RT2013

Am I the only one not concerned with fame?

I don’t care that you’re famous.

If you’re an ass, you’re just a famous ass and I don’t have time to deal with that.

If you have fans (and don’t get me wrong, I’m totally jealous), but at least pay attention to them and don’t treat them like their shit. If they want to take a picture with you, smile and say “sure, that would be great!” Also, don’t hide who you are. If you started out as self-published, acknowledge it and embrace it. Be proud of where you came from. Yes, now you have a very VERY lucrative publishing contract but own up. You started out as fan-fiction, stole someone else’s characters and wrote a very subpar set of novels that the general masses adore. Own it!

Maybe its me but I can’t respect a person who doesn’t acknowledge who and what they are, the work they’ve done, and tries to be something they’re not.

As an author, I strive to be better every day, to make my characters as real for my readers as I can. I’m not going to lie. I’ve written some shit in my day, unabashed shit but I know that and acknowledge it. I learn from it and and develop not only as an author but as a person taking the good with the bad. I feel that most of us who are in the business for a while want to be proud of our work and we understand that rejection, development, and tears are all part of the process. If you catapult to stardom without the benefit of failure, you lose something. You lose the ability to be humble, thankful, and grow.

I realize this is a little late considering that RT was in April but better late than never…right?

WordPress and the Static Page

All i want is to have the blog show up on the blog page! Why is this so difficult? I know I created the blog page first and the static site second but I just want it to show up on the blog page in addition to the widget at the edge of the page.

ARGH!

I have requested help from a friend and she thinks I’m nuts. The following conversation has transpired between me and said friend:

me
i hate websites
1:08 PM
me
i hate wordpress
1:30 PM
FRIEND
Why??
I think I’m decent at wordpress
Do you need help?
me
yes,
i have a blog and i’m turning wordpress into a static page to move my website over but i can’t move the pre existing blog over to the blog header page
ARGH
FRIEND
what format?
me
i have no idea
I have to go to a meeting in a few
FRIEND
What is your website now?
me
logon is XXXXXXX password is XXXXXXX, play around if you wish.
my current website is suzannemsabol.com so i’m trying to move all that crap over to wordpress and make it better
FRIEND
On wordpress?
me
1:38 PM
FRIEND
Where is the old blog?
1:41 PM
1:42 PM
FRIEND
Am I missing something? When I go to the wordpress site and click on “Blog”, I see 5 posts
Are you trying to get them so they appear on the body of the page and not just as links in the sidebar?
1:44 PM
me
yes
because that list of 5 posts should be on every page
2:30 PM
me
i might cry
on a better note, the meeting was fairly uneventful
2:39 PM
FRIEND
That list is on every page?
I feel like youre hallucinating these issues
2:45 PM
me
no, its a widget
it posts on every page
This is the conversation I just had and we are now both frustrated! *SIGH*
And yes, i really do talk like that.

Confrontations

Hi kiddies! I know I’m a day late. Nothing exciting happened in the last week but we are having a yard sale on Saturday so there’s the potential for alot of humorous incidents. In the mean time, I’m posting a little snippet from Midnight Ash. Its told from Dean’s point of view. This has not been professionally edited or reviewed so READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. If you want to read these little snippets earlier. Join my facebook group Damsel. Well, here goes.

Confrontations

I didn’t want her here. If Danny brought her into the Pack, Dahlia Sabin, the Blushing Death, would be a constant reminder of what I would never have. I sat on the bar, stiff, my body riddled with tension as I watched everything. Watched her.

Jackson and Kurt circled each other but I couldn’t keep my eyes off her. She stood just off to the side, rigid and at attention – a quiet intimidation in the background of a room full of dangerous beasts. Seeming like she was completely at ease, her hand rested on her cocked hip. I knew better. She had her hand ready for the draw. A knife was strapped at her back beneath the coat. I could smell the oil from the blade and had seen a glimpse of it in the darkened club. I could also smell her. The light floral scent of a shampoo or lotion mixed with her own natural scent was earthy and delicious. Grinding my teeth harder, I forced that smell from my nose.

