I thought it might be fun for you, my reader, to get a glimpse into what’s happening with NaNoWriMo 2009. So here I present the first 1000 words of the new story I’m writing.

I am not going to share the title right now, because it’s still just my working title…let me know what you think about it so far…it’s only a snip, so it might not give you too much to go on, but what the heck.

One last note – this is a children’s story and I haven’t figured out whether I want it to read like a parent is reading it to their child, or if the child is reading it themselves. I know I told most of you that I wasn’t going to write any more young reader books after the Princess Carrina series for Young Readers, but I go where inspiration takes me .

—

Once upon a time, a mad and crazy witch lived in the topmost room of an abandoned castle. The castle was shaped like the wings of a falcon, wrapped around a central pillar.
Hundreds of years before, the castle was home to a great prince who ruled the land of TeraMagoria. He was a good prince, who was loving and kind to his subjects, but he was terribly alone.

His parents had died when he was just a young boy, so he was raised by the castle servants until he was old enough to sit on the throne as the ruler. He should have been called the king, but he refused to take the title that had belonged to his father.

Over the years, as the prince grew old, all of the friends he once knew moved away, and he was left alone in the castle. Some say he died from old age, but others say he died from lonliness. He could never get over the loss of his parents, and so he spent his remaining years locked away in the upper tower of the castle.

The upper tower – that was now the home of a witch who consorted with ghosts and spirits, including the spirit of the long dead prince. The witch was named Bertha. It was a name that caused the townspeople to laugh, but she was proud of her name – it had been the name of her great, great, great, great grandmother – Bertha the White Witch of TeraDonna, a kingdom far to the south. The current witch Bertha had been born in TeraMagoria, long after the death of the great prince. How she found her way into the prince’s castle was anyone’s guess, but now she lived in the room at the very top, watching over the land by day, and speaking to ghosts by night.

At the moment, she was speaking to the ghost of the Court Jester, Marmoset. Marmoset was dressed in hilarious red and orange robes, with a funny little green hat on his head. His shoes were pointed and curled, as if his toes were pointing up to the sky. He stood in the center of the room juggling balls of white smoke, and laughing at some funny story that was stuck inside his spirit.

Bertha had never heard the funny story – Marmoset could not speak any words, only silent laughter came from his ghostly shape. She watched as the smoky balls flew through the air, until Marmoset grew tired and faded away into the darkness of the room.
Although Marmoset never spoke, he was Bertha’s favourite ghost. She could sit on the corner of her bed and watch him juggle and dance all night long. There was something sad about Marmoset, but he made her laugh.
Bertha’s next favourite ghost was the prince. Prince William the Blue was always dressed in a sparkling blue cape with a blue sash that matched his blue eyes. The prince loved to talk to Bertha, especially about his parents. For some reason the ghosts of his parents never came to the top of the castle, in fact, Bertha could not remember ever seeing their ghosts anywhere in the castle. She did not understand why they would not choose to be near their son’s ghost, but then again, she did not understand ghosts very well.

Ghosts were not as easy to talk to as real people. Ghost voices were usually whispers, and were sometimes hard to hear. Bertha often had to tell the prince’s ghost to speak louder so that she could hear him, even when she was standing directly in front of him.
The nice thing about the ghosts, however, was that they never got angry if she told them to speak up, and they were never cross with her if she was too tired to talk to them. Bertha liked the ghosts, and they liked her, but unfortunately the townspeople thought she was crazy.

“Did you hear her talking to those ghosts last night?” That’s what many of the old women in town would whisper when they saw Bertha walking down the street. “I think the ghosts are only in her head!”
Bertha did not listen to the mean women. She knew the ghosts were real, because she heard them, and saw them, and talked to them! But the ghosts only came out at night, and most of the villagers were asleep them. They had never seen the ghosts for themselves, so they did not believe Bertha when she described them.
But again, Bertha did not care. She knew what she saw, and she loved her ghost visitors.

One bright and sunny day, Bertha left the castle for her morning walk down the river. She liked to soak her feet in the cool water, and watch as little fish swam around biting at her toes. The fish were too small to eat her toes, so it felt like she was being tickled. For being a witch, Bertha was actually very happy and silly, even though the villagers thought she was crazy.
As Bertha soaked her feet in the running water, she noticed a little red fish nibbling on the big toe of her right foot. She had never seen a red fish in the water before – most of them were blue or silver.

“Well look at you little red fishy,” Bertha said. “Where did you come from, and why are you nibbling on my toe?”

Bertha laughed at herself. She was talking to a fish.
Then she remembered that she usually talked to ghosts, and that made her laugh even more!

After Bertha stopped giggling, she looked back into the water and saw that the red fish was still swimming around her toes. Most of the other fish were swimming downstream to their next destination, but the red fish remained.

She pulled her feet out, and then lay down on her stomach with her face only inches above the rippling water. She watched the little red…

Here’s a quick video where I take you on a behind the scenes tour of the 2009 Haunt.

If you’re reading this on Kindle or a mobile device you’ll need to load up a web browser so you can watch the embedded youtube video.

Enjoy!

Click here to view the embedded video.

