Thursday, January 31, 2013

Why You Should Blog from A to Z This April...

Founded in 2010 by Arlee Bird of Tossing it Out, the Blogging from A to Z April Challenge is basically this: Every day in April (except for Sundays) you post a blog connected in some way to the alphabet, in alpha order. In 2013, the first day of this Mac Daddy of a blog hop is Monday, April 1—on that day, you blog about something that starts with an "A." Tuesday, you blog about something beginning with "B," Wednesday it's "C," and so on, till you've reached the end of the alphabet, the end of the month, and the end of your sanity.

Just kidding about that last bit. (Or is she...?)

But wait—there's more!

You sign up to participate on the A to Z linky-list, so other A to Z-ers can find you and check out your A to Z posts. In turn, you check out their posts, striving to read at least 5 (five) different participants' blog posts daily.

This isn't Sparta, folks. It's madness. It's a lot to keep up with, for sure. Picking a theme and writing/scheduling posts in advance can help. Some folks "pants it" and just post on the fly, daily, with no particular theme in mind. And, if they're staying true to the spirit of the thing, they're visiting as many of the other (over 1000) A to Z participants as they can, every blessed day in April.

Why the hell do they do it? Damned if I know. Here's why I do it, and why I think you should too:
  • A to Z is the biggest, baddest blogger-networking opportunity I know of. Not getting a lot of traffic to your blog? Sign up for A to Z and that'll change. I started getting regular comments on my blog posts and my follower count shot up over the course of last April (my first go at A to Z). Your mileage may vary, of course, but even if you experience but a mild spike in visits/followers, it beats the hell out of talking to yourself in cyberspace. (Talking to yourself at home is totally normal, though, or so the Voices tell me.)
  • You can learn a lot about self-discipline and sticking to a schedule, both of which aid in increasing your creative output, whatever your art/craft. (Sure, everything else in your life may grind to a screeching halt and you learn to live on 4-5 hours of sleep every night but, you know, art is pain, no pain no gain, time is money and money is power, the black hawk squawks at midnight, etc.)
  • You stand to learn a lot of nifty bloggy tricks, such as how to make your own link-back signature (and why the devil you'd ever want to make one).
  • If you're new-ish to blogging, you can rip off get a lot of good ideas of how to style your blog from checking out what others are doing on theirs.
  • You can make blog-pals that'll stick with you through the dark space of the blogosphere.
  • Damn it, it's fun, OK? (Sheesh.)
Anyway, click here if you want to learn more. I know it seems a daunting challenge suitable only for the dangerously insane,, I can't follow that up with anything soothing. What the hell, give it a shot, what've you got to lose? (Aside from the aforementioned sanity?) (Sanity's overrated, anyway.)

Or, in the immortal words of the great Edgar A. Poe:
“Men have called me mad; but the question is not yet settled, whether madness is or is not the loftiest intelligence– whether much that is glorious– whether all that is profound– does not spring from disease of thought– from moods of mind exalted at the expense of the general intellect.”
Word up, my brother. Word. Up.

Monday, January 28, 2013

A Guest Post & the Lunar Lovin' Hop!

The Guest Post

YA Romance author, Cassie Mae, put a call out for guest posters back in December, which I answered with an offer to recycle an earlier post of mine, Writerly Things. You can check out this groovy chick's blog (and my guest post) on Monday, Jan. 28 (like, today) by clicking here.

And now, the...

The full moon of January is known as the Wolf Moon. Appropriate for a Lobo like me, would ye nay say???

If you don't know what the hell I'm on about, click here for more info, and know that it ain't too late to sign up for this thang.

I was born on the moon's day (Monday, as was my son), and I'm sooo in love with la lune, if I were a dude, I'd say I have a raging hard-on for it. Hell, I'll say it regardless. I have a raging hard-on for the moon. There, I've said it. So I snapped a stupid number of pics of her on January 27, from the wee hours of the morning till just after Downton Abbey aired on PBS. You don't have to look at all of them, of course, but I hope you'll scroll down to see the (short!) list of participants in my lunacy. (Lunacy, didja get it? See what I did there? Didja?)

This was shot a little after midnight, Sunday morning, probably the best shot of the lot.