She flung her golden blonde hair over her shoulder, out of her face and my cock jerked. What’s wrong with me? Danny’s my Beta, my friend, and a nice kid. More importantly, Dahlia Sabin was off limits. Pat didn’t share and neither did I.

Look at him! Coddling her. Trying to keep her out of harm’s way. Standing in front of her like she was weak.

The Blushing Death didn’t need coddled. She wasn’t weak or submissive. By the sidelong glances and irritated tension in her shoulders, I knew she’d had enough. She ground her teeth and the muscles in her neck tightened, strained. The angrier she got, the more her scent filled my nose. I wanted to make her angry and watch those grey eyes flash with emotion.

She turned on Danny, her fingers twitching as she fought not to draw that knife. Danny gazed down at her with a boyish, carefree smile I envied. It had been a long time since I’d been carefree. The Pack had needed me. Janey had needed me. When she’d been killed,I thought I’d lose his mind. But . . . the Pack had needed me.

I glanced away. Janey was gone. This woman could never, would never be mine. No matter how much I wanted her. Something deep inside me hummed with satisfaction every time she was near and that scared the shit out of me.

“Dahlia!” Danny bellowed and my ears perked up.

She sailed across the room as if she’d been shot from a cannon. My heart stopped as her limp body slammed into the floor. I fought not to jump from the bar and run to her. Gripping the edge of the bar, I squeezed until the wood cracked beneath my fingers. She wasn’t mine. She would never be mine. I had to remember that or everything I’d built would come tumbling down.

Midnight Ash Book Cover
Midnight Ash Book Cover

The Start of a New School Year

My three week vacation wasn’t long enough. It really wasn’t long enough.

Last night was my first class of the semester, Public Budgeting and Finance. Exciting…right! Not so much but at least the Professor is entertaining. Four hours of marginal rates, substitution and income effects, and utility functions. Wait, let’s be clear about this. The first two hours were on “getting-to-know-you” exercises and syllabus review. Who spends two hours going over a 4 page syllabus? I don’t know. The second two hours were on marginal rates and such. I’m sorry but if you are teaching a four hour class, you need to give us more than one five minute break. That wasn’t even long enough for me to pee.

I have class again tonight. Wait – shit,I don’t even know what it is. I have to look it up.

Public Management. I don’t know what that means. It doesn’t even start until 6pm which means I have to hang around campus for an extra hour for shits and giggles. *Sigh* I’ll let you know how that goes.

Between classes starting up again and the new job (only four weeks in) I’ve begun to consume alcohol at an alarming rate, searching out happy hours like a nomad to water. The other day, my husband said he noticed I’d been drinking more. A glass of wine almost every night! *Gasp* I said that I didn’t think I had a problem, I was consuming alcohol just fine without help.

So now its back to the grind. Fifty hours in the office. Eight hours of class time. Ten hours of studying. Three hours of additional section for Budget and Finance (stupid fucking budget and finance). Then probably another two hours of group work. I fucking hate group work. How many is that? Seventy three hours a week. How many hours are in a week anyway?

168 hours in a 7 day week
-73 hours of productivity
-56 hour of sleep (and this is generous)
– 4 hours of commuting time
=35 hours remaining for leisure time and writing.

Oh Shit! I forgot about writing.

Take off another 10 hours for that. 25 hours of leisure time. I guess that will have to do.

Reviews and Comments…BOOOOOO!

Okay, so we all know that goodreads.com is a book review site…right?

I had to read the Higher Education ? for my Higher Education Policy class and honestly, I had to put it down a few times to regain perspective. When I started to feel sorry for the way faculty were portrayed in this book, I took a step back and put the book away. If any of you don’t already know, I work at a major Big 10 University and am up to my neck in faculty and their self-centered bullshit every damned day. So, while reading this book, you can imagine my unease when I started to side with the faculty in this author’s arguments. After finishing the book with a bad taste still in my mouth, I wrote the following review on goodreads.

