WMHB Chapter 1: AKA Incompetent Scientist is Incompetent

So, I’ve come back to continue this book.  Do I dare remind everyone the last time I tried to read this, I’d gotten a migraine?  This time I’m fighting with neck pain, but that’s not related to this book.  It may make me a little more snarky though.  Now I know I said “Tune in next week” or some cheesy line to that effect, but I don’t know if I can, in fact get through a whole chapter in one week.  Sure, I can read it like Speedy Gonzales on crack but when it comes to writing a commentary, there are going to be chapters where it will seem like every single sentence is something to scoff at.  Don’t believe me? Wait till chapter 2…trust me!  So if I don’t update this every week, you’ll know why.

I would like to point out that this is not, in fact the worst thing I’ve read.  It’s damn close though!  Anyway, I know what you really want is to find out how we go from modern day to Tombstone, Arizona.  Patience, we’ll get there sooner than you can say “drunk scientist”!

…I realize there are a few smart asses out there that just said “drunk scientist” to prove that statement wrong.  To you fine people, I have but one reply…

😛

ON TO CHAPTER ONE!!! MUAHAHAHAHAHA!!!

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Coffee Crisis

The sound of smooth jazz played over the speaker-phone as Amy dumped out her coffee pot.  Her nose curled at the aroma of hot vinegar, but she knew it was a necessary evil.  She rinsed it thoroughly then refilled the reservoir and ran it again. This time, it ran through quicker, and though there was a lingering odor in the air, she couldn’t detect any vinegar in the water.  After measuring grounds, rinsing the pot and filling the reservoir one final time, she turned it back on.  While she waited, she prepared her mug with three spoons of sugar then glanced back at the clock.

It was now going on ten minutes of being put on hold just so that she could get her taxes straitened out.  She knew it was going to take this long, though.  Yesterday she’d been on for twenty minutes before getting to talk to a real human being.  The coffee maker hadn’t finished brewing before she’d gotten off the phone.  It hadn’t been a good day, but that wasn’t going to fly today.  If she didn’t get at least one cup of java into her system before the run around started, she was going to murder someone.

Five minutes later, Amy had a cup of sweet coffee in her hands and was laying back in her super comfortable office chair humming to the muzac version of a popular pop song.  Her own phone system wasn’t nearly so intricate.  Being a fairly new carpenter and all, her business didn’t require anything like that.  However, she imagined she’d use something similar to Offspring’s Intermission if she had one.

She continued to sip absentmindedly at her coffee while she waited. The jazzy tunes were beginning to lull her to sleep when the sound of a human voice startled her.  Her arms flailed wide as she tried to keep herself from falling out of her chair and onto the floor.  It wasn’t graceful, and she was glad no one was around to witness it.

As she put herself together, she noticed the office had gone quiet.  Down at her feet, she saw the scattered bits of her phone.  Whatever voice she’d gotten, was no longer on the other line, no music would play from the receiver.  She’d successfully disconnected the call by dismemberment of phone.  Frustrated beyond words, she grabbed up the bits and put them back together checking to make sure it wasn’t permanently damaged.  When she heard the dial-tone, she sighed and redialed the number to get back to the jazzy hold section of their phone maze.

Absently she toyed with her cup while contemplating the best tool in her arsenal to hunt down and dispose of the sadistic bastards at the tax office.  When she brought the cup to her lips, she was met with empty air.  She looked down to confirm that she had indeed consumed her first cup.  With a self-depreciating smirk, she got up to refill it.  Crisis Averted.

Traumatic Cookies

It hit me today how traumatic just making cookies has become for me.  Not traumatic as in they remind me of abuse, but that the thought of making them makes me unbearably sad.  They shouldn’t.  I love to make cookies from scratch.  I use a modified version of my mother’s recipe that we worked out years ago over the phone so that I’d get them just the way I like them.  I’ve since been making this recipe so much that I could very nearly make it with my eyes closed.  I love having to guard the bowl from my little ankle biters, then sneaking a little cookie dough when they aren’t looking, knowing that when it was my mom, she had five kids, their friends, and my father to keep away from the cookie dough.  It’s no wonder that my recipe yields more cookies than hers said it would, I don’t more than half a dozen mouths to fight off.  I love pulling them out, letting them cool a little, then scarfing down three while they’re still warm and the chocolate still melted.  I love taking them to family get togethers and sharing them, coming home with nothing (don’t worry, I try to save enough dough at home to make another dozen).  But it’s taking them to share with family that’s caused my problem. Read more of this post

Two Months of Writing Prompts: Day Four

I was on a roll today and ended up finishing several of the prompts that I’d gotten behind on!  Yes, I know!  I’m cheating and posting the date it “publishes” on the date I should have posted, and again I say you can all sue me 😉  Here soon I’ll be caught up!  Just in time for the weekend my husband and I go to a convention, and then I’ll be behind again! Yay! Anyways, for anyone that would like to prompt along, you can find the list I made here.  It is Facebook, so you’ll have to be logged in to read it, but I believe I made the note public, so you should be able to read it, even if you aren’t a facebook friend.

Now for the prompt!

Write a short scene where one character reduces another to uncontrollable sobs without touching him or speaking. Read more of this post

HATE HATE HATE FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFUUUUUUUUUUUU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

*sigh* Here we go again… Read more of this post

Grief…I’d Ask Why, But Who Could Answer?

As anyone would know that has been following, I’ve recently had to bury my brother at the age of thirty-three.  What some of you wouldn’t know though, is that the morning after my last post, my husband’s grandmother also went to heaven.  We knew there was a chance that she wouldn’t last long after Christmas, it was just terrible circumstance that had her passing so close to Greg’s. Read more of this post

To Those We’ve Lost, and are About to Loose…

Not whining, just taking stock of what’s gone on this year. I am ringing in the new year with a post, but no New Year’s Resolution. I’ll work to improve in general over the next year, but I swear if it all turns out to be more of the same as this year…Well, you get the idea.
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I Hate to Nitpick…but Seriously…

I get forwarded e-mails all the time, and some I read, some  I dump cause I just don’t have the time to go through every single one…However, there’s one that I’ve gotten many times, and recently I thought, “Now, how true is this?”

After this previous year of people fact checking every single word the Political candidates said, I’ve started to wonder just how much of the things we share are accurate.  Is that picture really a picture of soldiers guarding the Nameless tombs during a hurricane or some other time when it was really rainy?  Is that picture of the hurricane about to hit New York the real thing, or is it Photoshop?  Well, the forwarded e-mail claims to be a copy of something Ben Stein said on a Sunday Morning News Program on CBS.  However, when you start to read it, there are hints that maybe the e-mail was just someone writing an e-mail, bemoaning the fact that the world is going to crap because God is being pushed out of the country and that if you agree, send the message on, but if not, no one will know that you didn’t…Am I the only one that read that and thought that if he’s talking on CBS about Holiday confessions, why is he now ranting on God not being in schools, and why the heck would he tell the viewers to “pass the message on”?  It seemed fishy. Read more of this post

Obligations, Dahmeet!

Okay, so everyday won’t happen, but I’m a woman with a family to take care of, and a husband to emotionally support so you’ll have to forgive me the loss of the resolution.  We still have weight loss on the books, and as long as I get myself down to 138.5 or less eventually, I’ll have done my part. Read more of this post

Sad Times Indeed

It’s time for another blog.  I’m going to talk shop.  And when I say shop, I mean the greenhouse, and making flower arrangements. Read more of this post