Samantha Clark cuts it out!

I'm Gonna Find My Purpose: or How to Make Your Own Vision Board

2012-01-24T08:26:00.000-08:00

It's the first month in a gloriously new year!

A glorious new year that hasn't yet been tainted by your passive-aggressive boss who leaves a new project for you at 4:45 p.m. on a Friday, or that stupid ex who still hasn't discovered what "feelings" are and is therefore incapable of discussing them, or those cats who puke after every meal and seriously why do I even bother buying the expensive brand of food when they just throw it all up anyway and oh my lord this year is going to suck.

NO.

We must combat this type of thinking. It is negative and soul-sucking and there's just no good reason to do that to yourself. And here's how you fight it:

YOU MAKE A VISION BOARD!

You've probably heard of these before. Google image them and a million (1,000,000) come up. While you don't need to convince me of the power of a good collage, many other people not related to me credit vision boards with helping them to discover their life ambition, refine their goals and to manifest their dreams into destiny.

...

I know, sounds familiar, right? But no, my Jennifer Aniston/Angelina Jolie reversible collage does not technically count as a vision board.

(still for sale, price negotiable)

And all you have to do is fill a poster board with images that you feel connected to, things that represent your goals or inspire you. You can also use words or phrases.

Vision boards can come in all different forms, as everyone's vision/aptitude for creating beautiful art is different. Check out a few I found via Google:

These are all correct, although some look a bit more correct than others.

Since it's late January and I haven't yet manifested anything, much less my dreams, into destiny and also haven't made a subversive collage in awhile, I decided to give it a try. My roommate Velvet and I sat down with a huge pile of magazines on a Sunday evening to MANIFEST OUR DESTINIES. And you too can MANIFEST YOUR DESTINY in just a few simple steps.

HOW TO MAKE A VISION BOARD IN JUST A FEW SIMPLE

BUT EXTREMELY IMPORTANT STEPS

1.) Make sure you're dressed properly for the occasion. Do you really think destiny is going to want to manifest with you when you're wearing those elastic-ankle sweatpants that need a wash? No, it won't. It'll manifest with the guy wearing the four thousand (4,000) dollar suit. COME ON, Velvet. Think!

Now, THIS...this we can work with.

2.) Rustle up some ambition-finding snacks to fuel yourself as you begin this journey. Might I suggest some lentil beans with brown rice? A cup or two (2) of pumpkin puree with coconut milk?

Oh, wait a minute. Are you not on Day Eight (8) of a three (3) week elimination diet like myself? Well, then eat some chips or chocolate or something delicious for me. NO WAIT, eat THESE:

McCain Smiles, I hope you fit into my destiny.

3.) Feed the cats. You have to do this or else they'll meow the whole time and distract you from your destiny. They will; trust me, I know. They don't care about your dreams.

Quiet, you; you're sabotaging my life!

4.) Sit down with a huge pile of magazines. I already have an inconveniently large collection of magazines due to my occupation, but you may not be so lucky. If this is the case, then your vision board may require an extra step of procuring materials. Magazines can be found in almost any drugstore, grocery store or bookstore. Just ask a store employee to direct you towards the "magazine section." They should understand what you mean.

This is an example of what a typical magazine looks like. It may be helpful to print this picture out and bring it with you on your search for magazines.

(Thrifty vision boarders may wish to check neighbors' recycling bins for used magazines instead of purchasing new ones. Your vision board may smell slightly of garbage juice but hey, it's just your hopes and goals for the year.)

5.) Begin to leaf through your new and/or garbage-tainted magazines. Look for images or words that you feel a connection to, ones that represent your aspirations for the year.

Some examples--if, like Velvet, one of your goals is to "buy more cats in 2012," you may wish to cut a picture like this out for your board:

Or if, like Velvet, one of your goals is to "turn bedroom into cat shelter," this picture might be for you:

6.) Now, sometimes your goals may not easily translate into images. Try to avoid that creeping frustration you feel setting in when, after an hour of searching, you've found barely any images/words that align with your aspirations.

This is the step when I began to struggle.

Like, seriously, where are the images/power phrases that represent "Complete Hobbit Heartache, the Sweet Valley High/Lord of the Rings erotic fanfiction novel"? Or "Send my fan letter to Jason Segel convincing him that we should go for a drink and maybe write a fun movie together"? Or "Pick out my outfits the night before so I don't end up wearing the same jeans every single day of the week like I usually do and hating myself"? Or "finally finish rebuilding my collection of The Baby-sitters Club series"?

AND WHY ARE THERE NO HOBBIT PICTURES IN GLAMOUR MAGAZINE?

I know, guys. It's not fair. One day society will see you as beautiful.

7.) Keep reciting/chanting your list of goals aloud to make sure you remain true to them. This step can make vision boarding in a group a little confusing, but it's vital.

You may start to feel the urge to subtly shift your goals to better align with the magazines on hand. Ask yourself if the power phrases "Keep it Casual but Cute at the Movies" or "Make His Dirty Dreams Come True" or "How to Tan like a Pro for Your Show" are really what you want to work towards this year.

When you find yourself declaring out loud "You know what, I DO want the Kardashians in my life this year!" then it's time to put your vision board down and get some space.

HURRY BEFORE IT'S TOO LATE.

8.) Take a break to clear your head. After all of your intense concentration on MANIFESTING YOUR DESTINY, this is a great time to reward your body and mind. A session of Bikram hot yoga will help to soothe your tense limbs, while delving into that new hobby you've always wanted to try (like stained glass making--both easy and inexpensive!) will invigorate your mind. Velvet and I both soothed our limbs and invigorated our minds by watching four (4) episodes of Roswell, season three (3).

It's just frustrating because things are kind of crazy right now with Maria and Michael broken up and Liz at boarding school even though she KNOWS that she and Max are destined for each other even though he's an alien. Why won't life just let them be? It really puts things in perspective.

9.) After a one (1) to four (4) hour break, come back to your board. It might be very late in the evening and you are most likely on the verge of exhaustion after all of the soothing exercise you just performed.

You are now in the perfect state to complete your vision board.

Because, as you all know, it is only after true exhaustion that your visions can be seen clearly and grasped in board form. (This is an old quote but I can't seem to find the source.)

This is about the time when I made five (5) impromptu resolutions for the year, all involving sleep, and also about the time when my vision board became filled with pictures of beds.

10.) Remember, any spots left blank may be an indication that your year will be empty and unfulfilled. Cover those boards! You know you can't be lazy!

12.) Feed the cats again. It's been seven (7) hours since you last fed them.

13.) Don't forget to do the reverse side of your vision boards! Repeat steps 1-13. It is crucial that this all take place on the same evening.

14.) Now that your vision board is complete, you'll want to place it in a prominent spot where you'll be sure to see it frequently. Velvet and I have placed ours inside of our pillow cases.

After all of this hard work, I thought I'd share with you my completed project. But wait! Life is never that simple, is it? To mimic the unpredictable and often chaotic nature of contemporary life, see if you can pick out which of the below images are my completed vision board and which are from a "Where's Hilary Swank?" puzzler I made years ago.

"Where's Hilary Swank?" is also still for sale, $1,500 as is. Contact me for more details.

I didn't post pictures of Velvet's vision board because visions can be a private thing, but it was pretty much just this:

It's gonna be a great year!

Has anyone here made their own vision board? How did it turn out? Did you have to feed the cats more than two (2) times while making it? Has your vision board helped you to MANIFEST YOUR DESTINY? Show me pics and keep it clean!

PS--Here's my actual vision board.

Hobbit Heartache: Chapter Six

2012-01-17T07:26:00.000-08:00

Enticing, huh?

Well, this is embarrassing.

