So today I was a porch guest at the Southern Belle View….

Y’all know I’m always on here writing all kinds of crazy stuff so it might surprise you to know that every now and then -and by every now and then, I mean about once every two or three years- I write about something serious. Well, fellers, I’ve done it again but please don’t ask me when the last time was because I do not recollect.

So I was hanging out at the Orlando Book Festival last month, when I had the pleasure of meeting Southern Belle View Sweetie Rachel Hauck. (Check her out here: http://rachelhauck.com) She invited me to be a guest on the porch and I quickly accepted because, to be perfectly honest, I was flattered that she even knew who I was. So after taking a look at what they do over on the Southern Belle View, I knew I should be on my best behavior. With that in mind, I washed my mouth out with soap, sat down at my computer, and got busy trying real hard to think up something decent to say so as not to embarrass myself. Sadly, I couldn’t come up with anything. Then, out of the blue, my Uncle Mike (that’s Dr. Michael Raines of the University of Mississippi – and I’m not bragging now, I’m just stating the facts) sent me a picture of my aunt Brenda, who we nearly lost earlier this year, and I knew then what to write. As you can see from this photograph of her strumming a giant guitar that most likely belonged to Elvis but is now a magnificent work of art in downtown Tupelo, Mississippi, she’s doing just fine now. So here it is, y’all. My serious blog about someone I dearly love:

http://www.southernbelleviewdaily.com/welcome-guest-belle-the-lovely-stephanie-mcafee/

Introducing the Mad Fat Shorty…

Psst! Got a VIP date for you: Tuesday, June 4, 2013. Mark it on your calendar! Why? Because that’s the day this sweet little nugget will be available…

Technically, it’s called a Penguin Special. You could call it a short story. Perhaps a novelette. That all depends. But on what, I’m not sure. According to that popular fount of somewhat reliable information known as Wikipedia (where one time I saw Forest Gump listed as a running back under Notable People from the University of Alabama) short stories tend to defy exacting definitions. Or something like that. And while I’m always a fan of open-ended parameters due to the fact that excessive guidelines tank my creativity and remind me of why I hate math, I would still like to have something to call my little story. A class, if you will. I was delighted to discover a genre called “nonsense” and knew immediately that was where I needed to be but upon closer inspection, found that category was more of the “Hey Diddle Diddle” variety. Then I stumbled upon the “epic” genre and while that’s a word I’m fond of overusing, this particular nugget isn’t poetic in the traditional sense of the word nor is it a million fahfillion lines long.

So I moved onto the second most unreliable source of information available to people who are too lazy to go to the library and pick up something that’s actually been verified by sources with credibility: Yahoo! Answers. The question: How many words are in a short story? Here’s the first  six-year-old suggestion, courtesy of stephen h:

under 50,000 is considered a novella
under 30,000 is a short story
under 2000 or 1500 words is normally a magazine sized short story.
But if you are writing and aiming at a certain word count you are going to write crap.
let the story dictate the length.

To that I say, “What if I’m aiming to write crap? Then what do I do?” So I kept reading and found that drjekylandmrhyde put a short story at 3,000 words or less (when you’re talking literary magazines) and he’s been a member since July 2006, has 7187 points, and is a Level 5 (what that means, I don’t know). And he’s given 1557 answers. So he must be right, right? Then Bonny came in and changed that number to 5000 but she’s only a Level 4 (again, whatever that means) but her picture looked like she knew what she was talking about so I took that into consideration. Then I scrolled down and found my personal favorite authority on the matter: Nickiandangel who, despite their Level 2 (oh, who even cares what that means) status, supplied what I thought was the very best answer: Not as many as a long one… soz couldn’t resist it. I thought that was pretty effin’ funny. Then I noticed that I was on Yahoo! Answers for UK & Ireland. Does that matter? Who knows?

So I found what I thought was a US page and after reading a couple of long and extraordinarily dull responses, discovered this gem of wisdom from a question mark (as in “?”): It depends. Just make sure that makes sense and has meaning, plot, emotion, etc. Just b/c you want to make it short doesn’t mean that it’s rushed. I’d say around 2k-5k. Whew! Glad I read that. I do feel that I should disclose that this ? is a Level 1 with only 218 measly points. I just couldn’t resist noting an answer from a question mark.