Higher Education?: How Colleges Are Wasting Our Money and Failing Our Kids—and What We Can Do About It
by Andrew Hacker, Claudia Dreifus
7097994
Suzanne M.’s review Jul 12, 13 · edit
1 of 5 stars
Read on July 11, 2013

Working in Higher Education, I have a unique perspective on the issues presented in this book. On many points, they present valid concerns. As in any industry there are those who take advantage of the system and those that work tireless for their chosen profession. Categorizing all faculty into the former grouping is unfair. The condescending tone of their arguments and the lack of statistical data make their arguments hard to back up, making them seem angry and petulant.

The authors of this book also make wide generalizations regarding the functioning of universities. I’ve found {from my own baseless observations – LOL} that most faculty (as the author is) rarely understand the actual administrative processes or the reasons behind them. So to make accusations about the appropriateness of spending is a spurious assumption, riddled with holes.

Hacker bases much of their observations on Ivy League institutions. As many aspire to emulate these universities and colleges, the reality is that the actual number of students attending those institutions are minuscule compared to the greater college going population. How does this relate to the actual problems facing higher education? This book also ignores one of the fundamental issues with higher education today. The students and the parents.

If someone is looking for an accurate and representation of higher education and the problems plaguing us, this is not the book.

Now, as some of you may notice, I commented more on the tone of the book than the actual points the author made. Although I agree with the author’s concerns in most cases (our higher education system and K-12 system does need a hard look) – not necessarily the solutions, I commented mostly on the tone of the writing and the unsubstantiated assumptions. The author states that he and his co-author did not do statistical data collection to back up their conclusions but instead contacted colleagues around the country to gather their information. The anger that came through clear as a bell in their writing and voice made it seem more like the author was angry at the system for personal reasons than some higher purpose or championing the rights of students. The authors of this book also spent a great deal of time on college athletics (without doing any research…might I add) and basically condemned the entire practice, suggesting that perhaps college athletics should be dissolved altogether. Not once did the author take into account that sometimes, an athletic scholarship is the only way some kids are able to go to college. That was very aggravating.

A day or so goes by and then I get an email from goodreads. Someone has commented on my review. What?!? I was very excited and went straight to goodreads. I rarely post reviews (mostly because I can’t be bothered or don’t have the time. The book has to either be fantastic or suck big donkey balls for me to post an actual review), so when someone commented, I was ridiculously excited to see what they thought. Then I opened goodreads and read this…

message 1: by Peter Jul 13, 2013 03:58am
Peter I haven’t read the book and wouldn’t dispute your characterization of it, but it’s clear from where I stand as someone who studied the history of higher education for his Ph.D. and then taught in three institutions that higher education is led by people who are intent on preserving their privileged status at the expense of students and taxpayers. The fact is that the reality of education for too many students does not come close to the stated mission of the institutions they attend. As a result there needs to be an open national discussion about higher ed with the hopes that new leadership emerges and institutes needed reforms.

Okaaaaaay. So, here’s the thing. I wasn’t making a political statement. I didn’t even really discuss the state of higher education today and all the flaws in our educational system (cause believe me, there are quite a few). It was a simple book review. If you haven’t read the book…maybe you shouldn’t comment since you DON’T KNOW WHAT THE HELL YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT! If you want to have a political discussion or a policy discussion, goodreads isn’t the place for that. Also, if your first statement is that you haven’t read the book on a book review site, that should be your first clue to not hit “post”.

Bullets, Bullets, Everywhere…

Disclaimer: This scene takes place in Pool of Crimson and told from Patrick’s point of view. This vignette has not been professionally edited and contains adult language – READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!