It's been roughly a month and a half since my last installment of Hobbit Heartache, the Sweet Valley High/Lord of the Rings erotic fanfiction novel was posted. 47 days have passed. The last time I wrote, it was a different year. That's pretty bad.

And I'm sorry. I really am. If you could see me right now, this is how I look:

Only even sadder. And human. And dressed in a stunning vintage dress and perfect eye makeup. Certainly not wearing sweatpants covered with cat hair.

Anyways, I do apologize for the wait. It won't happen again, at least not until my night job picks up again.

To atone, I give to you an actual recap this time. You deserve it.

The Sweet Valley High gang are somewhat psyched to spend their Spring Break in Middle-earth; however, things quickly go awry when their tour bus explodes and they become lost and stranded in the forest. Meanwhile, Bilbo Baggins, Frodo, Samwise, Merry and Pippin have set out on their journey to destroy a mysterious and powerful ring. Frodo is feeling a bit down these days, not realizing that he's secretly in love with Bilbo, while Merry's heart and loins burn fervently for the distant Frodo.

(Here's where I throw in my gentle reminder that I know nothing of the LOTR and this is my complete imagining of their world. Don't hate.)

When we last visited, the SVH gang had just crossed paths with the hobbits for the first time. Jessica developed an instant attraction to the clueless Frodo, while Elizabeth is harboring some deep and intense feelings for Gandalf. The two groups agree to merge and continue forth on the adventure of a lifetime. Will Jessica's aquamarine eyes be enough to entice Frodo away from his secret love? Will Elizabeth's feelings for Gandalf be reciprocated? Will the Sweet Valley gang be able to survive the dangerous forests of Middle-earth, despite having no common sense or logic?

ONLY BY READING FURTHER CHAPTERS WILL YOU BE ABLE TO TELL.

Liz is all like "MUST READ MORE!"

(If that recap's not doing it for you, ain't nothing like the real thang: Chapters 1, 2, 3, 4, 5.)

Now that you're all caught up, I'm going to throw a bit of a curveball your way. Chapter six (6) introduces a new character, never before seen in the SVH or LOTR worlds. Sweet Valley High fans may find her familiar, and that is because she is following in the grand SVH tradition of the evil doppelganger.

You might think I'm kidding here, but I'm not. The evil doppelganger was a very real and extremely terrifying plot used multiple times in SVH history. Each time was more believable than the last.

This new doppelganger has a lot of work to do before she joins the SVH Evil Doppelganger Hall of Fame, and don't she know it.

Now, come, gather 'round, ignore your work for the next ten (10) minutes and learn a bit about our newest character: Largo. She's a little insane, a little blood-thirsty, but ultimately, very lovable.

Chapter Six: Hark! A Lurker Approaches. Largo Appears.

Unbeknownst to the group trekking ahead, a lone female followed close behind. Largo watched the rag-tag hikers and listened to their songs, each out-of-tune note curdling her ears more and more.

Oh good, they’re singing about nature again, she thought, the sarcasm twisting her moderately attractive face into a grimace. They never stop, she silently raged. They fill the air with poison.

Largo used to sing. And she remembered laughing once. But that was a very long time ago, a time that had gone hazy in Largo’s mind. It was time full of love and warmth that she once shared with her parents while growing up in Florida. As a young girl and only child in her close-knit family, she adored her parents and her tabby cat, Alberta.

Largo would spend afternoons lazing in the soft green grass of her backyard, bathing in the warm sunshine and staring at the fluffy clouds. Then her mother would ring the dinner bell, calling Largo and Alberta inside for a warm, delicious meal. Largo would run to join her parents and sit at the cherry oak table and listen to stories about their day. Largo’s parents were both scientists and always had fascinating tales to share. Largo would listen, held captive by her parents’ voices, until her mocha-brown eyes would begin to slowly close. Feeling too tired to move, Largo would be carried off to her canopy bed by her loving father. Largo’s life was perfect.

That is, until she started first grade.

The first day of school was the day that Largo’s life changed forever. It was the day that she realized that she wasn’t like all the other kids, even though her parents had always told her that she was perfect. It was the day that Largo learned that even well-educated scientists who specialize in the formation of glaciers can be wrong. It was the day that Largo learned that school can teach a person how to read and also how to cry. It was the day that Largo learned how rage can overtake a person, can fill their mouths with bile and make their hearts spread venom throughout their bodies until it paralyzes them with anger and the need for sweet retribution. It was, in short, a big day.

“Lazy eye Largo, Lazy Eye Largo!” the school children taunted her with.

Largo couldn’t help that her left eye slowly gravitated towards her nose. She could feel when it started drifting, could feel that slight pressure building in her eye, and she would instantly start to sweat. They wouldn’t stop chanting their cruel song until Largo cried tears out of her right eye. The tears from the left eye would soon follow, slightly delayed by their incorrect positioning.

The teasing was so relentless that it began to change Largo. She took up the habit of wearing a blindfold when at home so her lazy eye couldn’t be seen. She refused to say the word “I” and spoke only in third person. All mirrors in Largo’s room were smashed and then covered with black construction paper for good measure. Largo began prowling the house at night and broke several valuables due to her blindfold, including her mother’s antique "Remains of the Day" lunchbox. She spoke only to Alberta, the one creature she felt no judgment from.

Largo’s parents noticed these changes in their six year old and were alarmed. Their valuables were being destroyed at a shocking rate and soon there would be no more. Largo’s outfits had also taken an appalling turn, as her perpetual blindfold greatly restricted the act of color coordinating. They knew something drastic needed to be done to save their amblyopia-ridden daughter. So when they were both offered the opportunity to move to Antarctica and work in a remote, state of the art laboratory to study the movements of glaciers, they jumped at the chance. Having both been unemployed for the last four years, they had recently come to terms with the fact that Florida was not the ideal place for glaciologists.

Antarctica proved to be the perfect place for Largo and her family. The nearest sign of human life was hundreds of miles away and Largo could be homeschooled in peace. She adored the snow and spent her days roaming outside, building snowmen and laughing at the penguins that waddled about near the lab.
Her lazy eye disappeared within weeks of moving, which helped to restore her shattered self-esteem. Her parents appreciated the privacy that the remote location offered and found that their productivity greatly increased around the presence of actual glaciers.

Alberta suffered the only misfortune during their first year in the cold when she tragically lost half of her tail to frostbite. After burying the misshapen tail, Largo’s father fashioned a protective feline snowsuit for Alberta to wear outside. After that, everything was perfect for Largo once again.

The years went by and Largo soon celebrated her thirteenth birthday in Antarctica. She anxiously waited for her parents to return from their day expedition to determine if glaciers were edible so they could celebrate with a double-decker Mississippi Mud cake like they did for all of her birthdays. When seven o’clock hit, Largo took the cake out from the lab refrigerator and set it on the stainless steel table. When eight o’clock came around, she took a few bites of the melted cake and wondered where her parents were. By nine o’clock, she feared something awful had occurred.

Largo donned her protective human snowsuit and placed Alberta in her feline one. They trekked into the Antarctic tundra, struggling to see in the pitch black darkness. Largo called out for her mother and father and tried to fight the sinking feeling she had in her stomach. After an hour of searching, Largo’s foot slipped on something wet. She lost her footing and fell face-first into a puddle of warm liquid. As soon as the metallic salty tang hit her tongue she knew it was fresh blood, type O negative.

Largo screamed and retched onto the sullied snow, unwilling to look closer. It was only the sound of Alberta happily licking from the huge lake of blood that forced Largo to confront the petrifying sight.

She took a step forward and knelt down, coming face to face with a sight that most thirteen year old children should never have to see—both parents’ dead bodies viciously torn apart and mutilated by murderous polar bears.