So anyway, I kept piddling, I mean surfing, no browsing -wait, I was researching! yeah, that’s what I was doing when I found where the Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers of America lays it out like this:

Classification    Word count
Novel                over 40,000 words
Novella             17,500 to 40,000 words
Novelette          7,500 to 17,500 words
Short story        under 7,500 words

Now that sounds pretty good to me but I’m not going for a Nebula (although I would love to have an award with a bomb-ass name like that) so I just decided to invented my own genre.

Hence the induction of the affectionately & appropriately named…. drum roll please….

Li’L Mad Fat Shorty
If a novel is a sweet potato pie, then you could call my Li’L Mad Fat Shorty a nice hearty slice of that goodness.

Like to hear it? Here it go:
(Why, yes. That is a Calhoun Tubbs reference. Click here or here to refresh your memory and if you didn’t watch In Living Color, then below you will find your sample selection)

Ace Jones: Mad Fat Adventures in Therapy

“All rise!”

I stand up, knees shaking and nerves shot to hell. The Honorable Benjamin Wren comes in and takes his place behind the giant wooden desk or podium or bench or whatever it’s called. Without looking up, he instructs us all to be seated . I sit down on top of my purse and, in trying to discreetly pull it out from under my right ass-cheek, I drop my file folder and watch in horror as my Very Important and Embarrassing Papers fan out on the floor. The Honorable Benjamin Wren calls someone’s name. Thank God it’s not mine. I scramble to get the papers back together. Arrest report, statement of probable cause, court appointment information sheet. Judge Wren calls another name and then another. Everyone who’s been called so far has an attorney. Great.

I glance at the jury box where three men are seated. They’re all wearing orange. One has his hands cuffed behind him and a fancy array of neck tattoos. Wonderful.

“Graciela Jones,” the judge says. When I stand up, I feel like I might pass out. Heart thumping and cheeks burning, I put one foot in front of the other until I’m standing at the double-wide podium where I saw everyone before me go.

“Do you have counsel, Ms. Jones?”

“No, sir.”  My mind spins visions of the worst, horrid thoughts of what my life will be like behind bars. I can’t stop thinking about Shawshank Redemption. Ninety days. That’s what one of my Very Important and Embarrassing Papers indicated was the maximum penalty should I be found guilty of my alleged crimes against civilization.

---

This sweet tater nugget will available June 4 for the low price of $1.99! That’s cheaper than a slice of pie at Cracker Barrel!

Thank you and have a great weekend!

It’s a Blog Hop, Y’all! Come Join the Party! Today’s Topic: My Next Big Thing!

Woo hoo! It’s a Blog Hop! I’m excited! Now, when I agreed to do this I didn’t even know what a Blog Hop was. I’d never heard of it! My pal NancyKay Wessman invited me and I said yes because it sounded like fun and the term “Blog Hop” seemed relatively self-explanatory, right? Wrong. Not for me. Because I’m technologically challenged in ways you wouldn’t even believe. I mean, if I went this afternoon and enrolled in a computer class, the teacher would issue me a helmet and then tell me not to touch anything besides the keyboard and to be careful with that. No, I’m not kidding! So I sent NancyKay an email asking for very specific instructions. I wanted to ask her to use mostly one syllable words and colored font, but I chickened out on that and, lucky for me, her polite explanation told me everything I needed to know to get this ball rolling. So here we go… Here it is….

My Next Big Thing by Blog Hopper Extraordinaire Stephanie McAfee:

1: What is the working title of your book(s)?

Down & Out in Bugtussle: The Mad Fat Road to Happiness. This is the third book in my Mad Fat Girl series starring Ace Jones, a chubby school teacher with a penchant for drinking beer and stalking people (sometimes at the same time). It’ll be out and about July 2, 2013.

2: Where did the idea for the book originate?

I actually taught high school for five years and there were times when I thought, “Wouldn’t it be funny if this or that happened?” or “I wonder what would happen if I said this to that person or that to this person?” And so the saga of Ace Jones began on college-ruled paper in a three ring binder during a planning period at New Site High School.

3: Under what genre does your book come?

Crazy Effin’ Buck-Wild Hilarious Girlfriend Adventures. Is that a genre? No? Okay, then it’s Chick Lit. And Humor. Lots and lots of Humor.

4: Which actors would you choose to play your characters in a movie rendition?