No ween would be complete without the ancient story of the Great Halloween Massacre, so here I deliver an encore presentation…

Is everyone feeling hella good??? I know that when this special dark day of the year rolls around (not to be confused with Hershey’s Special Dark Chocolates), I’m feeling hella great!

Or for those of you with small children reading this, you are permitted to feel hecka great, although hecka great doesn’t even come close to feeling hella great.

What a joyous and fun day to celebrate the exhumation of spirits and ghouls and ghosts and zombies that creep out from every tomb and are closing in to seal your doom (word to MJ).

Halloween is my second favourite holiday just after Xmas (although as of 2009 I think it has surpassed Xmas). Third on the list is Turkey Day, and then after that there are no other holidays that float my boat. Halloween and Xmas are the only two major holidays in our culture that require massive amounts of decorations, themed parties, and costuming.

Houses are decorated with strands of orange lights and pumpkins for Halloween, and are decorated with strands of white and multicoloured lights and trees for Xmas.

Halloween brings us carved pumpkins and roasted seeds, while Xmas brings us carved turkeys and hams and an endless supply of side-dishes. For the dark helladay we dress up in costumes that could be scary, funny, wild, or crazy, and for the bright holiday we dress in festive reds and whites in honour of the leader of Xmas, Santa Clause.

Halloween, however, doesn’t really have the same  official mascot like Xmas. In fact, when we look across the gamut of holidays can you think of any other that has an official figurehead? (and don’t you dare suggest the “Easter Bunny”) Personally I think it’s about time for an officially designated leader of Halloween.

Those of you who are huge fans of The Nightmare Before Xmas may begin the lobby for Jack Skellington, that hollow-headed insane creature who has a fascination for women with stitches all over their bodies. Others of you might feel that because this is the dark helladay, we need a more loathsome, e-ville (as in frew-its of the de-ville) type of creature like Satan, the Devil, Lucifer, Beelzebub, the Fallen One, or some other derivative of the former angel of music (if you didn’t get this, please refer to Music Makes a People Come Together).

But this can’t be a happy story…we are talking about the dark helladay you know…so let us reflect on that most memorable day in our history…

The Great Halloween Massacre…

Enter my Hella-vision. A massively evil orange pumpkin-man, the size of the Stay Puft Marshmallow man from that classic Hellaween movie, Ghostbusters. What other figure could simultaneously cause explosions of laughter, and screams of terror, from children everywhere? They all watch in contorted confusion as the Hellaween Evil Man-Pumpkin (HEMP) comes crashing through their neighbourhoods to steal their candy, decorations, and any child dressed up like a pumpkin.

Panic ensues on Hellaween as children everywhere see the massive pumpkin-man moving toward their city – not knowing what was happening, who it was, where it came from, and why it was orange and as big as the sun. The screaming would echo out through the night as trick-or-treat’ers began their mad dash home while the HEMP took  over the terrified population, summoning ghosts and ghouls from the depths of graveyards and morgues.

Eerie bats, who make that WEEE WEEE WEEE sound, fly out from caverns deep in the mountains…vampire bats, swooping down on unsuspecting children picking them up and carrying them into the lair of the evil HEMP. A dark and dirty lair where he passes the time munching and crunching on their delicate bones.

Screams and wails come from all corners of the globe as children race to change their costumes into something other than pumpkins, so that the HEMP will pass them over. Parents quickly smash all of their carved pumpkins into the street, not only in protest and defiance, but so the HEMP wouldn’t see the carved mockeries of his next of kin. Orange lights on houses would quickly be replaced with black, so the HEMP couldn’t see the scared children hiding behind fake tombstones and witch statues.

HEMP would smash tall buildings, rip out rows of trees, break darns causing huge floods (I’m trying to limit the “language” I’m using – so just say thank you), throw cars around like little toys, express copious amounts of cloudy gas from his pumpkin butt, and generally irritate anyone in the vicinity. After an unnecessary number of hours, the government would be forced to declare a state of emergency.

“The HEMP must be stopped! We must send in armed guards dressed in orange camo! We must send in hella-copters and tanks! We must smite the HEMP and protect our children from the dark helladay!”

But the HEMP was too powerful for the tiny army to defeat (that being the army that was left after the rest of them had been sent across the world to smite a secondary and lesser evil that wasn’t even there in the first place) and so the people of the country would unite together against HEMP on their own! (there would be a special referendum that they would vote on, to abolish the HEMP) (and yes I realize that unite together is redundant but this is a hella-story ok?)

“DOWN WITH THE HEMP, DOWN WITH THE HEMP” they shouted, as parents and children armed themselves with pitchforks that were stuck in haystacks in their front yard decorations, and carving knives from the pumpkin carving set, and torches burning bright to illuminate the city in the unnatural darkness of Hellaween.

HEMP crashed into the center of the town, surrounded by an angry mob and blasting his cloudy gas. He grabbed for the children who hadn’t had time to change costumes and shoved them hungrily into his gaping, toothy mouth.

The angry crowd chanted, “BURN THE HEMP, BURN THE HEMP, SMOKE HIM OUT!!!”. Flames erupted around the HEMP as he tried to jump up a building and get away from the flames, but the force of the parents and children in costumes overpowered him, burning his tender orange flesh. Dark black smoke filled the air on Hellaween, blocking out the last rays of the smouldering sun. HEMP came crashing down in a blaze of glory, a Hellaween bonfire if you will, that sent children and parents dashing through the darkness with costumes and capes blowing behind.