She had never seen such carnage before, not even when the penguins had their annual feast of carp and squid. Her mother’s legs had been ripped from her body and her protective human snowsuit was tattered and soaked with blood, most likely rendering it useless for future wear. Her father’s abdominal cavity had been torn open and his intestines were now decorating the snow, the bright red blood splatters looking like confetti at a very sad birthday party.

A tuft of white polar bear fur was still clenched in her mother’s frozen hand. Largo clutched her mother’s hand to her heart and cried out in fright as three fingers fell off onto the snow. Largo threw back her head and howled to the night sky, a howl filled with anguish and rage. Alberta meowed.

Largo spent the rest of the evening sitting next to her parents’ partially eaten corpses. The rising sun cast pink and golden rays onto the snow, allowing Largo to fully see the desecration that had taken place. She began to weep, her lean body shaking with grief. It took Largo a moment to realize that the tears from her left eye were slightly delayed. Her lazy eye had returned.

The trek home was a long one, as Alberta’s protective feline snowsuit had developed a hole and Largo had to carry her the entire way. Once home, Largo sat down in front of her forgotten birthday cake, methodically eating the entire melted cake slice by slice. Once finished, she licked the platter clean and sang herself “Happy Birthday,” her warbly falsetto voice echoing in the empty lab. She sang it again and again, until her voice gave out and her diaphragm was raw from vibrato. Exhausted, Largo curled up under the lab table and fell asleep.

In her dreams, she saw her parents in the snowy distance, sitting hunched over with two polar bears. All were wearing protective human snowsuits. The air was eerily quiet as Largo approached, her parents grinning as she came closer. Largo had almost reached them when she realized that something was horribly wrong. Her parents and the bears were hunched over a bloodied birthday cake filled with carp, gore smeared all over their faces. Their teeth were stained red with blood and plasma as they grinned manically at Largo. As if led by an invisible conductor, the group suddenly began to sing. Instead of the “Happy Birthday” which Largo expected, they chanted “Lazy eye Largo, Lazy Eye Largo.” The sound of her own screams woke her.

The pain felt duller with each passing day. Largo developed an obsession with her late father’s golden fishing hook, used when he caught salmon or gutted seals for their dinners. It was his favorite weapon and he used to polish it daily while chatting with his daughter.

Why didn’t you use it to kill those polar bears, Father? Largo wondered. Why didn’t you gouge out their coal-black eyes? Why didn’t you think of me and sever a paw? Now I’m so very alone and have to run the lab by myself.

The isolation and responsibility of running a glaciology lab by herself slowly drove Largo mad. Over the next three years, she ran pointless experiments and meticulously recorded the results, determined to make her dead parents proud. She measured empty beakers and weighed Alberta four times a day. She began to write a children’s book about two hungry polar bears named Curdy and Curdica whose appetites could only be satisfied by devouring young boys and girls.

Largo’s coffee colored hair grew long and wild and her hygiene suffered immensely. She went for weeks without speaking aloud, giving her voice a strange timbre whenever she eventually did. Largo became prone to fits of silent rage and would scream in her head at Alberta for hours on end, her face contorted with anger. Night terrors and taunts of “Lazy Eye Largo” haunted her dreams each night. She craved sunshine but did not dare to leave the lab. She had responsibilities and could trust no one but Alberta. At times, she worried of sabotage.

It was this yearning for the warmth of the sun that led Largo to look up pictures of California. She stumbled across a newspaper article online from a quaint town called Sweet Valley. Largo was instantly charmed by this magical town, a place where the residents had golden skin and the streets were lined with flowers and swimming pools. Her extensive lab experiments became neglected as Largo grew more and more fascinated by Sweet Valley and its inhabitants. Alberta was reduced to twice daily weigh-ins. The empty beakers remained empty but now gathered dust. Curdy and Curdica were forgotten.

Largo scoured the internet for every article she could find about Sweet Valley. She encountered an unusual amount of articles focusing on a pair of blonde twins and their mediocre accomplishments.

Look at those self-satisfied smiles, Largo thought with disgust. I wonder who they’re boning on the newspaper staff to get so much attention.

She remembered how her mother used to debone a Northern Pike fish in under a minute and she sighed with loneliness. She felt a strange connection with the town of Sweet Valley, felt like it was important but she couldn’t understand why.

Keep looking, she told herself. It will soon make sense.

And she was right.

Largo discovered an article written about a wealthy computer magnate named George Fowler. He had just brokered the sale of a groundbreaking computer program and sold it for millions, making him even wealthier. Several pictures accompanied the article, including one of Mr. Fowler’s home, a sprawling mansion called Fowler Crest. Largo looked at the beautiful estate, the lush grounds bathed in sunlight. She longed to live there, to lie on the manicured grass with Alberta and to be able to swim in the Olympic-sized pool.

There would be so much space to store my beakers, she thought wistfully.

Largo poured over the pictures and froze as she came to the final one, a photo of Mr. Fowler and his sixteen year old daughter, Lila. Largo gasped and gripped Alberta, accidentally pulling on her misshapen stump of a tail.

She’s so beautiful, marveled Largo, staring at Lila’s picture.

Lila was standing next to her father, a tasteful smile on her aristocratic face. Her coffee colored long hair was shiny and smooth and her porcelain skin was flawless. She was the picture of sophistication in her white linen slacks and mauve boat neck raw silk blouse. Freshwater pearls graced her delicate wrists and neck. Lila looked slightly bored, like she was used to people taking her picture and fawning over her.

“Lila,” Largo croaked aloud, enjoying the silky feel of the name in her throat. That’s almost like my name. And our hair is almost the exact same color, too, even though mine is two feet longer.

Largo touched the computer screen with her fingers, softly stroking the photo. What a life Lila must have, she thought with awe. I bet Mr. Fowler would never be partially devoured by a polar bear. I wish I had that life. I deserve that life after all of my hard work here in the lab.

The fleeting thought suddenly reverberated in Largo’s broken mind. I CAN have that life, she realized with glee. I could be Lila!

A plan was instantly formed as Largo now understood her purpose. She would transform herself so she looked exactly like Lila Fowler. Seeing as they both were female with brown hair and brown eyes, Largo had no doubt that this was attainable. She grabbed her golden fishing hook and used it to chop off her ragged, witch-like hair until it was the same length as Lila’s. This task took over an hour due to a fishing hook’s inadequacy at cutting hair.

Largo laughed wildly the entire time, a raspy cackle that frightened Alberta.

Over the next few months, Largo researched every aspect of Lila’s life. She learned about her friends, her age and her hatred of the poor. She mastered the slow and graceful gait that she imagined Lila would have. She held empty beakers like they were crystal champagne flutes and cawed her way through lengthy toasts at imaginary parties. Largo practiced speaking in an elegant manner but couldn’t seem to shake her gruff voice.

Oh well, no big deal, she figured.

When Largo discovered that Lila was soon embarking on a school trip to Middle-earth for Spring Break, she knew this was her big chance. She blew up her lab with dynamite and boarded the same flight to Middle-earth, Alberta hidden in her carry-on bag.

Largo stared at the Sweet Valley students on the plane and almost wept with joy when she glimpsed Lila for the first time in person. The gleam of her cappuccino hair, the slight sneer painted onto her red lips, the Italian suede heels that were so very different from the black rubber triple thermal insulated waterproof snow boots that Largo was wearing.

How dare they put her in coach with these fools? she wondered with fury. Lila belongs in first class.

She followed the students closely behind once they landed in Middle-earth, and watched with amusement as their rickety tour bus exploded, delighting in the chaos. Largo hadn’t anticipated the Sweet Valley gang to converge with an unfortunate-looking group of hair covered men-children, but she was confident that her plan would succeed.

Largo now clutched the golden fishing hook tightly in her palm as she watched the strange group begin another song, this time a musical round about seedlings. She relished the sudden sting of pain as the hook cut through her skin and she could feel the familiar warm trickle of blood.

