Question of the Day
Sunday, March 30, 2008, 4:04 PM

Wouldn't it be cool if you had an outfit that matched the fabric on your chair?


13 Did the Unhingey Jiggy Engage in Unhingenosity
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Photo Prompted Flash: Elusive
Thursday, March 27, 2008, 12:07 AM

For the Writer's Retreat Forum challenge and for Romance Roundtable's Fiction Friday.

Title:
Elusive
Word Count: 500

~*~*~*~

I feel the burn of exertion in my lungs and slow to a jog. Loose fists. Arms low to the waist. Heels first.

Orion’s Belt is fading against the sun’s ascent, and the birds haven’t even begun singing yet. I feel as if I am the only one awake on the planet.

Serene means tranquility of no thought. Reflection means vivid and clear awareness. Therefore, serene reflection is clear awareness of no thought.

Bruce Lee’s words make no sense to me, but I repeat them in my head every day as my running shoes slap against the road’s pavement. It’s smoothly paved with new paint. The shrubbery fronting the forest is trimmed, but yesterday it was thick with the overgrowth of weeds and brambles and litter. I remember seeing the empty beer bottle, the flattened, empty pack of cigarettes, deadfall from the trees.

I want to run again. The back of my neck prickles, but not from sweat. What is there to fear at five-fifteen in the morning? A moment ago, the sun peeked through the lowest tree branches, and dusk became morning. It’s my favorite time of the day. No distractions, just me and the road and my never-ending hope for clear awareness of no thought. Charlie doesn’t understand; he’s into fencing, porn and a virtual world called Second Life. We have nothing in common but a love for kinky sex and staying in shape. More and more, it’s becoming less.

The first flush of rising temperature hits my face as I near the curve ahead. It’s November, but it doesn’t look or feel like November. The trees look like they look in early spring, but I know that can’t be right because Orion’s Belt isn’t visible in the morning during spring.

I hear the sound of a tree unfurling new leaves, but it must be my imagination. And this place that seems familiar and yet not familiar.

Muscles finally warm and fluid, my strides lengthen and quicken despite my resolve to pace myself. I round the curve and feel like I’m eating a great distance. There’s no pain, just this need to run. It helps, but it puzzles me that I don’t feel the burn anymore. Maybe it’s this place. Maybe it’s my consolation prize from Bruce Lee—since I don’t feel clear awareness of no thought, maybe I feel clear awareness of no pain.

I don’t want a consolation prize, though. I’m restless, scared, and I ache for serenity, for clear awareness of no thought.

A scream of tires shatters the quiet of the morning. I stumble to a stop and whip around to see a shiny gray sedan. It slams into me and the world goes black.
_________

“Oh God, I thought you were joking.”

Charlie, whose arm hairs still prickled at the sight of his dead wife on the road, smiled nervously at the new girl in town. “She’s been gone for four years, but she still jogs in the middle of the damn road.”

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12 Did the Unhingey Jiggy Engage in Unhingenosity
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Blindside me with luck, I don't care
Wednesday, March 26, 2008, 6:07 PM


Me and four of my co-workers might win tonight's Super Lotto. This is what we have in our corner:

1. I played the six numbers from my fortune cookie, which said, "You should be coming into a great fortune." (It's okay if it's not grammatically correct, all I care about is the sentiment.)

2. We have a new co-worker who says she's lucky, that whenever she goes to parties, she always wins the door prize. I actually had her pick ten numbers, then I performed the sign of the cross afterwards.

3. Today is the birthday of a fellow co-worker lotto-player.

It's our time.

And when we win, I'm going to move from my no-balcony, no dishwasher, cave-like studio apartment (even though it's cool-lookin')...




...and get a house in the hills.


