NEW RELEASES
Now if we could make a car that ran on syrup, IHop would rule the world
I’m really aghast at the national media. I realize that we have a lot going on in the news right now especially with the political conventions. The republicans and the democrats are in a major sandbox argument and, understandably, that takes up most of the media’s attention but I still think they are very remiss in burying this story.
this is probably $75,000
That’s the only explanation I can come up with for why it’s being swept under the carpet. The powers that be don’t want you to know. Fortunately, I’m all over it. I will not be bought off by villains who don’t want you to know the truth.
First of all, until I read about this story, I had no idea it was even a thing. Are you aware that Quebec has warehouses full of maple syrup? That they are stock piling it? It’s shockingly true. Quebec has 80% of the worlds maple syrup and this is big business, people. Huge.
How huge? Let me tell you. Hold on to your pancakes cause this will blow your mind.
There was a heist of maple syrup in one Quebec facility. Some sticky (ha!) thieves absconded with 30 million dollars in syrup.
$30,000,000.00. 
The thing is, these warehouses are apparently so big that 30M in missing syrup wasn’t even noticed right away.
That, my friends, is one hell of a lot of syrup. Did you know this was a thing? Ava had an inkling. I was totally unaware that syrup was a dynasty like freaking oil in Texas. I guess I thought that there were groves of maple trees with faucets jammed in the trunk with buckets hanging down and that was the sum of syrup. I never pictured that one country was controlling the entire world with syrup.
This heist smacks of some wacky Dr. Evil plan to rule the world. Mark my words – this will come back to haunt us all.
In your opinion, what would be the best use of $30,000,000 of maple syrup? Create really elaborate but sticky practical joke? Make pancakes and waffles until you literally explode? That’s a few ideas. Whatcha got?
Copping to being an idiot
Sometimes I astound myself with how dumb I am.
For weeks now, I’ve been seeing commercials for a new TV showed called “Copper”. As we’ve already discussed, I don’t really watch commercials and, thus, paid little attention. It’s on the BBC and they make really good series so I was interested but didn’t really connect with any of it – just the time period and two good-looking men.
Anyway, the series started and Amy watched the first two episodes and insisted I start watching it, too. We do that so we can talk about
Copper
these shows like we know these people, hence, our deep attachment to the dragon girl on Game of Thrones. Since I missed the first two episodes, we recorded them so we could catch up.
Over the weekend, Ed and I watched the first episode. Here’s where my dumbness comes in:
Don’t be fooled, the show Copper is about Coppers not Copper – understand?
I thought the show was about COPPER – the metal. Like maybe the premise was about a copper mine, or copper something, with an evil overlord making huge profits off of child labor and the good-looking guys were there to help set everything to right and the evil guy would get his comeuppance over the course of the series. Or something.
Five minutes into the show, I come to realize that it’s not about copper at all. It’s about COPPERS – the police. I was lost for the rest of the hour because my mind refused to accept that there weren’t going to be any copper miners with a canary. Okay, that’s a coal mine but I don’t really know what bird they use for copper and I’ll bet you don’t either without Googling it.
The next day, Amy eagerly asked what I thought and I had to admit I was lost. “How could you be lost?” she demanded. Then I had to explain about the copper mine – she still hasn’t stopped laughing at me.
Amy’s Note: Ava’s not dumb, but she does have dingbat tendencies. But then really, don’t we all? I remember once when I was in high school driving past my elementary school and thinking the parking lot was very small. It made me wonder where all the students parked. As dumb as that thought was, it still doesn’t beat Ava’s blind drivers. One of these days I’ll get her to write that blog.
What’s the last time you remember thinking a thought so stupid you were afraid to tell other people? You can tell us, we’re quiet as the grave. Besides, if you can’t laugh at yourself, we can’t laugh at you either.
He may be a folk hero to the lazy
I read a newspaper article the other week that left me pondering all kinds of unanswerable questions. Here is the original story. The highlights are that this guy was arrested for trying to break into a well-known jewelry store in town by cutting a hole in the roof. The funny part is that he “got tired” and quit and went home without taking anything, but not until after liberally sprinkling the place with his DNA. He explained to the sentencing judge that he’d been “high (on speed at the time) and got tired and left in the middle of it.”
Perhaps I’m not completely schooled on the effects of speed, but I thought that, by the very nature of the drug, you had lots of energy. Isn’t that the point? Maybe he crashed after cutting a hole in the ceiling, disabling the alarm and phone systems, and dragging in all his heavy equipment including gloves, water bottle, jacket, circular saw, various other power and hand tools and an inspection camera with a probe and television screen. Let’s face it, that’s a lot of crap to take to work with you every day.