“Lila Fowler,” gurgled Largo from her concealed foxhole, “you are mine.”

Does Largo have what it takes to join the ranks of Sweet Valley's famed evil doppelgangers? Will Elizabeth's keen journalistic instincts be able to swiftly sniff out an impostor? Will Largo's extreme fear of polar bears hinder her journey in Middle-earth? And will a case of mistaken identity lead Gandalf to find love in all the wrong places?

STAY TUNED.

2011: A Picture Review

2012-01-04T21:28:00.000-08:00

A new year has begun. Like many, I have high hopes for this year. High hopes and big plans. Productivity will be key. I can already cross "lie on couch slightly hungover and watch ten (10) episodes of 'Blossom' in a row" off of my New Year's resolution list.

Like I said, productivity will be key.

Impromptu New Year's Resolutions that were Certainly Not Inspired by Blossom: Wear more hats. Make more friends who have numbers for names. Bring vests back into my life.

I know that during this first week of the new year, most people will be encouraging you to look to the future, leave the past behind, seize the day and many other time-related sayings. I say yes, let's do all of these things. All of them! Out with the old, in with the new. Sniff my butt, 2011.

But first, before the seizing and the sniffing, let's cling to the past for just one more blog post, a Holiday Edition Best of 2011 edition. Come and marvel, as we travel back into the depths of 2011!

Okay, okay; it's getting weird. For both of us. Stop marveling. Let's just read it.

The year began with a Sunday spent in the snow with my dodgeball team, the Devil Bats. It was a day full of tobogganing, creating sick snow jumps and many a failed attempt at "snowball dodgeball." We optimistically declared that Sundays would hereto be known as "Anything Can Happen Sundays" and filled with wondrous activities.

Never happened again.

After eight (8) years in Canada, I become an official, government-approved Permanent Resident. This had to be the most important (/time-consuming/expensive/emotionally draining, etc.) highlight of my year. My roommates and cat rejoice knowing that I can now stay in Canada FOREVER.

After a two (2) year letter writing campaign, Great Grains finally made their Canadian debut. My friends promptly clamor to try them.

(This was probably the second most important highlight. It was all pretty much downhill from here.)

I turn 26 and celebrate in an age-appropriate fashion.

A slew of dodgeball tournaments provided us with plenty of opportunities to dress in ridiculous costumes. Lessons learned in costumed dodgeball included that losing a tournament while dressed as the ThunderCats notches up the humiliation factor juuuuust a little bit more; on the other hand, destroying another team while playing as the Rainbow Unicorns feels pretty sweet.

A springtime jaunt to Detroit turns into an impromptu carnival visit. We cast aside whatever doubts we had concerning tourist traps and safety regulations and take a brief, one-ride-worth's-look-see.

Such hopeful smiles.

The adolescent ride operator made sure to give us the time of our lives during the four (4) minute ride aboard the Enterprise. Ride recaps included: "I've never been so nauseous in my entire life,""Why wouldn't it end?" and "Can thirteen year olds legally operate carnival rides?" We shared a nice, silent car ride out of the park, each of us intently concentrating on not throwing up out of the window. Detroit never fails to disappoint.

(2011: yet another year when Detroit touched my heart and also my vomitary system.)

Summer begins and we try to spend as much as time as possible at the park.

We learn just how badly a group of people can be at badminton. You can add badminton, frisbee baseball, soccer dodgeball, gymnastics and cool breakdancing tricks to the list of activities we did not master this summer.

Activities we DID master, you ask? Mostly beach dodgeball, the art of the sporadic kip-up, ways to achieve the perfect sunburn even when drenched in sunscreen and how to be the creepy clothed people at a nude beach.

We willingly forked over money to go see Katy Perry in concert. Are you wondering if we dressed up in costume?

...If you don't know me by now, you will never never never know me.

(no you won't)

(ooooh)

A few of my dearest friends from home decide I should have no money for the rest of year and hold various wedding-related activities way, way, way, far away from Canada. Bridal showers, bachelorette parties, Tennessee and Florida weddings--I attend them all!

(Were they worth it? You bet your bippy they were.)

Dreams come true when Velvet and I transform into Jessica and Elizabeth Wakefield for Halloween.

On a just-as-important note: Sweet Valley Confidential WAS FINALLY RELEASED. As someone currently writing an erotic Sweet Valley High fanfiction novel, this was extremely pertinent market research.

I only finished it in one (1) day because it was such pertinent market research. Nothing more.

I attend Fan Expo Canada by myself dressed as Buffy the Vampire Slayer (this is a 2011 highlight/lowlight).

The roommates and I wrap up the year with our first house Christmas.

Marley wraps up the year by inching his BMI closer and closer to the danger zone.

IN CONCLUSION:

It was a year filled with friends, both near and far.

And more importantly, it was a year of Canadian-accessible Great Grains.

(the gorgeous Great Grains pics are courtesy of the cereal-lovin' William Matthews)
(other photo credits go to the usuals: Jenn, Heather, Velvet and Ryan P.--thanks a mill!)

*A small but important note: though it may look like all of 2011 was spent skipping in the sunshine while wearing sequined boas and hoisting trophies into the air, I don't want to be misleading. There were certainly low, un-blogged-about moments. Financial stress, zero free time and putting far too much effort into things/people undeserving are all things I'm happy to leave behind. I'm optimistic for 2012.

Apart from the world ending and all that.

Obligatory New Year's resolution mention:

Though, like every year, I have about sixty (60) New Year's resolutions, I want to assure you readers that Hobbit Heartache, the Sweet Valley High/Lord of the Rings erotic crossover fanfiction WILL be completed in 2012.

Though it will be sad not to have to ponder such queries as "Is a size six the same in hobbit clothing?""Would Bruce Patman and Bilbo fight over who will be the group's alpha male?" and "Would Jessica ever consider a threesome with Bilbo and Frodo?", I do promise that our journey will reach its conclusion in the upcoming months.

To all of you who have read and supported my blog and stories over the year, you warm my heart and if I could, I'd give a cat and box of Great Grains to each of you.

HAPPY NEW YEAR! Share some resolutions below.

No Snow

2011-12-25T21:33:00.000-08:00

I really wanted to send my holiday wishes to all of you guys earlier, but I was too busy going wassailing door to door with my roommates and cats. Sorry about the delay; we just had to make sure we hit up the ol' retirement home and cat shelter.

If we can make just one (1), JUST ONE (1), cat smile, then we've done our job.

Juuuuust kidding; I'm currently in Florida visiting family. It's almost 80 degrees (F) outside and nary a wassail was had. It feels strange to be sweating on Christmas.

But don't let anyone ever tell you that Christmas dreams can't come true. Because sometimes, when someone reads your blog and sees what you really want and then goes on eBay and wins a bidding war and then wraps it and gives it to you on Christmas, your Christmas dreams CAN come true.

...Christmas dreams like SWEET VALLEY HIGH: THE BOARD GAME!

(for when the books just aren't enough)

Devin definitely earned the Brother of the Week award with this one.

He also got my Mom this t-shirt, so it's safe to say he won Christmas this year.

You can bet your bippy I'll do a full post dedicated to a review of this game, but for now, I made my Mom and brother play a "quick round" with me to give it a whirl. Two (2) hours later, I was triumphant, having found my boyfriend, corsage, prom decorations and prom gown in time for the big date. My Mom came in a close second and Devin wholly regretted his purchase. (His biggest mistake? Choosing Enid as his character. Newb!)

Happy holidays, everyone! I hope your cats are smiling, your weather is brisk and your Sweet Valley High memorabilia is plentiful.

