I *heart* Georges St. Pierre

Mmm. Beefcake.

Now, I'm not normally one to drool over athletes in any sport.

Still, after watching GSP pound the crap out of Matt Serra in a pay per view match of UFC 83, I gotta say, yowza.

I mean, this guy's legs are model-perfect. He's totally hairless. And his complexion brings to mind the soft tones of a mocha latte.

And he's French-Canadian!

What's hotter than that?

...Oh, wait, I know: his match against Matt Hughes (more beef, less cake, but a real UFC sweetheart...with a twin brother, no less.)



I think I've found my spectator sport of choice....

AVATARARARARDED OMFG ROTFLMAO FDSKLFJSGL;GFAS;!!!!1ONE1!!!!

From the New York Comicon Avatar panels!

SPOILER ALERTS!!!

Trailer for the rest of Book 3: Fire (oh so damned good)




The first seven minutes of "Chapter 17: The Ember Island Players"

avatar

Obligatory Author's Update

Among the klassy postings of penis size charts and clips of Avatar-related YouTube videos, I'm trying to strive some professionalism in my "writing career". Ergo, here be the obligatory update on my works in progress, since people seem to be asking:

All in the Details--my first book, completed in 2007, was rejected in January by Harlequin Silhouette Special Edition, as you probably already know. It is, however, under consideration with The Wild Rose Press, a much smaller publisher that's been accepting a lot more submissions. I should hear back by the end of the month. (Crossing fingers.)

Star Attraction--I recently completed my second book, part of a series with two common characters from All in the Details. Members of my lovely critique group, who I met just recently for lunch, are reading the first three chapters and hopefully tearing it to shreads (because only from the ashes can a phoenix rise, or some such Iroh-esque proverb). From there I'll be editing, and then panning for beta readers. (Takers? Takers? Anyone?)

Untitled short story--Samhain Publishing has a call for submissions for a humorous fantasy/supernatural anthology of short stories. Being a bit of an old hand at churning out Avatar laughs over at Fanfiction.net, I figure, meh, let's try writing on a tight deadline and submitting. I've been skipping lunchtime pilates sessions, churning out what I can on my lil' Eee PC and getting eyestrain doing so. My goal is simply to finish and submit. If I'm funny enough...well, we'll just have to see....

Fanfiction--Still working on In the Family Way, and publishing about one chapter per week. I actually write a whole bunch of drabbles, connecting the story threads as I go, until I have a cohesive story...with as many punches as I can throw in, just to keep it interesting.

Other...?--I have two other novels on the go, but haven't touched them for about 2 months now since I've been working to finish the short story and the seventh draft of Star Attraction.

On the pseudonym front, I haven't chosen one yet, but I've had quite a few suggestions, which will someday go into a post of its own.

So, yeah, busy, busy, busy. If you ever wondered what I do in my spare time, this is pretty much it. Yup. My life summed up in one blog post....

Avatararded, part n + 1

The Boiling Rock trailer...in Portuguese.

Why?

Because it's airing in Latin America tonight.

I hate you, Nickelodeon.





But on the bright side, GanXingba has another gem for the NYC Comicon.

Lovebot 9000 pens RITA winner, destroys all humans

Gleaned from the fantastic annals (*titter*) of Smart Bitches:

Meet Philip Parker: author of 200,000 books, written mostly by computers.

The skinny: Dude apparently writes computer algorithms to generate books and prints them on demand for things like medical libraries. An excerpt from the NYTimes article, if you will:

If this sounds like cheating to the layman’s ear, it does not to Mr. Parker, who holds some provocative — and apparently profitable — ideas on what constitutes a book. While the most popular of his books may sell hundreds of copies, he said, many have sales in the dozens, often to medical libraries collecting nearly everything he produces. He has extended his technique to crossword puzzles, rudimentary poetry and even to scripts for animated game shows.

And he is laying the groundwork for romance novels generated by new algorithms. “I’ve already set it up,” he said. “There are only so many body parts.”

Now, not to be an elitist snob, but, um, isn't that cheating? Furthermore, hasn't it already been done?

Not that I have anything against our robot masters or those who wrongly think they can control them. Not when we have Autocrit, an editing wizard you can use to read through your work to check for overused words, sentence length variation, repeated phrases, homonyms, and more. Or Kuka (pictured above), which generates copies of the Martin Luther Bible in a lovely calligraphic script, giving thousands of monks time to kick back and chant. Oh, and let's not forget Margaret Atwood's LongPen telautograph machine. How many author's arms have we saved with that?

At this point, I'm supposed to go into some long but quirky diatribe about the value of a good writer and the words they put to paper. I'm supposed to say something intelligent about how the Hollywood writers' strike should have aptly demonstrated the need for good writers in a broad spectrum of media.

Unfortunately, my BlogBot 2000 decided to cack out on me and come up with some word salad instead. And I'm just too damn lazy to write anything smarter than that.

P.S. By this standard, John at Dymaxion World MUST be a robot.

Food Court: The Musical

Following the great musical traditions of Buffy The Vampire Slayer's Once More With Feeling, comes Improv Everywhere's spontaneously performed Food Court: The Musical.

Korean WTFery

And you thought only the Japanese had weird s#it going for them.

It turns out the number one thing Koreans like, according to this Walrus blog, is something called The Shit Needle, a game in which you steeple your index fingers and poke someone in the butt.

