Bleeding heart, Dicentra spectabilis, is a hardy spring-flowering perennial popular for its graceful form and beautiful blooms. Its outer petals are rosy red and heart shaped, thus suggesting its name, and the inner petals are white. The bleeding heart grows to a height of 0.6 m (2 ft). The plant remains in bloom for about six weeks, thriving in full sun or partial shade and with an adequate supply of moisture. It is a member of the family Fumariaceae.
Also, I read somewhere else that they are poisonous to reptiles. Also... I noticed that when the bottom or bleeding part is in bloom it looks quite pornographic. This photo that I found may illustrate. Ahem. The one on the right. I'm just saying!
Those that are close to me, my friends and enemies... the story should be quite familiar. If you've been a long-time reader of my blog, a really LONG-time reader... you might recognize it as well.
I'm just not one to leave something I still consider to be one of the strongest pieces I've ever written to stagnate in a drawer.
Anyway, if you're seeing last week's story hit refresh until the new one pops up, because for some reason I always have to do that.
I am, currently, at a loss of what to say.
My blog celebrates the insignificant and the extraordinary that sometimes pokes from behind it. For me to pick back up where I left off... picking apart those insignificant everydays... to put on a smile and write something for the sake of writing without at least acknowledging that something significant has happened, would be a mistake.
But I don't feel it's my place to talk in details and so all I can say--to those that are affected--is--
I'm sorry.
The last few days and the days ahead have been and will be both heartbreaking and heartwarming. I have and will be here for Elise. I hope, in at least that way, I can offer some comfort.
When I started writing my stories at Ribcage, I decided early on that I would celebrate life's little moments. That, though a life (and story) without conflict is in some ways a lie... maybe that was what some of us needed. To celebrate life's little moments--free of conflict.
To the loyal readers of my blog, I apologize that my posting may be a little scarce in the later half of this week. Elise and I will be out of town for a couple of days.
In the morning we're going into the city to get out of the house, to take pictures, to make new moments. I'll surely post the photographs.
Regan (my dog) went to the vet for a full overhaul today. A tune-up. Nails clipped. Heartworm test. But most importantly, to have her crazy hairloss/itching looked at. She is now half-hairless you know. Apparently she not only has a skin infection but an ear infection as well. We now have drops for her ears, wash for her ears, antibiotics for her skin AND she has to take human Benadryl to boot! My poor dog!
I did write a raunchy French fry story.
Elise is not a French fry machine, just so you know. I do still write fiction in my fiction stories from time to time.
Today is supposed to be weight loss book day. Much work on the still untitled brick. Anthony is still pushing, pushing, pushing for Dude, Where's My Fat? He says my father's agent likes that. The first page of the word file says From FAT to PHAT and How I Did That, for the sake of saying something.
Recent or in progress chapters...
The Fallout of the Orange Vest
or a sugar-free, fiber rich revolution
My Unhealthy Reality Television Crushes
or a former Survivor contestant's life affirming power
Carl the Great Dane's Beautiful Kitchen in Upstate New York
or the flirts, nerves and chaos of filming a television show
or coffee from a napkin
I Can't Cry on National Television
or at least she isn't Barbara Walters
Congratulations Stella Family, You're Fat, So What Are You Going to do Now?
or we're going to Disney World
Ribcage is updated bright and early this week, can you believe it? Yes, I have written a new story with a title that is far too long to remember here!
It is about two things we all love.
Many thanks to everyone that voted in that poll! It's still online here, if you were looking to check the results.
Was cool to see that there was no overwhelming majority! He Who Shall Remain Nameless had 4 out of 24 votes in first place.
Wow... that email just ruined my moment right there as I was typing this blog post. Wow. I hate GameFly with such a passion. With poison daggers even! They received one of the two games on time too! I sent them both out on the same day. Oh my God, I have to chew those bastards out. Thanks for the ten day free trial jerkoffs. Only took six of the days to get the games and six to send them back. What would I have done without your freaking seven day grace period? Have the games for a negative of two days before I had to pay up?
It was a deer. It was a deer that came out from the side of the house. This beautiful deer that walked across the street and started eating grass and gave me the warm fuzzies. To go from clutching the door handle to standing in awe of a beautiful animal! It was this really great moment.
Now if you'll excuse me... it's time to chew.
Where oh where is my muse tonight?
Oh yeah, Florida.
There are plenty of more qualified people out there remixing this thing. Hundreds of fans remixing it, actually. There's this whole contest that people started up, even. But the question is... who out there is remixing Dr. Phil into the song? Exactly. Nobody. Until now, folks.
Yes, I've remixed NIN's The Hand That Feeds AND You're the Scientist into...
The internet! How would I morph my face without it?
For those that thought MY aged picture was scary! I present to you, Elise.
--------
Mystery solved! What's next for this junior crimestopper?
By book rule of thumb that is 166 pages in a formatted book, not including the photographs throughout mine. I'm getting closer and closer.
The snail still hasn't come out of his shell... maybe he's dead?
I'll have to take a picture. First, let's see if he ever comes out of his shell.
Yes, I'm twenty, but I can still find joy in catching snails.