This was my first glimpse of her Sunday night. ::swoons::

Here's the saucy wench from the opposite end of my block, sorta.

Peek-a-Boo Moon I

Peek-a-Boo Moon II

Post Downton Abbey

The last shot of the night

::Sighs:: What a gorgeous gal, is the moon. Oh, to bask in her reflecting glory from my beach house's master bedroom's balcony...

...maybe someday...

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Thursday, January 24, 2013

Blogfests: To Remind and Promote Others'

The Reminder

My Lunar Lovin' Hop's
coming up THIS WEEKEND!
Click here if you forgot
what the hell you signed up for
(or if you simply forgot
to sign up!)

The Promotions

Jolie Du Pre of Precious Monsters
hosts a Valentine's Day blogstravaganza
(that is SO TOTALLY A WORD).
(Well, now).
You dig the vamps?
Let you count the ways for this blog hop!
Click here for the fangs facts!

Elise Fallson & Michelle Wallace co-host the
She said what?! Blog-o-versary Giveway Bash! Feb. 18 - 20.
I'm too wrecked from work
to remember what happens with this one...
something about writing captions for cartoons...
Anyway, I know I signed up for it,
so I reckon y'all should, too.
Go on, then; click here or there.

And just to remind you, one last time, that my Lunar Lovin' Hop's coming up THIS WEEKEND, here's Mike Oldfield's gorgeous, heart-squeezing tale of a tune, Moonlight Shadow, with the best vocals I've heard on this song to date, by Miriam Stockley.

Monday, January 21, 2013

Indie-Publishing Timeframe? (IASOS)

So, here's my first Indie Author SOS post, which I address to other writers who've gone boldly where they hadn't ventured before—the thrilling/terrifying world of independent publishing!

I plan to publish my Greek-myth inspired romance novel, That Fatal Kiss, later this year. I'm shooting for the first day of fall which, from today, is about 9 months away.

Those of you who've been down this road already, what do y'all think: is 9 months enough time to get this shit together? (You know, assuming I've got my shit together?)

I'm in the final (hah!) revision stages and anticipate having my final (hah!) draft complete by the end of January. Yeah, this January. (I'm emphasizing this for my own benefit, so I'm sure to kick my own ass into getting it done by the time I've publicly said I would. Feel free to bust my chops if I've not kept my word.) (But gently; I'm a delicate flower.) (Yes, I am. Stop laughing.)

In an upcoming IASOS post, I'll list the things I believe need doing to make this indie-pubbing lark a reality, but until then, should I budget for more time, less, or does 9 months seem about right? Please leave your thoughts in the comments and feel free to Tweet/Facebook this to encourage other indie authors to chime in!

The easiest way to share this post on the social media of your choice is to click one of the little icons above this post's tag: "Posted by Mina Lobo at 12:00 AM." THANKS!

Friday, January 18, 2013

100 Unfortunate Days by Penelope Crowe

100 Unfortunate Days My rating: 5 of 5 stars

I'm a fan of Penelope Crowe's blog and enjoy her writing style there. Reading some of 100 Unfortunate Days' reviews on Amazon (as well as the free samples she posts on her blog), I decided I had to give it a read. So I inhaled it. One Amazon reviewer mentioned reading a few days' entries and putting it down for a week. I couldn't be so patient; I had to keep going, to see what newly outrageous, crazed, or twisted day would follow the last.

Framed as the diary of a madwoman, it takes a long and circuitous path over the course of roughly three months. Three grim and uncanny months. It's not a traditionally plotted tale, more like the thoughts of a (not quite well?) woman as she gets through a tedious, sometimes tortuous, series of interminable days. Lord, how many of the thoughts written have I had myself? How many have we all had? (A lot, though I must speak for myself only.) (But, yeah—a LOT.) And I think that's what contributes to the creep factor of the book—how much of ourselves we might find (dread to find?) in the narrator. I mean, the gal's clearly crackers. Or maybe she sees the truth of things all too well, and if that's the case, well, we're all fucked.