8 Did the Unhingey Jiggy Engage in Unhingenosity
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Ebook Promo: Hot Contract
Friday, March 21, 2008, 2:52 PM

Hot Contract

by Jodi Henley

When Jen Stalling, chief geologist on a new magma-based power plant known as the Pele Project witnesses the murder of a fellow scientist, Project officials don't want the negative publicity of a murder investigation. "An accident," they say. Jen knows better. So does her father, billionaire Art Stalling. But having pushed Jen away years ago, he can't now reveal his interest without exposing her to danger. He hires DalCon, a Seattle-based security group to watch over her.

Keegan Dalfrey has his own problems. Four days ago, during a routine mission gone wrong, his brother was captured by South Pacific extremists. They want two million in ten days. Keegan can make that in nine days by neutralizing the threat to Jen. It's an all or nothing gamble with his brother's life in the balance. He never expected to fall in love.

Read An Excerpt or Buy it now!

Rose (220 pages) Spicy

PRINT ISBN 1-60154-208-9 Also Available In Print Sep 2008

~*~*~*~*~

The release date is TODAY, March 21, 2008, and already Hot Contract has a wonderful review from Simply Romance:

"Jodi Henley successfully navigated a plot that would overwhelm authors of lesser ability. Don’t just add this book to your to be read pile or even your must be read pile, place it front and center on your read now pile, you won’t be disappointed. I gave the book Simply Romances highest rating, but it has now become the standard I will judge all books of this type by."

~*~*~*~*~

Rock on, Jodi.

5 Did the Unhingey Jiggy Engage in Unhingenosity
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TT: Window Displays
Wednesday, March 19, 2008, 7:49 PM




So this week it is window displays. Most of them are from Los Angeles and have a story, so settle back with your glass of wine or cup of joe.

You're obviously not going anywhere if you're here, right?

This year, Thursday, March 20, 2008, is the first day of spring. And what could be more perfect than a window display that spells that out so flowerily? (If you click on the photos, you can see them FULL SIZE!)

Last month it was dandelions in the Marc Jacob's window displays for footwear for ladies. Why they call it Dandelion, I'll never know. I guess it's just another of life's mysteries.

In any case, this store has a number of windows in which to do their displays. The women's store is on the south side of the road. The men's-slash-casual wear is across the street.


I've also heard rumors that le Jacobs is going to take over the alleys and Manhattan. I saw a photo of him in one of the Los Angeles magazines and he looks like a scruffy guy in his early thirties. I thought at time: Sheesh, you make how many million a year, and you can't even comb your hair?


Anyway, I walked into the Marc Jacobs store on the south side one day because they always have the BEST window displays. I found so many tops to salivate over. They have the cutest stuff if you're into casually eclectic funk, which is how I describe my style.

Only I can't afford the Marc Jacobs CEF. I can barely afford the life to which I have gradually grown accustomed to.

And here we have the exclamation points. I tried to get the mannequin in the shot (she's wearing a two piece bathing suit in peach, with what looks like a mosquito net cover-up). Alas, you'll have to make do with the head and shoulder. Life is full of its disappointments. But consider this: that mannequin is as skinny as a squashed pancake and white as Len Goodman's teeth (judge of Dancing with the Stars). I love Len, but his teeth are too friggen white.


And here we have the red amoeba of hell, otherwise known as the rich man's dining room chandelier.

Er, well, maybe the red hot momma boudoir burst of flame?

If it falls, you're going to bleed. This thing is made out of glass. Look at all of the points. I sure wouldn't want it hanging over my bed, not with the way my world wags.


And the photo to the right is from a coffee-slash-tea knitting school. It's just a wee place, but they have the neatest window displays, always homey and inviting as grandma's place when mom's mad at you.

See the foot? It's a PLANTER. With artificial flowers stuck in the hollow ankle part. And someone's painted mock-Henna on the top of the foot. I loves me some feet. It's so me.

Okay, so that's not an actual Henna design and I doubt it came from a plant commonly found only in Iran, Pakistan, Syria, Persia, Morocco, Palestine, Yemen, Egypt, Uganda, Tanzania, Afghanistan, Senegal, Kenya, Ethiopia, Eritrea, or India. This is just a small family-run shop.


