Today's writers block question makes me think of this guy.

I'd like to tell you a little story about a writer who also happens to be my long time journal BFF. His name is superhappytime and for the last several months he's been participating in therealljidol writing competition.

For those of you that haven't been following it, this competition started out with well over 100 contestants (though I can't remember the exact number). Throughout the course of it, there has been some crazy twists and turns as competitors were voted off each week for the last 27 weeks. superhappytime has stuck in it and now the competition is down to just seven writers. From those seven, two are being voted out this week. Three of the seven have immunity for this vote but superhappytime is not one of them so he's at risk of being eliminated.

If you are a fan of good writing or even if you are just a fan of doing me a favor then please go here: http://superhappytime.livejournal.com/85003.html and here: http://superhappytime.livejournal.com/85342.html to check out superhappytime's work from this week.

And then, and this is the REALLY IMPORTANT PART, hustle your e-butt over here: http://community.livejournal.com/therealljidol/159465.html and vote for both of his submissions. The poll closes tomorrow morning so there isn't much time left!

He would never admit as much but superhappytime is a very talented writer and he deserves to go all the way to the end.

Thanks guys. :)

( clicky )

This is the look that I get when I suggest that its very late and time for small boys to be in bed.

Halloween was pretty fun despite the fact that I didn't get one single trick-or-treater. It seems that I'm not meant to be free of the evil hold that the mini KitKats have been exerting over my life.

I had a few folks over for spooky movie watching and general good times. Midway through the evening an uninvited guest made an appearance. I call him frankenbug and I am going to put him behind a cut.

( this cut )

I loved this video as a kid....I haven't seen it since then. This is just a portion.

For my birthday this year I was given a paper shredder. Now, a lot of people will tell you that a paper shredder is too practical to give a girl for her birthday. In fact when I mentioned that I would like a shredder as a gift, a lot of people didn't understand where I was coming from.

"Wait. You want what?" they would ask.

"A shredder," I would say.

"the guy from the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles?"

"No, a paper shredder. For shredding documents. I've got a lot of documents to shred."

"What kind of documents," they would ask suspiciously.

"The Top Secret kind. And also, if the shredder could shred CDs and credit cards, that would be cool too."

So despite the fact that it didn't make a lot of sense to others, some kind soul got me the shredder anyway. I have been a shredding fool ever since. While I imagined that a shredder would be handy to have, I never realized what a deep sense of joy I would feel from slicing and dicing junk mail and court subpoenas into hundreds of tiny, diamond-shaped scraps. I feel inclined to inform you that I think I'm in love.

I love everything about my shredder. I love the soothing whirrr that it makes when its tearing shit asunder. I love taking off the top periodically too see how full the bin is getting. I love that I am forced to giggle maniacally and involuntarily, drunk on the destruction I am causing. So far I've yet to shred a credit card or any CDs but I'm sure when I do, I'll love that as well.

Tonight a friend asked me to happy hour and I said I couldn't go. When asked if I had some kind of "hot date" I replied that yes, I did have a hot date. A date to rush right home and shred the Penny's catalog and the last four issues of American Photo.

Some people might say that I need to "get a life" or even "a boyfriend". They might say I'm being freaky and obsessive. But isn't a freakish obsession the way that every great love affair begins?

I'm not asking to be understood. I'm just asking for any old newspapers that you might have lying around.

Granola, why must you mock me?

You look so delicious with blueberries and apples nestled among your clusters of oats. Your promise of organic goodness has my tastebuds all a-flutter. But then I add you to milk and you stab me in the back by tasting like dirt. Despite your dehydrated fruit, I had to eat a chocolate donut just to wash the taste of top soil out of my mouth.

Oh, Granola. I have given you so many, many chances over the years. Sprinkled in my yogurt. Taken along in a ziplock bag on long drives for snacking purposes. And you have been hit or miss, at best. You're usually good when you contain slivered almonds but I can no longer take the chance of encountering you almond-less.

