And I'm Back in Business

OMG - I have a computer again! It's like suddenly remembering what an orgasm is like after weeks without one. I missed it so, so much. And yeah, for those curious, I'm hunched over my computer like a little Gollum, rubbing the shiny white case and muttering 'my precious' over and over.

*cough* So I have a love/hate relationship with the thing. When it works, I love it. When it breaks, it is that evil bastard that I always knew would leave me someday and I hope it rots in hell. Although I want to call it a bitch, curiously. Suppose that's my latent lesbian tendencies coming to the fore, considering how much caressing it's getting right now.

Edit: And for those who wonder what evil befell my computer this time, it was the power button. Yeah, that's right, the power button, three months after the warranty ends. Because you don't need to build those to last or anything. They're hardly ever used, right? Frick - such a bunch of crap, I swear.

Okay, deep breath, good air in, emo-angst out. Ready to go on.

In any case, writing commences now, as fast as I can make it happen. Which, as NaNoWriMo has taught me, is about 800-900 words in 10 minutes, if I write like a crazy person and don't mind a few grammatical errors in my blitzkrieg of a first draft. Which is a good thing, 'cause sometimes 10 minutes is about all I've got these days.

Speaking of...

Since life is getting a little better this year than it was last, I believe I'm going to try for NaNoWriMo again. Hope it turns out well enough to put out...once all the other stories are done, that is. Wishing any other NaNoWriMo writers the best in their efforts this year, as well. If anyone has wanted to start a writing project and is having trouble motivating themselves to get it started, this might be something that you'd enjoy. Check it out.

Pause in updates - computer death

There will be a, hopefully short, pause in updating while I get my !#$@#$@% laptop computer repaired. Again. For the millionth time....and this was my new one! 3 months after the warranty ended, and my computer completely died.

Henceforth, I shall refer to the computer company as 'those rat bastards.'

All stories have been backed up on a different drive, so nothing has been lost. Phew! However, I can't access them with the software I have on our family computer, so they're kind of stalled. If I get desperate, I may just make shit up from scratch and go from there.

And annoyingly, the software that I use to access my website is ALSO on the dead computer. I will put up freaking text alone, if I have to, dang it.

I'll post here whenever - and wherever - I put up the next updates!

And on a side note - The movie Conan: not so good movie, but a very, very good ass. And set of abs. And chest - wow. Just...wow. I think I'll buy the movie when it comes out, take a photo of certain scenes, and just blow them up to put on my walls, holy god.

It's a good day not to die

Today is a good day. Really. A great day. And why, you may ask?

I ate salmon. And it was awesome.

You may have noticed I've been having a bit of a food theme in my blogging lately. It's on my mind a lot. The last 8 months have found me losing about 55 pounds, along with all my foods but 7. It's due to some surprise food issues that cropped up suddenly and nastily. Eating a 'bad' food now can sometimes result in my throat trying swell itself shut, which really kind of puts a crimp in your whole day.

But I have food I can eat, and it's not terrible food, so I can hack it. It simply puts a bit of a different perspective on the role food plays in my life, is all.

However, I seriously cannot even express how strange it is to eat the same 7 foods every single day for months at a time, and then suddenly get to have a new food. Some of you are likely familiar with this phenomenon, from various diets or fasting or MRE's. I wasn't. And it's like...well... it's like...

Let me put it this way. If you ever see some skinny bitch sitting outside a restaurant who eats a bit of food and then moans 'oh my GAWD' over and over in near-orgasmic bliss? That would be me eating the salmon. Or anything else I actually get to try next.

Seriously, not exaggerating. I think my husband was on the verge of asking me and my salmon to get a room.

I almost did, too. >_<

Instead, I finished my salmon and sat down to write down the experience like any good little writer gal would. Because it's different, and new to me, and every little thing we experience is simply so useful for a writer, isn't it? And often in the most unexpected ways.

The whole vampire liquid diet thing, for example. Just the other day, it occurred to me that I could take a look at going vamp in a totally new way. What would it feel like to lose the ability to eat food? I feel like I have the answer to that down to a visceral level.

It's kind of a cool bit of knowledge to have access to, when you look at it that way. And I'm so curious what else there is to get out of this entire experience. I guess I'll find out.

Here's wishing you some interesting and not too painful experiences that can help you and your writing and life, too!

Cornflake, know thyself

I am a card-carrying flake. It's kind of like being a marine: it's not just a job, it's an adventure.

Really, it is.

--As a flake, I regularly park my car and forget where in the world it is. This typically results in 'the great hunt for the car,' which oddly resembles something like a quest in an old fable, with little old ladies giving advice, strange creatures swooping overhead in the (asphalt) forest, and feasting and rejoicing at the end.

--As a flake, I don't get a lot of jokes immediately. I tend to believe this is because I have a brain that is not fully functional in real time. More often than not, my critical thinking doesn't come into play for at least a minute after a conversation has already happened. So when, say, I'm chatting with a barber and he says, 'don't mind me, I'm deaf in one ear and can't hear out of the other,' do you know what I say?

"Oh, dear, I'm so sorry to hear that!"

And one minute later I'm hitting myself in the forehead as critical thinking analyzes that statement and whispers, 'hey, cornflake, that was a joke!' And the above example? That really happened. Poor man thought I was absolutely mental.