The other shadowy factor is that the voice is clearly that of a grown woman AND YET the way it talks of superstitious mumbo jumbo, the simplistically scared view of the Devil and how he's OUT TO GET YOU (as are the worms, and the spiders, and things lurking in your basement, the corners of someone's house, the backyard), reminds me of when I was but a wee Gothling attending Catholic school. The girls in my grade sometimes spoke this way, I could nearly hear the cadence of their voices as they relayed to me, quite factually, what evil horror would befall me if I looked into a mirror in a darkened room at midnight. It's this credulous childlike view, coupled with an air of know-it-all expert on supernatural terrors to avoid, heavily threaded by a fatalistic belief that no matter what you do, you're doomed, that seeped through the pores of my skin and into my bones. I felt compelled to read on, whether I giggled or shivered or turned off my Kindle device because that hollow feeling within me threatened to keep me from sleep on a given night...Dudes, this ain't for the faint of heart. But then, neither is living.

I regret only that I gobbled it up in about two or three days...maybe over the summer, when the night doesn't seem to return so quickly, I'll pull the book out again and take dainty bites of it unfortunate day at a time.

Thursday, January 17, 2013

The Kid's Flying Solo Again...

...and I have to admit to being a wee bit heartbroken. OK, more than a wee bit.

As early as December, I'd started wondering if things were well between the spawn of my loins, Balthazar, and his girlie, whom I adore.

Around my dad's birthday, I noted Balthy had changed his Facebook profile pic. It'd been a picture of him with his gal and was now him and some musician he'd met at a concert. Hmmm...

I texted to ask if things were cool with the two of them. His answer: Yep.

The gal and I aren't FB pals, but I could see her "About" page and she still listed him as her fella. So, OK. (I know, I know; Facebook creeping should be beneath me. Well, it ain't.)

Balthazar had mentioned going to spend New Year's Eve with her and her family (they're a few states away). But as the day drew closer, he said they'd decided against him going there, after all.

Say what?

I checked Facebook and things were still OK.

Before the Kid returned to college, I bought the lovely girl some gifts for Christmas. I was so happy to shop for her, it was so much fun picking out stuff I thought would go well with her was like shopping for the daughter I don't expect to ever have, you know? When he left, I waited on pins and needles to hear from him whether she liked the things or not. When he finally texted that she loved them, I was soooooo totally stoked! And, that he was interested in the whole thing seemed a good sign to me, at the time.

Then we spoke on the phone last Friday, about sorting out some stuff. As we were wrapping up, I asked how the gal was. He gave a monosyllabic answer (which is typical of him) but something about his tone set off my alarm bells. I asked if they were still together. He said they weren't. The long and short of it is that they'd just broken up a few hours before, and he wouldn't tell me why. I checked Facebook. The gal had changed her status to single.


She and I had watched loads of Buffy together! I heard the girl sing when I visited them up at school one Saturday in October! (And she's fabulous!) That same Saturday, I met a bunch of her family and we had some lunch together. Really enjoyed her mom, stepdad, and sisters! After Hurricane Sandy, her mom texted me to see how I was doing! I heart, heart, HEART THEM ALL!!!!!


So, new rule: I don't even want to know about any other chicks, much less meet them, till he's engaged one's hand in marriage. And even then, I'm keeping my emotional distance. I've suffered enough heartache, I really don't need to take on any of his.

::sighs:: This breaking up shit's too hard on my poor, shattered, aging heart. For realz, yo.

Monday, January 14, 2013

Lunar Lovin' Hop! (A Blogfest, Yo!)

So, like, this one night (about a year ago, 'cause it totally took place in January), my dad was driving me and the Kid home from somewhere and I looked up at the sky and became entranced. La lune was big, luminous, and full, and more beautiful than I remembered ever seeing her. I was so stunned I remarked on it aloud.

My Dad checked the moon out and said, "In Portugal, we have a saying:
Não há amor como o primeiro,
nem luar como o de Janeiro.
Mas lá vem o de Agosto,
que lhe dá no rosto."
The best idiomatic English translation for this I can think of is:
There's no love like the first,
nor full moon (or moonlight) like that of January.
But later comes the one in August,
Which smacks January's right in the kisser.
That's kinda romantic, right? No? Gosh, picky, picky...