The HEMP got hotter and hotter – he started to expand and bulge, and then suddenly he exploded sending bits of pumpkin and freshly baked seeds flying across all corners of the earth, smacking children in the face and blowing them miles away with the force of the seeds. Ghosts and ghouls flew in every direction with faces full of cooked pumpkin. Showers of orange splattered houses and buildings, trees and mountains, and filled the lakes and rivers with an orange soupy gunk.

At last the explosions stopped. The angry and scared people stood dumbstruck at the carnage around them. People dripped with pumpkin, wandering about looking for loved ones, on this the Great Halloween Massacre. But as the rebuilding process began, and as parents found their children, still in costume but scattered far and wide, they realized  that the day had been saved, and joyous cheering erupted from every mouth (along with bits of seeds and pumpkin rind).

“HURRAY, HURRAH, the HEMP IS GONE!!!!!”

The government, satisfied that the HEMP had been abolished, went back into hibernation.

The people, however, gathered round, bringing bags of brown sugar, salt, baking soda, and nutmeg to enjoy freshly baked pumpkin pie in celebration of the defeat of the HEMP. And then suddenly, they realized that the HEMP wasn’t all that bad. Yes it had caused some destruction of city property, and yes it had caused people to run around screaming and laughing and doing foolish things, but there had also been a wonderful byproduct of the HEMP…this delicious and wonderful pumpkin pie that they were now enjoying, and the fantabulous baked seeds that they were crunching.

Gradually the crowd turned their wonder into song – “LONG LIVE THE HEMP, LONG LIVE THE HEMP!!”

And so even today, on this special dark helladay, as we remember the sacrifices made by the people during the Great Halloween Massacre, we are reminded that the HEMP really wasn’t all that bad.

Happy Halloween everyone, and enjoy that pumpkin pie .

Boo!

I hope your typing or writing fingers are almost ready, because the countdown to November 1 has begun! (Actually I began the countdown on December 1, 2008…but that’s just because I’m nuts)

In just a few short days we shall embark on the writing event of the year – a mad dash to 50,000 words in 30 days or less. Most of the books I’ve published have been written during NaNoWriMo, and I can’t wait to see what happens this year.

I have already decided on my story (I require the minimum of a title before I can even begin writing), and I’ve done some brief outlining of where I want to go with it. I am also going to be using a new tool this year called yWriter. I just found out about it a few weeks ago and have been toying around with the features. It seems like a very cool way for me to keep track of characters, places, events, and such, all while keeping track of my progress toward 50k.

If you are planning to participate and want to add me as a writing buddy this year, look me up on the website as hlbuckma.

Ready…Set…November 1 is almost here!!!

Jumping off the top of a 421m tower might not be everyone’s idea of a good time, but for extreme sport junkies it couldn’t get much better.

98 jumpers took part in this collective dive off the world’s fifth tallest freestanding tower in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia.

Look people…if you’re going to be insane you’ve got to GO FOR IT! We hear this all the time on amazing shows like Project Runway. You can’t play it safe – you’ve got to turn up the volume (or as Heidi would say it – You’ve got to turn up the Valium!).

This activity is no different – if you’re going to base jump you might as well do it 100% buck naked (and just a quick aside – why do these things always happen in places like Kuala Lumpur vs. I don’t know…Cleveland?).

People have been nude bungee jumping for years…so why not a naked base jump, or heck, why not a naked sky dive?

Click here to view the embedded video.

If you’re going to let it all hang out you might as well do it at 10,000 feet…right?

I find it hard enough to do a normal push-up, much less going for the world record using only ONE finger.

Kung fu master Fu Bingli manages 12 push-ups on a single finger
By TOM PHILLIPS – Tuesday, October 20, 2009
A kung fu master has given his rivals the finger after breaking the world record for doing push-ups… with one finger.

Wow. This guy must be very popular with such a powerful finger. I’m just sayin’.

I was reading some great info on omgubunto.co.uk and ran across a post about Google Chrome for Ubuntu. It looked interesting, and possibly a preview of what’s to come in the new Google Chrome OS.

So I installed it and put together this little video for the Intel Retail Edge Program…

Check it out and see what you think…

Click here to view the embedded video.

Ingredients:

• 8 large tiger shrimp thawed (from India or Mexico preferred)
• 2T minced garlic
• squeezing from one lemon
• olive oil

The secret to this recipe is that you are going to cook the shrimp in two different ways – first steaming, then in a stir-fry.

Start by peeling the shrimp. Never EVER make your guests peel shrimp at the dinner table. Leave only the tail attached to the shrimp – this will make it easier to handle the product once cooked, but all legs and carapace must be removed. (note that you can quickly thaw shrimp by submerging them in cold water for 20 minutes)

You can create a quick-steamer by using a pasta drainer above a deep sauce pan. Fill the sauce pan with 1 inch of water and the lemon squeezings, and turn the heat on HIGH. Place the peeled shrimp in the drainer and set it in the sauce pan, making sure that water does not come in direct contact with the shrimp.

Steam the little critters until the tail has a nice red glow, and there is no visible graying of the shrimp.