One of Korean school kids’ favourite games is 똥침, or “ddong ch’im,” which translates roughly as “shit needle.” It’s not complicated; all you do is run around with your two index fingers in the steeple position, find vulnerable anuses and jam your “needle” up them as hard as you can.
--Joel McConvey

And, just so you, too, can play without getting poop on your fingers, play this.

That's right, folks, the klass doesn't end here at Of No Import....

N.B.: Thanks to Sean McGrady for pointing me to this scatological find.

Your Sexy Word of the Day

Tumescence:

the quality or state of being tumescent; especially : readiness for
sexual activity marked especially by vascular congestion of the sex organs.

--(from Webster's 11th)

"It took only seconds to slip the latex over his tumescence."

Avatarded, part n + 1: Music Night

Winter, Spring, Summer and Fall...

Check out this neato interview with The Track Team, the guys who do the soundtrack for Avatar.

Plus, there are a bunch of sound clips and music bits you can download.

You can also get more sound files at AvatarSpirit.net. I particularly like the Agni Kai music. I also can't help getting teary at Little Soldier Boy (reprise), sung by the late, great Mako, voice of Uncle Iroh.

Okay, I've got my fix in for the week.

*twiddles thumbs*
*checks watch*
*eyes bug out as she grabs the nearest Viacom employee by the collar*

...GADDAMN YOU, NICKELODEON, GIVE ME MY AVATAR FIX!!!!!

On the scale of useful things to have posted in the bathroom...

...I think this ranks among the top.



Download, print, slip into a plastic binder cover protector, and slide it between the pages of the bra section in that Sears catalogue stashed in your bathroom.

And check out this link, too. Because you might want to print this out:


I am soooooo klassy....

Avatarded...part n....

Like a cokehead waiting for her next hit, I've been biting my nails waiting for the second half of the third and final season of Avatar to begin...

Someone made this stupendous fan trailer, and now I'm all tingly and squeeing and jonesing for more. DAMN YOU, NICKELODEON, WHY ARE YOU HOLDING OUT ON ME????

HALP

Inundated.

That's the word I'm using for all the Internet resources burying me as a wannabe romance writer.

The thing is, there are SO many romance writers, it's hard not to trip on one along the Information Superhighway (does anyone even use that term anymore?)

And yet, I feel obligated to take a peek at each and every web site, blog, forum, chat and thread. After all, these are my people--struggling writers who all have the dream of getting the call...

Since joining the RWA and starting my "serious" writer's journey, I've had to get an additional Live.com account just to accommodate additional memberships and web accounts. I now have three e-mail addresses (four, if you count my work), a blog, a MySpace page (which I absolutely hate), and a community account on eHarlequin.com.

In addition, I've started collecting RSS feeds, none of which I can read on a regular basis; and I'm a member of the Toronto Romance Writer's Yahoo group, for which I get periodic e-mails. I try to check out The Romantic Times web site when I have the chance, but that, too, is lagging.

Of course, I'm not even counting Facebook, the TWO Live Journal accounts I possess, or the countless other personal web sites and blogs I browse. My days are spent almost entirely in front of the computer now....

It's a funny thing, this electronic system of tubes. You'd have thought with this much information flowing at next-to-instantaneous speeds, that we'd have more time in our lives for the things that matter. If only someone could sell you time with the Internet....

The Final Frontier....

Who says a night at the symphony's boring?

The Toronto Symphony Orchestra presents:

Star Trek: the music, hosted by Robert Picardo and John de Lancie.

I've seen both Lord of the Rings and Star Wars in concert and they were AWESOME.
I owe it to myself to watch this, too, don't I, John?

Please?

Generations...

The Merril Collection of Science Fiction and Fantasy, with its generations of pages, congratulate and celebrate the union of Senan and Effie, January 2008.

(Psst...I'm the one at the top, far left.)

Suck on that, HGTV...

Up next on Clutterbusters:
From This...

...To This...

Sammy is much happier with this setup, and I'm not ramming my chair into the pile of expensive home electronics sitting on the floor. The rat's nest of cables is still there, but it's not tangling up my feet anymore, hiding behind the nice new TV stand instead.

Thank you, Ikea. Your TOBO made our TV look ten times bigger.

The Forbidden Kingdom Trailer

John: If there's white guys banging hot Asian chicks, I'm there.

Me: If there's white guys getting the crap beaten out of them by Jackie Chan and Jet Li, I'm there.

Power Hour

So, this whole Earth Hour thing sounds kinda cool.

Except that, you know, it used to be called Earth Day, and we used to try and do more than turn off all the lights for an hour. In class, we'd do a whole unit about the Three R's and composting and water usage and pollution and changing our lifestyles to be more sustainable...

Yeah.

Not that I'm against turning out the lights and stuff for an hour. But, yknow, I'm just sayin'...it's gonna take a whole lot more than an hour without power to save our planet.

Just sayin'.

Apron of Awesome

My sister is made of awesome. She got me this pimptacular apron of win from the One of a Kind craft show:



Now I can truthfully say I have half-nekkid cowboys all over me. Thanks, Fi!

Apron by Earth Angel Designs. Angelika Stahl, astahl@europe.com.

Ruining my childhood one movie at a time...

Despite being pretty awesome for special effects and some modicum of nostalgia, the Transformers movie SUCKED.