Damsel was packed from wall to wall with people. A huge success, as I knew it would be. Ethan’s businesses just needed updating and some expansion to be successful. I hadn’t even needed the subsidy from Lebensblut Inc. that Ethan had depended upon. They were not so ecstatic about my lack of dependence but that was a problem for later. The colony was making money, we would survive on our own terms. More importantly, without Lebensblut’s input and fiduciary contributions, I could keep them out of my business and away from Dahlia.

She stood at the bar, talking to Miguel. Dahlia was one of the few people, human or otherwise, Miguel would converse with about anything. She was like a beam of light, beckoning my entire colony to her from the darkness.

They still feared the Blushing Death but they knew she was fair. If she showed up on your doorstep, you’d done something to warrant it. With the new rules in place, everyone was happy. With willing donors everywhere, the unsolved murder rate had declined exponentially. The VIP room of Damsel and the other club ICE were explicitly for feeding purposes. I’d opened an additional club across town for the more base appetites, EROS which was not open to the public. The Colony and the Pack were back on solid ground, acting together. Everyone felt safe. Everyone but me.

I’d managed to hide her this time but Dahlia was too well known. Soon, the Lebensblut board would discover her and my connection to her. I couldn’t allow that, not when I still had no idea what she was or how to protect her.

She turned and smiled at me over her shoulder. Her blonde hair covered up most of the right side of her face, shielding that devilish glint in her eye, but I knew it was there. I could feel it tingling along my skin. The empathic bond thrust upon us had given me a few crucial insights to the magnificent woman sauntering toward me. She had a swagger to her step like no one could touch her that drove me insane.

The Blushing Death was iron willed and had an inner strength that amazed me but she was also vulnerable. She didn’t want anyone, not even me to know that. She hid many dark secrets behind that pretty face and bravado. I hadn’t told her but I’d seen the torture she’d endured in the name of mental health. When our magic had bonded in that limo, I’d seen several close calls where her life had been in question, and a lot of lonely nights. I would never tell her. It was her secret to tell.

She scanned the crowd, darting her gaze from face to face as she continued to smile at me. Her mind was like a complex puzzle, always working, twisting and reconfiguring as the pieces changed. Finally, she glanced back at me with those storm-grey eyes and sucked her bottom lip in between her teeth. Hell on Earth, I loved when she did that.

As if in slow motion, she lost the playful glint in her eyes and her head turned toward the DJ booth at the far end of the club. She started moving before I could rewire my brain from sex to violence. Slamming into me, she forced me to the ground, covering me with her body. Stupid human! I was immortal. She wasn’t.

A pop echoed over the crowd and music as a bullet lodged itself several feet above my head, missing her by a hair’s breath. I could smell the silver from where I lay beneath Dahlia on the floor.

The entire club erupted in panic, screaming and shouting. People ran in all directions like lemmings, looking for a way out. I yanked Dahlia from the floor, following the crowd to lose ourselves in the chaos.

Ready to run after the bastard, I grabbed her wrist to stop her. The soft, red glow of her power flared around her, shimmering against her skin. I’d seen it before but couldn’t name it. The rose colored glow illuminated her in the mass of mundane souls differentiating her as special, deadly. Tapping into the link between us, I felt the white-hot heat of her rage spread over my skin. She met my gaze with a malicious glint to her eyes and a violent smile that curved her full, seductive lips into a sneer. The flare of power around her solidified and strengthened, licking at my hand like a wash of sea water, cold and sharp. Beyond that was the calm in the middle of a storm, a fantastic void I’d never experienced before and could not explain. Her eyes were focused, empty, and dead. I’d never felt such . . . peace . . . in my life. My Blushing Death was a killer, plain and simple, and I loved her for it.

Releasing her wrist, I leaned back against the wall. Nova ran from the entry, fighting the crowd as he slid to a stop at Dahlia’s side.

“Get him out of here,” she ordered.