While the shrimp are steaming, heat the minced garlic and olive oil in a frying pan until the garlic starts to sizzle and golden.

Timing is everything – you want to add the steamed shrimp to the frying pan as soon as they are done, so keep a watch on your two pans.

Stir fry the shrimp in the garlic and oil until they glisten with garlic goodness.

Serve with additional entree items such as a small steak or a grilled chicken breast, or for a lighter dinner serve with a vegetable stir fry or stuffed bell peppers.

We’re having one hell of a storm here in Sacramento, and this is just the tip of the iceberg, so to speak. I’m sure there is a better storm analogy, but I’m dripping wet and cold so that’s what you get – an iceberg.

Anyway – I just made this quick video…have a look…

Click here to view the embedded video.

You’ve come a long way baby!

I like to mark big moments in the blog history with a special post. Typically I center those moments around even numbers of posts – numbers like 100, 250, 500, and in today’s case, 750. I don’t know that 750 is some big momentous number in the grand scheme of numbers. I mean it’s not like it’s quadradrillion or something, but it’s an even number and a multiple of 25 which somehow makes it worth of writing about.

So what does 750 mean to me? Let’s ponder that for a moment – that was 1259 C.E.

• China’s Song (Sung) dynasty armies make the first known use of firearms that propel bullets. They repel a Mongol invasion with bullets fired from bamboo tubes.
• Nasir al-Din al Tusi [b. Tus, Iran, February 18, 1201, d. near Baghdad (Iraq), June 6, 1273] starts construction of an observatory at Maragha (Maragheh, Azerbaijan), where extremely accurate observations will lead to the completion of his Zij-i Ilkhani astronomical tables of planetary movements in 1272.
• No one of consequence was birthed or expired in 1259 (read: no one whose name I recognized since they were all Chinese or Italian artists)

That’s about it for 750 years ago. So what about 750 from now? That will be 2759 C.E.

• Space travel is the norm.
• Colonies exist on multiple planets in our solar system.
• A major celestial event will likely have happened (read: something hits the Earth)
• The polar ice caps will likely have melted and reformed, but many coastal cities will be long-gone. Which means we’ll all be living in Kansas.
• Apparently nothing will be dirty.
• I won’t be here blogging any more (most likely).
• No one will remember what a “blog” was.

And now to leave you on a “huh” note. I have gone into my book library and selected a random book. Here I present to you the 750′th word in the book (beginning at Chapter 1 with word 1). And that word is:

soft

Ponder that for a while.

P.S. Happy National Coming Out Day!

Yes. Congratulations to them (Romanian pizza makers) for having the longest line of pizza (over 1500 feet). I guess it’s a great achievement for a bunch of people to make a bunch of pizzas and just lay them out on a bunch of tables.

Seriously. This is nowhere near the largest pizza in the world, which is actually ONE pizza that’s gargantuan (50,000 slices large). This is just a bunch of normal pizzas made by normal people sitting on normal tables out in the middle of a normal food festival.

But this isn’t about pizza, it’s about spelling.

Apparently they didn’t win the WORLD record…they won the WOLRD record. If you don’t believe me, check the title of the page when you click the pizza picture. That’s some WOLRD Record Spelling if ever I’ve seen it.

SACRAMENTO, CA – For the past three months, Kit Harkins, owner and lead artist at Ink Me Up, has seen an alarming increase in operating expenses. “It’s like watching the prices at the gas station. Ink costs have risen almost 200% in less than six months, even henna products are becoming costly.“

Kit also says she’s concerned by the growing number of temporary tattoo artists that have been opening shops around town. “These guys are taking my business because you could get enough temp tats to last a year for the cost of a real one.“

This increase in product cost is taking a toll on Sacramento area design houses. Artists from all over the city have seen their profits evaporate as costs for a standardized vial of Focus Black have jumped from $6.95 on average to over $28.00.

But what is causing this price increase? Michael Bane of Ink, Inc., a national wholesale ink supply company, says the main cause is the expanding waistline of America.

“People are getting heavier, which means arms are larger around, back skin is stretched tighter, and even ankles are bulkier than only 5 years ago. If you’re buying product for a basic tribal arm band, you’re likely using 1.5 to 2x the normal amount of ink. That’s hitting our buyers hard at the cash register, because increasing customer fees will drive them to alternative options.“

Michael says the henna market, which typically has no supply constraints, is also feeling the pain. As customers move to temporary tattoo options, the demand for henna has sent prices to over $40 per standardized vial.

But the real concern, says Michael, are the disturbing reports about watered down inks. “The FDA contacted us about a month ago on a case involving a Chicago-based shop that was using a 75% ink to 25% mineral oil blend.  Essentially they were reducing costs by watering down the ink. The problem is that those designs will only remain visible for about a month before the mineral oil breaks down the ink.“

A spokesman for the FDA, who regulates and licenses tattoo artists, told us they had seen eight cases from the Chicago area of tattoos that went from crisp and clear designs to a puddle of black. Customers were understandably irate.