...and I hope your Santa beards were more durable than mine. Helpful holiday tip: use cotton balls instead of makeup remover pads. You live and you learn. Now enough wisdom; there's a King of Queens Christmas marathon that's calling my name.

Hobbit Heartache--Chapter Five

2011-12-01T08:39:00.000-08:00

Will Jessica steal Frodo's hair-covered heart?

The rumors? All true. That office scuttlebutt you overhead? Confirmed. The word on the street? Verily accurate.

The moment you've all been waiting for is finally here.

THE SWEET VALLEY GANG AND THE LORD OF THE RINGS CREW ARE FINALLY GOING TO MEET!

I think we all know what that means...it's time to break out the brandywine and root beer floats and rejoice!

Like I said, rejoice.

Are you feeling a bit on the fence over whether you should read Chapter Five (5)? Well, here's what I can tell you:

Worlds will collide! Hobbit hair will fly! Aquamarine eyes will sparkle! Merry will get his perv on! Graphic sexual encounters will occur!

What else is new, right?

(also, one of those might not be entirely true...yet. )

...and that's all you get for spoilers. We both have to put in some effort to make this work.

Now, if you've fallen a bit behind in Hobbit Heartache, the Sweet Valley High/Lord of the Rings crossover erotic fanfiction, it's okay. Things get busy. Costumes gotta be worn. Cats gotta be tended to. I know how it is.

Trust me, I know.

Backstory, get your backstory here:

Okay, enough fanfare. Let's do this thing! I hope you enjoy, and I'd like to thank everyone who actually takes the time to wade their way through these chapters. You guys are the Bilbo to my Frodo. <3

Prints available from the talented Zak Tatham. I hear he's open for cash or haggling, whatever you got.

Chapter Five

“Can we please take a break? My feet are killing me,” moaned Lila, stopping abruptly in her tracks.

Jessica rolled her glorious eyes as the group came to a halt. This was the third time they’d taken a break that day, all due to Lila’s nonstop complaining. Lila was one of Jessica’s best friends but was sometimes best in small doses. And this trip to Middle-earth had been anything but a small dose of Lila.

“Maybe if you hadn’t worn your brand new Italian suede heels just for a plane ride you’d be able to walk for more than ten minutes,” replied Jessica testily.

“You’re one to talk,” said Lila, staring pointedly at Jessica’s striped espadrilles.

“Excuse me? I’m leading the pack here, not limping around and whining,” exclaimed Jessica, her feisty southern Californian temper beginning to emerge.

“Ladies, ladies,” interrupted Bruce. “You’re both morons. But let’s not forget the biggest moron here, Mr. Winston Egbert himself, destroyer of buses and buzz killer of vacations.”

“Oh, forgive me, guys. Anyone remember our old friend Olivia? The one who died by being burned alive in an explosion? Maybe you should think about her for a second instead of whining about your shoes,” snapped Winston, uncharacteristically serious.

“Guys, guys. Let’s cool it, okay? I know we’ve been walking all day and we’re all tired and stressed, but arguing isn’t going to get us anywhere. Let’s take a quick break and then regroup. I have a feeling we might come across a town soon and then we can get help,” said Elizabeth, trying her best to soothe the tense group.

Jessica rolled her mesmerizing eyes to herself once more. Thank you very much, Mother Teresa, she thought. She knew Elizabeth was just trying to help, but her relentless optimism was starting to wear thin. They had been hiking deeper and deeper into the thick forest all day trying to find anyone who could help them. After endless hours of walking, it looked like they were in the exact same place as where they started—surrounded by trees and not a single sign of human life.

At least all this hiking has probably made me drop five pounds, thought Jessica as she walked away from the group to get some space. Jessica was correct. Her swift metabolism allowed her to lose weight with ease, although weight loss was completely unnecessary. The Wakefield’s family doctor had confirmed that both Jessica and Elizabeth’s Body Mass Index measurements were perfectly suited for their heights. Jessica recalled this fact and smiled, then caught sight of Bruce standing in the distance. He sniffed a purple berry and threw it to the ground in distaste.

Now, if just Bruce and I were lost in the woods together, this would be a different story, Jessica thought, a sultry smile coming over her dainty features. But before Jessica could start daydreaming about riding 1BRUCE1, she happened to see Elizabeth sitting by herself, looking hunched over and dejected. Jessica sighed, realizing she had twin sister duties to fulfill. She marched over and plopped herself down next to her sister.

“Lizzie, cheer up. We’re going to be okay,” said Jessica in what she hoped was a calming tone. Inside she was imagining being with Bruce at Miller’s Point, keeping warm on a cool Sweet Valley evening. She’d run her tawny hands over his white linen jacket, slowly moving them down to his grey silk slacks. Bruce would eye her favored tuxedo shirt and matching pants and wonder what the hell she was wearing. Jessica would slide her hands under his jacket, and marvel at the fact that none of the males in Sweet Valley seemed to have chest hair. Bruce would begin to wish that Jessica was in a deep coma so she would finally stop talking and he could comfortably make a move. Jessica would think how handsome Bruce was, almost as good looking as her older brother Steven. Bruce would cup her--

Her steamy daydream was interrupted when Elizabeth looked up, her angelic face startled.

“What? Oh, hi Jess. Yeah, I know. I’m sure we’ll find help soon. It’s just…” she trailed off, her fluorescent eyes filling with tears.

“Oh, come on, we’ve been lost in nature and on the brink of certain death a hundred and thirty-seven times before. Remember when we got lost in Death Valley and held hostage by those escaped convicts and were saved only because one fell in love with me? ” asked Jessica.

“Yes, I do. That was really unusual; escaped convicts usually resort to their roots and commit violent crimes again,” said Elizabeth slowly.

“Or how about when I got stuck on a deserted island with Winston and had to fend off a bear attack? And Winston was in love with me the whole time? Can you believe that?” said Jessica.

“I’m still surprised about that, considering you’ve had no wilderness training,” said Elizabeth, sounding a bit more like herself.

“And remember when I pulled Todd out from his burning car right before it fell off a cliff? And then he thought he was in love with me!” exclaimed Jessica.

“I do recall that, yes. I actually hated you for that,” replied Elizabeth stiffly.

Jessica laughed, a peal of amused delight.

“And there’s always the time we were stranded in that blizzard in Stoneybrook after twenty-one inches of snow fell and Logan kept flirting with me. Southern guys have always had a thing for me.”

“Was that us?” asked Elizabeth, her SAT-acing brain momentarily confused. Jessica took no note of this and plowed on with her examples.

“Or the time that the gang leader of Palisades High fell in love with me but then he died and I won a surfing contest? Or that time we were stuck on a bus that couldn’t go under fifty miles an hour or it would blow up and that cop fell in love with me? Or the time I starred in the school play and Bill Chase fell in love with me?”

“Those are all great examples, Jess. You’re right, little sis-- we’ve been through a lot before and come out just fine. Thanks for the encouragement—you’re almost as good a listener as Mr. Collins is!” said Elizabeth.

Jessica gave a thin smile and nodded. She had always thought her sister’s preoccupation with their English teacher and school newspaper advisor was a little strange, even though he did look just like Robert Redford. She could often hear her sister talking to him on the phone late at night in hushed tones, her soft, delicate laughs slowly turning into heated moans. Jessica could always tell in the morning when her sister had been having a special “emergency Oracle meeting” over the phone with Mr. Collins the previous night, her teal eyes bloodshot and a guilty expression painted onto her bronzed face.

With Elizabeth momentarily reassured, the next few hours of hiking went smoothly. Jessica and Lila’s steady stream of gossip kept the group occupied and in more relaxed spirits. They were on another break for Lila’s feet when suddenly Winston froze, his size eleven feet ceasing all movement.

“Did you guys hear that?” he whispered, looking around furiously. “It sounds like there are people up ahead.”