He left all of that stuff in the building when he left. He never got into the safes, from what I understand. Don’t you think, if you get that far, you could hang with it for a few more minutes? At least an hour? But on the other hand, haven’t we all started a project we thought we could handle and half way through, you decide, “Oh, screw this crap” but you can’t bail out because you’re a responsible person so you finish but it’s a half-assed job and you resent it the whole time.
I know I have.
It took two years to identify the burglar because it was a property theft and, thus, low on the crime lab totem pole. Can’t you imagine the disappointment when the police finally came to arrest him after two years? I’m sure he thought he was off scott free after all that time. The police tracked him down the by the sheer tonnage of DNA evidence.
Don’t you think it would have just been easier for him to leave a note?
Hey-
I’m bushed. Give me a call at 555-5555 and I’ll come by and pick up my stuff.
Thanks,
Bozo
What’s the last project you started that you knew early on was too much? With me it’s this book writing business, but I’m clearly not well. Did you finish the project? Or did you say, “Screw it, I’m going home?”
Taking enrollment in our Scared Straight program
I’m not exactly sure what the hell the universe has against my family enjoying a three-day weekend but, honest to Zeus, every time we look forward to relaxing for three whole days, some homeowner nightmare happens.
This time it all started Wednesday evening because I kept yelling at my kids to quit getting water all over the bathroom floor. I sopped it
Less than a week ago this was my pantry
all up from the floor but when we were done with dinner the water was back. I cleaned it up again and ran my fingers around the toilet tank hoping to find water leaking, but no. Later in the evening, I mopped it up again. I sat on the floor and cleared everything out from under the sink. While there was no water in the cabinet, I thought the wall seemed damp. My Honey came and looked. He even pulled the panels off our Jacuzzi tub and, LO, there was an inch of water underneath.
Groan.
Thursday after work, My Honey started tracking down where the water was coming from. Out came the wall behind the vanity. Crap, crap, crappity crap. High up on the wall, a pipe was leaking, dripping water down the wall and floating down hill towards the bathtub where it seeped out along grout lines. I tell you all the mundane bullshit of the latest saga so that I can get to the good parts.
Saturday, my brother the plumber came over and decided we need all new pipes. BAH! If were going to get new plumbing, we need a new hot water heater. If we’re putting in all new plumbing, we might as well plumb for air conditioning.
I’ve been checking on both Ebay and Craig’s List for someone looking for a kidney or perhaps a bit of my liver. I’d be willing to trade for
Hall ceiling to the laundry room
funds. I’m not selling my body parts, you understand. I’m trading them for green rectangles with presidents on them. In case the FBI should inquire with you.
Now take a look at my house. My Honey spent one day ripping out the walls and ceiling of the pantry which shares a wall with the bathroom and the ceiling in the laundry room hall in preparation for the retrofit. The items from the bathroom are now all down the bedroom hall. All the items from the pantry finally moved from covering the every flat space in the kitchen to the family room.
This morning, on their free day off, My Honey and The Bandit got up early and dug a trench to expose the plumbing from the main water line.
“Tell Momma what you learned today,” My Honey suggested to Stevie later today.
“I don’t wanna be a trench digger.” My boy shook his head with a great deal of feeling.
My Honey urged him on. “What does that mean?”
“I’m going to go to college.”
My Honey turned to me, “You’re welcome.”
The Bandit says,
As The Bandit is so fond of saying, “Chill-ax, dude.”
August 31
We’re gonna try something different with the five things today. No one reads this anyway so we don’t expect to get a lot of disgruntled comments. Although, honestly, at this point any comment that isn’t selling penis enlargement drugs is welcome. We’ve decided that we’re on the right track to becoming cat ladies. With that in mind, we’ve decided to dedicate this week’s episode to cats. Unfortunately, we weren’t able to come up with five different cat stories so another stealthy animal crept in there. You know us well enough by now to know that we are perfectly willing to adopt any animal so foolish as to wander over by us. So here we go. If you’re allergic, take a pill and hunker down. 
1. Mountain Lion. A two year old mountain lion tried to get into Harrah’s Casino in Reno last week. Ultimately, he didn’t make it because he couldn’t negotiate the revolving door. His behavior was likened to a “stupid teenager” and he was described as being underaged. Are we carding mountain lions now? Really? Jeez, Nevada is getting really strict. We suspect the dude was looking for a nice breakfast buffet and if there’s one place on Earth there is likely to be a buffet fit for a mountain lion it would be in Nevada. Maybe he’d have had better luck in Las Vegas. Honestly, most of the people there
Actual photo of “large domestic cat”. We kid you not.
are so drunkenly intent on their slot machine we doubt he would have been noticed.
