Monday, April 14, 2014

Movies That Never Were

Good morning, gentle readers.
Creativity sometimes takes us down peculiar paths.  Occasionally, it inspires us to create things that are just  . . .  odd.
So, with that in mind, I now present, for your entertainment, a selection of movies that never were.  
It should go without saying that the various properties presented belong entirely to their respective owners and that these images are created simply for fun.

Monday, April 7, 2014

(Fiction) After Hours at the Red Dragon

"Genies are a fucking pain in the ass," said Krosp.

It was after-hours and Krosp and I were unwinding in the Red Dragon. Nursing strong drinks, we compared and commiserated on what a load of crap the day had been.

"You tell ‘em they have to wear a mana-inhibitor and they start making a big scene about racial profiling and shit," clarified Krosp. "I had to call Security twice because of those bastards. I never understood why they wanted to immigrate anyway."

"Have you seen the Middle East lately? It’s not exactly welcoming to the magically inclined, Krosp."

He shrugged. "Whatever."

"Besides, I’d rather deal with genies than fucking werewolves any day of the month."

"Bad one today?"

"Super-bad. Not only did he have stinky dog breath he drooled all over my desk. I went through a whole roll of paper towels trying to clean that yuck up and then Simmons gets on my ass about slowing down the line."

"That bitch," said Krosp. "You know the only reason they gave her the job is because they needed to fill the department’s diversity quota."

"Yeah, I know that and you know that and even Simmons knows it. Why do you think she’s such a bitch to everyone?"

"I heard someone’s already filed a complaint about her with Personnel."

"That was quick."

"Yeah. And restrained. I always thought someone would just hex her and get it over with."

"Ha! Who says they haven’t? You know she has to sit on one of those inflatable donuts."

"Really?" Krosp’s bushy eyebrows rose in surprise. "You think someone’s zapped her?"

I nodded. "That’s the rumor. That someone’s given her a raging case of hemorrhoids."


"Yeah, well, I can’t feel too much sympathy for her. She brings it on herself."

"Whatever," murmured Krosp. He took a long pull from his beer. "Hey! Did I tell you about my weirdo?"

"No, I don’t think so."

"Guy comes into my cube, sits down and hands me his paperwork. Everything’s in order, but he doesn’t have a disclosure form. So, I tell him he needs to fill one out before we can continue and, guess what?"


"Guy doesn’t need a disclosure form. He’s totally human."


"No, man! I kid you not! He was a flat zero on the Thaumatic Scale. I checked."



"Why would a zero want to immigrate?"

"Religious persecution," said Krosp.


"Yeah. Plus, he’s Canadian."

"What’s that got to do with anything?"

Krosp just gave me a look. "If you’d ever been to Canada, you wouldn’t have to ask."

Monday, March 31, 2014

Oh Fuck It

Ladies and gentlemen, today has been a balls' up kind of day.  
It started well enough. I got up and went to the bank, deposited a check and then stopped by the grocery store to use their Coin Star machine. (I love the Coin Star machine!).  
It seemed like a good day. The people at the bank were very pleasant. The Coin Star machine worked superbly and only refused to take two pennies.  
Then, considering the future of my townhouse, I went by the Other Bank to discuss some financial matters. And that's where the day started to get shitty.
I blame it entirely on the Other Bank, which seemed determined to sell me things that I wasn't really interested in, and weren't very helpful at all with the matter that I went there to discuss with them.
It put me in a right funk.
Then I learned that, because of some kind of shenanigans, a paycheck I'd deposited last week hadn't gone through. The details remain vague, but I was told the bank could resubmit the check and it would go through no problem.  All well and good, but on top of my experience at the Other Bank, a bit more irritating than it should have been.
So, after spending half the day dealing with financial nonsense, I decided to treat myself.  I would go and see The Grand Budapest Hotel at the movies.  It looked amusing, in the trailers, and, by that point, I could have used a good laugh.
Alas, although the movie was interesting, it wasn't really funny.  Not in the way that I really needed it to be.
So I came home and realized that I had not done a blog post and that, really, I was in no mood to write about anything.
But I pulled out my laptop, gentle readers, and powered it up.  Lying on my bed, head resting on oversized pillows, I went to Blogger determined to at least acknowledge that it was my usual day. Originally, I was just going to write something along the lines of, "Oh fuck it. I just don't feel like writing anything today. See you all next week."  Or something along those lines.
And instead, I have managed to produce this catalogue of the day's events and a description of my general malaise. 
So, there you have it, lovely people.
My Monday in a nut shell.
I don't know what's going to happen next, but it better fucking well be something good.
After today, I feel I deserve it.
And bonne nuit and bonne chance to all the lovely French visiting the site this week.