“All I hear is a much-needed break from these two yabbering on about Caroline Pearce this, Ronnie Edwards that,” replied Bruce.

“No, shhhh. I hear it, too!” said Jessica, straining her vigorous ear canals to listen. She could barely detect the faint sound of muffled voices and footsteps in the woods.

“Let’s check it out! I bet Mr. Jaworski sent out park rangers looking for us!” said Elizabeth.

The group broke out into a run and dashed ahead, with Jessica and Elizabeth leading the way with their God-given athletic ability. They burst into a clearing and suddenly came face to face with an old, saggy looking man and a group of four strange children. Or were they men? Jessica wasn’t sure, but she quickly hiked up her suede miniskirt and smoothed her silky hair. The air was filled with silence as the two groups stood frozen in place staring at each other.

The twins were naturally the first to gain their composure. Elizabeth stepped forward and extended a tan hand, a soft smile on her tired yet friendly face.

“Hello, I’m Elizabeth Wakefield and this is my twin sister, Jessica. Maybe you’ve heard of us. We’re both a size six. We come from a town called Sweet Valley. My friends and I are students on a class trip but our bus broke down, and right now we’re a little lost. Maybe you can help us?” asked Elizabeth.

The old man who looked to be their leader stepped forward. His pale face was covered with wrinkles and he carried many extra pounds on his short frame, which made Jessica cringe just looking at him.

He’d look so much better if he just lost twenty pounds, she thought. She opened her muscular mouth to tell him this but was interrupted as he suddenly began to sing a song, something about the moon and a river. The Sweet Valley gang stared with their blemish-free jaws dropped.

“Can someone tell me what the hell is going on?” broke in Bruce with disgust.

The man abruptly stopped his song, a surprised expression coming over his shapeless features.

“I am Master Bilbo Baggins, wisest resident of Hobbiton. I have travelled these lands and have many stories to share,” said the man.

“And I am Frodo,” said a small hairy boy, stepping forward. “And this is Samwise, Merry and dear Pippin.”

Cute, thought Jessica, casting an alluring look at Frodo. He must be European.

“Nice to meet you, all of you,” said Elizabeth graciously. “And this is Lila, Bruce and Winston.”

A tall man wearing a white cloak suddenly stepped out of the shadows. Jessica felt her comely sister gasp and stiffen.

“And you are?” Jessica purred, bestowing an enticing smile upon the almost painfully thin man.

“I am Gandalf the Grey,” replied the mysterious man. He offered no further information.

“Uh, hi. I’m Liz, I mean Elizabeth, uh, Wakefield. We’re a size seven. I mean six. Six! I like your robe,” Elizabeth sputtered, her smooth face turning scarlet.

Jessica watched her usually eloquent sister bumble over her words and raised her sparkling eyebrows at Lila. What was going on? Liz never got flustered around people. In fact, Jessica often found her in the midst of giving reassuring speeches to various strangers in the grocery store. The only time Jessica ever saw her sister ruffled was when she first met Todd. A light bulb went off in Jessica’s lightweight head.

Hmm, so Liz has a crush on this homeless guy, huh? Jessica thought. She did always like the older type. I think that Frodo boy may have some potential but the rest are lost causes.

Jessica snapped back to attention as she heard her name. The chubby man was talking again.

“’Tis like looking at the same person when I look at you two,” Bilbo said. “Never have I seen such a thing, and I have seen wolves sing and a parade of nude country dwarves march by. Were you touched by a sorceress in your mother’s womb?”

“Thanks, yeah; people always tell us that we’re beautiful. What do you think, Frodo?” asked Jessica, staring deeply into the boy’s chocolate colored eyes, a shock of brown hair curled onto his forehead. He mumbled a few unintelligible words and looked down at the ground.

He must be visually impaired or ill, thought Jessica, feeling slightly offended by Frodo’s lack of response. Or maybe he’s one of those slow people from other towns that you see on TV.

“So we’re here because our bus broke down—why are you guys singing like church boys in the middle of a forest?” asked Bruce bluntly.

“Ah, ‘tis quite a tale. It began with a journey prior, of which I take many, and it was there that a discovery was made,” began Bilbo.

“Abridged version, please,” interrupted Bruce. “I’m already in a bad mood.”

“Poor Brucey didn’t get his usual breakfast of champagne and lobsters,” put in Winston, which earned him a punch on the arm from Bruce.

“Very well, my new acquaintance. My fellow hobbits and I are on a mysterious quest which will take us far and near. We will cross the Lothlorien Forest, travel through many towns and most likely encounter sensual dwarves and Elves on our way. When we reach our destination, we shall have a dangerous task to execute. We would be most pleased if you would join us, as your soaring heights and robust bodies will prove most useful,” explained Bilbo. “Will you join us on our quest?”

“Well, if you aren’t able to help us find Mr. Jaworski or a way out of here, then I think we’re wasting our time,” said Lila.

“Yeah, maybe we should just keep moving,” added Winston. “These guys have their own problems to deal with without us tagging along.”

“No! We have to stay together! For safety!” cried Elizabeth in a panic. “Mr. Jaworski left me in charge and I say we should stay with Gandalf and the rest of them. Don’t you think so, Jess?” She looked at Jessica with imploring and vibrant eyes.

Jessica felt indifferent and wanted to work on her tan. At least I’ll get some attention from males if we stick around these guys. I bet they’ll compliment me a lot, she figured. “Sure, let’s go with Bilbo Bagpan and Frodo. It can’t hurt to stay with some guys who know the land, right?”

“If that’s what you want, Jess, then I agree one hundred percent,” said Winston shyly, holding his size eleven shoe in his hand.

“Thanks, Win,” Jessica replied with a playful wink. It’s so easy to manipulate people when they’re in love with me, she wisely reflected.

“Whatever, Wakefield. Just know that if I die out here, my father will sue the hell out of your parents,” said Bruce. “He’ll take your dog just to spite you.”

Jessica rolled her graceful eyes and glanced at Lila to get her thoughts on the matter. Lila was staring in disdain at the small boy named Pippin, who was dancing in circles around Lila and trying to touch her hair.

“Great! We’re all in agreement!” announced Jessica. “Let’s get moving! Frodo, would you mind giving me a hand? I’m a little tired.” She stooped over to link her sultry arm through Frodo’s hairy one.

Did he just shudder at my touch? Jessica wondered. No, that’s the most insane thing I’ve ever heard. Must have just been a shiver of excitement.

Frodo again mumbled a few incoherent words which Jessica didn’t catch but let out a peal of flirtatious laughter anyway.

With Frodo and Jessica leading the way, the newly formed group set off together. Elizabeth lingered one step behind Gandalf, while Winston and Merry began chatting. Lila and Bruce walked together, both avoiding the weird dancing boy.

"To the Land of the Elves!" cried out Bilbo.

Jessica looked down at Frodo and smiled. You can play hard to get as long as you want, Frodo, she thought. No man or young boy can resist Jessica Wakefield in the end!

Will Frodo succumb to Jessica’s delightfully subtle yet gracefully flagrant charm, or does he have other plans in mind? Will Elizabeth and Gandalf soon call an emergency meeting of “The Oracle” to order? Will Pippin's lighthearted zest for life melt the cold, dead heart of Bruce Patman? And most importantly, will the Sweet Valley teens and the Hobbiton hobbits merge more than their collective groups?

STAY TUNED.

Thanksgiving Part II

2011-11-25T09:18:00.000-08:00

Yesterday was American Thanksgiving, aka Thanksgiving Part II, aka the day my boss lets us order in Swiss Chalet Festive Specials for lunch. It was also the day when I got to wear my sexy turkey costume to work.

You know, people scoffed last Halloween when I told them of my sexy turkey costume plans, but I was thinking of the long-term benefits. When would I ever reuse a sexy pigeon costume?! I have no regrets.