2. Here, kitty kitty. There has been a flurry of activity around St Osyth, England. Apparently, there is a “lion” on the loose. Twenty-five officers, a helicopter and workers from a local zoo are running around the countryside looking for a lion that no one will confirm or deny losing. Actually, we thought that a zoo would have a pretty good handle on exactly how many lions they have at their facility. If they’re playing fast and loose with their census numbers then that makes our job of kidnapping a lion cub a whole lot easier. There have been photographs and eyewitnesses of the animal and yet, because they can’t find it, have decided to downgrade the situation from a lion to a
To be clear, THIS is a large cat. Not a “cougar”
“large domestic cat.” How freaking big do they grow their cats over in England? Even after reports of hearing a roar, the officials are sticking with their plan. They have, however, suggested that the locals stay inside. You know, cause there’s an enormous freaking cat wandering around.
3. Feeding cats steroids.That is our only explanation for this next story. In Lynden, Washington there were all kinds of reports of a “cougar” at the fairgrounds. The officials sent the police out there and finally an officer was able to get within a few feet of the animal. This time they were able to confirm that the “cougar” was “a very muscular orange-colored domestic cat.” WTF people? Everyone seems to be focusing on a pending zombie apocalypse and that stupid Mayan calendar thing when what we really need to be worried
Wheeeeeeee!
about is what the hell these domestic cats are eating. Was this the Arnold Schwarzenegger of kitties?
4. Gratuitous bear story. Around the corner from our little town an even smaller town was blessed with the sight of a cavorting bear. Joggers and bus riders were warned to be on the alert. Eventually the bear was steered back into the mountain area 
“more suitable for bears” and the fun was over. You know what? He was probably just trying to steer clear of the roving gang of “muscular” orange cats with the German accents.
5. Cats pulling their own weight. It has come to our attention that some people’s cats are actually earning their own keep instead of lounging around and shedding like our cats do. These cats, most of which seem to reside in Japan somewhere, actually make enough money on YouTube to buy their owners new apartments. We can’t even get ours to earn enough money to buy their own food.
Three day weekends are proof your god loves you
No, Jojo, no. We don’t gnaw on the Tooth Fairy
Jojo Kitten lost a tooth today.
Don’t be fooled by it’s tiny size. If it bites you, you know it.
There was squealing. Also, eye rolling. We do understand the magnitude of our ridiculousness in case you think we’re not so self-aware.
He was sleeping on my desk just like normal when he started making coughing/gagging noises. He used his front feet like hands and acted like he was trying to get something out of his mouth. THEN THERE WAS BLOOD ON HIS PAW!
I’m not going to say I panicked but I will say I was a little more shrill than usual when I yelled for Ava to come to my office.
She trotted across the hall and sat on the other side of my desk. Together we stared at Joe. He stared back in that cat way that all but says out loud, “What the hell do you want?”
Then he turned his head to the side and spit a baby tooth across the room.
I knew that kittens lose their baby teeth, just as puppies and kids do. Of course, I’m referring to human kids, although I suspect that baby goats lose their teeth, too. It’s just that kittens’ are very small. If we hadn’t seen exactly where he’d spit it, we’d have never found it.
I showed all his Aunties at work and we all cooed over it and lamented that our baby is growing up. Then I wrapped it up in a Post It note and tucked it into my wallet so I could show my kids.
This is the note that Sassy wrote to the Tooth Fairy. Oh, did you not think the Tooth Fairy would come cause Jojo’s just a cat? Clearly, you and your relationship with the Tooth Fairy has lapsed. All of the misspellings are Sassy’s, although I have added punctuation so you have a chance at deciphering it. Here’s a hint, read phonetically.
Hi tooth fariy,
I just hop you tack this tooth. It is not my tooth, it is Jojo’s tooth. If you can, can you not leave a coin or bill.
If you can, can you leve a cat thing.
It whod be asom if you cood take it.
Love Jojo
PS. Try not to poke yourself
Isn’t it cute how my kids are so excited about what the Tooth Fairy could bring for Jojo? I warned them that she wouldn’t be prepared for kitten teeth so she may not have anything feline appropriate. Still, it’s cute how worked up they are.