Nova didn’t flinch as he yanked my arm hard and jerked me through the crowd. Dahlia drew the Smith and Wesson Jade had gotten her for Christmas from the holster at her ribs and took off through the screaming crowd. She snatched Jade, who was trying to climb over the bar with Miguel, and took off into the night. She didn’t look back.

Nova pushed me through the door off the side of the coat check, then up the stairs to my office. He didn’t dare contradict Dahlia’s orders. None of them would. I couldn’t help but smile at how she’d wrapped my colony and me around her little finger.
Nova closed the door behind us and locked the door. The commotion had died down as the club cleared. The police would be there soon. Shots had been fired so someone, if not Miguel would have called the 9-1-1.

“Make sure Miguel is ready for the Police,” I instructed Nova. He opened his cell phone and typed out a text without leaving my side. Shoving the phone in his jacket pocket, he stood stark still watching the chaos die down below through the Plexiglas floor. “You can go, Nova. I’m fine.”

“She’ll have my hide,” he said with an apologetic shrug of his shoulders. Dahlia was like the protector Nova never had and he, of all of his colony, needed her. I strode behind my desk and sat down as my stomach twisted and churned. There was nothing to do but sit and wait. Sit and wait to find out that she’d been killed and he’d done nothing to stop it. Every night was like this. Sometimes his colony forgot she was human. I never did.

I sat there long enough for the club to clear out, for the police to come and go. I sat behind my desk long enough for Miguel and the rest to clean up most of the mess.

“She’ll be alright, you know,” Nova said, reassuring me.

“Sometimes she forgets she’s human,” I mumbled, pretending to work as if the entire situation didn’t bother me.

“No, she doesn’t,” he said.

“What do you mean?” I asked, glancing up from the contracts on my desk, suddenly intrigued.

Before he could answer, the door opened and Dean, the pack alpha stepped in. His face was grim and his shoulders stiff with anxiety. The local Pack Gaoh’s expression was blank but his energy filled the room, making the large space feel claustrophobic.

“You alright?” he asked.

“I am. How did you hear?” I asked.

Dean had been keeping his distance from me for a while, since Ethan’s death. He wouldn’t say why, only that it wasn’t a good idea. We conducted business as usual however, but our friendship had been strained over the past few months. It was a curious situation.

“Danny,” he said, almost in a growl.

Ahhh, Danny. The other man in Dahlia’s life. I hated that upstart wolf but he did something I couldn’t. He protected Dahlia in the daylight hours. I would put up with him for now, until I could convince Dahlia to complete the blood ceremony and bond us permanently. Then she wouldn’t need the mongrel.

“How close was it?” Dean asked, sitting down on the couch along the wall.

“Too close,” I said. “The only thing that kept that silver bullet from striking its target was Dahlia.”

“Where is she now,” Dean asked.

“She took out of here like a bat out of hell, chasing after the fucker,” Nova said with a bright, proud smile on his face.

“How you feel ‘bout that?” Dean asked.

“My stomach is in knots waiting to hear something but other than that, I’m fine.”

“But you let her go?”

“Yes,” I growled, not liking the tone in his question.

The phone rang, filling the empty office with its shrill tone. I picked up the receiver, thankful for the distraction. Glancing down at the caller ID, my muscles tightened as Dahlia’s name scrolled across the screen.

“Are you all right?” I asked, unable to hide the concern in my voice.

“I’m fine,” she breathed over the line.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. He’s dead.” Her tone changed. She’d shifted from my Dahlia to the Blushing Death. Just like that, in the time span it took to snap my fingers the soft woman I knew was gone.

“Good.”

“Listen,” she said. “We have a problem. I didn’t get any information out of him other than he wouldn’t be the last.”

I sat silent, digesting the idea that this bullet would not be the last directed at us. Sending one assassin equated to an angry vampire in competition for my territory. An onslaught of assassins was the board putting pressure on me or one of the rival Colonies looking for our complete and utter destruction.

