My Goodness, I’m Signed In…

…to my WordPress account?!

Sometimes this will happen for days.  Perhaps I shouldn’t be letting others know this, but I forget to log out of things.  (Insert a sweating emote.)  My phone will die, and I realize I haven’t closed windows for weeks.  It’s just getting a little crowded with cookies.

(I really don’t understand if that’s what’s happening, but I’ve mentioned some things that sound like a possibility.)

To my son’s great consternation (I just needed to look that up in my dictionary), or maybe just his eye roll and the never-ending ability to mock my old brain farts, I have found I am acting more and more like an old person.

You see, it is to MY great consternation, I keep making these dumb mistakes.

Did anything I wrote make sense?

No?

Well then, let’s start over again.  And, I WILL leave that up there in its nonsensical form because I think it’s vital we see our nonsensiness (my word).

I’m trying to say this:  I am an easy target for identity theft if I keep this up – this not ‘closing things’ when I’m done.  My computer and phone is now an open book for hackers and the like.

You know, but really, are they after me?  I don’t really own anything.  I’m pretty sure I’m safe.

Sigh, this is another sad day as I age.

 

 

Books and Such…

[I placed this on my other blog, but decided to place it here as well.]

I’ve written a few novels (eight or more, actually) in my life.  Writing a book is truly a wasteful endeavor.  You are simply spinning your wheels to write something no one should read.  Or, so you think….

You write and write for months and years a book.  It’s finished and you look over the story and realize… this book sucks.  What was I thinking?  It’s got too much of this, and not enough of that, and what the hell did I just waste my time writing?  What the hell did I just spend 8,640 hours on?  This could actually take another 17,280 or more hours stuck in research and development – my laptop.

All that research and effort, and time I don’t have, and the constant mind-altering state of envisioning the scene and realizing it doesn’t make sense.  It makes it so that you are never truly present with the people in your life, because your mind is on that stupid scene. That scene that just became a giant plot hole.  You’ve just written a really dumb book!

The character is uneven.  I just think this character makes some really lousy decisions for her life.  Are they even realistic?  Are they likable?  All these peripherals like cell phones, and clothing choices, and remembering names, hair, eye color, height, and remembering if what was mentioned in chapter two was mentioned later in chapter 20, or vice versa.

Time gaps!  Oh my goodness!  The month, the season, the time of day, and do they all coordinate to keep the reader in the story, or have you just lost them because in one chapter it was spring and the next it’s winter, or in one its morning and suddenly it’s dusk.

What the hell were you thinking?

I have all this fear.

Fear.

Fear is my greatest enabler for never stepping out and trying to be published.

And so, I wrote these dumb books.

It’s so silly.  I actually enjoyed writing them.  I really did.  I fell in love with some of my characters – who were really a part of me tucked away in there.  All my darkest parts and all my brightest.  Some characters, well they were people I’ve met and observed, or thought over after watching a show or the news.  Some are like distant relatives you meet and think, “they have the traits of a great character in a book.”

We all have so many layers inside.  We have layers we will never discover.  It takes years and years of constant searching.  Madeline L’Engle once wrote one of my favorite quotes:

“The great thing about getting older is that you don’t lose all the other ages you’ve been.”

I enjoy writing the more recent books, because the more I read and wrote in my life, the easier it became.  The more enjoyable it became.  I had more life to share and write about.

And so, if you write.  If you write books, or stories, or poetry, or anything really.  If you love to read books.  If the written word is your passion, step out.

Don’t let fear hold you back.

I let it rule over me, much too much.

And honestly, over half are worth throwing in a dumpster, but the other few are quite nice.

Please visit my stories.  I’ve decided to update weekly.  I write everything from humor to drama, fantasy to horror and suspense, and even a little crime, erotica, and romance. Mostly, I love a good soapy romance.

I hope at the end of the book I told a good story.  I hope if you read that you will leave a comment or message me and let me know how I can improve.  I appreciate good critiques.

Thank you for reading and I hope you the best possible day!

 

Content, not Content…

Argh, I feel like a pirate.  I’m saying, “Argh,” a lot.