If Melissa McCarthy played Ace Jones, I’d be so happy that I would probably die before the movie was ever released. When I saw Bridesmaids, I couldn’t focus on anything but the character of Megan. I was like, “I have found Ace Jones! There is my Ace Jones!” It was a great moment.  As for my other characters, I’d pretty much like to have the entire cast of Bridesmaids because they were all so fabulous.

5: What is the one-sentence synopsis of your book?

In Down & Out in Bugtussle, Ace Jones is trying to put her life back together after moving home from Pelican Cove, Florida, where her dream life fell to pieces. (Okay, I swear it’s not as depressing as it sounds – see Q1 above)

6: Will your book be self-published, published by an independent publisher, or represented by an agency?

I’m published by the New American Library imprint of the Penguin Group and I’m represented by the Einstein Thompson Agency.

7: How long did it take you to write the first draft of your manuscript?

I think it took about six months to write the first draft. I think. Time gets blurry for me sometimes.

8: To what other books within your genre would you compare this story?

I try not to compare my work to other books because I’m afraid I’ll offend those authors and they’ll call and cuss me out and say things like, “Don’t you ever use my name again!” (I would insert a smiley face here but that would be unprofessional.) I will say that I do love Jennifer Weiner, Laurie Notaro, and all funny fat girls.

9: Who or what inspired you to write this book?

Well, Down & Out in Bugtussle is the third book in a three book deal, so I had to write it or there’s no telling what would’ve happened to me. Only kidding! Since my early twenties, I’ve had this idea that I would like to write a book. It’s just something I’ve always wanted to do – kind of like skiing the Swiss Alps or owing a vacation villa in Tuscany. So now every time I walk into a bookstore and see my books on the shelf, I’m just amazed. Sometimes I laugh. Sometimes I want to cry. But I’m always thankful because I feel like the luckiest person in the whole wide world that I get to write for a living. And who knows? I might get to Switzerland one day.

10: What else about your book might pique the reader’s interest?

If you have a sense of humor and appreciate practical sarcasm, then you would probably love all three of my books. Wow. That sounds like an ad on a cheap perfume dispenser in a gas station bathroom doesn’t it? How about this: It’s good. It’s funny. If you live in a small town, you know these people. And if you’re chunky like me, then you’ll find some parts to be especially entertaining.

Okay, so that’s a wrap. I’d like to thank NancyKay Wessman for inviting me to take part in my very first Blog Hop. After reading this, she probably won’t ever invite me to participate in anything again, but maybe we can still be friends. (need another smiley here!)

Oh, wait a minute… I forgot something! In addition to my Next Big Thing, let me tell you about my Next Little Thing! Oh, yeah! This is big news! My Next Little Thing is a novelette! No, it’s a long short story! Or a short long story. Maybe it’s a Single! I don’t know what it’s technically called so I’m hereby naming it Stephanie McAfee’s Li’l Mad Fat Shorty! How about that? That’s good, right? No? Well, okay then.

The title of my Li’l Mad Fat Shorty is Ace Jones: Mad Fat Adventures in Therapy and it’ll be on sale in June of 2013 for the low price of $1.99! Yee haw!

Thank you all for your time today! Keep the party going by checking out these cool cats below:

NancyKay Wessman: http://www.wessmanwords.com/

Zetta Brown: http://zettashouse.wordpress.com/

Patricia Neely Dorsey: www.patricianeelydorsey.blogspot.com

Susan Marquez: http://susanmarquez.blogspot.com/

Barbara Mayfield: http://mayfieldart.wordpress.com/

Adios and Vaya Con Dios!

The Krispy Kreme Doughnut and The Resolution To Get Healthy Dammit! by Stephanie McAfee

Let me start by saying that I don’t even like jelly doughnuts. And I should tell you that it wasn’t a small Krispy Kreme box nor had it been long in our kitchen when we were suddenly down to one.  It was the day after New Year’s –the day The Resolution To Get Healthy Dammit! supposedly goes into full effect- that we had on our hands One Final Krispy Kreme Doughnut. Technically speaking, the silly thing had no business still hanging around while we launched our half-hearted quest to eat carrots instead.