Mr. Flower Head, might I have some of your sweet smelling, tasty nectar?

This is what you'd call a gay man's store, but don't go turning up your nose. Nobody dresses (or smells) better than a West Hollywood gay guy. It's disgusting, really. As soon as I see a sexay, well dressed man, I automatically think: Hunh, he's probably gay.

But it's not always so. I know it's not. I've seen good looking, well dressed men in a serious lip-lock with females in WeHo. So they can't all be gay. They just can't.


The psychedelically funky photo to the right is from a shop on Santa Monica. You probably can't tell from the photo, but it's someone's impression of a face surrounded by men's ties. Yeah. Ties. The photo doesn't do it justice. This was really scary-cool looking. It also had to be inspired by someone on meth or crack.

To the left we have a Mary specialty. It's not exactly a window display, but if you've ever been to Mary's on Santa Monica, then you know every inch of the place is on display.

Even the restroom. I took photos of the restroom because the ceiling and three walls were all mirrored. (Um, I just had a rather disturbing thought that maybe one or more of those mirrors could be two-way.) (Chit.)

Everything about Mary's restroom is fascinating. It's a one-toilet-only room with red lights, a disco ball, and two wooden chairs--I guess in case you have a couple of friends who won't mind sitting beside you while you go pee. (Yes, I have a photo, I'll post it soonish.)

The next photo is of a wicked-cool shoe that I would break my neck on if I wore such a thing. But I love it. Don't you? It must be five inches high and cost half my monthly rent's payment, but that's pocket money to someone like today's reining celebs.


I don't know what this is. Well, it's me making a dopey sign of peace in front of what looks like an alien in a breathing apparatus. I think it was a music store. Or maybe a salon.

Who knows? Only the Shadow.




To the right, we have again the shop of horrah, the shop maintained by guard dogs who don't like passersby to snap photos. Ho-no, they come out after you and demand that you erase the photos you took because they don't allow photo-taking.

I've been in a howling, raging rush these last few mornings, getting to work a few minutes past starting time. So no time to take the REALLY GOOD photos.

I'm still adjusting to the time change. Yeah. That must be it.


Can you guess what the photo to the left is about? Those are wee mannequin bodies about six inches high, wearing necklaces of designer eyeglasses. $700 a pop. Dare to stop?

Not me.



This last photo was taken in San Juan, Puerto Rico, during my southern Caribbean cruise. I was just baaaaarely tall enough to stick my head up over the steel mannequin's shoulders.

What she lacked in head and hair, though, she made up for in nippledge. One of the most tacky mannequins I've ever seen! So of course, I had to get a photo.

Thank you, WeHo-Californication, Mary's and P. Rico, for sponsoring this week's TT bit o' amusement. 'Til next time.

~*~*~*~

Get the Thursday Thirteen code here!

The purpose of the meme is to get to know everyone who participates a little bit better every Thursday. Visiting fellow Thirteeners is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your Thirteen in others' comments. It’s easy, and fun! Trackbacks, pings, comment links accepted!




26 Did the Unhingey Jiggy Engage in Unhingenosity
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Lolo wahine
Tuesday, March 18, 2008, 6:45 PM

Lolo wahine = Crazy woman (Hawaiian translation).

Who wants to spend the holidays with family hunching over a crackling fire while a blizzard blows outside? Huh?

sniff of sad frustration

A couple of friends and I are hoping to go to Hawaii over the holidays. We want to see the Humuhumunukunukuapua'a (the State's fish--otherwise known as the trigger fish), go to a luau, take a helicopter ride, snorkel, take a hike through a rain forest, sit on the beach and taste a Hawaiian Mai Tai. Or two.

Are there bugs in the rain forest? Big spiders? Beetles? Scorpions? For God's sake, don't spare me. I have to know.