No, no, don't argue with me here...it sucked big, sweaty donkey balls, and the only thing that saved it were what's-her-name's cleavage and the robots.

Now Hollywood dares to ravage the rest of my childhood with the G.I. Joe movie?

Now, normally, I'd be rational about this because, despite what the reviews will be, I will be first--okay, maybe forty-eighth--in line to see this film. I would keep my expectations low and say to myself, "Self, you've waited twenty years to see this. Don't get too excited. Remember what happened at Phantom Menace?"

After taking a gander at the cast, I've decided to shelve my expectations in the sub-sub-basement. On the bottom shelf. Under a Blu-Ray copy of the original animated Transformers movie (because it doesn't get lower than that).

Why?

Because Joseph Gordon-Levitt is going to play Cobra Commander.


That's right, the kid from 3rd Rock from the Sun. (Isn't he dreamy...?)

Not that it really matters--he's in a mask anyhow, he's filled out and is in Stop Loss, etc. etc. But STILL....I'm highly bemused.

My hopes lie scattered upon the ground like the many pieces of my defunct and elastic bandless G.I. Joe action figures.

On the other hand, I look forward to utterly mediocre performances from a cast of B-list actors as they fire non-lethal lasers across the battlelines without ever hitting anyone.

• Dennis Quaid as General Hawk (the poor man's Harrison Ford is on a role after Vantage Point...)
• Channing Tatum as Duke (oddly, he played Duke in She's the Man and is just coming off of promoting Stop Loss.)
• Sienna Miller as the Baroness (I have nothing funny to say about her...to the depths of obscurity I cast thee!)
• Christopher Eccleston as Destro (the cranky old invisible guy from "Heroes"...does he even have enough meat on his head to hold that mask?)
• Marlon Wayans as Ripcord (ten bucks says he dies first)
• Ray Park as Snake-Eyes (about as many lines as Darth Maul, eh, Ray?)
• Arnold Vosloo as Zartan (The Mummy's mummy's bringing sexy back...)

I'm not holding my breath. All I can say is...if there are trouble bubbles, it'll be worth the $12 admission. Okay, $8.50 at the Rainbow Cinemas. Or $3.33 for pirated a DVD bootleg.

The A-Team movie, however, isn't worth my time or another word.

What'cha wearing under there?

Bowie, 13 months.

Baby Bowie Plays with Daddy's Underwear

I really don't know why this video decided to go all squishy like it is...but it's still funny.

Not Only in Kenya....

Okay, I love cuddly kitties as much as the next person, and would hug a lion if I could.

But at Bowmanville Zoo, lion hug you.

From the Toronto Star (check it out--there's video of the whole thing):

A martial arts teacher knocked over by a lion during a photo shoot at Bowmanville Zoo says she is happy to have come away with four broken ribs and a bloodied lung.....

The photo session organized by the Star-owned magazine Desi Life produced a successful cover photo for the March-April issue, to be published tomorrow. But from the beginning, the 180 kilogram beast proved playful and not entirely under the control of its two minders....

This was one of those moments in my life where I sorta thought, WTF?

No, seriously, WTF???

I mean, isn't this what Photoshop is for? Why were they doing this shoot with a lion that obviously wasn't in the handler's control? They treated this beast like it was a big dog.

Guys, I have news for you: that's a LION. A large male lion can weigh up to 550 lbs. Your dinky nylon leash wouldn't hold a well-bred Great Dane, much less a savannah predator that's evolved over millions of years to become an effective killing machine.

Dude, that thing can take down water buffalo. And zebras. And elephants. What the hell made you think you could just whistle, toss Leo some kitty num-nums and expect him to fall into line?

Now, I'm not going to get into any kind of moral spiel about animal captivity or some feel-good argument that the lion was just playing. Which is was, though obviously he preferred UFC reenactments to Xbox 360.

The bottom line is this: respect Nature and its creatures. We can't presume to fully understand the inner workings of a wild creature, even if they've never lived in their natural habitat. Even house cats can go feral. Hell, humans can, too.

The wild is just that: wild. To think we as the "dominant species" can influence or control it would be arrogant and ignorant on our part.

It's About Fraking Time....

The final season of a Battlestar Galactica starts Apr. 4!
SQUEEEE!!!

Better as a RENTal

So, I went to see RENT tonight.

Now, this is one of the few times I've walked into a musical totally blind, so my review will probably be skewed.

First off, I have to say that the performances were INCREDIBLE. Every single singer and dancer was absolutely supreme. Dancing, singing, acting...it was all terrific.

As for the musical itself...well, it started off with a bang, but by the second act, the plot started to lag, morals and themes fell apart, and the obvious came to pass without the climax one would expect from this kind of production.

Except for a couple of numbers (power ballad One Song Glory, and feel-good kumbaya Seasons of Love), the songs were unmemorable, though again, the performances were phenomenal. But I imagine my opinion was due to the fact that my listening experience was tainted by having seen Team America: World Police and this number:



(Insert here: Vicki unable to stop singing "AIDS- AIDS, AIDS-AIDS, AIDS, AIDS-AIDS-AIDS...")

If you can't afford the tickets, rent the movie version (with Taye Diggs, who can make just about anything watchable). I haven't seen it, but I imagine it makes the whole story line a little more cohesive.

Graphic Designers and Desktop Publishers Beware....

Avoid Trajan!

Nerds Now on the Endangered Species List

First it was Gary Gygax.