The night before, there had been four. One Cheesecake, one Chocolate Covered Sprinkle, one Crème-Filled, and one Other One. That same night my husband had the Cheesecake, my son the Sprinkle, and I savored every luscious and ridiculously creamy and delicious bite of my little round piece of chocolate glazed heaven for I knew that salads sans my beloved Ranch dressing were up and coming in the not-so-distant future.  

So then there was one. The last New Year’s Day doughnut.

Let’s call it The Doughnut That I Hadn’t Paid Any Attention To Yet. Now that it was the lone doughnut in a box that was twelve sitting there on the night before The Resolution to Get Healthy Dammit! well, it had my full attention. It took but a moment for me to spy the tell-tale signs of doughnut perfection gone terribly wrong. Jelly! There was Damn Red Jelly creeping out the side of the Last Krispy Kreme Doughnut!  I looked at my husband. “Is that a Jelly Doughnut?”  He said that it was. “How did that get in our box?” Why, the person behind the Krispy Kreme counter, of course. I stared at him like he was the most ridiculous person alive but he didn’t see me because he was too busy pouring himself a small cup of milk. I closed the box and wondered how I had been married for almost seven years to a man who ate jelly doughnuts. And now, here we were on the Eve of The Resolution To Get Healthy Dammit! with One Final Krispy Kreme Doughnut and it was filled with Damn Red Jelly! For the love of doughnut holes, how had this happened? We have a child together!   

So that bastard of a doughnut spent the night of January 1^st at the McAfee residence.

On the morning of January 2^nd, The Resolution To Get Healthy Dammit! went live. To kick-off this glorious occasion, I skipped breakfast because I’d honestly rather drink twenty-six cups of coffee than to eat a plain piece of toast and a hard-boiled egg. (Yes, that is a serious wrinkle in my Get Healthy Dammit! plan.) Everyone with a parent suffering from C-NAGS (Chronic  Non-stop Advice Giving Syndrome) knows all too well that An Ounce Of Prevention Is Worth A Pound Of Care so in an honest effort to practice some Pound Prevention, I put the Krispy Kreme box in the microwave. Out of sight, out of mind, right? Wrong!

At approximately 10:00 a.m. that same morning, I was in the kitchen looking at the microwave. I opened the door. I hate Jelly Doughnuts! I closed the door.  At 10:18, I was back. I opened the microwave door. I opened the Krispy Kreme box. I hate Jelly Doughnuts. I took a small bite of the edge. No jelly there! That was good. Real good! I fixed another cup of coffee and stared at the microwave. I took my coffee back to my desk. I had work to do! Important work!  For some odd reason, at 10:35 a.m., I was back in the kitchen where I happened to notice the microwave. I hate Jelly Doughnuts. And then it hit me! The best idea I’d had all morning! I took the box out of the microwave and placed it on the counter. I picked up the Last Krispy Kreme Doughnut and gave it a little squeeze, kind of like a hug but not really. More of a gentle squish. Just enough to free my innocent doughnut from that horribly intrusive Damn Red Jelly. And it worked! Well, almost. I had to get a knife and cut the doughnut in half so I could clear out the rest of the pesky jelly, but, hey! it worked eventually. I nibbled on the Last Krispy Kreme Doughnut until all that remained was a dollop of Damn Red Jelly. Then, for reasons I still don’t understand, I stuck the box back into the microwave.    

Two hours later, the Hubs, the Son, and I had just finished a not-really-as-healthy-as-it-needed-to be lunch when I noticed that the milk jug was sitting on the counter. The hubs was getting a cup from the cabinet. I saw that it was a small cup. He picked up the milk jug and took off the cap. Cup in hand, he turned to the microwave. I tried to look away, but I couldn’t. I had to watch and so I did as he opened the Krispy Kreme box. He peered inside, looked over at me, then back into the box -no doubt studying that curious little heap of Damn Red Jelly. When it became clear to him what fate had befallen our Final Krispy Kreme Doughnut, he jerked his head around and looked at me, wild-eyed and crazy. Or maybe a wee bit surprised and somewhat amused. I wanted nothing more than to scream with laughter but I couldn’t because he was just standing there with that pitiful child-sized cup of milk in his hand.

“What?” I said. Tears were stinging my eyes, but I was dirt-bagging it hard enough already so I just sat there with what had to be the world’s absolute worst poker face.