Granola, we are through. I give you back to the loving arms of whatever hippie harvested you. Except for the portion still left in my cereal bowl. I'm giving that to the dog.

Here are the rules...people who are tagged need to write in their own blog 7 random/interesting facts about themselves, along with these rules. Then, tag 7 people to do the same.

(Disclaimer: I guarantee neither the randomness of these facts nor the level of interesting-ness. They might not even be true.)

1.) I'm left handed. (Oooh)
2.) I was born in the stall of a truck stop bathroom.
3.) I was conceived 9 months earlier in the stall next door.
4.) I have been described on occassion as "no fun".
5.) I grew up as the daughter of a humble fish monger.
6.) I'm planning to get all inked up on my vacation this spring(that means tattoos).
7.) I am gay for you. Yes, all of you.

Tagged:

billy0045
andreamarie
zaxxon
1_of_the_crowd
insidiousdrivel
lissale
skelectica

Seriously. Its going to be a miracle if I don't die of some weird clutz related accident by the time I'm 35.

A few days ago I took a header in the parking lot of my building. My reward was a lovely gash across my nose that has formed an icky looking scab. Never have I been hotter.

Yesterday I was moving a chair into my bedroom and I smashed my right ring finger between the chair and the door way. It took most of the skin off my knuckle and now the whole finger is purple and hurty. Thank god it wasn't my bird giving finger. If there is a silver lining to this post, then surely it is that. After getting the chair into place, I turned to exit the room and I wacked my foot on the frame of my bed. I wanted to cry like a little baby girl. But I didn't.

Tonight I burned my tongue at dinner. Why must marinara be so delicious yet so scalding? Then I drank a glass of wine that is making me feel puke-tastic and has done nothing to kill the tongue pain.

At this point, I'm pretty sure I should call in sick to work for the rest of the week and cancel all other engagements. Then I'll suit up in lots of padding, burrow under four or five comforters and wait for the worst.

all the usual suspects...

Happy Holidays, y'all!

The beagle was most displeased with the outcome of tonight's Survivor Finale.



I was too.

I don't know how many of you were lucky enough to behold the lovely post full of red x's that I made yesterday but I fixed it finally and it is now viewable. Note to self: don't upload your photos as "private" if you want other's to be able to see them. Duhhhuhh.

Here is a link to that post: http://halieknife.livejournal.com/261593.html#cutid1

You MUST go. If only for the photo of the smiling seal pup on the top of the page.

This little guy lives in captivity and he still has a smile on his face. So what right do I have to be so grumpy?

( Some other photos I took there )

Its funny how words never seem to mean much until they come from the lips of someone who does. Today it was "You surprise me," which looks like absolutely nothing of significance in print but seriously turned my whole week around.

I love it when that happens. I have always been too much of a sucker for the right thing being said at the right time. And I know it will most likely be my undoing. But at the same time, I can't think of a better way to be undone.

My advice to anyone looking for a Get Out of Hell Free card would be to find someone who is having an awful, anxious day and say something disturbingly nice to them. As long as you mean it, it will be ok to be that cheesy.

(Just this once.)

Happy Birthday andreamarie !!

I hope that it is fabulous, because you are fabulous.

I also hope that you wear a goofy hat. Because you just don't see enough people in goofy hats these days. And I'm getting pretty damn sick of that.

(However, it is YOUR birthday. So you should do whatever floats your boat. Hats are merely a suggestion.)




....(although, if you are looking for further suggestions I would recommend any or all of the following:







( and the piece de resistance )

Stuff the dog has already destroyed this morning:

1 plush Yukon Cornelius toy
1 perfectly good pair of flip flops
Half a bagel
The cap to my bottle of water

She is in rare form. Its going to be a long day. I suppose she must be bored despite the fact that she has a million toys and my awesomeness to keep her occupied. Yet I see the look in her eye when she is tearing something to shreds. None of her toys make her that happy. She's LOVES to destroy and annihilate. I think she might be the reincarnation of Ghengis Khan or perhaps Alexander the Great. I really do.