Now,

Arthur C. Clarke, dead at 90.


Also,

Terry Pratchett, diagnosed with Alzheimer's.

Pratchett's donated $1 million to researching a cure.

His best line: "I'd eat the arse out of a dead mole if it offered a fighting chance."


Awoo.

At this rate, we'll be out of great minds.

My generation has big pocket protectors to fill....

Precious?

I have absolutely nothing original to say about Eliot Spitzer.

...except that I'm more sympathetic to Gollum.

A case of circumbendibus

This was in my word-a-day e-mail today:

This week's theme: 14-letter words, 14-letter definitions.

circumbendibus (sur-kuhm-BEN-duh-buhs) noun

Circumlocution.

[From Latin circum- (around) + English bend + Latin -ibus.]

-Anu Garg (words at wordsmith.org)

"There are times when [George] Steiner does the exact opposite, dressing up banalities in the most clotted, Latinate and circumbendibus waffle in order to make them appear profound."
Christopher Hart; Speaking in Tongues; Sunday Times (London, UK);
Jan 6, 2008.

Now, I'm not a smart person, but I really, really hate it when I have to riffle through the dictionary in order to understand a definition for a word I just looked up.

Dear dictionary writers of the world: don't use hard words to describe other hard words....

EPIC WIN

Guitar Hero + Commodore64 + Legend of Zelda Overworld Theme = NERDGASM.

A Letter to Minibike Owners:

Dear Minibike riders around the globe,

You look dumb.

Please stop pretending your clownishly diminutive modes of transportation--which likely cost you more than half the cost of a real, street-legal motorcycle--are cool. They are not.

Regards,

A concerned pedestrian who hurts from holding in her laughter.

The forecast calls for stupid....

Dear Steve Jobs,

WTF is with your Mac OSX weather widgit? Over the past few weeks, the reported weather for Toronto has been so wrong a monkey throwing darts at temperatures would probably have a better chance at getting it right*.

I bring you a screenshot from today:



According to CBC, the temperature at the time was -2 degrees Celcius with a windchill of -14 C. And before y'all ask, yes, it is set to Celcius instead of Farenheit.

So WTF, Apple? You can make fancy MP3 players but you can't read a thermometer?

And don't give me some BS about it being the weather in any of the U.S. Torontos, because then I'd have to stick you with another WTF?--Toronto, Ohio, only has a population of less than 6000 (the rest are little towns with populations in the hundreds).

I demand answers!

*Okay, maybe ten monkeys.

The History of War...as portrayed by food

Tastiest. History lesson. Ever.

When Life Parodies Art...

I went for massage therapy today at my usual haunt--the very lovely Concepts Day Spa. I've never gone wrong with the RMTs there--they're all very good and professional, and I always leave feeling next to human.

Today, I had a new massage therapist.

She was, in a word, a character. Like straight out of a book character. I've never met an RMT who talked and joked and cussed like a hairstylist, but, like, whoa, this woman had the energy and worldliness of gator-wrestling waitress serving tequila shots from her navel.

All I could think about the entire time she was working out my kinks and telling me bad jokes was, "By jove, I simply MUST write this woman into a book!"

Here's a snorter she imparted while I was on the table:

A man goes to his doctor and says, "Doc, I feel like a wigwam and a teepee."
The doctor says, "Huh, you're probably two tents."
(ba-dump-shing!)

Yeah, I actually laughed at that (hangs head). I must be tired.

Gone to meet his Dungeonmaster...

RIP Gary Gygax, 69, creator of Dungeons and Dragons.

You inspired a whole generation of nerdom.

A Sort-Of Announcement

It's been a while since I've had this blog and, looking back, I've had little to say of real value or worth. And yet, I still receive a heart 100 hits every week, undoubtedly from people looking to see if I'll EVER have anything interesting to say. (Thanks for sticking by, guys--I'm sure you all have better things you could be doing.)

I'm going to be gently morphing this blog into a "serious" author blog soon, complete with my own registered domain name, new layout, and more importantly, news about how my "professional" career as a writer is coming along.

As with the blog, that title is still "would-be", but I'm hoping to change that soon.

Never fear, I imagine I will still post many LULZ and tidbits of perfectly useless items for shits and giggles. I just hope to post more often as a "fan service"...if ever I get myself a fan base.

It Must Be February --or-- I LOVE THE TTC....(and Aimee Mann, too)

And if I say it enough times, I might actually believe it.

So, after yet another winter storm, I was delayed quite a lot by transit this morning, and didn't arrive at work until 10 a.m.

I've probably said it before: I consider myself a very patient person. There is absolutely no reason to get angry about a delay or a packed subway train because the only other option is to drive or take a cab, and I'm not doing that.

But when the driver of the 122 bus I normally take slammed the door in my face when I was a meter away from stepping on, I actually screamed and hulked out.

I don't recall much of what ensued, but when I awoke from my haze, my clothes were strategically torn and the mess of overturned army tanks scattered around signaled I was, perhaps, not happy with my commute.

(At left is an artist's rendition of me.)

After that freak out, I was fine, and back down to my usual level of brimming rage. It was very refreshing to release a little of it upon the unsuspecting populace, much like a spring shower, or a colonic.

On the way home, the subway driver explained the problem: there were 9 subway trains out of commission today...that's 1500 bodies per train, times 9....so you can imagine what the platforms were like. I thought it was very honest and appreciated that we got an explanation.