[Warning: there might be spoilers]

So, I’ve watched some shows lately that have had to do with fairy tales coming to life and being real.  I’d guess the most popular at the moment is Once Upon a Time.  It certainly has some of the best lesbian fanfiction – Swan Queen all the way, baby!  Hash tag SwanQueen?  This is a really good show that I’ve enjoyed, but I’m not going to be writing about that quality show right now.

I am talking about a lesser known Disney channel movie titled, Descendants.  They actually have two movies, Descendants and Descendants 2.  Disney even put together an animated TV show.  It’s supposedly a big franchise that I had never heard of until I was hired to write this YouTube script.

I’m a content writer, at times, and this was my first job. My daughter informed me this show is pretty popular.  I honestly hadn’t heard anything about this show until I took on this quick little 500 to 700 word script.  To research this little show I actually watched it.  I WATCHED THIS SHOW!

Argh!

It was pretty bad.  The acting.  The writing.  The plot.  The clothes and fashion? The singing.  The choreography. The songs.  Oh, the songs were like leftover song scraps from a really bad musical.  It’s like they walked to the back room of a bad play, rummaged through the trash bin, and voila, there were some quick forgotten pieces and the writers or producers said, “Hey, we can use these!  Nobody will care.  It’s just a musical with hot teen boys and girls.”

And yes, that seems to have been the only selling point:  hot teen boys and girls dancing and singing.

Their main star was Boo Boo Stewart.  (Not his real name.)  (Yes, every single blog writes my previous parenthetical sentence.)  His real name is actually Nils Allen Stewart Jr., and his most well-known role was as Seth Clearwater in the Twilight franchise.  In this franchise he plays the son of Jafar, Jay, and was the subject of this short script I wrote.

Onto the Descendants writing.  It was painful because I made myself watch this show to write a small script.  This is what content writing is:  writing stuff you simply have no interest in whatsoever.

I must admit, it was nice being paid for my writing.  This was the first time I was paid to write something.  It felt pretty sweet.

Descendants has a really sad story, when you think about it.  The evil despot, King Beast, banished all the villains to an Isle of the Lost.  If the villains were dead, he brought them back to life so they could be banished to this island.  Extreme cruel and unusual punishment from the so-called good guys.  Consider, if you will, Guantanamo Bay where you are not even allowed to die to leave.  And not only the villains are punished to live here in this third world island, but they have to keep their kids there.  Forever.  Thus, the name of the movie series, Descendants, which was also the idea behind a book series, Isle of the Lost by Melissa de la Cruz.

The premise is set up because King Beast’s son, Ben, decides for his 16th birthday he will allow the four main stars to leave the island, and then have to attend this prep school, and learn how to live with even worse dance numbers, songs, and clothing choices.  There’s just a lot of… yellow.  I really don’t get all the blue and yellow.

There are so many plot holes and inconsistencies.  Such as, they have never eaten strawberries, but in the beginning dance number there is all kinds of fruit being thrown around the streets.  They had supposedly never eaten candy, but later talk over how they were so evil they stole candy from babies.  Where was this candy?  Babies had candy, but not the teens?  I didn’t get it.

The most glaring plot hole was parentage.  They all had the one villain parent, but no second parent.  Were they part of an evil villain experimentation on the island?  This island had tons of kids there!  All with only one parent?  I am pretty sure you need two for this tango.

I will tell you if you are going to watch these movies the best part is the dog, Dude.  Hands down best acting in the show.  And, he always wears the cutest matching outfits with his best friend, who happens to be Cruella De Vil’s son, Carlos.  Hahaha, irony.

I might write about the show I actually did love, Once Upon a Time, at a later date, despite the glaring missed chance at pairing the best couple with the most chemistry, of any TV show, Regina Miller and Emma Swan.  I mean – GLARING.  It was as if they were trying their darndest not to have a gay couple.  It’s really weird.

At the end of season five: Hook was dead and Robin was dead.  All was perfectly set up for these two grieving bi-women to finally hook up.  They share a child and co-parent and it was the easiest romance.  These women had continually gone to hell and high water to save the other throughout the seasons.  It was the easiest love story ever not written.