Monday, March 24, 2014

The Breakup

"Why aren't you working?"
"What do you mean? It's my day off?"
"Working on your writing."
"Oh. I don't feel like it."
"You don't feel like it."
"Um. No. I. . . ."
"Ow! What the hell?!?"
"You still don't feel like writing?"
"What the hell, Amnesia? Why did you . . ."
"Shit! Will you stop it already! What the hell is the matter with you?"
"I'm inspiring you."
"You're hitting me with a whip! That's not inspirational, that just hurts!"
"Then I'm using negative stimuli to motivate your lazy ass! Now write something!"
"Do not make me pull out the cat-o-nine tails!"
"Don't fuck with me, Amnesia! I'm serious!"
"Why? What can you do?"
"I can fucking give up, is what I can do! And then what happens to your lazy ass? Huh? How many jobs have you blown anyway?"
"Hey! We're not here to talk about my career prospects, we're talking about yours!"
"Bullshit! And you've got a lot of nerve criticizing me for being lazy when it comes to the writing! How the hell am I supposed to create when your miserable excuse for an ass isn't here? Huh? Answer that! Hell! I should file a formal complaint!"
"You wouldn't dare!"
"Wouldn't I?  Every time I sit down to write something all I wind up doing is staring at the goddamn page! Why? Because your ass is nowhere around!"
"Hey! I've got other clients, you know!"
"Yeah? Do I give a good fuck? You're supposed to be here for me when I need you! To inspire! Instead, you show up once in a goddamn blue moon, carrying a fucking whip and pissed off as . . ."
"Don't threaten me, you little. . . ."
"That's it! You're fired! I'm going to complain! I'm going to get your sorry ass de-Mused! I am done with you! Done!"
"You. . . ."
"No! No more threats! No more whip! No more of you showing up at three in the goddamn morning or in the middle of my day job when I can't fucking write! You understand! We're done! Done, I say!"
" . . . ."
"What? Are you actually speechless? Where's the snappy comeback, Amnesia? Huh?"
"I don't have one."
"Well, d'uh!"
"You're right. I am a terrible Muse. I can't keep to a schedule to save my job. I am petty and fickle and, and . . . sob!"
"Oh crap. Don't cry."
"I can't help it! And you're not the boss of me so I'll cry if I want to!"
"Look, don't cry. Okay? Just stop."
"Why? A girl can cry if she wants to! And what do you care? We're done, right? I'm a terrible Muse! You said it yourself!"
"Look, you're not a terrible Muse. When you're on, you're on. We're just not compatible any more. That's all."
"There's no maybe about it.  We've just drifted apart.  We don't click any more. I mean, you were great when I was writing the first book and fucking brilliant with the second one, but. . . ."
"Yeah, well, you were easy to work with back then.  You didn't have so many irons in the fire."
"So, I guess this is it? We're breaking up?"
"I think it's for the best, Ana."
"Will you look for another Muse?"
"Maybe. I think I'll wait for things to calm down a little before I make that decision."
"Yeah, that'd probably be the smart thing."
"Well, I guess I should go."
"Yeah. I guess."
"I'll see you around."
"Sure. And, Amnesia?"
"The whip belongs to me."
"Oh. Right. I forgot."

Monday, March 17, 2014


Good afternoon, gentle readers, and happy St. Patrick's Day!
It's not quite 6:00 P.M. here and the day has been wet and dreary.  As I lay here, balancing this keyboard on my upraised knees, typing perpendicularly, I'm glad to be indoors.  The cold isn't so bad, but the rain and the wind make it feel so much worse.
It's at times like these that I reconsider my fantasy of buying a house on a cliff overlooking the ocean. The view would be fantastic, but the weather would be awful.
My own home is, currently, less than a fantasy.  I moved into my new place last October and have spent the last five months or so making improvements to the place.  Some, like the new heat system, were essential. Others (having the popcorn ceilings scraped) were more about aesthetics.
The entire experience has drained my bank accounts, tested my patience and generally been a pain in the ass.  Still, I can't complain about the end product.  The place does look better.
So it is somewhat ironic that, just as I'm reaching the conclusion of this project, that I have an interview for a job in another part of the country.
The Fates, it seems, have a sense of humor after all.
I honestly don't know if I'll get the job.  I suspect the interviews they are doing are merely for show. In my experience, in circumstances like this, the hiring agency already has someone lined up for the position and all of this is just a show for the Human Resources department.
After all, they must be seen to be going through the motions. True?
Because of that, I don't really expect to get this job.  If I do, that will be interesting. It would necessitate a move across the country to New Mexico.  I would have to put my place on the market for a quick sale. I would be starting over again from scratch.
Gentle readers, forgive my honesty here, but sometimes I think I'm too old and too fat to constantly be starting over again.  It all feels a bit ridiculous to me that, at this stage in my life, I'm not really established.  I don't really feel like I've set down roots anywhere.  Instead, I feel like I'm tumbleweeding through existence, blown hither and yon by the winds of chance.
Not that that's a bad thing. I think I'm lucky and I usually land on my feet. I've certainly accumulated some interesting experiences.
And isn't that what life is all supposed to be about? Experience?
So, what next?
I have no idea.
But I think it'll be interesting.