That's all I really want to hear, most days--an explanation. Some kind of account of why I am subjected to the radiant malice of other commuters who gripe about traveling, even though they could be in worse situations. Like this, or this, or this....

(Just for a little perspective, you understand.)

See, it's all part of my life philosophy, best described by Bobby Ferrin...Don't Worry, Be Happy (because someone somewhere is way more fucked than you are).

Yeah, he didn't write that part in. It wasn't commercial enough.

That, my friends, is why Aimee Mann is the best thing to listen to in the mornings on your commute. Because you can always count on her angsty, nonconformist lyrics to remind you that, while your life sucks, it could always, always be worse.

Now, who's up for some heavy drinking?

Who would YOU rather?

At a bachelorette party my sister attended recently, the girls played "Who would you rather...?"

Girl A: Who would you rather--Stephen Harper or George Bush?

All: Stephen Harper!

Girl B: Yeah, I'd rather have a robot than an idiot.

Today is John's Birthday!

Happiest Birthday to the love of my life, my better half, my brain and nervous system, my heart, my soul, my lungs, and even my bowels. I love you so much!

Go read his blog and wish him the best. BECAUSE I TOLD YOU SO.

Perverted

This morning, John says to me:

"Do you know what 'perverse incentive' is?"

I say no, and he goes on to explain it.

And then he says, "This--" and he holds up his New Year's red pocket money up "--is perverse incentive not to marry you."

I managed not to throw my toothbrush at him. It's bad luck on New Year's to speak ill of anyone or conduct yourself poorly, after all.

(I love you so much, John.)

Photoshop sez: Happy New Year!

Best wishes for the year of the rat!

RIP Heath Ledger, 28

Heath Ledger, 28, found dead.

I'm not into celebrity gossip that much, but sometimes things just jump out and hit you and you sit there, reeling, trying to make sense of death. You think, cynically, that this must all be a joke somehow. A scam to make big blockbuster bucks.

Nope.

And then I realize...I'm 28.

It's a little detail like this that brings me just a little closer to mortality, to greatness, to sadness. It is both sobering and comforting to know that however illusory and tenuous your connections are to those around you, in the end they will still be severed by death, the great equalizer, the thing we all must live for and face, regardless of how we lived.

Peace be with his family and loved ones.

DO NOT WANT

I didn't believe the news stories that said this was the most depressing week of the year. But now I know what they're talking about. And here is the reason:

My first rejection letter!

See, back in July 2007, I sent off my first Harlequin Romance novel to New York, entitled All in the Details. Two weeks ago, having still received no response, I called the editorial assistant, who fished my MS from the slush pile and sent me back this reply.

I'm crushed (nothing a glass of wine won't fix), but his words are encouraging, and I was already kind of expecting his criticisms.

The highlight, of course, is that he recommended I pitch to the Desire line...if I alter the hero's character radically.

I'm not adverse to revisions, of course, but I'm going to move forward and write some other stuff before I think about editing and resubmitting to another line. Or publisher.

The author's path to success if fraught with rejections. I'm taking this one in strife--now I can become a PRO member of the RWA. And then I'm framing this to go right next to my first letter of kudos. It'll keep me humble.

Is Raptop?

Every now and again, I am startlingly reminded that I am a female minority living in a large metropolis populated mainly by white people.

I was riding the subway and had taken out my new eee pc to work on. A group of teens sorta glanced over and asked among themselves, "What is that? Is that a laptop?"

"No, no way, it's, like, a portable DVD player."
"Naw, naw, it's a translator. She's Asian."

They got off the subway before I could correct them. For some reason, I remained a little perturbed that my very chic little laptop had been mistaken for a glorified translator based on the fact that I was a visible minority.

They didn't say anything outright racist, of course, but it made me think about the assumptions we make based solely on the way people look.

I still encounter the outright racism occasionally, of course. Encountering stupid people can't be avoided in a city of 4 million, statistically speaking. But I figure evolution will kill off the stupids, one day. Or else karma will pay them back tenfold: they'll get hit by a car, lose their legs and have an Asian caretaker to help them pee. HA!

I wonder if I should put a decal on my eee that reads, "Yes, this is a raptop, and I speak Engrish. Now prease stop your stare and have happy spirit day."

Happy 2008

Welcome to the new year, which promises...well, much of what we had in 2007, but new and improved.

And speaking of new and improved, check out what I gots:

That's right, I finally caved to my inner tech junkie and bought myself a laptop. But not just any laptop. This here be the new Asus Eee PC, an ultraportable, Linux-based, flash drive only machine with a 7" screen, Wi-Fi, built-in camera and speakers, and everything I need to get my writing done on the road.

As the reviews have all reported, it's an awesome alternative to what I consider a chunky monstrosity of a uterus-frying laptop. Sure, it kinda looks like a toy, but that's what makes it extra cool.

And yeah, that picture is taken by the laptop camera.

For those of you who don't care, watch this.
Why? Because it amuses me.

Best. Christmas Gift. Ever.

Because my sister rules, she got me a Talking!Zuko doll.

Sadly, he has yet to tell me he loves me.

Thanks, Fi.

Dis-Parity

Warning: angry rant ahead.

Would everyone please STFU about parity pricing for books and read this.