The policeman drew nice little pictures of both cars and where they struck... it's quite cute, actually.
The report also shows that the woman that caused the accident is eighty-five years old, so... eek.
I thought I felt shelled in the house before all of this! Elise goes to Florida the day after tomorrow and I'm staying here, where I've been... trapped. Trapped, where I'll stay until AllState gets their asses out here to assess some darned damage. Then it's just getting them to actually approve the repairs and all we have to do is get it towed to a body shop where we'll have to wait for them to order the parts before they can even get to work! Yay!
Don't ever let an old woman make a left turn in front of you while you are driving forward minding your own business.
In other news, my book is 39,878 words today. Only, who-knows-how-many words to go! If I had to stamp a guess out, I'd say 15,000? Yes, that was a question. Things are good in them woods though. Feeling really good. Feeling a bit disorganized, but that's nothing that a few more weeks of forced recluse can't resolve.
These green alien beings are known as Cherimoyas. This exotic fruit of the month club... they weren't kidding on the exotic part.
Cherimoyas were farmed by the Incans, it says in the pamphlet. It also says that they make great smoothies.
What it didn't say was how to eat the freaky things. After a bite of the rind almost made me puke, it was decided that the rind was inedible. Cutting a chunk from it revealed many giant seeds that make the fruit a big pain in the ass to even try to eat. It's mushy like an avocado. Like a mango, only softer. And it tastes like the sweetest freakin' banana you've ever put in your mouth. Banana and pineapple, only sweeter. So ridiculously sweet. I couldn't eat more than a bite of the mushy sweet hassle that it is. And these things were FedExed! So much trouble for something that I just don't know how to appreciate.
I'm an apple man myself.
I fear next month's exotic fruit. Watch, I'll have to start by peeling away bark or something.
I was frying eggs in the kitchen when Elise ran up the basement stairs screaming, "There's a bee! There's a bee in the basement!" Supposedly so that I would step up to kill it. So I grabbed a magazine and called for my mother. I am far too allergic to the bastards. I once spent a week out of school with a face that would only be attractive to a blowfish.
My mother went down into the dark abyss to find this bee, but of course it's no longer there. And life moves on--on tiptoes of course.
It was decided that today was going to be a very, very shitty writing day. Always looking over my shoulder for possible bee attacks. But I had made a writing goal--to have 40,000 words in the main text of my book before Elise takes off to Florida. She works three days this week, before her trip, and I'm 3,300 words away, so you can do the math. I can write 1100 words no problem, even with the threat of a mammoth trapped bee. I can make that 40,000 word mark as long as everything runs nice and smooth.
Elise leaves for work. We always say long goodbyes before she does. It's almost absurd sometimes. I think it's really just E's dread of actually getting to work, but still. She leaves.
--five minutes--
Phone's ringing. The cell phone ringing at 9:30 in the morning is not a good thing. It certainly isn't one of my friends at such an hour. Says on the screen, "Elise." Not a good thing. But there was that time she called to tell me that the road was closed! I told her another way and life moved on. This could be that time, again! Only, she's crying and she was in an accident.
She is okay. Not a scratch.
I slipped on my slippers and got out the door, my father pushed for me to go back inside and change out of my pajama pants... there would be police officers! I did, quick but cautious for bees.
A woman, about eighty years old pulled out of a shopping center, right in front of E. She later held out her tiny hands for me to see how shaky they were. This woman, she said, "The sun was in my eyes!" She was really nice, but she fucked the shit out of Elise's car. The front right is smashed right in. Super-smashed. The passenger door wouldn't open. The front grill is bent even, popping the hood out of place. It's thousands in damage.
Officer John said that it was unquestionably the old woman's fault. That that will be on the accident report, and for that this will, thank the stars, not cost Elise a dime. No deductible. I wasn't sure how that went, but if an old woman decided to make a left turn one second before your car crashed into her and then you had to pay a $500 deductible to fix the damage... well, I would've been as upset as the time Elise was hit from behind while STOPPED AT A REDLIGHT. A hit and run and the dents are still there... few hundred dollars in dents probably... but less damage then the deductible and the deductible was certainly not getting paid by the jerk that ran.
OH SHIT... I just found the bee! It's on the window above my friggin' head, right now as I write this... I have to get a friggin' broom...
--five minutes--
Well, that ruins the end of my bee story. Ends the bee saga in general. Ended the bees life. My mom killed it with my boot. It had a huge stinger. So you see, I had reason to be a pansy.
Earlier the bee had made a return, but once again... only Elise had seen it. We were starting to wonder 'bout that girl.
So I made a brew. Put on a pot of Jeremy's orange juice and packets of the sugar that we keep in the back of the pantry for guests... added a spoon of Polaner All Fruit. Reduced the mixture into a sticky, sugary glop. What bee wouldn't love the stuff? The one we just smooshed... that one. That pot was sitting out down here for hours and he's hiding on the friggin' windowsill.
Oh and I haven't put a word down on paper today. But that's okay... I still have until Saturday to get today's 1100 words out... not to mention tomorrow's Ribcage story... but I can do it no problem.
