too - I've heard that particular occurrence makes more of a thundering rattle, like a stampede. - but it's not the same thing.  A book deal is about money and pride and buying a new corvette (a matchbox one, if you're at my level of literary stardom).  But fanart, or fanficton?  That's all about the love, baby.

I cannot describe what a wonderful feeling it is to receive that kind of, well, honor.  Someone enjoyed what I created so much that it inspired something creative in them.  What a fantastic, amazing thing to know.  Whether it was a character, a scene, a world, or an entire story, it's damn well magic to realize that all that effort I put into my little romances made a difference for someone.

Yeah, sometimes it's just a momentary difference.  Just a second's worth of inspiration.  Who cares?  I love stories myself for so many reasons, and one of the biggest is that a great story makes me feel good.  I love the lift to my mood that a romantic or humorous scene can give me, and to know that I was able to give someone else that lift, even for only a little bit, is frickin' awesome!

No, I'm not suffering from sudden-onset Valley-Girl.  This type of feeling simply requires bold words to describe it and all the giddy, beaming-like-a-loon idiocy that it creates in me.

Frickin'. Awesome.  The type of awesome that needs a hot young surfer boy punching the air as he yells it out at the top of his lungs. Not just awesome.  Frickin' awesome, dude.*

I find it so appropriate that the fanart I received on Yaoi Day was NC-17.  Not that I don't enjoy more vanilla flavored art.  That never fails to makes me school-girl giddy and charged up. Knowing that they were motivated always motivates me to write more.  Smut fanworks, however, tend to do something a little different.  I inspired something adult rated in someone else, and they in turn inspire a good buzz for my next sex scene.  That's always a nice thing to have available: packaged arousal.

I couldn't have asked for a better ending for my Yaoi Day.  

Here's hoping yours was just as much fun!

*I have California roots.  I'm allowed to punctuate my speech with random exclamations of 'dude' and 'gag me with a spoon.'  It might even be required to stay on the 'Descendent of a Californian' registry.  I'll get back to you on that.*

Wednesday, July 16, 2008

Sick of Being Sick

I have a cold.  Or a flu.  Either way, feels like crap.

However, it does bring up a point that has always bothered me.  Did you ever notice how utterly mundane sounding the word 'cold' actually is?  "I caught a cold" is not a phrase that elicits the same awed murmurs that "I fought off  a school of sharks armed only with a spork and a packet of mustard" does.  And is it any wonder?  Sporks are awe inspiring; it's a fact of nature. 

Colds, on the other hand, are not, through no fault of their own.  They've simply been misnamed.  The word 'cold' does not, in any way, adequately describe these diseases' actual presence in our lives.  Think about it.  You call in sick to work with a 'cold,' and half your c0-workers are simply irritated you're not there.  You call in sick to work with the 'hacking, sneezing, death-by-mucus disease,' and not only are they suddenly impressed, they don't want you coming in to work for the next two weeks.

I have had, sadly, more than my fair share of 'death-by-mucus' diseases this last year.  I feel like I should become a gold 'cold' card-carrying member - like typhoid Mary, but rather than a harbinger of death, I'm just a harbinger of nasal irritation and annoying coughs.  

I don't blame my body; it's trying its best, really.  

Really.  I caught a rather odd illness a couple years back, had a rare complication, and it'll take my body a few years to be back in fighting form.  Until then, I get all the annoying, pitiful, wannabe illnesses that float around town.  Another one seems to have taken up residence in my rather chubby excuse for a body this week.  Urg.

Ahem. Considering my last post, I suppose I should say that my current feverish bundle of bleh is not zombie related. 

Although if it was, would I really tell you?  Of course not. I'd let my legion of zombie minions do that for me.  And speaking of that, it just makes you wonder just how long it would take to convert a zombie legion of minions, doesn't it?  A week?  A month?