The price of a book, like the price of every other commercially sold item, is determined by two factors: costs and market forces. Publishers price their books high enough so that they cover the costs and make a profit, if possible, and low enough so that buyers will choose their books instead of a competitor's. Costs drive prices up; competitive forces drive them down. Thus works a free market.

In Canada, recent changes in the rate of our dollar relative to the US dollar have focused attention on the ongoing disparity between Canadian and US prices. Many people have assumed that parity between the two currencies should mean parity in the retail prices of consumer products. It is, perhaps, an easy assumption, but it is not soundly based. Canada and the US are two different countries, not only with different currencies, but with different tax structures, labour regulations, funding systems. They are two different markets, with two different sets of costs, and two different sets of competitive forces.

For books that originate in Canada, this distinction comes into play at every stage. For example, in Canada freelance editors charge significantly more than American freelance editors (who in turn charge more than editors in India). If you are publishing a Canadian book, and you need an editor who knows what a Timbit is, you are going to have to pay a Canadian editor. Up goes the cost of your book. Canadian publishers face higher costs across the board, but if they wish to sell into the US, they must address the competitive forces that keep book prices lower in the US. They price their books lower for the US market, and count on higher volumes to offset the smaller margin.

Most of the noise around this issue, however, arises from US books coming into Canada. In those cases, most of the costs are incurred in the US, and so consumers expect to pay US prices when the dollars are at par. But there are still differences that come into play. For example, the minimum wage is significantly higher in Canada. The cost of warehouse staff in Canada who handle the book when it comes in from the US and ship it to Canadian stores is higher than in the US. Higher distribution costs mean higher prices....

If you're so goddamn cheap that you can't afford to shell out the extra $2 to $5, then borrow your Oprah pick at the library, get it used, or order it online.

I'm sick of people thinking they can have whatever they want at whatever price they demand in the name of "good business." Underselling a writer's work is not good business. Diminishing the dollar value of the work that goes behind producing a book does not help Canadian publishers.

Face it, you can't have what you want, when you want it, right now, just because you're a customer "who spends lots of money at this store." The argument, "It's not fair" is no argument at all. Mom didn't let you act that way when you were six, so you damned well better not be acting that way at 36.

Stop bugging the poor saps behind the counter at Indigo. They don't have control over this kind of thing and they aren't paid enough to listen to you whine about the money you could be spending on an overpriced latte.

Poster Child

A friend passed this on to me, regarding the awfulness that is Rob Liefeld, comic book artist from my early years of reading.

It's long, but totally worth the read.

Here comes Dr. Tran!

WHY, GOD, WHY?

Coming Soon: Dragonball: the live action movie.

Okay, without going into great detail, speculation, or in-depth analysis let's just list out the possible pros and cons of this flick.

Possible Pros:
Produced by Hong Kong comedy/action god Stephen Chow
Stars James Marsters (i.e. Buffy's Spike) as Piccolo
Directed by James Wong of Final Destination fame
Stars Justin Chatwin (i.e. the whiny son from War of the Worlds) as Goku


Possible Cons:
IT'S FREAKIN' DRAGONBALL.

The cartoon involves so much male posing and "powering up" for "final moves" that most of the show focuses on one character or another growling like he's constipated, only to release "all their power" in "one do-or-die ka-maya-maya" that ultimately....misses.

And the next episode is EXACTLY. THE. SAME.

On the bright side, Marsters might have to show up painted green with bulgy muscles and antannae.

I hope to see ridiculous over-the-top moments like this.

Little Things

SQUEEEEEEEEEEAVATARSQUEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Yeah, I've gone the crazy. It was a long weekend of reading about "pleasure jewels" and copulating with dragons and faeries. What an absolutely fantastic book. Everyone: you owe it to yourselves to read Bertrice Small's Hetar series. I've mentioned it before: the last book in the series was The Twilight Lord.***

But then I downloaded the latest episodes of Avatar: The Last Airbender, and then my weekend suddenly went from scoring -100 to +1,000,000. Oh, bittorrent, I love you!

* * * * * * *

On a totally separate side note, today is Remembrance Day. I haven't bought a poppy this year because I tend to stab myself repeatedly during the month until I look like a diabetic with bad aim, or else lose the darned thing before November 11. Every time I saw someone wearing one, or spotted an old veteran with his collection box standing in a drafty TTC station, my conscience would be nudged. But then I realized that I don't need a velvet-fuzzed plastic heroine blossom to actually appreciate those brave men and women who served. All I need is my innate guilt at being alive, making my home in a country blessed with freedom and abundance....and a little show called Avatar.

So thank you, men and women who served. You fought and died were maimed and survived so that we would all have the opportunity to bitch about little things, and rejoice in little things; to actually care about little things, like whether we should buy lil' pins. I think we owe you a little more than the spare change in our pockets.

***Disclaimer: The postings on this site are my own and don’t necessarily represent Harlequin’s positions, strategies or opinions. One would think this was evident, but new blogging guidelines at work force me to post this every time I mention what I do for a living.

RIP Fabulous Moolah

Sadly, one of the great wrestling femmes of WWE (formerly WWF) has passed away at the age of 84.

I will always remember her for her female presence on the Hulk Hogan's Rock n' Roll wrestling cartoon.

Bionic Failure

I finally managed to view the first two episodes of Bionic Woman last night. If I could sum up the show in a few words, I would do so and simply leave it at that. But because this ill-conceived remake was so phenomenally bad that I actually woke up this morning thinking about how bad it was, I am forced to blog about it ad nauseum.