But we're confused about which island we should visit. From what I understand, Oahu is the "happening" place with like 90% of the all the island's population. We're also considering the volcanic--and hopefully the most under-commercialized island--of Hawaii, but I didn't see any sandy beaches, just rocky coasts.

And then there's Maui--the Noi Ka Oi—which means Maui’s the best. It has the famous Hana Highway (not sure why it's a famous yet), and the north side of the island gets a lot of rain, and that means waterfalls. According to what I've read. I don't know; I've never been there. I don't know if Maui, Hawaii or Oahu is our best bet.

And that's our quandary.

Has anyone reading ever been to one of the islands? If so, out of the three I've shared here (fuh cripe's sake, don't mention the other three), which one would you recommend and why? You don't have to do an essay or go into depth about your reasons. Just something like: oh, I've been there, and you gotta go see oomph.

Or Maui seems like the place you want to go.

Or The Big island is where you need to go if you're into helicopter rides and hikes. Stuff like that.

Don't be shy. Spill.

Jodi?

_________________________________________________________
(Jodi Henley, who used to live in Hawaii--has a romantic suspense novel titled Hot Contract coming out this Friday. If you're into Romantic Suspense stories, let me know in the comments section so I can properly naggith you to get her book.)

5 Did the Unhingey Jiggy Engage in Unhingenosity
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Fiction Friday: Inevitable excerpt
Monday, March 17, 2008, 6:34 PM

For Romance Roundtable's Fiction Friday
It's a blog carnival where writers get a few nano seconds to shine in their little slice of the electronic cosmos. This is a 1190 word excerpt from my story in progress. You can find my story blurb and information at the bottom.





Something wet and heavy slapped Shaine in the face. Gasping, she scooted back until her head hit the wall. Through the water in her eyes, she could see two people looming above her, one who held a bucket that still dripped. Shock clawed at stomach. Someone had dumped a bucket of water on her while she was sleeping.

Just like Manny had.

There’d been no escape that time and she’d sworn that it would never happen again. Ever.

With a snarl of rage, she drew her leg back and kicked at the closest body with everything she had. Lightning fast, her attacker leaped back, seizing hold of her ankle as her leg kicked up and free of his body. He flipped her onto her stomach with a savage wrench on her ankle, dragged her to the end of the bed and released her. Her knees hit the floor hard. Tears of pain filled her eyes and she clenched her teeth to keep from crying out.

Her arms were yanked behind her back, something cold and heavy clamped around her wrists. They hauled her up by her armpits. A rasp of material dropped over her head, and then they were manhandling her, one of them on each side, pulling and pushing and shoving. Fury fueling her fear, she deliberately rammed into one of them and felt the distinct softness of a breast.

On the heels of that revelation, she was shoved face-first against a wall and the world blanked out for a moment. The next thing she felt was a sideswipe kick to her ankles and the sensation of the floor rising up to smack her right shoulder and temple. While she lay there gasping, someone pulled off the material covering her head and bright light stabbed her vision.

Confusion and apprehension made her eyes open. Not a foot away from her nose was the toe of a boot. Expecting a kick to the head, she rolled violently away. Then, from the floor, she followed the line of the boots to legs in black fatigues, to a black-shirted chest, to the long russet hair that nearly brushed a pair of wide shoulders. It was him. Daren. Staring down at her with his empty, beautiful eyes.

"What did you notice about your attackers?" he asked.

Shaine's mind went blank and then the implication of the attack sank in. This was some sort of a test. Somehow, he’d found out about Manny and was using it against her. It was a lesson. Just like deportment or computers or weaponry. And although only seconds passed for her to understand the situation, it felt like forever.

She ignored the despair that sat heavy in her chest and curled her lip in contempt. "Only cowards attack when you’re asleep," she said in her toughest voice.

"What else?"