Ava and I aren’t excited at all. In fact, we find the whole thing rather uninteresting, mundane, childish. After all, we have lives you know.
PS – After reading this in the light of day, I see spelling errors in my survey. I can’t fix that now because I’m a moron. Terribly sorry.
What’s the best liquor pairing for lemon cupcakes?
Part of getting the first of the Keeping Secrets series of Regency romantic comedies out before Christmas was that it had to go through the editorial process. For the uninitiated, that means that a professional editor goes through the manuscript with the goal of ripping your work to shreds as lovingly as possible in the guise of making your book the best it can be.
This is something that you ask for, beg for. In this particular instance, I’m paying a lot of money for a stranger to dissect Lady Belling’s Secret to the bone and show me every single flaw she can find.
It’s demoralizing, ego bruising, soul-crushingly awful. And absolutely necessary.
I think it’s best to have a stranger do it, someone who can be brutal, someone who doesn’t love you. Someone that you won’t feel compelled to never speak to again.
Nevertheless, after I received the five-page, single spaced letter from the editor with her fourteen points that need immediate attention, I thought seriously about leaving Bank of No Forks and heading straight to a bar. A bar that also sells pastry. Jack Daniels and a Bundt cake. Remy Martin and a chocolate cream pie. Johnny Walker and a pineapple upside down cake.
I know that every author feels this way when they get the first round of content edits, but I don’t really care. Knowing that others are out there doesn’t make me feel any less inadequate, embarrassed or depressed. Just like everyone else of my generation, I looked for someone else to blame for this feeling.
This is all Ava and Julia Quinn’s fault. Mostly Ms. Quinn.
If Ava hadn’t give me my first romance and if it had been the brilliant Julia Quinn’s The Duke and I, I might have sailed along through the rest of my life without ever finishing a manuscript. I would have sat at home, content in my snobbery, completely ignorant of my substandard writing ability instead of hopeful and misguided.
I totaly realize that I’m being excessively dramatic. So what. That’s what artists are like – dramatic, insecure, crazy. I get another twelve hours of this before I put my big writer pants on and get back to work. But while I work off my free pass, I’m going to use up every bit of it.
Dear Ms Quinn.
This is not a love letter.
I want to tell you, from the very bottom of my heart, that ,while in the course of sharing your gift of storytelling with the world, you have single-handedly ruined my life. I blame your wit, your gift of crafting a story with sufficient conflict, and your unmatched knack of putting it all together in a page turning, giggle out loud book makes me completely miserable.
If it hadn’t been for you, I never would have said, “Hey, I can write one of those,” and I’d still be fooling around with partially finished horror stories and uninspired literary fiction. I’d be much happier I’m sure. It’s probably also your fault that I’m drunk and sick to my stomach from all the misery cake I’ve been eating.
The next time I see you I’m going to seriously consider kicking you in the shin. I probably won’t though because I’ll be too concerned about getting you to sign my latest copy of whatever brilliance your publisher is peddling now. I can’t even properly hate you.
Here’s the thing, though Ms. Quinn. I just think you should know that it’s all your fault that I’m feeling like a talentless hack. I’m selling my lap top for scrap. I’m throwing out my thesaurus. At least until tomorrow.
Fondly, but with a prickle of intense jealousy.
Amylynn Bright – worthless hack
P.S. When’s your next book due out?
It’s probably also why I love cars so much
My Honey had an awful day. When I checked in with him in the afternoon, he lamented the magnitude of its crappiness.
When he woke up this morning the house was strewn with the contents of the kitchen garbage can. Thanks, dogs. When he put his work boots on, he broke a shoelace. Next, his truck wouldn’t start so he jumped the battery with my car. On the way to work, he realized that his windshield was broken. Work sucked, which is a given considering that he was required to go there. When he got off work, the truck battery was dead – again. $77.00 later he had a new battery, but then he had to go to school – which is crappola after a long, hard day.
So you know what I did to prove that I’m a good wife? I made dinner. It was crap dinner (Ava comments – it was a crap dinner and, clearly, Amy is too embarrassed to even tell you what it was – but I’m not – she gave them Tuna Helper! Tuna Helper for gods sake.) and he had to come to my rescue at the end because I forgot to include any kind of vegetable.
It concerns me that I require recognition for this feat. Honestly, I think I might have some male DNA somewhere in there because that bullshit is a “guy move” if ever there was one.
Do you do something that is clearly a move from the other DNA? Are you a man who turns mean once a month? Are you a woman like me who requires recognition for the littlest thing? Are you a guy into your hair or a woman who loves fast cars?