So I was thinking (unlikely though that seems): how about we put this old saying to the test? Here's what I propose:
  1. Sign up on the linky list below (where it asks for "Your name" please enter your blog's name).
  2. Use this badge on your blog's sidebar and Tweet or whatever to spread the word about the hop. If you don't use The Twitter, don't sweat it; join in anyway!
  3. On Sunday, January 27, 2013, snap a pic of the full moon.*
  4. Post that sucker up on your blog on Monday, January 28.
  5. Go check other folks' pics!
C'mon, this is easy-peasy, lemon-squeezy, folks!

Are ya with me?????

*One of the comments below references the possibility of poor lunar visibility. If that's the case wherever you are in the world, just take a picture of the night sky and post that instead.

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Thursday, January 10, 2013

WIBWIW ~ Soul-Crushed

In this post I talk about depression and menstruation. The squeamish probably shouldn't read on.

Like, I hadn't prepared anything to post for today and was just gonna refer folks to yesterday's post 'cause, you know, I dig it when folks read my stuff, and whatnot. (Also, y'all know I'm lazy as sin. Sloth, you dig?) But then some stuff went through my mind and I just felt like getting it out. Releasing it.

Not that anything bad happened today. In fact, I happily anticipated the day, as I was to work with some colleagues at my day job that I only really work with a few times a year, some cool cats whose company I enjoy. One came ahead of the group, as he and I had some preliminary set up to sort out. He asked how I was and somewhere in my reply I said the words "soul-crushed." He looked a bit concerned at first but, as he then proceeded to repeatedly reference his fear that he might crush my soul inadvertently, I finally had to tell him to quit breaking my chops or I'd call HR and complain about my hostile work environment. Good times. :-)

Sitting here this evening, gobbling down my third Mrs. Fields cookie, it occurred to me that I really have felt "soul-crushed" often in the past...oh, I dunno...five years? Anyway, yeah, I've certainly felt that level of despair, but I've been on antidepressants since late August, which help me stay on an even keel...except when my monthly comes, I must admit. Oh, how the hormones rage! It's so bizarre, being a woman...and being human.

I've mentioned feeling desolate in the two weeks immediately after Balthazar left for his first year of college. I wept for those two weeks, all day long that first day he was gone, then sporadically and suddenly. Over the next two weeks I frequently had to close my office door at work, because the tears struck stealthily, apropos of nothing. I had fits of despondency. That, too, was surreal. I just couldn't control myself. God, it was awful.

Adding to the sense of loss and crisis of identity, the move back to my parents' place, necessary so that I could cover the tuition/room and board fees not covered by Balthy's scholarship and financial aid, weighed heavily on my mind. To finance the loss of my birdling, I had to lose the nest. WTF? Surely the first loss was painful enough?

Eleven days after the Kid left, I suffered an attack of ick so powerful, I felt like I needed to tear it out of my body. I grabbed my laptop and started typing:

This ache for my kid, for my life, for all I'm to lose, and all I never had,
roils in my gut, an omnipresent nausea
threatening to erupt in a projected stream of sorrow, suffering, and misery.
And then I blow and it all pours out, like the terror-filled howl of a beast in the wild.
Only, no answering howl comes, and so I shuffle and snivel back into myself,
uneasily anticipating the next outburst of grief.

It didn't really help. Plus, it's dreadful poetry. Blerch.

Balthazar going away/me losing my apartment weren't the triggers of my depression, they were simply the tipping point when I knew I needed help. Since the meds, the only times I get that close to hopelessness are when I've got my period. Or, you know, when I get rejection letters from agents, and whatnot. Just kidding. It's actually when agents get their periods that I feel all shook up. I'm sensitive that way.

So yeah, it's le suck being soul-crushed. Yay, drugs!

PS: Cheery affirmations about how folks can help themselves feel better by "thinking positively" and that negative thinking leads to "self-fulfilling prophecies," are bullshit, and aiming that crap at a seriously depressed individual is stupid, insensitive, and should be criminal. You want to help? Tell the person you're there for whatever s/he needs and then make sure you are. 

Wednesday, January 9, 2013

How to Begin a Romance Novel? (Beginnings Blogfest)

Today's post is for L.G. Keltner's Beginnings Blogfest. For this blog hop, which L.G. hosts to celebrate her one-year blogiversary, she asks participants to write about some kind of beginning. Click here to check out other participants' entries. As for my entry, I'll shamelessly use it to solicit readers' opinions on how to begin my soon-to-be-a-proper romance novel, Bedeviled.