And how would you do it?  Bite 'em?  Wonder how many zombies get TMJ that way.  Their dentists have to tell them: hold off on the legion building for a while, okay?  Just let your jaw rest a little.  We'll all be here for you to zombify later.  A week or two won't kill you...more. Aheh...well, you know what I mean.  Uh, wait, I was just...aaaaaagh! 

And there you'd have another member of the legion.  Probably why there's not a lot of zombie dentists: it's a dying profession.

You just know this is gonna eventually lead to my brain coming up with a zombie story.  Terrifying: a Twisted Zombie.  I am actually a little scared at what my mind would come up with.  I'm sure I'll find out soon enough.

Thursday, June 26, 2008

Yaoi Jamboree and Zombies

Yaoi and Zombies.   Not two terms one expects to see together, unless you happen to be reading a gay zombie romance.  Which I have, and it was surprisingly a little hot.  And that probably says something about my psyche that I'm not going to delve too deeply into.  I'll just let it lie.

Even though that's terribly hard to do, really.  How do you stop thinking about that? Zombies in love.  An undead love story - how does that even work?  Can the nerves still feel?  Can you get it up, or is it just rigormortis?  Is that what being undead is like: one constant erection?  Is the climax going to be figuring out how to do the deed without breaking off important bits? Eeeuuuuuw.

So, yeah. Yaoi and zombies, on the brain.  

Or more precisely, Yaoi Jamboree and Zombies.  

Yaoi Jamboree, for those who haven't heard of it, was a brand new Yaoi convention held in Phoenix, Arizona this year at the end of June.  It was new, it had some problems and some great stuff, and I plan to go next year to see how it improves and changes, as I'm assuming it will do both.    At the very least, I met a butt-load of great and interesting people. 

But back to the zombies...

Have you ever seen a zombie movie?  It's dark, but moonlit (because otherwise you can't see them coming and have that delicious shiver of horror).  Fog crawls over the ground in writhing tendrils of skull-white.  Nothing moves until the shambling undead slowly take form and come close to feast on your blood.  Or eyeballs.  Or that new gucci bag that you love and now wish you'd left at home so your sister could at least enjoy it after your possessions have been divvied up.

Well...that's the scene I was met with as I drove with my friend to Yaoi jamboree.  Minus the zombies.   We left late, well past sunset.  Driving in the middle of nowhere, on backroads, we got a bit turned around.  There was the mist, there was the moon, there was the complete lack of people, and the land around us looked like abandoned fields with stunted, mutant vegetation to complete the picture.  No lights on the roads, and no way to tell where the nearest people might be. 

Any movie maker worth his salt would have added the zombies.  It almost felt like a crime not to have them shuffling along side the road.

And I said as much, to which my friend replied that I had enough trouble with not killing us when I tried to dodge the rabbits and mice that might run in front of me.  It's an instinctive sort of thing.  Run over the zombies, dodge the cute and furry forest critters - run off the road either way.

And of course the moment she says this, a rabbit runs in front of the car and I almost kill us swerving out of the way.  And then another rabbit, and then a couple of mice.    As far as I'm concerned, that was a little message from the deep beyond.  

Which brings us to the moral of this story. If you're in a place that needs zombies and lacks them, be very, very careful.  Because the zombies that the world decides to add to the picture may just be you. XD

Thursday, April 24, 2008

Joy and Technology

Today is a time of joy and happy frolic.

I have my laptop returned to me, whole and undamaged.  Hallelujahs resounded within my house the moment that little brown box appeared on my doorstep.  

Ignore the strange echo of furious cursing at the 'you missed our delivery time' that was left on the door the day before.  It is but a distant memory.  The white, glossy finish beneath my fingertips has soothed my soul, while the rhythmic tapping of computer keys and the artificial glow of the screen is calming my nerves like chamomile tea and chocolates.  The heat against my thighs as I support the brittle box is a familiar, welcomed burn.  My eyes squint already from overuse as I am unable to even blink in the fear that this ecstasy will disappear again and leave me alone and laptop-less. 

I am a computer addict, and I accept my fate to be slouched, withered, and blind by the age of 45.

