What’s The Colour of Paprika?

I was having difficulty writing last week, hence the non-blogging, non-posting non-thinking non-action from me. Saturday, I decided to head to Chapters to see what’s up with books lately and wandered in with my expensive coffee and daughter in tow. Whilst perusing the aisles, I thought in order to kick start some ideas I would invest in a daily writing book. I wandered to the back where all of the discounted we-still-have-these-and-price-them-ridiculously-low-so-you-think-you-are-getting-a-deal books are located. I found one stuffed on a shelf under the heading ‘Writing and Other Shit’. I swear that’s what it said. Anyway, I bought the book for ten dollars and really should have taken a deeper look at it. It hails that it has 365 writing prompts to “INSPIRE YOU EVERYDAY!!” It looked good to me, so Sunday I cracked it open. The first prompts were to write about colours of herbs and spices and describe something that same colour.  I shit you not.  

What am I, in Grade 1?

By the way, BOOK OF INSPIRATION, I have no idea what the fuck herbs and spice look like other than salt and pepper. They’re spices, right? All I know is that most grow out of the ground and are green. Basically, you want me to describe everything that’s green. Awesome.


The only thing this book has accomplished so far was to make me even more of a sarcastic wise ass. Which is not really a bad thing and pretty par for the course, but I was expecting something a little deeper. More meaningful. More adult and less Grade 1 and what colour is Paprika? Answer: Reddish orangeish like Pippy Longstocking’s hair on acid. Kinda. I’M SO DESCRIPTIVE.

Today’s writing prompts were three events from different eras in history and it asked to describe a mundane event that may have happened on the same day. The first date was William Shakespeare’s death on April 23, 1616. Now, I’m no historical expert, so what the hell do I know what folks did on a daily basis in fucking 1616?!

This sucks.

Want to know my answer for that one?

Here it is:  

Too bad for William Shakespeare. 1616?! How am I supposed to know what folks did in 1616?! Killed kittens? Planned murderous plots against the King and Queen? Had their pantaloons tailored? Wrote shit poetry and answered everything with ‘where art thou?’ WTF…

If nothing else, I get to be a sardonic jerk without actually failing a course or having an actual writer person tell me I suck at this.

Which I do.

Tomorrow’s prompt?

Jesus Wept

Why? Because He read my last answer? Great. Can’t wait.  

Jesus isn’t the only one weeping.

Ugh 
 

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I Have No Business Watching the Osmonds or Reading King…Apparently

Please tell me why I just spent ninety minutes watching the Osmonds’ life story? Ugh… I shit you not, that’s exactly what I did for NINETY INANE MINUTES.  How is that even legal?

 My life has reached a point of stagnation that a movie about the Osmonds manages to hold my attention FOR NINEY MINUTES.  I just kept watching and watching.  It was like I couldn’t tear my eyes away and when the Donny and Marie show spirals out of control it was like I was reliving the tragedy “I’m a little bit country” all over again…then they lose 80 million dollars (yeah, 80 million) and then they start a tour again, then Merril faints (oh noooo)  and then suddenly, they’re all grown up and singing on some wanton stage dressed in black, “He’s ma Brother”   The End.  There.

 I just saved you from having to watch that movie. 

You. Are. Welcome.

RUN KIDS, RUN!!

RUN KIDS, RUN!!

In other relevant news, I just finished reading Under the Dome by Mr. King and it was fabulous.  A tad long, but great.  Wonderful.  You all should read it…just kinda flip through some of the non-essential boring stuff…you’ll see what I mean if you get the epic book that could double as the manual for orchestrating world domination with nothing more than a few arm bands and lighter fluid.  AND, written in Japanese…It’s huge and heavy so if you plan on carrying it around with you, don’t.  You’ll end up in the emergency room with back spasms or shoulder issues. They (meaning Steve) should have affixed a warning label on the cover stating the weight of the book may cause damage to your central nervous system if carried long distances.  Or brain issues if you read incessantly for periods of time that you get confused if there’s a dome surrounding your house or if that’s just your cat blocking the windows with her giant fur-clad body. Or when the next case of radiation may spontaneously invade your space that you think you need to run to Walmart to see if they have wayward lead rolls in stock to cover the windows of your car should you choose to drive up to the nearest cliff to see the strange purple flashing light….it’s a King book, remember?

Bigger than the dome

Bigger than the dome

  Don’t say I didn’t warn you.  It’s a two-man lift, …or two-woman lift…or one-man/one-woman lift.  An epic saga in that I-wanna-read-it-all-in-one-sitting-but-I’m-slowly-going-crosseyed-and-what’s-that-strange-idiotic-cat-doing-since-I-don’t-own-a-fucking-cat kinda book.  You get what I’m saying here…IT’S FUCKING HEAVY.   Just to be clear. 

‘Cause that was totally comprehensible…

It’s been a long day.  I need wine.   I could possibly be checking in with you all later this evening if I’m not drunk…or it may be more fun if I am.  Either way. 

Wine.

 

 

 

 

The Word Game

words

There’s a wrestling match going on inside my head and so far Rogue is losing to the opponent.  Problem is I’m not sure who or what the opponent is.  He remains nameless and faceless.  I resolve to write a great post full of wit and wisdom and end up with this…this…rambling and fumbling of words.  I fucking hate that.

In order to free up the creative process, let’s play a little game.  I’ll say a word and the other me will write down the first thing that pops into my head.  It’s easier when there is more than one ‘you’ inside your head.  Yay for mental health!  Ready, people?  Let’s go!

Ball- Run

String- This is stupid

Room-  With a view!  I win!