Warning: Spoilers Ahead.

Banking on Super Girl Power themes that made shows like Buffy and Dark Angel so popular, the first episode of Bionic Woman follows the soon-to-be-no-longer-ho-hum life of Jaime Sommers, a young woman struggling to juggle living with her stereotypically whiny teenage sister who was abandoned on her doorstep by their absentee father, with her lackluster job, which she's taken on in lieu of going to Harvard because she feels some kind of obligation to said whiny teenage sister.

We see Jaime at her job, working as a bartender at a really wild looking nightclub. She is not only the most conservatively dressed bartender I've ever seen, but she's the slowest one, too. Is it possibly, Jaime, that all those people crowding the counter are waiting for you to pour that shot with just a little more urgency?

Cut to dinner with the boyfriend of 5+ months where she drops a bomb that's sure to complicate her boring life. Shocker! She's pregnant! How will that affect her life?

By some turns of the wheel, boyfriend--conveniently-placed nano-biologist/mad scientist guy whose name is unimportant and who is even duller than Jaime--drives her home and they are involved in a car accident that (insert medical montage here) results in said mad scientist replacing her legs, ear, eye and one arm with $50-million worth of implants that swirl through her newly-healed flesh like the cooling dredges of a phosphorescent lava lamp.

(Insert some boring conflict stuff here about why the mad scientist was allowed to install all that hardware into his now not-pregnant girlfriend. Question how or why he was even allowed to bring her to this super-secret underground complex.)

Some more turns. Boyfriend helps Jaime escape, but obviously has an ulterior motive. Whiny teenage sister freaks out on her about where her sister's been. The explanation: skiing. This coming from the leader of the "clandestine organization dedicated to protecting the world from threats." Or something like that.

They lost me at the word "clandestine."

At some point, Jaime and mad-scientist boyfriend have boring bionic sex. Not even remotely interesting to watch. I was expecting her to...well, maybe that part of her wasn't replaced. But c'mon! The possibilities for comedy were ignored as much as the opportunity to give Lee Majors a cameo.

Then, boyfriend gets shot by--ta-da!--Katie Sackoff, "the first bionic woman" tasked to end his life, and the only really bright spot to the whole first episode.

Now, instead of using her newfound powers to rush her critically wounded boyfriend to the hospital, Jaime goes after Starbuck--I mean, bionic woman #1. They have a big catfight in the rain on a rooftop. It's a draw. Some more turns and boyfriend is whisked off to the hospital. End of first episode.

By the beginning of the second episode, boyfriend is dead, Jaime finds out that he has a dossier on her as thick as her skull, and whiny teenage sister is still as whiny as ever. Some more stupid stuff happens, Isiah Washington of gay-bashing fame is introduced, and nothing makes sense. At this stage, you can probably tell I'm too tired to explain the rest, but suffice to say, I was not impressed, especially when Isiah speaks a copyeditor's key freak-out phrase: "It was just merely a testing ground."

I could go on and on about the nonsensical plot, poor writing, and the characters' utter lack of personality. I got no sense whatsoever of who any of these people were, or what they were about. Everyone was annoying or boring or both. Moments that had real potential to be awe-inspiring or different fell completely flat or were ripped off from some other show or movie. (See Jaime's jumping the rooftop moment a la Peter Petrelli/Spider-Man/Neo/The Tick.)

Does this mean that the female superhero genre is at its end? No. The problem with Bionic Woman is not in its concept, but in everything else. As a viewer accustomed to the intricate drama of Heroes and Battlestar Galactica, the witty dialogue of Buffy and Angel, and the angst and layers that permeate a simply children's cartoon like Avatar: The Last Airbender, I am forced to have a higher expectation for all my wicked sci-fi robots and chicks and crime and secret organization shows.

To the Bionic Woman writers and producers: please, please, please, pull it together, and for god's sake, give us something worthy to watch!

Thankful that it's not the clap

It's not strep throat.

That, at least, is my prediction: I went to the doctor this past Monday and they took a swab to check for strep, but since they haven't returned any results on the test, I'm assuming they've found nothing to be concerned about.

Of course, it always raises red flags when the doctor asks: "Is there any possibility of gonorrhea or clamydia?"

I stared at her blankly. "No."
Doc: "Are you sure? Is there any strange discharge or burning sensation?"
Me: (thinking) Aren't you the doctor? Shouldn't you be telling me if it's the clap? And wouldn't strange discharges and burning sensations be the first thing I'd tell you about? "I'm sure."
Doc: "Well, ask your partner about it."
Me: "Uh...okay."

So thus far, I've ascertained it is not the clap or whatever euphemism they use for clamydia. It seems to be getting better, and I can swallow solid foods now with only a little difficulty (still working on toast and hard, rough foods).

Of course, now I'm actually sick with a touch of a cold/cough, so it's hard telling one way or another. On the other hand, yay for food! Healed just in time for turkey!

Into the mouth of madness!!!

At this stage, you are thinking to yourself, "We really need to take that digital camera away from Vicki because that last thing I want a picture of is her god-awful dentistry."

But I'm posting this because I have to share the INCREDIBLE PAIN THAT HAS BEEN PLAGUING ME ALL WEEK.