I NEED my computer like I need air.  More so, because without air I'm merely a corpse.  Without my computer, I go mental and then there is always the fear that other people will be the ones to die during my crazed spasm of insanity. Life is worth living again, for myself and all the innocent victims that have been spared without their even realizing their near-brush with the cold, caffeine-buzzed, hand of death.

I will now go and write with gay abandon on... well, gay abandon.  

Friday, April 18, 2008

Living in the Land that Sex forgot

I have a love-hate relationship with programs designed to keep minors away from 'unsuitable content' on the web.

Wait, I take that back, it's all hate. If the programs were done in such a way that I, the parent, had actual control, that would be one thing. But I have yet to see it done well; I don't know if it even CAN be done well. They have ones where I can set it up so that naked men having a wild orgy on screen = no kid views. But at the same time, can I still set it up so that hordes of nude men just walkin' around minding their own business at a nudist colony gets the designation of: sure, why the hell not? Not as far as I can tell, and that just irks my sense of individual morality.

I believe my husband calls it 'being picky as hell unless it's exactly the way you want it.'

Yeah, I can live with that.

Although I feel I have just cause to be irritated with adult filters, especially today. The worst day of the year so far. The day my laptop, my third child who never whines although periodically throws tantrums, is in the shop. Yes, I know, horrifying, isn't it? I'd almost rather lose a limb.

Although I do have another computer I can use (okay, so there is enough computer crap in my house to choke a walrus. Two words for ya: geek husband). BUT the only computer I have access to is the one with adult filters that only my husband knows the code for...and he's away at a conference and unavailable right now. Not that he'd probably even tell me the darn thing until he was home because, well, you recall the previous posts? Computer touch of death and all that? I wasn't kidding. My husband's eye will start twitching at the thought of me even breathing on a keyboard.

Hence the reason I got one of my own and usually never touch this sucker I'm on right now.

Of course, being on here, with the kid filters, means I have NO access to my daily ration of romance and erotica. And I've now had a lovely dose of looking up things for the kids with this damn filter on. It tastes a bit like arsenic, I'm fairly sure. The recent search of choice: trying to view a page on monarch butterflies. I dare you to try and look at a site with actual pictures of actual monarch butterflies, with the kid filters on. It's a pain in the ass. Apparently, these sites are horrible for kids to view because...who knows the hell why. They mention butterfly sex? Too much explicit butterfly violence? I know that's something I worry about a lot; can't be too careful with butterfly violence. It's really prevalent in the schools these days. I hear the little fluttery bastards are getting tattoos to ID themselves to other butterfly gang members and everything. Damn butterfly hooligans. You just know they were mooning the camera on purpose.

Or, hey, maybe it's gay butterflies, because there's nothing gonna get you an R rating faster than gay anything. Well, as long as its male. Two naked women molesting the crap out of each other somehow seems to get a lower rating at times than two partially clothed men simply kissing. So, obviously, two boy butterflies gettin' it on would put the ratings up over the edge into no-kids-see-this-ever. And from the trouble I had trying to find a site the filter would let me view, this must be a pretty common image of monarch butterflies. Although maybe it's just one famous boy/boy couple in the butterfly world. They're helping the cause of gay and lesbian butterflies around the world by sneaking into the background shots when entymologists try to take their pictures (so far, I understand that bi and trans-gendered butterflies are still looking for a good advocate). More power to 'em.

No matter what the reason, though, it is simply icing on the cake of my sexless, meaningless computer time. I can't have my lovely, romantic gay and straight stories, and now I'm even deprived of the brief enjoyment of gay butterfly romance too.

Shit. Guess that means I gotta go write something if I want any chance of reading about a happy ending tonight.

The rest of you, enjoy the porn that surrounds you in all its varied and marvelous forms. Read some for the Twisted. I'll live vicariously.