“It started out as a tribute to one of the greatest artists of our time, but as you can see, now it just looks like a hot black mess.” Illinois resident Carl D. showed us what used to be a life-sized tattoo of Elvis’ face, on his back. Now it looks like Carl has a bruise the size of a dinner plate. “There’s nothing I can do now except get it lasered off, but they’re tellin’ me it will take more than two years to clean it up. It’s gonna be agony!“

Obesity in the country is at an all time high, and as bodies expand, tattoo shops around the country are doing what they can to stay in business. One store owner we talked to in Cleveland, where one in three hundred residents have at least one tattoo, said he’s exploring another option for conserving ink. “We get about ten to twelve customers a day at the main shop. I’ve done a couple experiments with increasing the distance between stipples.“

Stipples refers to the art style typically used in tattoo work, wherein the needle is dotted across the skin as it injects ink. The owner continues, “By increasing the distance we’re actually able to use about 1/3rd less ink to cover the same surface area. Depending on the nature of the tattoo, the additional gap isn’t even noticeable, and the customer won’t require as much touch up work years down the road.“

Whatever method is used, artists from around the country have expressed their concerns about ink costs. One group in Florida has even joined forces with Fat Fighters, LLC. on a consumer marketing campaign at getting people to avoid the fast food bulge. Signs and billboards throughout Florida read:

It’s always good to be prepared – and the University of Florida is making sure officials are fully briefed on survival plans in case of a zombie apocalypse.

The school made a plan for responding to the rise of the undead available on its website, alongside more traditional outlines for dealing with hurricanes and pandemics.

If we take a lesson from the homophobic boy scouts, it’s good to be prepared. That means be prepared by arming your campus with rifles, hand guns, chainsaws, baseball bats, and for some reason, LP records. I suppose you could throw them like a frisbee and cut off a zombie head, but you’d have to throw it pretty hard I think.

That’s just what we need – weapons on campus. But it gets better…

[The policy] also includes a sample administrative form for staff to fill in after they have killed a zombie-infected colleague, giving details of the incident and explaining why they had no choice but to destroy them.

That’s just rich. Great way to get rid of that tenure-track jerk who is standing in your way to the Dean job.

I would expect better from Florida, given that they have the magic of Disney permeating their state, but then again, they also have Jeb Bush. It’s like matter and anti-matter. They negate each other in a violent explosion of stupid.

It was close to midnight when I turned off the alarm and cracked open the front door to listen for another scream. I was sure I had heard the distinct sound of a female screaming only minutes before – the window in the bedroom was open only a few inches, inhibited by the security latches. But a few inches was just enough for the noise to get through the screen and into my ears as I dreamed of a peanut butter cascade pouring down Niagara Falls.

I was positive it was a scream, so I crept out of the bedroom and into the kitchen where the alarm panel sat glowing with a red warning to intruders who might peek through the window to see if the system was armed. With the press of a few buttons I was defenseless, and I snuck up to the front door, turning the porch light off with a flick of the switch.

Outside, the yard grew instantly dark – the garden lighting had already gone off only a half-hour before, and without street lighting the only illumination came from the waning moon and the Jimmerson’s porch light a few houses down. I casually wondered why this street had no city-provided lighting, but a second scream from down the street shook me from my question and I jumped back inside and slammed the door. That was definitely a scream.

What is the protocol for something like this? Call 9-1-1? Get a makeshift weapon and leave the security of my home to see what was going on at the end of the block? The only weapon I could come up with was a kitchen fire extinguisher that had expired nearly a year ago and was likely never to be replaced. And what would the 9-1-1 operator say? “You heard a scream? Is that all?”

Yes. At the moment that was all, since I was now back inside with the door closed and locked. Maybe I was hearing a strange bird, or the sound of a car’s tires squealing. I wasn’t prepared to distract a few police officers from real issues to come investigate what could just be someone’s bald tires on their Honda Prelude.

Begrudgingly, I reached behind the microwave to get the fire extinguisher. It had never been used, so presumably was still full of fire retardant – I could hear the liquid moving around inside the canister while I walked back to the front door. I grabbed my keys from a small table, unlocked the door, and stepped outside.

My house slippers made no sound on the front porch as I turned around and locked the door behind me. It was quiet and cool outside, even though the day had been near 100. Once the sun went down, the valley temperatures plummeted almost forty degrees. It was why I had been able to open the windows and cool the house down instead of running the air conditioner, and now, because of those open windows I was walking across my front yard listening for any sounds that could convince me to run back inside and call the police. But now it was silent, and still, as if I had not stepped out into my front yard, but into a cemetery.

Since I had turned off my own porch light, it was difficult to see where I was stepping – although I was very familiar with the layout of my front yard. Down the block I saw a single porch light shining out onto the street casting shadows in every direction. There was no movement in the neighbourhood. I did not hear the sound of any cars driving by, and even the wind took a break from fluttering the remaining leaves on the trees that were moving toward fall.

I walked down the sidewalk, past the apricot tree, then the apple tree, then the elm that separated my yard from the next. No apples this year – apparently the unusual fall heat was unkind to the tree, or else there was a nutrient problem in the soil. But apples weren’t important at the moment, especially since one of the shadows in front of me had shifted slightly to the left.

