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

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.

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 kitchen...to...wow, 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.

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.