“Well, now what am I going to do with this milk?” He went to the pantry and pulled out a box of Candy Cane Joe-Joe’s from Trader Joe’s (some things can’t be tossed just because one year ends and another begins). He looked at me. I looked at him. He knew it was funny. And then, without saying a word, our Resolution To Get Healthy Dammit! was postponed a day.  

Damn Red Jelly Doughnuts.

Big day today for Mad Fat Fabulousness all over the world!

I tell y’all what… It’s a Mad Fat Magnificent Day today! Why? Because today is the day that Happily Ever Madder: Misadventures of a Mad Fat Girl hits unsuspecting bookshelves all over the good ol’ US of A!

I’d like to say one more time how much I appreciate everyone who bought Diary of a Mad Fat Girl -the Penguin/NAL copy and the ninety-nine cent version that I self-published. I wouldn’t be having this Mad Fat Magnificent Day if it weren’t for my wonderful readers –all of whom must have a buck wild sense of humor! I appreciate y’all more than you know!

Thanks also to everyone who preordered Happily Ever Madder and to everyone who is going out to get a copy today (or tomorrow or next week, etc. etc.).

Alrighty then! So let’s go jump on the Ace Jones Crazy Train…. Again!

P.S.

There’s another one coming in July of 2013!

 

Thacker Mountain Radio Show: Live and Unscripted! Oh yes I did!

I know it’s Mad Fat Friday and you’re expecting some Ace Jones insanity right about now, but please allow me to take a minute and ramble about my visit to Thacker Mountain Radio. Because it was awesome. 

You know in Dirty Dancing when Baby was about to do that last dance with Johnny Castle and the music starts: “Now I’ve…  had…  the time of my life…” -yeah that was me last night at the Thacker Mountain Radio Show at Off-Square Books in Oxford, Mississippi. Only, thank goodness, I didn’t have to get a running go and be hoisted into the air by some poor unlucky sap. (Please excuse me for a moment while I LOL at that thought). Seriously though, I did have the time of my life and if you’re ever in Oxford on a Thursday evening, I highly recommend stopping by Off-Squre Books and checking out the Thacker Mountain Radio show which is hosted by the charming, charismatic, and very funny Jim Dees. 

I met Jim a few minutes before the show and  was completely star-struck because all I could think was, “Does David Letterman have a younger brother?” As a matter of fact, he reminded me so much of David Letterman, not just in looks but also demeanor, that I could hardly assemble a coherent sentence (not to mention that I was already a nervous wreck about doing a live and unscripted radio show). So, yeah, he thinks I’m an idiot now, but that’s okay. He was very nice, a fantastic host, and took great pleaseure in describing Ace Jones as a “plus-sized spit fire”-which was hilarious.

So there I was, nervous as a whore in church and anxiously awaiting my fourteen minutes of fame when then the music started. I must say that the Yalobushwhackers did much to calm my nerves because they were so amazingly talented, entertaining, and cool that I was thoroughly distracted from my incessant worrying about making a complete and total fool of myself. So that was great! I did manage to get back into a full-fledged state of panic by the time I stepped up to the podium, but I really appreciated the break there for a minute. And when it was all said and done, all went well. At least I think it did.  I rustled up a few laughs and then joked about dropping some Eminem lyrics on that super cool radio mic (there was a disco ball, so the temptation was great). What I’m trying to tell you is that I had a freakin’ blast up there running my mouth. (Surprised? I know! I was too!) And when my fourteen minutes of fame was over, I returned to my seat where I very much enjoyed the musical guest for the night, The Eric Deaton Trio, whose two CDs Gonna Be Trouble Here and Smile at Trouble I also highly recommend. 

The best part came when seven o’clock rolled around and I got to do one of my most favorite things in the whole wide world -meet and greet folks and sign some books! So you see, I wasn’t kidding. It was awesome! Cue to music! Now I’ve….. had….. the time of my life….. and I owe it all to Off-Square Books, Thacker Mountain Radio, and all the people who read my crazy books and make stuff like this possible. So what I need to do right now is say Thanks! THANK YOU! and Muchas Gracias!

Check it out: http://thackermountain.com/

And remember:

“Nobody puts Baby in a corner!”

 Yeah, I know that has nothing do with anything whatsoever, but I can’t bring up Dirty Dancing and not throw that in.

Hope you all have a wonderful weekend!