Unnerved by his steady, intense gaze, she shifted, used her hands to push herself up to a sitting position. Damned if she’d sit at his feet like a flunky. It brought her nearly nose-to-knees with him. Because he didn’t move, she was forced to scoot back to keep meeting his eyes.

"There were two of them. One with a soft middle. Felt it when I rammed into his stomach. So?"

"Good. Continue."

He hadn't caught, or chose to ignore, her reference to a male attacker. It gave her the idea that he wasn’t aware she knew at least one of her attackers was a female. That he didn't even expect her to know.

"There wasn’t time to notice much of anything. Like I said, I was asleep."

"You haven’t even begun to tell me what you know."

"I might remember more if I was released," she said and stood awkwardly. Having her hands behind her back affected her balance. She turned to glare at her attackers. "That is if they—"

But they were gone.

He was behind her now. She felt the warmth of his fingers as he pressed the spring on the cuffs and freed her wrists. Turning, she backed away, putting space between them. Beside her was a block of steel mounted on the curved wall. A heavy chain dangled from the top. Identical apparatuses were mounted around the room, each about five feet apart. She didn't dare wonder what they were used for.

"What else?" he asked, still looking bored and arrogantly confident. They might have been discussing the weather.

"One is shorter than I am, smaller. He held the bucket and let the other man do most of the work." She smirked at him. "Shorty will have quite a bruise."

"And the other attacker?"

Shaine remembered lightning reflexes, lack of hesitation, a fierce, steel-like grip. Helplessness. Panic that almost paralyzed her. Realizing that she’d just shown that to him, she dropped her gaze to her feet. "The other man was built like someone I used to know, someone who thought his tough act would keep me from seeing the spineless creep underneath."

She raised her head again and gave him what she hoped was a look free of emotion. Like his. "That type of man is usually overconfident. Never thinks about the consequences. Doesn’t expect any."

Daren returned her look silently and she felt herself flush under his intense scrutiny. He seemed to know what she hadn’t said and it gave her an unsettling feeling of intimacy. Of all the reasons, places and situations, why this one? Why him? But she kept her mouth closed and finally, looked away.

"You can come back in," he said, looking at the doorway behind her.

"I don’t think I can tolerate a second performance. If all I'd had before was a suspicion, this little drama clinches it." She raised her chin and imitated one of his cool looks. "Should I turn around and act surprised that shorty’s a girl? Or should I just ask why a re-enactment of my rape attack is going to make one damn bit of difference in any of this?"

Although his expression didn't alter at all, she saw him blink. It was an odd thing to notice since blinking was as common as breathing, but until this moment, she hadn't realized how little his face changed.

"You didn't tell me everything," he said.

She curled her lip. “Didn’t want to spoil anyone’s fun.”

He walked to where she stood leaning against the wall, his gaze less bored now, but still intense. Shaine fought the urge to move away.

“You have to remain focused even in a moment of a crisis. Emotions, especially those tied to your past, can get you killed.”

Her words carried the sound of her anger and scorn. “Do you think Priest is going to try and rape me, then?”

He looked like he was considering her question, then: “You could have broken out of the cuffs any time you chose. Why didn’t you?”

A tremor of shock raced across her shoulders and she felt her face heat. “Show me how,” she demanded. She tried not to sound grouchy, but she hoped he understood she wasn’t conceding defeat. Never that.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Title: Inevitable

Genre: Romantic Suspense
But if I had my choice, I'd create a new genre called Rospionagith (romance + espionage + thriller)

Estimated Word Count: 80 - 100,000

Blurb: Shaine is the gifted clay sculptor and painter of the Death by Moonlight series, based on the demons of a painful past she has unwittingly allowed to define her existence. Known only as M. Dagget, Shaine avoids contact with the outside world by adopting personality and costume disguises. Unfortunately, she has a brother who decides his life is worth more than hers when he betrays her to a private organization whose objective is to assassinate its biggest contributor. The organization's best operative, Daren, is assigned to break through Shaine’s personal and sexual boundaries in order to turn her into an assassin.