I gasped, as quietly as I could. I began shivering, even though it really wasn’t cold enough for that. For a moment I stood motionless until my hands started cramping from holding the fire extinguisher too tight to my chest. The shadow had definitely moved – which meant it wasn’t a shadow at all. Someone was out there in the darkness. Someone who was either the screamer, or the cause of it. And frankly, I didn’t want to meet up with either of them at 12:08am when I should have been in bed having bizarre dreams about peanut butter.

The elm tree was to my right, and I quietly stepped onto the grass near the tree and put my back to the bark. Peeking around the side I stared into the shadows, willing my eyes to grant me night vision just this once. I couldn’t see anything, then I remembered that trick you learn for “seeing” in the dark. It’s all about using peripheral vision instead of looking at something directly. If you aim your eyes just to the side of where you really want to look, then you can easily see movement and shapes. Who knows why the eyes had that strange nighttime blind spot, but as I scanned to the left and right of the shadows, I saw the vague outline of a figure standing.

Curse that trick. It would have been so much simpler to pretend there was nothing there since I couldn’t look at it directly, but now that I’d seen him, or it, there was no turning back. I had to look again. Focusing my eyes in the general vicinity of the figure, I saw the shape again – and it moved, ever so slightly toward me. Now there was cause for alarm – great alarm.

I was armed with an expired fire extinguisher, against a person who was adept at hiding within the shadows. This was not an encounter I had any desire to meet. My heart was already pounding in my chest, but as I bent down to sneak back to my front door another scream shot across the street and I nearly replied with my own.

I took off at a run, dropping the fire extinguisher onto the ground as I leaped over a hedge of azaleas bordering the yard. My hand was in my pocket frantically grabbing for my house key as I made it to the door. With the porch light off I could not see the front door key. That would have been nearly enough to send me into a panic, had it not been for the sound of running footsteps coming down the street behind me.

I finally felt the shape of the correct key and I jammed it hard into the deadbolt lock. In an instant I was pushing the door open and slamming it close, twisting the lock so hard I was sure it was going to break off into the frame. I raced across the living room, slamming my foot into the coffee table with a yelp, and spun around the door frame into the kitchen to activate the alarm.

With the forceful press of a button, I felt the security of glass break sensors, motion detectors, and open door sensors surround me in a blanket of protection.

And then, the doorbell rang.

NEW YORK (Reuters) – Dalton Chiscolm is unhappy about Bank of America’s customer service — really, really unhappy.

Chiscolm in August sued the largest U.S. bank and its board, demanding that “1,784 billion, trillion dollars” be deposited into his account the next day. He also demanded an additional $200,164,000, court papers show.

I think that would technically be a quadradrillion dollars, and I fully support him suing BofA for that because my experience with them has also been less than stellar. I’m not sure if my personal issues warrant a quadradrillion dollars in my account, but I’d certainly settle for a million billion or a billion million bajillion.

If you’re unfamiliar with the term quadradrillion, it’s a word that originated within the last decade out of the mouths of Heath Buckmaster and Rachelle Caruso. We were trying to come up with an amazingly HUGE number, and it was born.

Today, it’s a consulting company located in Sacramento, CA, with a number of associated companies like Dark Haunt Productions (a year-round haunt consulting group), Transaltar Publishing (a book publishing company for independent authors – so while you’re there pick up a few books!), and Sarcasm Central (an online store of ridiculousness). In the past, it has also been the home of Rent-A-Guest (a full service event management group).

And there is your featured learning for Friday.

Let’s all say it together: quadradrillion.

As I walked into work this morning, a middle aged man in a big industrial pickup truck drove by blasting music. It took me a moment to catch what he was listening to, and it turned out to be Pink.

It made me smile.

Apparently, Pink is timeless. You can be a teenager or a 60 year old man with white hair and a Santa-beard and still enjoy rocking out. I will admit that I enjoy much of her music – especially “God is a DJ“, because seriously, life should be a dance-floor, and love is certainly a rhythm, and I think we can all agree that you are the music.

I think it’s also worth mentioning that the colour pink is also timeless (and genderless these days). Back in the day it was typically associated with girls – especially babies. If you were having a girl then your friends and family would inundate you with everything pink: blankets, clothes, nursery decorations, etc.

Over the years it seems that boys have reclaimed this colour, especially when it comes to polo shirts with collars flipped up. It’s almost like it’s PROOF of masculinity to be able to wear pink in public.

So it’s apropos that the word of the day for 24 September is: bungfunger – to startle; to confuse.

Everyone go buy a pink polo, flip up the collar, and get out there and bungfunger someone.

This is a quick shout-out to those of you who subscribe to this blog on your Kindle. It’s pretty awesome having some fresh piles of deliciousness delivered wireless to your device isn’t it?

Anyway – thank you to all of you, and if you would, I would love it if you’d write a review on amazon.com so that others will know what you think about the insanity that spews forth on the blog. It’s through your feedback that I adapt and change!

Visit the amazon.com page for this blog and leave a comment! Thanks!

And a note to those of you who don’t currently subscribe via Kindle but visit me on the web – you can leave a comment on amazon.com as well!!

I really can’t tolerate intolerance.

A group of nasty, evil, hateful, hurtful children stoned this poor defenseless creature to death in Panama…for no other reason than because it was different.

A slimy, glob-like creature dubbed Gollum has terrified children after it slithered out of a lake and clambered over the rocks towards them.

