A few little ditties this week.
Why?
Because I feel like it, hookers.
~~~
Last night I inadvertently washed my Playboy magazine in a load of laundry. Not sure how that happened but my sheets were covered with pieces of tattered boobies. It took me a while to discover why my clothes were sprinkled with shredded paper and when I finally figured it out it was like my own starring role in Nancy Drew and the Case of the Disappearing Playboy Magazine.
It was fun.
I was a sad panda though, because I really did want to read the issue.
Who spies fleshy bits?
~~~
Good books were delivered to me this week. Choke by Chuck-who-in-the-hell-can-pronounce-his-last-name-Palahniuk, The Mapmaker’s War by Ronlyn Domingue (loved her since The Mercy of Thin Air – dear god please read this NOW), and Spillover by David Quammen.
“Oh sweet babies…”
I’m salivating to start Spillover tonight. Every now and then I get hot and bothered to read about infectious diseases. And you know, because I don’t like sleep. At all.
~~~
Saturday, the husband and I drove out to Four Peaks to do some target shooting. The Arizona desert is very beautiful and yet it reminds me of scenery in The Neverending Story, which is also a bit depressing. We went off-roading and drove through these creepy tunnels. I kept picturing hordes of zombies careening through them to eat our delicious brainssssssss.
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On the writing front, I have a flash fiction piece called “Betty Lou is Welcomed to Undereaters Anonymous” in the spring edition of JMWW. Robert Vaughan rocks for including me among other fine, fine writers. JP Reese’s “Simulacra” had me marveling.
I also had a piece of fiction that’s been trying to find a home since June of 2012 accepted by Pithead Chapel so that makes me feel all kinds of good.
Jules Just Write 