Sickened and terrified to the core by what the organization wants of her, and by her growing feelings for Daren, Shaine agrees to their terms: kill or die.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Thanks for reading.

10 Did the Unhingey Jiggy Engage in Unhingenosity
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Get your haute couture funk on
Sunday, March 16, 2008, 5:56 PM

There's this shop I pass every day on the way to and from work that has the neatest, funkiest dresses. They're pricey as hell, too, not that I would consider buying one. Where would I wear it?

(Oh, wait. There's a cocktail party coming up that Keanu is hoping I'll attend. He'll have to buy the dress for me, though.)

The dress you see here is actually a tame version of funk, even if it does have off-the-shoulder sleeves and a crotch-high front slit. Most of the dresses are two-parters with ruffled, transparent skirts and gem-encrusted bodices. Sometimes there are hats to match, but always there is the long necklace of peace. It comes in a variety of colors also.

This is the dress photo that almost landed me in jail last Thursday. It's not even a great photo, either, but it's the only one that turned out well-ish. There I was, snapping photos of the window display in the midst of a crowd, when a woman steps out of the shop and asks if she can help me.

"Oh, no," says I. I'm just photographing potential attire for a novel character. And/Or, for blog fodder.

That's when she got nasty. "We don't allow photos. Please erase them."

I was appalled. Then why did they even have a window display? The name of the game in Hollywood is how creative you can get with your window display. They go all out here (maybe that should be the theme of my next Thursday 13). And isn't the express purpose of such dramatic window displays to hook interest? Isn't it a form of advertising? And they didn't want me to photograph their window display?

I turned and ran.

Okay, so I didn't barely escape jail--I just felt guilty for not giving in to the woman's wishes, because I usually do. Maybe I shouldn't have run. Maybe I should have presented my case, but you know, it's better to pick battles wisely. Besides, I can just take another photo on the way to work, when no one's there.

Peace OUT.

11 Did the Unhingey Jiggy Engage in Unhingenosity
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POV and Causation issues
Tuesday, March 11, 2008, 7:19 PM

Or, I guess I could just call this a Twisty Twesday post.

One of my favorite blogs is holding a warped POV contest. Head-hoppage, body snatchedge, who or what said THATege.

But I wonder if a good POV writer (I think I'm good, not great) can write bad point-of-viewage. I used to be good at head hopping and spectacular at passive writing. I'd win medals, I tell ya, for writing the beginnings to a New York Times Bestseller. Middles and endings? Not so easy-peasy-lemon-squeezy.

I received a critique once from someone who wondered why my character was swallowing carpet. Hey, it was news to me because my girl was a heroine, not a fiber-eater.

And then there was the time when Pote wondered why I was comparing my hero to a panther and a tiger in the same paragraph. Hadn't realized I was doing that! (Do you see the overpowering, all-encompassing need for beta-readers and critiquers?)

Does overpowering and all-encompassing mean the same thing? A beta fish critter oughtta know.

Some of the best killer stomachaches I get are when I read crits of my work. God, it kills me. Sure, some of it might sting, but I want to learn and I've always given critiquers carte-blanche. It's the least I can do because they are doing ME a favor by taking the time to read my crap and comment on it. Maybe for April Fools Day I ought to...

Phenomenal? Why, that's me meandering from the main subject. Can you remember what it IS without looking at my post's title?

No cheating, now. Your nose will grow. (Oh, geeze, that's another thing about getting older. My nose IS growing.)

So I think I'm going to have a hell of a time writing a bad pov scene, which tells me I need to come up with something fun and interesting. I've already got an idea. I should be writing it now, but no. Here I am writing it here. (Pop quiz! What do you call a sentence that begins and ends with the same word?)

Causation is another tricky area for me because I'm so in to what I'm writing, I forget anyone else reading can't read my thoughts.

So pretend your nose itching wakes you up.