Though my Thanksgiving was spent in an office, it was probably pretty similar to yours.

We expressed our gratitude for the meal we were about to consume.

We feasted.

We forced festive cheer upon those who did not want it.

And we spilled cranberry sauce on the white carpet.

The stain is now covered by a desk drawer that must forever remain open. The boss will never suspect a thing!

This year, I am thankful for many a reason.

I am thankful for the Great Grains Facebook group, of which I participate in daily.

I like talking to other people who enjoy Great Grains. And I like talking about cats in relation to Great Grains. And I like talking about my ideas for Great Grains-themed fanfictions (mostly non-erotic). I think the group might hate me but I sure do love them.

I am thankful for my roommates, who make me laugh and are among the very few people that I could stand seeing in the mornings for 6:00 a.m. jogs.

(Explanation: we've just embarked on a new fitness routine and I am actually very pumped about it because I love exercise, even when it takes place in the pitch black and it's minus ten Celsius outside. Talk to me in a week to see how pumped up I remain.)

My roommates are also perhaps the most frequent commenters on my blog and I promise you that I do not force them to do this. Yes, I give each of them the silent treatment until I see a sufficiently complimentary comment on each post, and yeah, I withhold necessary life resources from them until they congratulate me in person on each new post , but I use no force. I'm way too busy for that.

I am thankful that Money has made it through another year.

That may sound callous, but I think it is something worth celebrating. It's been a rough year for Money. There was that short bout with fleas (are they still there? Who knows? It's more fun being a mystery) and her balance has grown so poor that she falls off the couch at least twice a day. It's not easy being Money but at least she looks good in hats. A lot of cats don't.

I am thankful for an eventful year of travel that allowed me to see my Mom and my brother Devin, hang with my cherished old friends and also make a few new ones.

(fancy photos courtesy of my talented friend Jenn)

But mostly I'm thankful for the self-serve frozen yogurt place that's opening up right by my work. That stuff is crazy!

(I hope you had a) Happy Thanksgiving, my American family and friends! Let's just ignore Black Friday, aight? Unless it's at Target and then I completely understand.

Hobbit Heartache-- Chapter Four: A Journey Begins

2011-11-14T20:15:00.000-08:00

The hobbits are caught in an erotic web of love and also the cohesive material that spider webs are made out of.

As I begin this post, I am sitting on the floor in the Washington Dulles International Airport at 11:00 p.m., waiting for a delayed flight back home. I've just spent the weekend celebrating one of my best friend's wedding (congratulations, Rosie and Joe!), and am feeling overwhelmed with all of the happiness this weekend brought. Old friendships, new friendships, jumping shots on the beach-- this weekend truly had it all.

Love.

And I thought to myself, still whilst sitting on that airport floor, what better way to capture these feelings of love than to work on the ol' erotic fanfiction novel? Rosie and Joe, I hereby dedicate this erotic chapter of Hobbit Heartache to you (the best wedding present money could buy, eh?).

I know it's been awhile, so I will very kindly sum up Hobbit Heartache, the Sweet Valley High/Lord of the Rings crossover erotic fanfiction novel, thus far in one (1) sentence for everyone.

Spring Break in Middle-earth isn't exactly what the Sweet Valley High gang envisioned after their tour bus explodes, leaving them stranded and lost in the forest; meanwhile, the gaping hole in Frodo's heart leads him to volunteer for a mysterious journey with his beloved Bilbo Baggins, who, along with the carnally creative Merry, the staggering sot Samwise, the delightfully dimwitted Pippin and the masterfully mystifying Gandalf, will soon prove that Sweet Valley isn't the only town where almost anything can happen...

Got it?

Okay, you know what? I tried. Do it the hard way and read Chapter One, Two and Three. Or call me and we'll talk through it.

Now that we're all caught up, let's get to what you've all been waiting for: the chapter where you get to read about a nude Bilbo bathing in the Hobbiton springs! Hot damn.

Enjoy. (And also remember that I know nothing about LOTR and this is my complete imagining of their world. And enjoy.)

Limited edition prints available from Zak Tatham.

Chapter Four—A Journey Begins

Morning in Hobbiton came as rays of sun spread over the remnants of the previous night’s festivities. Sleeping hobbits lay splayed across grass, covered by a moist blanket of dewdrops. The once-magnificent fire had breathed its last breath and was now composed of a few dying embers, cool to the touch. Though the hobbits had danced well into the night, the revelry had been mixed with a touch of apprehension, for all of Hobbiton wondered what would soon face them.

From within a deep slumber, Frodo heard the sweet call of a lilac-spotted dove and willed his eyes to open and face the morn. He tried to move his body upright but found he could not, for Merry’s arm was strewn over him, the long, black strands of curly hair shining with clear drops of dew. It seemed that Merry’s warm body had pressed close against Frodo’s all the night long, for there was not a bit of space between the two.

“Merry,” Frodo whispered into his friend’s ear, “it is time to rouse yourself, for the sun is shining and the song of the birds can be heard loud and clear.”

Merry awoke with a start, his eyes widening as the realization of his close proximity to Frodo dawned upon him. His hands fluttered to the front of his brown tunic, brushing against his hardened rod with alarm. It brought none of the pleasure that it normally did. He smoothed his tunic front over his burlap trousers with the speed of a jackrabbit and silently willed for Frodo to look elsewhere. Merry’s interrupted dream had been quite stimulating, as his dreams tended to be.

“You must have been fraught with cold throughout the night, Merry, for I awoke with your body pressed tightly against mine!” said Frodo.

Merry forced himself to chuckle and opened his mouth to voice feeble excuses but Frodo continued to speak.

“What ho! Look Merry, Bilbo is coming! He looks grand in the sunlight, does he not?” said Frodo, gazing with shining eyes at the approaching figure. Merry shuddered with silent rage at the sight of Bilbo’s aged and boastful face.

“What morn, Frodo, Merry!” called Bilbo, his arms filled with rucksacks and a goatskin of water. “I hope the evening’s slumber found you well, for today is the day that we must begin our journey. Wake Samwise and Pippin and prepare your rucksack as I instructed. We shall meet in one hour’s time, by the town well. Do what you must. I will be at the spring, soaking my body one last time before our trek. Oh, how I will miss my soaks!” Bilbo declared, a sad smile on his wizened face.

He turned and headed towards Hobbiton’s clear cold-water spring. The spring was used for bathing and the washing of clothes. In warmer weather, many a hobbit could be found splashing in the frigid waters amongst the large, tiger-striped fish that lived there in peace.

Frodo knelt to rouse the sleeping Samwise and Pippin, who were surrounded by a circle of dried vomitus. He kept one wide eye on Bilbo at the spring in the distance. He watched enraptured as Bilbo removed his robe, a flash of saggy, snow white skin suddenly visible. As Bilbo waded into the water, the sweet rolls of his well-upholstered body gently undulated and his generous buttocks swayed to and fro.

An hour quickly flew by, as they are known to do. The four hobbits gathered by the well, having packed their bags and said their farewells. Samwise had a small vomiting spell into the town well before they left, which he attributed to the nerves in his belly. Bilbo joined them, and as they set off into the forest and left their dear Hobbiton behind, he began a walking song.

Bilbo sang for the next three hours time as they hiked deep into the woods. Pippin skipped forward and danced to the tune that Bilbo sang, clapping his small hands to the beat. The rest of the hobbits enjoyed the shade of the pine trees and willows, their calloused feet travelling with ease over the roots and gullies that covered the forest bed. Merry walked behind Frodo, taking unnatural pleasure in watching his hard-working rump, while Sam held Pippin in his sight at all times.