They dropped the ball because they were afraid people would be upset these two bi-women might actually choose the love of their life.  Chemistry schmemistry, right?  (I can’t believe I typed that.)  (No wait, I can.)

Argh, they forced her to marry a pirate.

Argh!    

Being Fat…

Being Fat…

“I’ve always struggled with weight… since my kids were born.  Before my kids were born, it was no problem.  I was healthy, curvaceous, a bit of a tennis jock who played in a tennis league, and active.  I gained five pounds and instantly lost it.  But then, I had kids.  I gained five pounds one week, and added a few more the next week with no effort.  It kept continuing this way and there was no stopping it.

“So, my conclusion is that children make you fat.  Thus, don’t have kids.”

— Quote

I was hanging out with my son the other day and asked him one of my usual questions.

“Am I getting obese?  No, I mean, really… am I obese? I’d really like to know when I get to the obesity level since I’ve been gaining weight.  I know I was overweight last year, and so I was wondering since my pants are so tight if I’m getting obese…?” A loaded question, hoping he’d immediately quell my concern.  “I haven’t really been doing much and just sluffing around the apartment because I’ve been so depressed.  I’m just…”

“You’re fat,” he cut off my rambling.

“You sure?”

He pondered for a moment, “You’re not obese, but I’d call you fat.”

“You’d call me fat?”

“Yeah… yeah, you’re fat now.”

That was a depressing turn of events.  He was pretty adamant on the “fat” part.  I was hoping he’d been mistaken.

“But I used to be overweight and now I’m fat?!”  I really needed this quantified.  “You sure I’m not just a little more overweight?”

He simply shook his head.  “No, you’re fat.”

Okay then. 

I pretty much didn’t hear the nice things he said about how “it’s not that bad” and he “barely noticed the weight gain,” and he went on, but it was just a little too late.

I am now a fat person.  BUT, that can change…

The NIDDK (National Institute of Diabetes and Digestive and Kidney Diseases) say a lot about overweight and obesity in America.  It is measured by your BMI (Body Mass Index).  You find out your BMI by simply taking your weight and dividing it by your height squared.  (I know, easier said than done.)

Anyway, the NIDDK site has some really interesting graphs and information, but this fact on the list caught my attention:  “Almost 3 in 4 men (74%) are considered to be overweight or obese.”

Is it me, or did I read guys are fatter than women?  Women are more likely to be obese, but 3 in 4 men might be “fat?”

That would explain the plethora of shows with fat husbands and skinny wives.  Off the top of my head, I can think of at least three shows: King of Queens, The Honeymooners and The Flintstones (I’m not sure this one counts).  I actually googled the phrase, “TV couples where the husband is fat and the wife is thin,” and got quite a few sites.  These two were interesting, and are truly worth reading:

CrassTalk

Slate article

These shows are also quite unusual, and really not the norm, since it’s more common for people to marry someone who has similar physical characteristics.  Plain Jane’s marry Plain John’s.  Beautiful women marry beautiful men, and so on with unattractive people.

If you love graphs and want to find out more detailed information on obesity according to where you live or your income or age, this site was interesting, The State of Obesity

For a more international study I would check out The World Health Organization site.

On the World Health Organization site, it says Obesity is preventable.  Well yeah, don’t eat so much!  Stop eating McDonald’s for dinner five nights in a row!  Don’t cook like Paula Dean! Walk!  For the love of God, just do something!  Believe me, I’m not one to judge, but I know the blame for my fatness rests solely on my poor choices.  I mean, yes, I have horrible genes, but those genes aren’t pushing the limits of these jeans.

Now, there are some people, like my oldest sister, who have a ton of medical issues that make it difficult to not gain weight.  I know it can be a real problem when you just can’t help that your body is doing what it wants because of illness.  I hope you will not be offended in what I wrote earlier.  I know that sometimes the odds are completely against you.  I applaud how you live with so many obstacles.

I am simply whining.