Desk- A Fucking mess

Lindsay Lohan-  Also, a fucking mess

Pen- With which to write which I haven’t, thus the need for this idiotic exercise. Next.

Apple- Crunchy

Chair- Dumb chair.  Fell over it this morning…oh. Sorry.

Dog-   The cutest wittle doggie evah…ahem.  Again, sorry.

Weight- Wait?  Or WEIGHT!  Like HOLY SHIT I WEIGH HOW MUCH? Or HOLY SHIT I HAVE TO WAIT HOW LONG?!!  Which one?  Both are evil.

Fruit-  Owns a hair salon and totally denies he’s gay…oh!  You mean FRUIT, like apples and oranges and stuff…again with the apples? Ugh.

Heat- Totally absent in this space and therefore I am FUCKING FREEZING!!  Hello?!! Oh!  I meant house.  I’m home today…back to the words…

Keys-  Ima gonna need a new set when they change the locks on the door…to my HOUSE of course, because that’s where I currently am.  HOME.  Yeah.

Florida- where I should be at the moment.

Book- Love them all, read them all, wrote a couple…awesome stuff.

Paper- Umm….white, blank lately, some have lines, trees died for them?  What do you want from me?

Elvis- We went from paper to Elvis?  Really?  “Thank you, you’re beautiful”.  All I got.

The lights are on but no one’s home-  The story of my life…This is supposed to be ONE word.

Money-  Apparently not something young adults take downtown so instead of  YA being able to get home independently, she feels the need to call the mommy so she can meet her at a location only to have that location change when mommy gets there due to the absence of money and the YA’s ability to avail of the public transportation system therefore, after much yelling and throwing of cell phone in car, (which sadly now works intermittently at best) mommy dutifully drives all over fucking town (since the location of pick up changed twice after the first time) to rescue daughter and friend only to hear  “thanks” and “well, if you had let me take the car this wouldn’t have happened”…. Good thing my phone is due for an upgrade….

Fuck off- See above.  ‘nuff said.

Thank you for playing.  See you next time on WORD ASSOCIATION-THE BEST GAME FOR YOUR MENTAL HEALTH.

Disclaimer Clause:  It should be noted that no harming of any cars, horses, dogs, cats, wandering hobos, daughters or cell phones occurred in the above scenario.  Swearing was kept to whispers and loud voices in my head…I think it was implied in the yell of “WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU DON’T HAVE ANY MONEY?  WHO GOES DOWNTOWN WITHOUT CASH?!!  TELL ME!  WHO DOES THAT?!”   Ugh….

Memories of Book Club

book-club

I was reminded of my book club days today when I was at the book store.  A woman next to me had asked the cashier if a copy of a particular book had arrived that she needed to read for her next club meeting.  It was my lunch hour and I was perusing the aisles searching for a good read.  I found Alice right where I knew she would be.  The last copy of Munro’s ‘Best Stories’ and I headed to the check out right behind book club lady.

I was about to say a few years ago, but really it was almost ten now, we had been relocated to St. Stephen, New Brunswick for what was going to be a short 18mth stint.  A border town, we quickly became used to driving back and forth between New Brunswick and Maine for milk and gas.  I think it’s a bit harder to do that now, but at the time it was no big issue.  The border guards got used to seeing residents go back and forth and knew the reasons for the regular visits even before their customary interrogation.

In order to meet some new people, the wife of the real estate agent we used to secure a house suggested I join her one evening for her book club meeting.  “Do you like reading?”   I explained my expansive collection and she told me the title of their newest read and where to find it.  “See you there.”

I can’t exactly remember the very first meeting, but I do recall it was colorful.  And the women were not what I was expecting.  Two older women in their sixties who were retired teachers and the ‘leaders’ of the group issued the suggested readings for each new book, and were certainly the most astute of our little group.  They took the club very seriously and initiated conversations regarding the characters and the setting, plot analysis usually followed and then we got down to the stuff they were really there to chat about.  The town gossip.  Ugh.  Since I was a newbie, I was quite happy to be isolated from this part of the evening.

Initially, the books were dished out on a biweekly basis, but since the majority of the ladies in the group had full-time employment, the assignment of reading a new book every two weeks and then analyzing it, became a task too great.  The meetings were rescheduled to monthly sessions that surrounded tea drinking and some Polish Princess references too over-the-top even for the die-hard group members.  I was regularly asked my opinion on the assigned books and I hoped I was able to give a somewhat intelligent answer…you know, other than ‘I liked it’.  I can’t remember, but I do remember being asked regarding our next selections.  I usually left that to the die-hards to dish out.  I still had small kids demanding my attention and a new job to contend with.  Searching reads for everyone to get their hands on with one library in town and a book store across the border, it was a bit tough for the ten of us to find the book we needed and have it read before the next meeting.  I did not want to be in charge of that little experience.  The book titles were emailed at the beginning of each month, or if someone was on the ball, by the time the meeting came around we were alerted to the next book for the next meeting.  Somehow, we all managed.

Shortly before we moved I believe book club hit the skids and disbanded.  The Polish Princesses perhaps became too much for the average working woman to contend with.  Maybe the whole analyzing thing took second stage to the gossiping…it happens.  I wonder if the club got back together to read Fifty Shades?  THAT would have been one hell of a series of trash meetings….

Whatever the reason, book club became a blip in my memory until today.  It was enjoyable while it lasted and I was able to read a few interesting reads and be introduced to some new authors that I otherwise may have overlooked.  Some I liked, some I trashed, but for the most part, book club was a positive experience for me.  Polish Princesses and all….