The young teenagers were playing by the waterfront in a Panama lake near Cerro Azul when the bald beast emerged from a cave behind a waterfall. They started screaming as it shuffled out “as if to attack them”.

How would you feel if you were a slimy glob-like creature who suddenly heard the screeching sound of annoying brats playing right above your home? Wouldn’t you go out to investigate why the walls were shaking and the mirrors had shattered from their piercing calls?

You slither your way out of the home you’ve been living in for thirty years with your partner and 2.4 kids, only to discover that a group of abominations are gleefully terrorizing your habitat. And then the unthinkable. They consider YOU to be the monster, instead of the other way around.

This is a tragic story. I want to send a message of hope to all the glob-like creatures out there. Please know that we’re not all terrible, evil, screeching children. Go back into your little glob home and live out your peaceful little mutated life.

Everyone ready for some maggot art? That’s right – your favourite creepy-crawly bugs are moving up the creative evolutionary ladder with the likes of Jackson Pollock. Watch for the entire series coming to a Louvre near you.

Hundreds of maggots have been rescued from becoming fishing bait and turned into abstract art on London’s South Bank.

Animal behaviour experts from Manchester University held workshops where children daubed the blowfly larvae with paint and let them loose on canvas, as part of a festival about insects.

Although the Indiana Jones movies (the first three) are some of my favourites of all time, I really wish they had made the sequels a decade ago when Harrison Ford had energy, and George Lucas wasn’t as out of his mind as he is today.

Harrison Ford, 67, says he’s already ready for the globe-trotting archaeologist’s next adventure, only a year after one of history’s most successful film franchises was revived — and that the next chapter is already well on its way.

“The story for the new ‘Indiana Jones‘ is in the process of taking form,” Ford told France’s Le Figaro. “Steven Spielberg, George Lucas and myself are agreed on what the fifth adventure will concern, and George is actively at work. If the script is good, I’ll be very happy to put the costume on again.”

The irony in that last sentence is so rich I think I might have diabetes. Let’s talk about the last stories from GL. Star Wars Episodes 1, 2, 3? Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Why the Hell are you introducing Aliens into this canon Crystal Skull? Do we seriously believe that “good” can be used to describe those?

It’s almost as if Harrison Ford is making a snide commentary on the quality of the previous film…”if the script is good…” – that means he’s got some concerns, otherwise he would have just said he was happy to put on the costume again without qualification. The man knows a questionable script when he sees it, but somehow he got duped into making the fourth movie anyway.

And to be honest – I like IJ and the K of the CS…until the last 15 minutes when it became ridiculous and completely non-Indiana Jones.

I think we all need to send a message of hope that Stephen will step in and hire another writer.

* image via original article

I’m sorry but I think this is hilarious. Does that make me a bad person?

Most parents have experienced their young children getting restless when waiting for a meal in a restaurant.

But not many get the bill at the end of it with a message describing their offspring as a ‘little f*****’.

This is what happened to parents Craig and Kimberley Cartin at a Mexican restaurant in Halifax, West Yorkshire, where they received the receipt which had ‘Thankyyou littell f*****’ written on it.

Maybe they should think twice before taking their little f***** out in public.
Read more: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-1212583/Family-horrified-getting-restaurant-describing-year-old-daughter-little-f–er.html#ixzz0R230SgVk

A journal entry from some time in 1985. I really have no explanation for this, and since I have pretty much no long-term memory, I have no idea why I would have written this. There is no such company as “Wishy Washer” and as I recall I used to love the commercials – so I’m not sure why I would be complaining about it, but there you have it…

(I do find it entertaining that I apparently lived in Slap, ND, and was sending a letter to Sing, NJ)

1101 Cee St.
Slap, N.D. 10111

Mr. Wishy Washer
6111 Walk Gum Dr.
611110 Sing, N.J.

Dear Mr. Washer:

I think that it would be nice to be watching a movie, and not have to listen to 10,000 commercials every 5 minutes! I would say that a lot of people will probably agree with me so I am going to put it bluntly!

If you are watching a late movie and it leaves you hanging, and there is a whole line of commercials, from cereal to deodorant, you would like to quickly see what happens. If you have to wait for all those commercials to pass, you are going to get bored, waiting to find out what happened to Lucy when her husband walked in the room, and found her with another man. I sure wouldn’t want to wait!

I hope that you will keep these in mind when you decide to make a change or not.

Sincerely,

Heath Buckmaster

Apparently my horoscope has A.D.D.

Here’s what I got on my phone this morning:

Libra: Go to a museum or a magic show or read a book in the park or see a symphony.

I mean, there weren’t even any commas in that sentence. I lost track of what I was supposed to be doing half-way through that run-on. I fully support doing many different things, but some of these suggestions have to be planned in advance.

I can read a book at any time, but going to a museum means getting tickets, taking the afternoon off work, and getting a little bit dressed up. Magic shows aren’t just happening on a regular basis – I mean we did hear about some kind of magic show at the state fair, but it’s not like I can just leave work and score tickets to a magic show tonight.

As for the symphony – I really don’t think it’s symphony season here. Even if it is, I haven’t heard about it and really don’t want to pay $50 a ticket to go to it. What my horoscope should have told me is how to get some cash to pay for all these things it thinks I should do today. And it should also tell me to take the next day off work since I’ll be so exhausted from running all over town to see these shows and culture elements.