That white spot in the back of my throat that looks like a cross between the Sea of Serenity and a reverse nipple is a canker sore that popped up on Tuesday and has been steadily growing in size. Right now, it's about 0.5 cm in diameter.

It's so swollen and painful, I get stabbing pains in my right ear canal and burning aches through my throat. Swallowing has become a serious issue. Food tends to rub and irritate it--anything more abrasive than soup puts me in tears.

I've been drinking fluids and taking ibuprofen to try to bring the swelling down, but nothing's worked so far. Gargling with salt water is ineffective, as I learned quickly, since my tongue blocks off my throat exactly where I need the saltwater to go.

You are probably saying to yourself, "Vicki, go to a damned doctor already!" Or else you are making jokes of a sexual nature, and sniggering about some sort of venereal disease. Haw haw herpes...yeah, yeah.

But man, this thing is enormous and really starting to hurt. I'm working with the theory that I have "yeet hay": too much "hot" energy in my body that causes breakouts. Crazy Chinese balance medicine thing, but 5000 years of Chinese history can't be wrong. So I'm trying to take in some "cold" foods, but relief is a long time coming, if the size of this thing has any bearing on my recovery.

Anyone out there have any suggestion on how to deal with this effectively? My stupid brain seems to think sticking a knife back there is a bad idea, so my tongue keeps pushing it away. I'm desperate, here, people. Help!

More Romance? Gee, what a surprise....

Harlequin is hosting its annual Romance Report Survey for 2008.

I COMMAND YOU to take it right now! It's anonymous and will take maybe about 10 minutes (perfect time waster for those slow work days.)

Go to it now! Click on Romance Survey to do it! DO IT, DO IT!

There's also a neat little "Confessional" section where you can divulge your deepest, darkest secrets to the world anonymously!

And if you want to read the 2006 and 2007 findings, they're available, too. Check them out here.

Hypothetically speaking... ( AKA the post that might scare John)

Working at Harlequin and having read my share of bad breakups, I came to wonder: how does one go about picking a day to break up with their long-time partner?

The answers and reasoning behind each will differ greatly, of course. In some jerkier Harlequin instances, heroine's former male counterparts will simply blurt out their intentions to ditch them at the worst possible moment; or the man will leave them at the altar with a note, or else there's a stoic caught-you-in-bed moment where the character just picks up and leaves to find themselves in Alaska or Montana or some such.

But how does it work in real life?

Say you've been together for years. You've developed what you once thought was a meaningful relationship and you still care for your mate, but perhaps you've fallen out of love, or your partner has begun to smell of a decaying beaver, or you simply loathe everything single thing about them, or whatever. But since you consider yourself a relatively sympathetic human being, you try to take their feelings into consideration. Do you say to yourself:

1) "Hmm, Monday afternoon's a good time to dump him (hypothetical him, John, stop worrying). Mondays already suck. Might as well have a fresh start to the week. Then again, I don't want him to brood about it all week and not get any work done...."

2) "Hmm, Fridays are good. Though I don't want him to brood about it all weekend. That would just ruin his time off."

3) "Hmm, Wednesday at lunch isn't bad. It's over the hump, he can have a day in shock and then get drunk on Thursday, and call in hungover on Friday. Long weekend...to brood. Crap...."

In addition, there's always a choice of when in the year to break up. Statistically speaking, most divorces and separations happen around the major holidays when families are forced together and often fail to be civil to one another. But what's suckier than being dumped just before Valentine's Day? Or Christmas? Or being dumped on either of those days?

Yet another factor would include your personal tolerance for continuing your aimless and lackluster relationship. For whatever reason, you've decided to cut ties with your partner. Maybe you had some grand personal revelation. Or maybe you realize that after X years together, you really don't see yourselves getting hitched. Do you march right up to your soon-to-be-ex and say, "Hey, you, we're through" ASAP? Or do you brood over it until you can't take it anymore and explode in their faces and tell them how much they suck?

Having never been through a real breakup, I can't say I completely understand this thought process. And before a hundred people jump on me to ask me what's wrong with my relationship, nothing is: I'm trying to write a few more books and I'm toying with this breakup scenario that I can't comprehend. I love John very much, and he is probably reading this right now and wondering what he's done wrong this time.

Nothing, my love. You've done nothing at all. I luvoo lots!

All this thinking kind of makes me wonder if people should apply for licenses to have a relationship--ones that need to be renewed every year. That way couples can just let them lapse if they don't want to be together anymore. Plus, they'd get nifty cards for their wallets reminding them exactly when their anniversary is, along with favorite color, shoe size, inseam length, allergies, birthdays and other vital stats.

Yeah. Best plan ever. Yeah.

Pimpin' products

Have time to waste? Have too much body hair?

This site is for you.

Check out the music video. The Philips Bodygroom song will be stuck in your head for hours after.

More Bowie cuteness

So cute you'll get cavities.

Video courtesy of my sister Jenny. Bookmark it for those dreary days when you need a smile and a little persepctive.

Watch it here.

I need a young priest and an old priest...

Baby Bowie at 6 months is rapidly developing oral communication and motor skills. Her favourite pastime is to combine the two skills while sitting in her high chair and eating (and thus spraying her feeder with food), or whilst in her bouncy chair, doing her baby thing and acting like she's all that.

Which she is, obviously.

Of course, in addition to her very cute babbling and laughing, she's also taken to scaring the beejebus out of us with her impression of Linda Blair. Have a look.