 

Happily Ever Madder coming November 6, 2012!

 

So Lady Gaga scared a baby…. So what?

The headline on People.com reads: “Lady Gaga terrifies a Baby”

Now, to be fair, we all know babies can freak out sometimes without warning and for no apparent reason, but let me say this: Lady Gaga does tend to be slightly alarming. And for what?  She’s actually quite pretty and everyone with ears knows that she’s unbelievably talented. So what’s with all the weird shit she does?

I mean, I understand that she had to carve her own unique spot in pop culture and I understand that today’s pop culture is riddled with the strange and ridiculous, but how weird is too weird?

This could be TOO WEIRD!

Maybe she just likes to be weird. Sometimes I like to be weird. Maybe I’m just jealous because I don’t have the balls to go out in public rocking a chicken on my head. I don’t know.

And the Lady isn’t the only one topping the super-freaky charts. It almost seems like her, Katy Perry, Nicki Minaj, and Kanye West are having a contest to see who can be the out-weird the competition.

Or perhaps Kanye is just being his usual dapper self…..it’s hard to tell. 

While Katy Perry may not be as vocally and lyrically talented as Lady Gaga, she is, without a doubt, the perfect portrait of a modern day a pop princess. Gorgeous face, knock-out figure, and fantastically voluptuous rack-o-boobies. So why, pray tell, does she frame that lovely face with blue hair, wrap those curves in clothes that look like they were designed by FAO Schwarz, and attach rockets and cupcakes to her big, juicy melons? And Nicki Minaj has all the makings of a hip-hop rap super star but she runs around with a beehive of hair that would shame Marge Simpson wearing outfits that look like Richard Simmons work out attire crossed with vintage Mork & Mindy costumes.

I can’t help it. I just stop and stare.

Oh, wait….OK, I get it.  

Oh well, I guess in this Barbie World of Teenage Dreams that we all live in now, that that that that don’t kill us…..will only make us Stronger. Maybe. So what if it is all just for publicity? Their weird-assed personal style isn’t near as offensive as Kim Kar-please-don’t-model-this-dumb-ass-ion’s 10 million dollar wedding. And who knows? Maybe they were just Born This (or that) Way.

Whatever the case, they certainly put the “entertain” in “entertainment”.

So rock on all of you weird-OMGs! Keep Shakin those freaky Money Makers!

We love you even though you freak us out!

people who scream about Jesus

There are a lot of churches down here in NW Florida. And that’s great.  But anytime there’s a bunch of anything anywhere, it seems like there’s always going to be that one that can only be described as  “things that make you go hmmm” (and, yes, that was a shameless  C+C Music Factory reference).

We all know about that one. There’s that one at work who needs to be coffee-cup stomped in the back of the head. That one in your social circle who never knows when to stop anything (drinking, talking, bragging, sleeping with dud studs).  And, of course, there’s always, always, always that one that married into your family who always makes you think, “Jeez, why me? Why did this moron have to end up at my Birthday/Thanksgiving/Christmas party?”  There’s always that one.

So let me tell you about that church in Milton, Florida. These are people who scream about Jesus. Now, I can’t help but think that if you feel compelled to scream about Jesus, then you might be missing something somewhere. Something important, but anyway…

Let me tell you about the first time I saw these folks. It was our first or second weekend here and we were going to out to eat on a Friday night when we came up to an intersection where, I thought, there were people collecting donations. You know, where people stand around with buckets or cans or gigantic mayonnaise jars and collect spare change for fundraisers and stuff? Well, I was scratching around in the console for some quarters when my husband said, “Is that person holding a Bible?” I looked up and saw six or eight men standing in the median strip, holding up Bibles and/or some other religious looking items.

Now, I know a lot of churches do these “take a stand” type things where they line the highways for a cause or what-not and that is not what this was. These people were out there hollering and yelling at the people sitting in their cars waiting for the light to turn green.  A few had rolled up their Bibles and were using them like megaphones. One really enthusiastic fellow was screaming, and I mean screaming, at the top of his lungs. His face was beet red and I couldn’t understand a thing that was coming out of his mouth, but it was one of those moments where you didn’t have to hear a word to get the message. We went through the light, had a little conversation about how odd it was, then had some fresh gulf shrimp for supper.