-- As a flake, I am pretty much guaranteed to forget people's names, regardless of how long I have known them. I have, at various times, forgotten the names of my husband, my kids, my best friends, my boss, every human being I have ever spoken to on the web, everyone I ever met, and the names of every character, band, and book title I've ever heard of. Have you ever tried to introduce someone to your best friend and you not only forget the new person's name, but your best friend's as well? Definitely an adventure, just not the fun kind. I love meeting people, and talking with people, and commiserating and sharing and just plain bitching. And when you can't remember someone's name, no matter how much of a wonderful time you had with them, it's hard for them to believe that you really enjoyed their company at all. Which, to put it bluntly, sucks all around.



It's taken me a while to accept my flakiness. I have tried to overcome it, to change it, to improve myself and eliminate it, all to no avail. My flake-i-tude seems to be here forever. All my close friends and family accepted it years ago and are kind enough not to mock me too much for it. Although I may have earned the nickname 'Cornflake' among my fellow writing buddies.

But I'm very grateful they have come to realize that my complete inability to remember jack shit is totally unrelated to how much I care about them and enjoy being with them. Thank god. I'd have no friends left if they weren't so kind!

That said... there is one thing in my life that is oddly non-flaky: stories.

I adore stories, always have. I love reading them, watching them, writing them, hearing about them second-hand. I adore storytelling, especially when romance is involved. And after all these years, I believe I have figured out where my flakiness comes from.

My brain thinks life is a story, too. One that is not quite finished yet, so you don't need all the pesky little stuff in there. So it remembers the details that are important to the story, and tosses the rest. Do heroes need to remember where their cars are parked? No. Do we care what the names of all the people our hero meets are? No. Do we need to know that oxygen is the most likely gas for an atmosphere that supports life because of how it forms bonds with other molecules?

Hmmmm, Maybe. And see...I remember that one, even though it came from just one darn paragraph in a chemistry text book I read over ten years ago. That's because it might affect plot...so my brain remembers that one (And as an aside...methane is the next most likely gas. Neat, huh?).

Yes, I'm a geek flake. A romantic geek flake. Life is weird that way.



So, what does this have to do with yaoi or writing or any such thing? Self-knowledge.

In my life, I pay attention to people's characteristics and backgrounds and emotions rather than their names, to romances going on around me, to the idea of 'going to the store' rather than 'where the hell is my car.'

In my writing, I've begun to notice that I do the same damn things. I like writing the characters, and the romances. I feel like that's something that comes much more naturally to me. The details? I tend to forget those, especially on a first draft. What color is that horse? No clue. Are my heroes in a forest or a jungle? Uh, forgot to figure that out yet. And where the hell is their car? Really, no freaking idea. What color was it again?

I have a friend who is opposite myself in many ways. That woman is a real detail person, and when she writes, I notice a lot of physical details crop up in her stories, too. That's her strength. Her settings and descriptions are always so beautifully vivid, sometimes enough to give me raging cases of inadequacy. I love her anyway. :-)

I already felt comfortable about my strengths. Accepting my flake-hood helps me remember that I'll need to go back and enter in more physical detail and plot points, for example. Or that I need to make a file to keep track of said details (eye color, height, scent).

So I would suggest, for any beginning writers looking to figure out what to improve next in their writing? Taking a look at yourself and what you focus on in your life might give you some ideas about where to start. And even if they don't, hey, always nice to take some time to get to know yourself a little better, eh?

Happy reading and writing, everyone!

Iowa and Y-con

Did you know that Iowa is flat?  I mean, really flat.  Scary flat.  For someone who has been surrounded by mountains no matter where I've lived, it's like an agoraphobic acid trip.  If agoraphobics dropped acid, that is.  And if I actually knew what an acid trip was like, which I don't, because I was the biggest goody two-shoes you ever saw in my youth.

Not only didn't I inhale, I never even saw a joint.

Don't worry, though, I'm making up for it in gay porn.  Kind of a 'conservation of sin' sort of deal.  And I'm happy to say that my children are carrying the 'sinful' gay torch to scary-flatter than roadkill-Iowa.

Because as we're visiting my husband's fuckton of Iowa relatives, what are my children doing?  They are holding court among the conservative, catholic cousins, and telling them all about violence to gay teens, and how awful it is, and how downright moronic it is to hate someone just because they 'fell in love' with someone of the same sex. 

I love my little pre-teen activists, ha.  Although I don't think we're gonna be invited to any family reunions any time soon!

Good thing, too.  If I had to travel too much, it might eat up my 'going to yaoi con' fund! I can't believe it's that time again already, when my little mind is occupied with dreams of yaoi. And penises...although those dreams tend to come more often than I should probably admit to in a court of law.

I will, of course, share the goodness with all those who aren't able to attend and are wondering what in the world I see in the darn thing (Here's a hint: Many beautiful men, and not enough clothing to go around.).  And if all goes well, I will finally put up the picture of penises before the con. 

Yes, you heard me.  The pictures of the penis paper from LAST con aren't up yet.  Just remember, this is me, here.  A computer, a digital camera, and me, Computer's Bane.

It's taken me this long to have every piece of equipment working, and then working together. But now all I need is some time to take the pictures, and it's penises, penises, as far as the eye can see. Seriously.  The paper roll is probably longer than my house. It's gonna take forever to capture all of this on digital camera...film stuff.

But it'll be worth it.

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.

This comic: http://www.penny-arcade.com/comic/2008/9/3

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.

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.

Fanart.  

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.*

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.

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.  

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.

What the world needs now...

...is 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."

See?  

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

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.  

*snicker*  

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 TwistedHilarity.com, but until then, I hope you all have an enjoyable day and read something that makes you laugh out loud.