Me? I have no excuse.  However, at least I am really good looking…. Um yes, I will end this here.  I need to go for a walk.

Manic Monday…

The weirdest job interview I ever had was for an entry level marketing and advertising position.

Let me begin by saying, “This was surreal.”

I don’t have a lot of money.  And, I don’t spend a lot of money on clothing.  I’m pretty bare-boned when it comes to outfits, especially trendy and hip clothing.

And so, I went to an office building in Dallas dressed in casual business attire from the mid-90s.  It was a high rise in the middle of the city.  I really didn’t want to work at a downtown location, but this was the selling point:  Three-figure pay, no experience, all training paid for, and benefits in a job that had to do with helping wildlife and the environment.  They said they were looking for people with a heart to help others. It was too good to be true.  You know what they say about things that seem too good to be true?  Yeah.

Now, if I gave you a list of the many organizations this company represented you would think you’d be working for good and not evil to help them out.  But, let me tell you about the world and what makes it go round – money.  MONEY.  Money, makes the world go round – just like the song by Liza Minnelli.

First thing, I walked down a corridor on the fourth floor, and there is loud dance music playing.  The hallway is lined with good-looking young college age people, and older people like me, all dressed to the nines in present day clothing, unlike me.  I keep walking down the hall and realize they are gathered outside a room.  It’s a small square room, with a secretary at a desk in the middle and a boom box from another era, at the edge of her desk.  The boom box is blasting dance music at the highest volume this old machine can take.  (It went way past 11.)

I skirt past the myriad folks like me, all wanting a job, and sign in.  I’m a little early, and so I find a seat in the room and sit down.

The music is pummeling my ears and I kind of laugh and jokingly state to another person, “Maybe we should all get up and dance…hehe…heh…hehe…heh…yeah.”

The person gave me a patronizing off-sided smile, and went back to looking at the ceiling.

After about 20 minutes past my interview time, and beginning to get sick of the loud music, I walked up to the secretary and asked when I could expect to be called in.  She told me it wasn’t long, and then I asked her, “Do you think I could turn this down a little?”

She said, “Sure.”

I did.

Within a few minutes of me turning the music down a man finally came from the back room.  I mean, he suddenly appeared and for the first time I knew people other than the secretary worked here.  He turned the volume back up and then slithered back through the door he came out from.

Again, it was “surreal.”

I sat there for another 15 to 20 minutes and began to wonder if I was being punked.  The music was loud, all these people were so calmly sitting dressed in their finery, and I was laughing to myself.  This is so weird! Did I enter the Twilight Zone?  Is this one of those new Candid Camera shows? Why is no one else looking bothered like me?  Is this common?

I FINALLY got called in, right when I was thinking that maybe I should leave.

I leapt to my feet and then another guy got called in with me.  That was depressing.  I was ready to shine, and now I had competition.

Once we entered the back rooms through the magical door, there must have been five rooms with people who worked there inside, but they weren’t interviewing anybody.  What were they doing?!?!?!  Were they watching us, and laughing at the monitors, and taking bets as to who would break first?  I had waited nearly an hour!!!  What the fu…fuck?!

I sat down across from a true salesman.  I have met a few in sales, and this guy was sure to show off his Rolex, at the end of a perfectly starched dress shirt sleeve with shiny cuff links.  His hair was perfectly coiffed, he had nice cologne, and a dress tie.  He was dressed to impress.

I was not dressed to impress. I dressed much more casually than the handsome young black gentleman who was being interviewed alongside me.  He seemed like a nice guy, quiet and polite, and a nice smile; but, he was my competition.

And then, and then I was shown a folder of all the organizations I’d be helping with this job.  BUT, and here came the “but,” just because these groups do good things, doesn’t mean we can’t make a lot of money off of them.  His words.

Marketing.  And, as the salesman assured, there is BIG MONEY to be made. Sure, these organization’s got some of the money, but it costs a lot to advertise and that’s where this company came in – advertising and marketing goodness.