You try and move your arm up to itch it and can't.

Now what?

What do you think? What do you do?

(Ian, you can't play. You know why.)

I'll wait.

12 Did the Unhingey Jiggy Engage in Unhingenosity
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DST: Day Laggin'
Monday, March 10, 2008, 6:44 PM


When I woke up this morning, my body knew it was an hour earlier than normal. Gravity wouldn't let me open my eyes, I couldn't get my body to slide out of bed, and my head felt like stuffed cotton.

"We shouldn't even be here yet," I said when I arrived at work.

"What are we still doing here," I asked at the end of the day. "It's six." (We go home at five.)

Well, here's to clock changin' day lag. Dang, I hates it.

9 Did the Unhingey Jiggy Engage in Unhingenosity
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Uncle Dave
Sunday, March 09, 2008, 7:44 PM

I am not a prolific blogger. Some writers are. I don't know if this is a detriment or a normal occurrence because I'm a personal life blogger who leads a boring life, who tends to write about subjects that affect me personally. I'm not into cultural events, politics, exhibitionism or kinky sex. (Although I would totally vote for Obama.)

A lot of great blog-worthy ideas occur to me in the shower, while I'm walking to work, or while I dream. Any ole time I'm separated from my keyboard, basically. And what the hell's that about?

Fear of failure.

Of feeling too much.

I'm good at avoiding painful things. Stories, movies, lives. I've never seen The Titanic, The Passion of the Christ, or anything related to 9/11. I haven't delved much into the painful past of my relatives. It hurts and scares me to think much about it. Life is hard and painful enough; I know what happens. Why relive it?

I was afraid (am still) that I am most like my Uncle Dave, who up and left the family without a trace years ago. He left no note, and there was no advance warning that something was wrong. He was just gone. I was a kid, probably no more than nine, but even back then it felt like Uncle Dave had committed suicide.

I am heartbroken I did not get to know my Uncle Dave. Which is crazy and illogical because he scared the hell out of me as a child. He never smiled much and when he did, it looked forced, like a sneer almost. His eyes were dark and I could see they held anger, although I didn't know what he could be so angry about. But today, that just makes me want to befriend him all the more. I feel such a loss. I wish I could go back in time and do everything over again. Some moments are worth more.

But I'm grateful he was married to someone like Rae, a woman who seemed to draw the sunshine to herself and those around her. Just the sound of her laugh made me want to laugh. But she wasn't enough for Uncle Dave. I guess no one was.

9 Did the Unhingey Jiggy Engage in Unhingenosity
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Manic Monday
Tuesday, March 04, 2008, 6:39 PM

Compliments of Ian, I give you:

Meme #202,155,659
  1. Put your music player on Shuffle
  2. For each question, press the next button to get your answer.
  3. YOU MUST WRITE THAT SONG NAME DOWN NO MATTER WHAT. (This is in capital letters, so it is very serious.)
1. IF SOMEONE SAYS “IS THIS OKAY” YOU SAY?
Mickey by Tony Basil

2. WHAT WOULD BEST DESCRIBE YOUR PERSONALITY?

Storms in Africa by Enya


3. WHAT DO YOU LIKE IN A GUY/GIRL?

Trying To Get The Feeling Again by Barry Manilow

4. HOW DO YOU FEEL TODAY?
Beyond The Invisible by Enigma


5. WHAT IS YOUR LIFE'S PURPOSE?

The Windmills of My Mind by Sting (Thomas Crown Affair)

6. WHAT IS YOUR MOTTO?
Knowing Me, Knowing You by ABBA


7. WHAT DO YOUR FRIENDS THINK OF YOU?

This Is The New Sh*t by Marilyn Manson (off my Matrix soundtrack)


8. WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR PARENTS?

Absurd by Fluke
(not really, Oogie!)

9. WHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT VERY OFTEN?

Fire & Roses by Mimi Goese

10. WHAT IS 2+2?

Cowboys & Angels by George Michael


11. WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR BEST FRIEND?

Sandy by John Travolta in Grease (nice montage, too)


12. WHAT DO YOU THINK OF THE PERSON YOU LIKE?

Put Your Arms Around Me by Texas (from my Ever After soundtrack)


13. WHAT IS YOUR LIFE STORY?

Oh geeze. Furious Angel Fight from my Matix: Reloaded soundtrack (some Juno Reactor in there)


14. WHAT DO YOU WANT TO BE WHEN YOU GROW UP?

Woman/Mandra
by In the Nursery (from my La Femme Nikita music) (a wonderful montage, too!)

15. WHAT DO YOU THINK WHEN YOU SEE THE PERSON YOU LIKE?

Rapture (The Man from Mars) by Blondie


I'm skipping the last few, I'm getting tired of finding my songs on youtube, dang it.

22. WHAT SHOULD YOU POST THIS AS?

Manic Monday
by The Bangles (Figures, I'm always forgetting what day it is anyway.)

5 Did the Unhingey Jiggy Engage in Unhingenosity
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Playing telephone: Say what?!
Monday, March 03, 2008, 7:58 PM

Alice says: Let’s play Telephone!

"Did you ever play the game Telephone when you were a kid? It’s sometimes called Rumor or Gossip. You sit in a circle, the bigger the better.

The ring leader will tell a “secret” to one person. That person turns to the person on their left and whispers it. Each person hears the “secret” on one side and tells it on the other until it goes all the way around the circle. The last person says out loud what they were told, then the ring leader says what everyone started with. Most of the time it isn’t the same thing, and can be quite funny.

Using the power of the Internet, let’s give it a try.

I’m going to write a paragraph. Your job is to make a change. It can be as little as one word or as big as twenty words. You can change names, plot and setting, but don’t change it so much that we can’t tell how it relates to what (Alice) started with. Post your paragraph on your blog with a link to Alice's post. She will link back to you. Then, pick three people to whom you will “whisper” your modified version. Let them know they are up next. Link to them and to the person who passed it to you (me)."

Here is my paragraph for the three (five) people I'm going to tag:

Jacques and Jill went up Boot Hill to test their fears. Jacques fell down and hit his crown, and a couple of owls took offense. Jill was drunk but managed to roll off the hill without bruising anything, but her part doesn’t count. If she hadn’t already lost her virginity to Jacques, she would never have gone to a cemetery with him to begin with.

I’m whispering to Cyn, Ian, and Debbie. (Angela, Becca, you want to try?) You can still play this game even if I didn’t tag you--those I chose are who I think are the most likely to try--but anyone can play if you follow the rules.

Come back in a month and see what happened to our little rumor.

~*~*~*~*~

The rules for this meme:

  1. Change something in the paragraph you received; a minimum of 1 word, a maximum of 20 words.
  2. Link to the post at http://aliceaudrey.wordpress.com/2008/03/03/alice-calling/ and leave a comment so we can keep track of what happens to the paragraph. Alice will link back to you.
  3. Link to the person who tagged you, preferably to where ever they posted their version of the paragraph.
  4. Tag three people you think might enjoy this game. Let them know they’ve been tagged. Link to them.
  5. Include these rules in your post.

2 Did the Unhingey Jiggy Engage in Unhingenosity
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If I were a shoe...
Sunday, March 02, 2008, 1:55 PM

Found this on Crystal Jordan's blog. Had to do it. Had to do it.


You Are Clogs



You are a solid and down to earth person.

You seek and almost always achieve a really sound balance in your life.

You are stylish yet comfortable. Mellow but driven. Excited yet calm.

You are the perfect mesh of contradictions.

No matter what happens, you have the ability to stay well grounded in your life.

People know that they can truly depend on you.

You should live: In Europe

You should work: At a company dedicated to helping the world


4 Did the Unhingey Jiggy Engage in Unhingenosity
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