Well, we’ve been here almost six months now and have discovered that hanging out at intersections and screaming about Jesus is something this church does a lot. Like three or four times a week.  One day, we saw the beet-faced super-screamer at another intersection in town and he was, of all things, standing on a five-gallon bucket. No kidding. He was standing on a five gallon bucket on the side of the road screaming about Jesus. Eyes squeezed shut. Mouth wide open.  

Now, to be clear, my husband and I are fairly laid back folks who for the most part, adhere to the “different strokes for different folks whatever works for you” philosophy.  For the most part. My husband is taking a few classes at Pensacola State (computer programming…he talks to me about it and I do my best to listen).  He came home one day and said the Religious Screamers had started showing up on campus and were walking around forcing conversations on poor, unsuspecting people. The next day, he said him and his buddy had been accosted by one of the Screamers, who told them both that they were both going to hell.  While Brandon found that to be mildly irritating, it’s like those idiots from Westborough “Baptist” “Church” (whose “church” is made up of seven members of one severely asinine family and that’s it and no more) – you can’t get too mad at them because they’re so relentlessly, unbelievably pathetic. (Why am I thinking about that bumper sticker that says, “God wants spiritual fruit, not religious nuts”?)  

Well, he came home last week and told me that the Screamers had caused a big brouhaha on campus because they were up there yelling that interracial dating is a sin and all interracial babies are going to hell.

Can you even believe that? How, pray tell, can people that stupid function in our civilized society?

I asked my husband what the school was doing about it and he said, “Nothing. They can’t do anything. It’s a free speech thing.”

A free speech thing.

Our founding fathers must be rolling in their graves.    

Perhaps the Free Speech Amendment needs to be amended to include a “Free Can” clause for those of us who would like to pour out some knowledge (aka whoop-ass) on people who so obviously and ignorantly abuse their freedoms. People who respect and appreciate this country could do this for free and, considering the rising cost of education these days, that’s a really good deal to stamp out a little ignorance and very symbolic all at the same time!

We could call it Occupy Idiot’s Jawbones with Fractures! Ok, maybe that’s not such a great title…And I realize I’m getting down on their level by suggesting this and I know that’s wrong, but since I’m more of a “Spiritual Midget” that a “Spiritual Master” - well, I could be just the one to beat the shit out of some “Spiritual Maggots”. 

Just sayin…

the rape of Johnny Depp by Katherine Hull #johnnydepp #katherinehull #vanityfair

Is it just me or has our freedom of speech been twisted to the point it’s almost unrecognizable? It seems that some people can say anything and get away with it, while others can’t get away with saying anything.

Case and point: Johnny Depp & the Vanity Fair photo shoot

Johnny Depp, who will be on the cover of Vanity Fair in November, doesn’t like photo shoots. In trying to explain how he felt, he said, “You just feel like you’re being raped somehow. Raped. The whole thing. It feels like a kind of weird — just weird, man.” So guess who jumped on his ass about that? Anti-sexual-violence groups. No kidding. Of course, he has issued an apology: “I am truly sorry for offending anyone in any way.  I never meant to. It was a poor choice of words on my part in an effort to explain a feeling. I understand there is no comparison, and I am very regretful. In an effort to correct my lack of judgment, please accept my heartfelt apology.”

I think the key phrase here is “I never meant to.” I also think that the only judgment in need of correction is that of the infinitely and perpetually offended. I mean, does the word relevance mean anything to anyone anymore? Does the concept of speaking metaphorically ring a bell?

One report said, “According to the Rape, Abuse and Incest National Network (RAINN), the nation’s largest anti-sexual violence organization, Depp ought to know there is a marked distinction between posing for a photographer and being raped.”

Seriously? That’s fairly insulting to Mr. Depp and readers alike. I have a shred of common sense, thank you.

The report also said that Katherine Hull, the organization’s spokesperson, is quoted as saying, “While photos may feel at times intrusive, being photographed in no way compares to rape-”

Really? Who in holy hell would think that is what Johnny Depp meant by that comment?

Wait a minute…

Perhaps someone who saw an opportunity insert her name in the news alongside Johnny Depp.  

Katherine Hull continues, “RAINN welcomes the opportunity to speak with Mr. Depp and educate him about the real life experiences faced by survivors every day, and ways that he can work with RAINN to help.” 

AHH…so there you have it. The truth and the motive.