The 40 minute torture of loud dance music with no dancing or drinks, was bad enough, but now I learned this was just a shady marketing firm?  Living off the goodness of humankind?  Am I just too naïve to know how the world works?  I knew this happened, but he was kind of a smarmy guy and when he said it with such glee, “Why shouldn’t we be making most of the money from these causes? We’re doing all the work.”

Well, because you aren’t helping the cause, you are just helping yourselves.

I was asked the usual HR questions. I answered flatly. I really couldn’t care if I got the job or not.  Again, my view of the world got a little more jaded.

And then the gentleman next to me spoke, moving forward in his seat, enthusiastically, “I just need this job.  I am desperate.  I want this job.  I will do anything.  I will raise your children.  I will babysit your children.  I will have your children.  I will kill your enemies and let you drink the blood of their offspring.  I will club the baby seals so you have more documentation for donations.  Just give me this job.  I just really need this job.  I really need this job.  I have been out of work for a year, and I am so desperate!  I WILL DO ANYTHING!”

I sat there with my mouth slightly agape and then completely nonplussed, “Well, we have a winner.  I think he should get this job, and… I don’t think I want it anymore.”

The interview guy glanced at me and said, “Well…thanks for your time,” and waved me to the door.

I left so that the other gentleman could complete the transaction selling his soul.  In all fairness, he really did need the job.

Today…Sunday…Today…

I woke up late.  Its Sunday.  Simply one of seven days during a week. How many people go to church or some type of place of worship for a religion on Sunday?

I copied this from a quick Google on the internet:

“According to the Hartford Institute of Religion Research, more than 40 percent of Americans “say” they go to church weekly. As it turns out, however, less than 20 percent are actually in church. In other words, more than 80 percent of Americans are finding more fulfilling things to do on weekends.Oct 14, 2013″

Hmm.  I guess I’m part of a majority and no longer a minority.

I used to go to church religiously.

Its a waste of time.  Really.  I only went because it was what you were “supposed” to do.  I went for the singing.  When you get down to the brass tacks, yeah, I went for the singing.  It was pretty fun.  After the singing it all went downhill.  That’s when the brainwashing begins and you are pretty much stuck there if you don’t want to draw attention to you walking out.

I also took part in small Bible study groups.  Its when all these women get together and try to outdo the other on living a superior life or Bible type knowledge.  Oh, and don’t get me started on the grandiose prayer time.  That’s when you really find out who can talk the most in the most sanctimonious way.  I used to sit in awe of how there would be discussions to simply promote how good another was or how fulfilled their life was, or how much better they were than you.  I once began wondering, “Wouldn’t it be funny if they all just stood up and started telling the truth about how sucky it is they didn’t have a date, and how they hate the neighbor’s dog, and how much they wish they were like someone else with more money.”  It was instead, the pageant of perfection and one-up-manship.  It became difficult to tell people I really didn’t know that I loved them and hoped they had a blessed day or week.  I really didn’t care.  I’d leave and never see them or hear from them again until those hour long meetings once a week or every other week.  They were nothing to me.  They were less familiar than the cool guy at the 7-11 I chatted with every day on the way to work, or the nice lady at Braums when I bought some eggs and milk.  (Okay, I rarely went to either of these places, but I had to make something up.  I actually go to Kroger like every day because I only shop for my dinner the day I cook and I don’t like to store food.  I’m like a European in that way.  I actually chat with the folks at Kroger more often.)

I know this is painting me in a very poor light.  I’m actually a super friendly person.  I talk to everyone when I’m in the mood to talk.  Some days, I just want to be left alone and those days I talk to no one.  But, its my choice to be friendly or not.  I don’t push a persona button to be liked any more.  Its not because I’ve become a “I don’t give a fuck anymore,” person.  I know I typed that before.  But, I meant that in way of the world moving as it will, and I really can’t do anything about it.  I just don’t give a fuck about the powers that be any more.  They have always ruined it for normal folks like me. I studied history and it was almost my major, I loved it so much, but one thing I know from history – it really does repeat itself.  The world is run by the rich and powerful (our sitting elderly billionaire president is case-in-point).