“What’s going on here?” she asked, with agitation making her words sharp.

“I don’t know. I’ll look into this. . .” I wanted to encourage her to come back but as I glanced over at Dean, he shook his head. Interesting. The pack alpha hadn’t been avoiding me, he’d been avoiding her. “Go home and rest. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

“Fine,” she snapped like a pouting little girl and I laughed. I knew her adrenaline was up. She wanted to come back and show me just how alive she was, but Dean was waiting with an expression as hard and unmovable as granite.

“I opened my mail after you left and received a very nice letter from the Columbus Catholic Dioceses, thanking me for my generous donation,” I said, lightening the mood. I’d actually opened the letter when I’d awaken early in the afternoon but I couldn’t let her think that I’d been sitting around worrying about her. I couldn’t allow any of them to think that, not even Nova.

“You had a giant pentagram etched in the basement and tried to raise a demon, there was some serious bad mojo to get rid of in that house. Trust me, Father Christopher earned every stinking penny,” she snorted. Something about the way she spoke told him that there was more to her words than she was willing to admit. If I listened close enough, I was very sure I could hear the steady beat of her heart over the line.

“So he did. Perhaps I should send him a thank you note,” I said trying to hide the smile on my face from Dean.

“Perhaps you should.”

I sat for a moment, listening to her breathe. The woman had infiltrated my being so quickly and so easily to the point I wasn’t sure I could survive if anything happened to her. My chest tightened at the thought of losing her because the woman mattered more to me than anything else, the colony, the money, the Board, even my own life.

“Please, be careful,” I said and even I heard the pleading in my tone.

“I will,” she breathed, and then the line was dead. I placed the phone on my desk and sat back in my chair. Dean sat silent, watching me as he always did, taking in more information than his stoic, stern exterior gave away.

“Is she alright?” he asked.

I could swear that I heard a hint of concern in that deep Alpha grumble. “She says she is,” I said.

“You don’t believe her?”

“I do but, after all, she’s only human. I wish she wouldn’t take so many chances,” I said.

“Hmph,” Dean snorted.

“Why are you avoiding her,” I finally asked, curious.

“I’m not avoiding her,” he snapped. His tone and the bite in his words was uncharacteristic. It sent my hackles standing on end, not to mention the lie I smelled on him.

“Even I could smell that lie,” I responded.

“I have my reasons,” Dean growled, crossing his arms over his bulky chest. I knew him well enough to know that, for him, the conversation was over. I changed subject.

“The assassin said there would be others.”

“The Board?” Dean asked, relaxing into the couch.

“I don’t know. Possibly.”

“What do you want to do?”

“I have no plan as of yet,” I said, hesitant to say anything. Dean stood to his full height and strode to the door.

“When you do, the Pack is behind you,” he offered which was more gracious than Dean knew. In most territories, the Colonies and Packs were at war. Dean and I were a rare happenstance that I appreciated, counted on. I couldn’t let whatever it was that riled him about Dahlia ruin that.

“Whatever it is?” I warned. “You can’t avoid Dahlia forever. You’ll have to deal with it.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” he growled and left, slamming the door behind him.

“Perfect, just bloody, perfect,” I breathed.

Helicopter Parents! Really?!

Seriously, I get it. You gave birth to what you think is a genius prodigy that needs to be nurtured and protected. The reality of the situation is, you gave birth to a nitwit, 23 year old that can’t function without you. You’re in my office asking if your kid can be put in a class because he’s still sleeping. Does anyone else see a problem with that?

1. If your kid is 23, why the hell isn’t he sitting in my office talking about his schedule instead of you?

2. I can’t talk to you. The university and the government assumes that at 18 your kid is a full fledged adult – let alone 23. There are rules. Don’t get bitchy with me because you think you’re special and the rules don’t apply to you. They do! I realize you’re paying tuition but so what! There’s a little law called FERPA that won’t let me talk to you. Get over it!