Katherine Hull would like to speak to, work with, and educate Johnny Depp. 

I don’t think Johnny Depp needs to be educated. I think Katherine Hull needs to be educated.

Don’t misunderstand me on this, I think it’s wonderful that organizations like RAINN make themselves available to protect and help victims of atrocious crimes. I do. But it’s not so great when their spokesperson (Katherine Hull) brutally attacks a nice, unsuspecting person (Johnny Depp) to get something she has a deep, dark need for, which in this case, is obviously attention.

That’s almost like….

Rape.

#SIBA11 – Great experience! Great opportunity!

Let me just tell you that the Southern Independent Booksellers Alliance knows how to put on a trade show and they know how to pick a place to have it.

I know I’m dangerously close to sounding like a travel brochure when I say this, but I can’t help it: Charleston, South Carolina, is an amazing city that’s blessed with an abundance of Old South ambiance.  Whether you’re interested in art, history, antiques, restaurants or shopping, it’s the place to go. Not to mention the beaches right down the road and not one, but two lighthouses. 

My husband and I arrived a day early and spent Saturday walking around the beautiful, wonderful city of Charleston. We went to Battery Park, had lunch at Wild Wings on Market Street (surrounded by Clemson fans who were really excited to be beating Auburn & we were so happy for ‘em), rode the ferry to Mt. Sumter, and saw Chicago at the Historic Dock Street Theatre.

Sunday morning, we got up early and had the Omelet Experience of a Lifetime courtesy of the Embassy Suites breakfast staff, then headed back downtown to spend some more time walking the cobblestone streets and looking at those breath-taking mansions. (Yes, I said breath-taking. Why? Because they really are that marvelous.) We happened upon The Calhoun House just as they were about to start a tour so walked right up and joined them.  When the tour was over, we exited through the back garden area and, as Brandon was leaning down over the pond to inspect the fish, a gigantic yellow koi jumped out of the water and almost slapped him in the face. The British couple standing next to us got a huge kick out of that, as did I. Even he had to admit it was pretty darned funny. Talk about a Kodak moment.  Anyway, we absolutely fell in love with the city Charleston.

Sunday afternoon, Brandon and I went down, picked up our badges, and set out to check out SIBA 2011.

The first thing I did was make my way to the Penguin booth, where I had pleasure of meeting Mike and Diane. They gave me some books and, seeing how truly unprepared I was, a bag in which to put them. We wandered all around the show and really racked up on the free books.  We met authors, retailers, booksellers, and all kinds of nice folks. We tasted wine (which I thought was pure promotional genius) and got pins, bookmarks, and a few pieces of candy. I’m telling you, this place was a WIN for me across the board.

On Monday, I had to report to Meeting Room 3 with the other authors to have lunch and be prepped for the Moveable Feast, which I was told is very much like speed dating.  I have zero experience speed dating so spent a few minutes trying to recollect when I’d seen that in the movies. Lucky for me, it was pretty simple. Unlucky for me, I was still a nervous wreck.

The nerves didn’t last long, however, when I found out how incredibly nice everyone was. I went to seven different tables where these nice booksellers listened to me ramble for ten minutes about Diary of a Mad Fat Girl. I told them how it had made it to the New York Times as a self-published book and that proved to be a good talking point. I pointed to the title and said, “This is not an autobiography” and some of them laughed and laughed, while others narrowed their eyes and looked at me suspiciously. Ok, not really. Pretty much everyone thought it was funny.

After the feast came the most flattering part of the entire SIBA experience. I sat down at a table with a stack of my books and an ink pen.  Of all the great moments I’ve had since this crazy roller coaster took off, that’s right up there at the top.  I did feel a little silly at first because all I could think was, “Jeez. I’m a school teacher from Mississippi. Why would anyone want my autograph?” But after doing a few, I really started to enjoy it. Now, let me mention at this point that my signature looks like a pile of dookey. I told my brother, Brent, that this morning and he told me that it was supposed to look crappy. I told him it looked crappy in all the wrong ways and he said maybe I should practice. Then we both just laughed and laughed because it’s all just so crazy.

Overall, SIBA was an unbelievably fantastic experience and I’m so grateful I had the opportunity to participate. I just hope I get invited back next year because I heard it might be in Naples. Wouldn’t that be nice?