As I wrote in a previous post:
I've been thinking of Bedeviled as a supernatural thriller for quite some time but, lately, have desired to take it in more of a romantic direction—which is to say, rather than starting with the Main Character's love life at its crisis point (and having very little interaction between her and her fella except for the beginning and end of the tale), I want to tell the same crazy story while also showing the developing relationship between Madeleine (my main chick) and Gavin (her main squeeze).
The other thing about Bedeviled is that it's an "ensemble cast," which can work for a romance novel, only the heroine & hero's love story has to be the main focus of the narrative for it to fit in with the romance genre. At the moment, chapter one features several sections, each introducing the players in the novel. However, the very first section opens with the main antagonists. I think it packs a punch but wonder if I shouldn't begin with Maddie and Gavin's first meeting (which hasn't yet been written).

I'm pasting that first segment below*, but y'all don't have to read it to give me your thoughts on the matter. Does a romance novel have to begin with the featured couple or not? I look forward to your comments!

*This excerpt contains evidence of violence, nudity, a swear word, and sloppy eating habits. Reader discretion is advised.

*     *     *

The current beginning excerpt from Bedeviled, by me:

The rumbling thud from within the bedchamber behind him roused Cadzick from his thoughts.  He waited, all senses straining, then heard what must have been a shoe hitting the floor.  Ardos had finished his dinner.  Time to remove the leftovers.

Cadzick reached for the French door lever, pressed down, and opened the door.  Peering in through the crack, he saw her.  Her body poured onto the hardwood, the candlelight playing along her naked flesh, her torso twisted.  He opened the door wider, stepped inside the quiet room, and shut it behind him.

Ardos reclined against the pillowed headboard, the sheet pulled up to his waist.  He swabbed up the blood, wiping it unhurriedly from his face, his throat and chest, his arms.  Seeing Cadzick, Ardos shot the soiled towel at him, hitting Cadzick square in the face.  It fell at Cadzick’s feet.  He ignored it.

“You’re just in time,” Ardos said, reaching over to the tray on the night table and plucking a peach from it.  Long, tapered fingers, gleaming white, closed around it.  He brought it to his lips, closed his eyes, and inhaled the aroma of the ripened fruit, all sensual languor.

Cadzick regarded the dead woman.  Her eyes were wide.  Blue.  Her arms alabaster, outspread.  Hands open, palms up.  Pleading.  Blood flowed freely from her, a thick pool of it settled into the cracks of polished oak.  Those stains would be the very devil to remove.  “Are you quite finished?” he asked.

“Quite.”  Ardos’ eyes were still closed, his ruddy lips drawn back, long incisors exposed.  His tongue glistened, salivating with anticipation of the bite, and darted out to lap teasingly at the peach fuzz.  He inhaled again, deeply, then tore into the flesh.  The nectar oozed down his wrist, catching the light from the candles all around.

“I’ll have this disposed of, then.”


Cadzick approached the corpse.  He pushed against her hip with his foot, straightening her out.  With her buttocks now on the floor, Cadzick could discern the source of the blood.  Ardos had pierced her mons pubis, guzzled from the artery, and cast her off, an emptied juice box.  Cadzick looked back at Ardos, who’d just ripped off half of the dewy peach pulp with one ferocious bite.  Another finished it off.  Satisfied, Ardos tossed the pit aside.  It skipped across the dead woman’s forehead before skidding along the floor and under the ornate dresser.

“Did you...?”

“Fuck her?  Of course.”  Ardos tried to shake off the sticky nectar, then rubbed his hand along the ivory bedspread, smearing the goo around.

Cadzick shut his eyes against this, then crouched down on his haunches to inspect further.  His hand went to her lower abdomen, felt without touching.  Nothing.  It was too soon to tell.  He rose to his feet.  Ardos’ hedonism put their plans at great risk.  Would he never learn to control himself?

“Is there a problem?”  Ardos, hands wrung dry, stepped out of bed.  Tall, firm, broad.  Naked.  Erect.