3. Cut the damned umbilical cord people! Your kid is going to have to go into the world someday and you can’t be there to hold their hand. I’m not constructing a special orientation for you to figure out what your kid is supposed to do. You’re not attending this University or the program. LET THEM GO!

4. I’m not the student’s parent. It’s not my job to make sure your beloved Johnny or Joany gets their ass up out of bed and attends class. If their failing, there’s probably a reason for that and nobody don’t get an A for just showing the fuck up!

5. Just because you pay tuition doesn’t mean you can walk into my office and ask me if you can have the poster on my wall. Yeah! That just fucking happened! Your tuition dollars didn’t pay for the poster. Don’t give me a dirty look when I say no. Get used to that word, you’re going to be hearing it a lot.

6. I’m not there parent. Don’t call me to
a) go to their apartment to check on them
b) call to make sure their still alive
c) call their professors to see if they’ve been showing up
d) stalk them for you when they stop answering the phone

7. Okay, your kid hasn’t even shown up yet for their first day. Hasn’t even fucking shown up yet! The class your kid is trying to get into is full. Has been for a month because its an upper level class. I don’t really care that Johnny wants to make sure he has continuous language instruction from high school to college. Its not going to happen! Wanna know why? Your kid is at the bottom of the damned totem pole for scheduling, which means that all those upper level courses you’re so proud of Johnny for testing into are full long before his window scheduling opens. Yep that’s right! At some point Johnny is going to be stuck without a language class to take and he’ll have to take…God forbid…a literature course! GASP!

8. Your kid is getting a degree from Arts and Sciences. Its a liberal arts degree. Please don’t come into my office on day one or better yet, orientation day and ask me what kind of job a major in French will get little Joan! The answer is I don’t fucking know. I have a degree in Criminology, International Studies, and Russian and I’m an HR/Fiscal officer. What the hell does that tell you? More than likely, your kid is going to be working at McDonald’s while living with you but that’s beside the point. Little Joan isn’t enrolled in a vocational program. They’re enrolled in French! You want a successful career waiting for Little Joan when she graduates? Good Luck! We all wanted that.

9. Please don’t call the department office and swear at the department staff or the faculty. Neither of them have it out for your kid. More than likely, Little Johnny did something stupid that warrants whatever reaction he got. Guess what! He can’t copy shit off of Google and put it in his paper! Amazing…I know but that’s called plagiarism and violates academic misconduct. So calm down. Take a breath and actually let your kid suffer the consequences of his actions. Maybe they’ll learn something. That is why you sent them to college after all.

10. Last but certainly not least. Sometimes your kid needs to fail. That’s the only way they can learn how to pick themselves up and soldier on. So, stop calling to see if you can get their grade changed because Little Johnny’s grandpa died in 2010 and that really affected him. If you have a death in the family, do you get to slack off of work for months on end and turn in sub-par shit? NO! Your boss expects you to show up, do your job and function. Guess what, the world is going to expect that from Little Johnny or Joan too. So, let them fail. Maybe they’ll surprise you.

Thanks to my Della and Ashley for reminding me of some of the ridiculous shit that happens around here. Clearly, I blocked most of it out.

Shenanigans @ RAGT

Hi Peeps! I know I’m a day late and I’m truly sorry but I had an economics midterm last night so I’ve been stressing about that for the past week. After that fiasco was over, I engaged in an epic binge session consisting of Wendy’s spicy chicken and some cookies. Immediately following that and the last half hour of Real Housewives of Orange County (the drama is ridiculous), I went promptly to sleep. I won’t lie, I might have snuck in like 15 minutes of million dollar listing. I <3 Frederick! Seriously, if he wasn’t gay and I wasn’t married, I might stalk him…just a little. My brain, however, had too much exercise and use yesterday and decided to shut down all on its own.