Friday, April 11, 2008

Returning to the Land of Sentience

Sentience - you don't know what you've got 'til it's gone.  And when it goes, you can hear the agonized screaming as it's dragged away.  Or in my case, the sharp round of cursing after a lovely blow to the head. Followed by stars in front of the eyes - which were quite pretty, by the way - and a couple weeks of bed rest while the body tries to regain an ability to think at normal speeds and walk without dizziness.

As with many things recently, this gives an excellent opportunity to reflect on the good things in my life.  Like thought.  I like thought.  I like having thoughts.  I like even more being able to create them without losing them half-way through so that they turn into something such as: "I need to go to the, I didn't know that was red.  When did I get that?  Hmmm.  I'm tired.  Do I have any chocolate?"

So here is my public service announcement for today.

 Thoughts are our friends.  Research their needs.  Treat them with kindness and love. Care for their habitats and fight brain deforestation. If we're lucky, and vigilant, maybe we will still have thoughts remaining when our grandchildren have arrived on this planet. If all else fails, I believe there may be room for them to be stored in the cage for the dodos.

Saturday, March 29, 2008

What the world needs now... a bath.  Really, how long has it been since it had one?  A shower, sure, it gets those all the time.  But a real, nice, long soak in the tub?  I imagine the world hasn't had one of those in ages.  And it could probably use one.  It might have to rinse off all that nasty smog and garbage and pollution scum that'll float to the top of the water, but it'd be much happier afterwards.

And that is what my brain thinks of when I have too much time on my hands.

Although my thoughts could be worse.  

I could be - just theoretically, you understand - researching sex toys (It's research. I wouldn't have a choice.  Situation totally beyond my control.), and then the resulting information overload could warp my teeny little brain.  So that, say, when I'm listening to a child's program on tv, I hear this:

'To the butt plug!"

intead of this:

"To the book club!"

Not that this has ever happened to me or anything, of course.  It simply could, and it would be worse than thinking about bathing the world.  That's all I'm saying.  Truly.  And don't act like it's never happened to you - really, they sound almost identical.  Butt plug.  Book club.  People mix these two up constantly.  I bet book club presidents have to worry about it all the time.

"Damn, better remember not to accidentally say 'Welcome to the DiddleFop Butt Plug' today.  Wasn't that embarrassing last time."


And damn, wouldn't that be worth seeing? ^-^  I think I'll have to find the town of DiddleFop and move there now.

Friday, March 21, 2008

Entering New Territory

...the title could so easily be made into something sexual, couldn't it?  ^-^

And with that little bit of inanity, welcome to the blog of TwistedHilarity!  I'm a female writer of erotic romances that involve males falling in love with other males (with a little hetero love thrown in when the mood strikes).  Stories are what I enjoy most - long, involved, plot filled bundles of fun.  Yea for stories with the added erotic 'oomph.'

And added to all that, I'm into the fluffy ( but not the 'furry.')

I write the fluffy, the silly, the sweet, the happy endings...with a little bit of angst and kink for contrast.  Hardly even counts as kink, though, in the whole realm of  kinkdom.  Think of it as 'kink-lite.'  Or...Fluffy Kink (see, now the title makes sense, eh?). 

I look forward to discovering the wide-world of blogging.  


Damn, let me just wipe the tears from my eyes for a moment.  Those who know me have long been aware that I have the computer skills of blind hungarian moles - dead ones- and I view my forays into the internet with suspicious mutterings and wardings against the evil eye. I believe the computer views me with rather more graphic shrieks of horror and prayers for salvation.

I would ask that you not laugh too loudly at my pitiful attempts at a web presence (Sniggering is accepted, however.)  You'll need me someday.  Trust me.  When the computers get too smart and take over the world, who's going to save you?  That's right: me.  TwistedHilarity, bane to all computers, eventual savior for the computer enslaved masses.  Just remember that: us poor, techno-handicapped guys and gals will eventually save the world.  And then we'll make a Special about it, but you'll have to read the book, because none of us know how to work the videocamera.

The stories themselves will be up before too long, at, but until then, I hope you all have an enjoyable day and read something that makes you laugh out loud.