Cadzick strove to temper his next words.  “What if she has...conceived?”

Ardos shrugged as he pulled on his silk charcoal bathrobe.  “Then she’s conceived.”

“But if she has—”

“Don’t panic,” Ardos raised a hand to silence him.  The belt on the robe tied itself as he spoke.  “Just have her buried by the shore, right by the water.  It’ll be fine.”

Cadzick’s face was mutinous.  “How do you know that?”

Ardos turned a steely glare upon him.  “It will.”  He held the other’s gaze until Cadzick looked away.  “I’ll just freshen up a bit and then we can meet with the others to brainstorm on possible opening gambits for the Elect Madeleine—ugh!

Cadzick’s eyes flew back to Ardos at the grunt.  Ardos, halfway out of the room, clutched at the doorframe, head bowed.  “What is it?”  He heard Ardos’ breathing slow, halt, and then shakily resume before the answer came, “It’s nothing.”  Then Ardos was gone.

Cadzick considered the dead woman, then mentally summoned Asaroth and Oriel.  When they appeared, he gave them their orders.

Oriel glanced at Asaroth before asking, “Why don’t you do it...Catsick?”

Cadzick’s lips turned down.  He said nothing, merely waited for them to obey him.  Another exchange of glances and they did so.  Asaroth ripped the bloody sheet from the bed, wrapped the woman in it, and took off with the body, with Oriel close behind.

Alone, Cadzick regarded the bloody floor with distaste.  He drew closer, waved a hand over it, then bent down again for a better look.  Though the pools had vanished, a drop or three of blood had sunk into the wood grain.  Those marks wouldn’t be coming out anytime soon.

*     *     *

Monday, January 7, 2013

Blogging Goals/New Topics for 2013

Back in October of 2012, I had an e-mail exchange with blogging buddy Wayne Assiratti of Random Stream of Consciousness in which I sniveled:

"...most of the stuff I write is romance, and...I hesitate to say it, but I'm seriously thinking of redirecting my blog—that is to say, I'll still post stuff non-romancey, but I feel like, to properly build a romance writer's platform, I have to gear more posts in that direction..."

To which he very sensibly replied:

"...I don't think you need to change the direction of your blog at all. Just post more of your stuff that is romance leaning...and see what the response is..."

See, I was having a blogger's identity crisis. I started blogging to build an author platform and get my name out into the world, attract online attention, so that, should any of my writing magically get into print, I'd have a ready-made audience who'd buy it, read it, and spread the word about it. I worried that I'd spent too much blogging time writing all sorts of nonsense, completely unrelated to romance novels, and should perhaps just focus on one major theme to identify myself as a romance writer. But, you know, I think Wayne made a good point; all of that nonsense is part of who I am. What I needed to do is show more of "romance-novelist me."

So I went back to my "Who's This Chick?" page, as well as the first blog post I'd ever put up, and scribbled a sort of profile of who I am and what I want to convey about myself in this blog. I equated to these things the corresponding blog topics, some of which were already extant, some I came up with as I worked. Here's how it turned out (new stuff in italics, acronyms included for easy reference):

What I'm About/Into Corresponding Blog Topics
I'm a writer Writerly Things
I heart music Tuneage
Dark romance
(in books, TV, movies, etc.)
Dark Romance
My PITA* kid The Kid
Things goth/gothic
(music, literature, etc.)
Oh My Goth!
Blogging/Reading Blogs Bloggy-Blogging Tips/
Blog Props
People/things that turn me on W00F!
The science/biology of love What About Luuurve? (WAL?)
Whatever, I'll blog what I want
(don't fence me in y'all)
I plan to independently publish this
year and don't know what
the hell I'm doing! HELP!
Indie Author SOS! (IASOS!)
Things I dig Sparks
Things I don't Snarks

Categorizing stuff like this helps me plot/write/publish my posts in a regular way and, in 2013, I'm determined to make a blogging/writing/living schedule and STICK to it! God willing, this'll help.