Plus – what kind of book am I supposed to read anyway? Give me some direction here horoscope! Fiction? Non-Fiction? Romance? Sci-Fi? And what if there are multiple types of museums in the area and three different symphonies? Am I just supposed to choose for myself which one to go to? How am I at all enabled to make these sorts of decisions??

Blasted Libra. I’m going to do absolutely NOTHING today, just to spite you.

I don't have ADD, I just don't care.

note the corn dog in the fat bear's hand

On Labour Day, David and I celebrated the working class by visiting the California State Fair in sunny Sacramento. David purchased tickets online weeks and weeks ago, but with my surprise travel to NC and other activities this was the first chance we had to go to the fair together.

We arrived around 4pm and it was actually pretty quiet. I was expecting a larger crowd on closing day, but there was plenty of parking and we were able to get into exhibits and rides without much of a delay.

* an amazing creation made of toothpicks

We started off hitting the exhibition halls, which were areas we didn’t spend much time in last year since we were with a group of people. It was quite interesting to see all the crafts and creations (although I was very disappointed that some of the robotic demonstrations weren’t functioning – if someone is going to build something I want to see it in action).

After the exhibitions halls and a break for an expensive cup of delicious Blue Moon beer, we made our way through the vendors and toward the livestock and garden areas. This year there were 4-5 hottub vendors, so we spent a bit looking at the designs including one that would fit perfectly in our back yard. The livestock was as expected – we saw goats and cattle and horses and llamas and the like, including two calves that had been born just that morning. Mister wobbly legs looked so cute trying to stand up in his little pen. We also got to watch a miniature horse exhibition that was a delight.

* I'm not sure what was more fun, the horses or the runners.

After a quick BBQ dinner at the place we go to every year, we decided it was time to get on the rides. David had already acquired unlimited ride wrist bands for us, so we took on the midway with wild abandon…by jumping on the carousel. We’re wild ones I tell ya.

After that we walked back and forth on each side choosing rides that seemed exciting, fun, or scary. Unfortunately, there weren’t nearly as many rides this year as there have been in the past, but those we did get on were thrilling.

David got a pass on any rides that did a lot of spinning (although we thoroughly enjoyed the Scrambler, which is an old stand-by ride from ever since I can remember going to the fair), and I got a pass on anything that went up too high in the air, like the pirate ship or the vertical drop.

Mostly we kept to the fun houses (no Moscow Circus this year and in most of them there were parts that weren’t working), haunted houses (only one this year), and roller coasters (including the Pole Position which spun us around like crazy).

As the evening got darker, the crowd significantly increased. By 8pm our feet were sore and the lines were getting very long – the hairstyles were getting more and more interesting too but unfortunately I don’t have any pictures of those. Home we went, having completely enjoyed the afternoon at the 2009 California State Fair.

If you’re planning on going to the fair next year, mid-afternoon is the best time to go, get your tickets online and save some money, and be sure to get the unlimited ride wrist bands – you will save a LOT of money vs. individual ticket prices. And don’t forget to save room for the deep fried cheesecake!

* You can see a few more pictures from our trip to fair in my Flickr collection.

I decided, about a month ago, to take a surprise trip to NC to see my parents. It was interesting creating this ruse, because they kept asking me to plan my trip for October so we could go to the state fair together. Obviously I already had other plans in mind and couldn’t say anything.

But here’s the fun part – since it was a surprise visit I wanted to do something that would slowly reveal the surprise vs. me just showing up and knocking on the front door. Been there done that for Valentine’s years ago, so I had to come up with something fresh.

So I thought, wouldn’t it be funny if I show up, sit outside, start up my laptop and IM with my parents then do a video conference. We video chat all the time so there wouldn’t be anything out of the ordinary there, other than what they would see in the background.

I wouldn’t be sitting in the living room of my own house, I’d be sitting in their front yard with their cars or the house behind me. The trouble with this plan is, you’ve got to make sure that they are online when you need them to be, and how exactly do you call up and say, “hey get online so we can chat”.

So I made up a story about buying a new HD camera that I wanted to test out and thought that might do it, but then when I mentioned it, they said they had company coming for dinner but would be done around 7:30pm – trouble is I was arriving at 5pm. So…I get to the house via the Super Shuttle from the airport and as you would have already guessed, they weren’t online.

What was I to do? I thought, what if I take a picture of myself standing at their front door, email it to them, then call them and tell them they need to check their email. Yeah – that’s what I did. I took a picture with the front door (and house number sign) in the background, mailed it to them, then called them and said, “I sent you a picture that I really need you to look at.” Unfortunately, they were in the middle of preparing dinner and it took some convincing on my part that it was important.

Eventually my dad got the laptop into the kitchen, logged in, and saw the picture – all while I was waiting on the phone. He saw the numbers in the background and asked me where I was. I said I was sitting on the bench outside the side door. He said come inside. So I did.

I walked into the living room and headed for the kitchen and I hear my mom saying, “what are you talking about, what do you mean Heath is here?”. I walk up the stairs and the surprise is complete.

And so – back in NC for a visit for the first time in years…and all I have to say is damn it’s humid.