What I’m saying is, I love, love, love my closest peeps.  These are the ones I love and care about: my kids, my future grandkids, my doggy kids, all animals that don’t eat me, and friends. Everyone else I don’t know.  If I see you in a burning building I will probably consider if I die for you who will take care of my kids, and then walk away.  I’m not a superhero or paid for hero.

Anyhoo, I’m going off the original plan for this post.  Actually,  no, I’m not. Wait.  Let me think.  Yes, I went off the original post.

Please let me know in the comments if you are part of the minority who go to church.  I’m thinking of starting a church for a tax break, but I need more info on statistics.  I’ve seen its a pretty good way to make money.  (Psst, Google the richest pastors in America.)

 

 

 

Have you ever wondered…

Am I a racist?  Or, a bigot?  Am I selective?

Let’s look at the facts.  I prefer people like me.  I prefer people who think like me.  I prefer people who care about what I care about.  I don’t like confrontation and so I quietly watch on the sidelines the world transpire.  I don’t like racists and bigots, but then I act like one at times in how I constantly make assumptions based on my own views.  Are we all racists or bigots at times?

If you can see differences does that make you racist, or observant?  If you note to another the difference are you then a racist, or observant?  Does someone have to see you being this preferential person for it to be true?  If a tree falls in the forest and no one hears it fall, is it still a racist?  No, because trees can’t be racist.

If people are so individual why do we have a democracy where only the most popular out of the 14% of people who actually voted win?  Are we really more like American Idol and we vote according to the most popular from only the people who watch that particular show, and not the most able?

Maybe all houses need a station, like YouTube or Hulu on Roku, where you sign on and there are little colored buttons, with the name of the candidate, and you simply push the button of the candidate you like at the leisure of your home.  It’s like part of a TV show.  The TV show is only on for a month, or a few months.  You aren’t allowed to spend billions and billions of dollars.  Maybe the station is paid for by advertisers, like a TV show.  You can watch a brief little documentary on the person with a non-biased list of their policy and views with just the facts and no sales job.  You can have four segments to the documentary:  The speech, the family, the background, and then referrals from people who know this candidate.  I think more people would vote if we made it super easy like that.

It’s something to think about.

 

 

And so it begins…

This site is called, “The Fun In Me.”  It’s my attempt at being funny.  I’m not sure I’ll be funny.  I don’t spend a lot of time laughing.  I’m pretty calm under pressure and I’m pretty boring.  I’m stoic.  I’m really not silly.  I’m just a very boring person.  I’m a boring person with no life. My life is work, sleep, eating, and then doing boring stuff.  I watch YouTube videos and Let’s Plays.  I sometimes binge watch shows on Netflix.  I obsessively play Worms Armageddon for the N64.  I’ll even read a book every now and then.  I stare at paint sometimes – I guess you could call that meditation.  I have a Tibetan singing bowl and think that it actually plays some pretty nice tunes.  I cook really boring food and my attempts at gourmet usually end up burnt on the stove, or in the oven.  (I forget to set the timer sometimes.)

I’m not very political anymore.  Politics killed my soul.  I’m pretty sure my soul, after this last election, was left in a grave site not far from here for a few months.  It took awhile for me to revive it with some magical spell called, “I no longer give a fuck!”  That worked pretty good and woke me right up.  I was in a pretty sorry state.  It’s pretty gloomy and so I stopped watching the news, despite my newfound powers of reviving dead souls.  I don’t want to use up a good thing.

I don’t really know why I started this site.  It might even cost some money.  I hope I didn’t spend too much on it.  You might hope you didn’t waste your time reading this far.  I’m starting to question how I wrote this far about absolutely nothing.

Anyhoo, I want to write short articles on what you might want to know about life that would maybe give you a laugh.  Would you like me to write on dogs, or cats, or maybe even rats or lizards?  Do you prefer I write Top 10 lists of funny things?  Please let me know what you think is funny.  I will try to write according to what you would like me to write about as long as it’s something that doesn’t kill my soul.  I’m not sure how many lives I have left.

Thank you and Arrivederci!