Bloggers, I know a bunch of y'all have posted on your blog goals for the new year. If you've got something you're particularly proud of, please share it in the comments below. And if you've not blogged about new goals (and don't plan to), do you have any ideas you're hoping to implement in 2013? Nosy folks like me Inquiring minds want to know! :-)

Thursday, January 3, 2013

A Blogfest, A Challenge, & A Tune

The Blogfest

Y'all, I'm gonna need you to go ahead and check out this groovalicious blogfest hosted by the creative and prolific L.G. Keltner at Writing Off the Edge. January 9 will be her one year blogiversary and to celebrate she invites fellow bloggers to post about stuff like (and I quote):
  • events that inspired you to start blogging
  • that first awkward blog entry where you tried to introduce yourself to the blogging world
  • what inspired you to embark on your career path
  • where you were born and what the times were like
  • the origins of a favorite book, movie, artistic movement, or pretty much anything else
You've got seven days to whip something up and can either swipe the above badge or the one I've got on my sidebar, over to the right, there. So click here to sign up for it, already! (At the very least, you should go check out her nifty new banner, gosh.)

The Challenge

Like, I totally signed up for Goodreads' 2013 Reading Challenge. What attracted me about it was that I could set my own goal of how many books I want to read this year, regardless of genre (some of these book challenges get very specific, which is fine, only I need the freedom to fly my freak flag in whatever bloody direction I like, at any given moment). (So to speak.) According to Goodreads, I read about twenty-ish books last year so I thought I'd see if I could swing 50 this year (about a book a week, giving myself a couple weeks' leeway, 'cause I'm kind to myself like that). Click here if you'd like to learn more about how to participate in this Challenge yourself. Or not, whatevs.

The Tune

I'm shocked, chagrined, and otherwise appalled that the first time I heard this righteous, "unofficial cover" of Berlin's Sex (I'm a...) was only just last week, especially when the Bollock Brothers recorded that shizz back in 1988. It's an "unofficial cover" 'cause they changed the title of the tune to God Created Woman, which was pretty crafty of them...wonder if they'd be able to get away with that nowadays. Anyway, I've always thought the original Berlin version to be smokin' hot, but there's something about this cover that really turns me on. It probably won't do a damned thing for most of you, but what the hell—it's my blog and I'll link the hell out of it, if I wants to.

Tuesday, January 1, 2013

Happy Hangover!

As I've mentioned recently, I'm on meds which make the imbibing of spirits unwise, so I couldn't toast the new year. But perhaps you did. Perhaps you toasted so damn hard that you never want to toast again. Aw, poor baby! But I don't mean to mock your headache/nausea/fatigue/vomiting/ vertigo/photophobia/or tremors. Au contraire, mes chéris!   Instead, I've done some research on possible hangover cures, for your benefit. Ain't that kind of me? Why, yes. Yes, it is.

WebMD advises drinking lots of water the morning after, to combat the dehydration caused by excessive boozing. Other possible options include consuming burnt toast and drinking sports drinks with electrolytes (Ed. If you don't want the sugar, I suggest something like Smart Water instead). A couple of pain-relief pills should help with the inevitable headache (though other sources warn against taking aspirin, naproxen sodium, or acetaminophen while alcohol's still in your system).

eHow seconds the re-hydration recommendation, adding that a BRAT diet the morning after comprises mild foods your stomach should be able to tolerate (Bananas, Rice, Applesause, Toast).

Men's Fitness recommends eating eggs but avoiding coffee, as caffeine serves to dehydrate you further. (Ed. Though perhaps drinking twice as much water as coffee may negate this effect? The caffeine can help take the edge off your headache, just sayin'.)

Real Simple also hops on the toast/sports drinks wagon, but tosses out the surprising suggestion of eating spicy foods which "distracts your body from focusing on your hangover." (Ed. Yeah, I'll just bet.) And apparently, the extract of prickly pear may reduce nausea. (Ed. Who knew?)

I suppose, as a last (or first) resort, you can give products like Hangover Helper a try, though I can't personally vouch for it, or any's, efficacy.

Probably the best thing you can do for yourself is eat like you're just getting over a stomach bug and get as much rest as you possibly can. And next time you go out boozing, be sure you've filled your stomach with a good dinner beforehand and pace yourself, damn it. What are you, just out of college?

(Ed. Ignore me; I'm just snippy 'cause I haven't had a drink since August 2012 and God knows I coulda used several!)

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