Oh... and of course, the old woman's car was a friggin' tank. Something from 1977... I think a Ford Ariel or an Arial or whatever. One's a Disney mermaid, the other is the font you are reading right now, but one of those two is ALSO an old tank of a car that didn't have a scratch to be seen! There was Elise's futuristic toaster all crumpled and sad and I couldn't even find a scrape of paint on that other car! They say they make new cars to crumple though... that it's safer that way. I think it's just so they can sell more parts. I mean... what's unsafe about a car that didn't even have a scratch?
I leave you with two pictures. The remains of the day.
In other news... I hate FlickR... the people that allow me to have the kickass photo boxes that you see on this blog... apparently they have a limit of one hundred photos unless you pay fifty bones a year! That's far too much money for that. So I just uploaded a bunch of photos before realizing that it was overwriting all of the old ones! There go 50 of my favorite photos and all of the comments that people had left on them! Whatever. I guess I'll just upload all new photos every month or so, so that we don't get bored of the same random photos popping up, because random out of a thousand would be interesting... but random out of a hundred will certainly get annoying in time.
Anyway, vote below!
In the meantime... apparently I'm on the IMDB... Check it! So is Ryan. So is Jeremy. Heh, fellow filmmaker Jay Bauman entered us in for some cameos in one of his movies... not to mention I'm under "composer" for "additional material." This clown song Ryan made and I recorded. It was ridiculous.
There is plenty that deserved my commentary. Plenty that I let slip away. There was a finger in Wendy's chili, for instance. There was the man that was arrested at Best Buy after paying only in $2 bills. Oh and the pope died. Should I be capitalizing the word Pope? Does he earn the same distinction that God has earned? But more importantly, did the P/pope find a finger in his Wendy's chili?
They're saying that the finger is related to that woman that found it you know? Her recently deceased aunt perhaps. How the heck do you make off with a dead person's finger? Scissors at the funeral? Wire cutters would probably be better suited, but we don't need to get too technical here. Now I know why they kept the glimpsing line so far from the P/pope's body. That and because he wasn't embalmed and was just sitting out there for days. I don't think it would be tasteful for me to insinuate that the pope was ripening, but I already have.
Don't get me wrong, I had the utmost respect for the P/pope even though we didn't see eye to eye on pre-marital sex, masturbation, condoms, birth control, gays or child molestation. All but the latter he was against. Bill Maher was talking about that on his show last night. That he was a guy that most people respect, even if they disagree with every single thing that comes out of his mouth. Other than when he says that we should all love each other. I think we can all get behind loving each other. As long as it's over the pants.
So have you tried that green apple Extra yet? Gosh, it sure is good!
I am going to be chatting at the Stella Style site tonight at 8pm EST, you know?
Today is another one of those pesky writing days. When do I get to go outside and climb a tree or something!? I'm only 20. I can still climb a tree if I so choose. First nice day of the year and Elise is selling vitamins and organic jujubee facial scrub to creepy guys that give her greeting cards.
Did you hear about that? The man in his mid-twenties that asked Elise to read a greeting card to him? She thought he just didn't know English very well. A few sentences in, she realized the card was to HER.
Today is my birthday, and my best wish is to become your friend.
I hope you can grant me this wish by accepting to go out for a movie, for a coffee or for a dinner with me. (Make my heart happy).
My heart tells me that you are special.
My name is: _______// Can I have your phone number and give you a call?
He was crestfallen when she told him that she had a boyfriend. I told her to look both ways when walking to her car from now on. Big and creepy guys scare me.
The greeting card was not one that they sell in her store... which leads me to believe that he had been there and seen her and then returned the next day to give her the card but she was off, so he then returned the next day when she was there and actually had the chance to give it to her. Ugh. First, an older woman asked her out and now this guy. The woman, by the way, was shocked to hear that she was only 19 and, in fact, not a lesbian.
Also Extra now makes a sugar-free green apple flavored chewing gum... so you bet that I'm pretty excited about that.
This song is no laughing matter, it is educational. Oh God.
Elise beat me at poker last night, so she chooses dinner tonight.
I taught her how to play poker last week, you know.
I was cut-throat last night too, didn't go easy on her.
I smell poker in Ribcage's air this week. Strip poker maybe? Dirty stories are always good. I got a dirty story published in Look-Look and everything! Look-Look which is marketed to the young'ns!
Didn't think about the fact that my grandma is going to seek that magazine out. DIRTY, DIRTY, DIRTY. It's really not that dirty though. I can write far dirtier. You'll see tomorrow. Now you're excited probably. Sickos. God. You should be ashamed for anticipating my filthy writing.
1200 words so far today.
Yesterday I wrote 1400
What would Elise think if she came home from work and my goatee had disappeared? How long before she'd notice, you think?
If I See Myself on Television One More Time…
or daily life and the Amazon.com horse race
My Teenage Film Career
or nobody wanted to hear that I found sour cream and onion flavored pork rinds that have zero carbs and that they were almost like eating potato chips when I ate them with dip
Just Enough to Pay for the Clay, the Paint and the Electric Bill
or the world's fastest tap dancer lived on a couch outside my bedroom door
Holy Crap, I Have Cheek-Bones
or holy crap, I have a jaw-line