Sooooo, now that I’m back to the land of the living for at least a day – let’s talk about my weekend. It was Lori Foster’s Reader/Author get together in West Chester Ohio. For those of you not from Ohio, that’s a suburb outside of Cincinnati. There’s an Ikea which is all you really need to know. And yes, I did take time out on Saturday to hop over to Ikea and get some things. Cause that’s how I roll. 

Anyway, I drove down on Friday night after work. Which was nice to have a little quiet time to myself. I’d consumed 32 ounces of water throughout the day, then a biggie iced tea on the road. This proved to be a mistake. When I hit 275 (Cincinnati’s outer belt), the traffic stopped because of an accident and the waiting game and the pressure on my bladder began. And honestly, if you can’t drive in a straight line, I don’t think you should be behind the wheel. But I digress, forty five minutes later, I walked into the lobby of the Marriott bouncing up and down to keep from leaving a puddle on the floor.

I stepped up to the counter and said “I need to check in and where’s your restroom?” The kind lady pointed behind me to where the restrooms were located and I took off like a shot. Running down the hall in a dress and espadrilles, I wasn’t looking back. I couldn’t. There wasn’t time. The receptionist asked my name as I turned and ran down the hall. I yelled back at her across the lobby. Classy…I know. 

After check in and registration, I only had a little while before the book signing. So I trekked down to the lobby again and set up. They stuck me in the corner at a rounded table with three other others who wrote erotica. I can’t remember any of their names. Shit! I should remember this, we sat together for two whole hours and talked about orgasms and laundry. This is bad. So much for my networking skills. Anyway, after about fifteen minutes, an author at the next table arrives. Now, I only mention this because she was dressed at a viking.

You read that right folks! She was dressed as a fucking VIKING! Furry hat, horns and all – very Brunhilda-esque.

Hitting on her and garnering quite a bit of attention, was our favorite cover model – dubbed in previous years as Skeezy Bastard.

Several friends and I named him this because he hit on all of us and every woman at the bar. He asked poor Amanda if she was sharing a room and if she would like to share it with him. When one of us shot him down at the bar, he moved right on down to the next one…literally. *Sigh* Good times. Skeezy Bastard hit on a lot of women this past weekend, and by late Saturday, he wasn’t being picky in his selection of women either. 

Tiff, Eva and I ended up going back to the room after that and having a good old fashion slumber party with lots of giggling and crude jokes. 

Saturday, was pretty uneventful. Tiff left so Eva and I were left to our own devices which is never a good idea. We holed up in our room and worked, giggled, and drank. Also, never a good thing. After consuming an entire bottle of wine by myself we headed down to the bar where Eva sucked down 3 tequila Sunrises like someone was going to take them away from her and I had this:

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I have no idea what was in this thing except for the nerds at the bottom. It took Eva to explain that it was supposed to be gravel – you know, like in a fish tank. Not my finest moment. And three, count them, three Swedish fish. It was delicious and STRONG! I watched the bartender make one for someone else and said:

“I don’t even care what’s in that but I must have one. This shit is happening!”

We made jokes about Skeezy Bastard, talked about writing, and made friends with the bartender – who by the way, remembered us from last year. I don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. I like to think it just makes us AWESOME!

I drove home Sunday morning, hung out with my husband then we ran over my glasses with the car. Yep, so that was fun. On top of dropping my phone in the zoo’s public toilet a few weekends ago, my expenses for ridiculous shit has skyrocketed. Lug in the nonsense with the Slanty Shanty and we can just call it a day. UGH! I have yet to replace my glasses. I feel like its summer time and I can just use my prescription sunglasses instead until I get new ones. Its worked so far. Also, I haven’t replaced my phone (dubbed the pee phone this weekened by Tiff- Thanks Tiff!) since it’s kinda working with a new battery. I don’t want to talk to anyone anyway and if its important, they’ll just email me.

Not Everyone is Meant to Walk in Darkness

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