They travelled forth in this manner, stopping occasionally to sip from a cool brook or to pick wild berries. Samwise took increasingly frequent swallows from his goatskin canteen but the hydration did not seem to help his balance. On and on they walked, until the sun had made her way to the west and Bilbo finally halted.

“Now, dear hobbits, we rest,” he instructed, “for exhaustion will serve us no purpose.” He sat down on a fallen log and stretched his feet in front of him, the whitened hair covering his feet like the snow that fell freely in the Land of the Elves. The rest of the hobbits joined him on the forest floor.

“Bilbo, would you care for me to massage your feet into health? They surely must grow weary carrying so much wisdom around,” Frodo asked eagerly. Sam nodded his head in agreement while Merry felt a surge of nausea.

“No, no, Frodo, that is most kind but you must save your strength. Tomorrow will be a most important day, I feel,” replied Bilbo. His eyelids began to droop and Pippin gave him a gentle poke to keep him awake.

“Mr. Bilbo, what will happen tomorrow? And where are we traveling to?” asked Sam.

“Samwise, tomorrow I know not what will happen. And I know not where we travel towards. What I do know is that we travel with a clear purpose in our hearts and that we will be guided along the way. We must trust that we will learn our journey as it comes and it will lead us to the ring, which we will then destroy,” said Bilbo. “Here, I shall sing you a song which will ease your fears.”

Along a path I know not of

And the shadows that--

“No disrespect do I intend, Mr. Bilbo, but I myself would feel better had we a map or a plan of sorts,” interrupted Merry, the scorn dripping from his voice like the sweet viridescent liquid that so often dripped from his rigid scepter.

“Ah Merry, worry not about these lands; I know them all well from my travels. We have passed the outskirts of Hobbiton now, and passed into the shaded lands. If we travel forth in this direction, tomorrow we will enter the Fangorn Forest. There we will see flowers with blossoms larger than our heads and must be wary of the wild boars that roam the land,” replied Bilbo. “But that is not now. Now, we sleep.”

All questions had been answered and all fears allayed. With hairy feet and weighed eyelids, the hobbits crafted beds out of the pine brushes and leaves and went to sleep.

The slumber was deep and soon their heads were filled with dreams. From the depths of his nocturnal world, in which Bilbo had been performing a slow and enticing jig, Frodo heard Pippin faintly calling out his name. Pippin called yet again, and he called for Samwise as well. Frodo used all his might to reluctantly leave his dreams and open his eyes. As soon as he did so, he was greeted by a thick blanket of silver around his body, so tightly woven that he was unable to move. It shone brightly in the moonlight and glimmered as if composed of the steel found in human town of Gondor.

“Pippin! What is this above my head? I cannot move!” cried out Frodo in distress.

“Spiders! Oh, spiders!” moaned Pippin, who was trying to thrash about but could not, for the restraining nature of the substance.

Frodo moved his head in the slightest degrees to see that his fellow travellers were encased like he in a massive cocoon of sorts. Bilbo was still in a deep sleep but Samwise and Merry had woken and their eyes were wide with fear.

“Frodo, what imprisons us so? What is this silver material?” called out Merry.

“Spiders!” cried Pippin yet again. For a spirited dancer such as Pippin, this captivity was akin to torture, though Merry was finding that he almost enjoyed the binding. It brought him back to a particularly stirring night spent in the company of Lobelia and Otho after many a jug of brandywine had been consumed. Merry had used his knowledge of twine and knotting to create a netting with which Otho was restrained, and-- No, Merry thought to himself, ceasing his tantalizing line of thought. I must not venture there now, for Frodo needs me.

“Hush Pippin, worry not. We shall resolve this and soon be free,” said Frodo to soothe the worried boy.

“Your bravery reassures me to my deepest core, Frodo,” said Merry, “and it fills my lower regions with—” Merry was interrupted by the voice of Sam.

“Listen with care, Frodo! I believe Pippin might be correct when he cries of spiders. Look at this silver material. It seems to be strong yet translucent, much like the web of a spider! We are deep in a strange forest, where we know not the creatures that hide within. I do not doubt that this web could have been woven by forest spiders,” said Sam.

“But imagine the size of the spiders who could craft such an intricate and immense web in a mere few hours time, Samwise! It is comparable to the blankets that Mabel weaves and those take her quite some time, though she is a diligent worker,” said Frodo.

“Aye, she is,” agreed Sam, unable to nod his head. “And if these spiders worked so diligently on this web which surrounds us, I believe they must have indeed wanted us trapped.”

Frodo reflected upon this thought for a moment and felt fear slowly take over his stocky limbs. Could it truly be spiders? Frodo had hated spiders since he was a young hobbit and Pippin had mischievously hidden a spider into his boiled root stew. Frodo had not realized what he ingested until it was far too late and by then he could only grip his belly and moan. Since that occasion he had taken care to avoid spiders as much as possible in Hobbiton and Pippin was most certainly forbidden from entering his kitchen. But now the hobbits were quite possibly entrapped deep within a vast spider’s web! Oh, what to do!

“Oh, if only Bilbo were awake! He would surely sing a song which could help us out of this tricky state,” cried Frodo. Merry could hear the desperation which filled Frodo’s voice and wished that he were bound closer to him to ease his fear with the touch of his bushy hands.

Shadows of darkness suddenly clouded the silver webs. Frodo could feel the web push closer to his face, weighted down by the landing of black objects which could only be the feared arachnids. The web obscured his vision but he could feel the multiple legs sinking slowly into the web and baring down onto his body. His breathing became staggered as the weight on this chest grew. To imagine the size of these spiders brought tears to his eyes. The creatures felt composed of cast iron, so heavy were they!

A single black spider leg broke through the web and grazed Frodo’s face. A scream from Pippin let Frodo know that the same was happening to the rest of his companions.

“We are doomed! Hullo Death, you have arrived early!” sobbed Frodo. “And still Bilbo sleeps, unaware that soon we shall part!”

The spider’s massive body crawled through the web and Frodo could glimpse five more spiders behind him still. Their eyes shone a deep red, glowing as if lit by a sorcerer’s fire. Frodo felt the warm, rancid breath of the beast on his face and mourned, for his end was near.

But what was this? The hot breath of the spiders grew as they let out a piercing call which burned the hobbit’s ears. A light suddenly spread over the entrapped group. It was iridescent and beautiful and somehow soothed Frodo’s fear.

As he struggled to see the source of this light, he felt his chest move with ease and discovered that the giant spiders were scurrying off into the woods. They moved away from the hobbits as fast as their considerable legs could carry them.

Frodo let out a cry of wonderment as he realized he could once again move. They were free! The four hobbits clawed their way through the loose webs, limbs fighting through layer after layer of the viscous strings. Though their vision was clouded, Frodo could make out the indistinct shape of a towering male, standing before them in the shadows. Frodo staggered to his feet, helping his friends to stand up forth alongside him.

“Merry, there is no need to cling to me so tightly in fear. We have somehow been freed!” called out Frodo.

“Aye Frodo, such a harrowing experience it was! Truly one that bonds two souls and one that makes you yearn for the weight of a body on top of you,” said Merry. He was massaging Frodo’s shoulders with the gentlest of touch. Confusion dripped over Frodo like the piquant nectar that so frequently dripped from Merry’s iron protuberance.

“Did you see that wondrous light? It must have been the work of magic!” cried Sam.

In all of the excitement that sudden freedom brings, the group had forgotten about the shadowy figure cloaked in the darkness. But the slow-minded Pippin remembered and pointed outwards, dancing about.

“You! You who hides in the shadows and saved us from a certain death, reveal yourself!” called out Frodo.

“Yes, kind stranger, we must repay you somehow!” added Samwise, brushing remnants of web out of his leg hair while clutching his goatskin canteen.

With the slowest of pace, a robed figure in white emerged from the nightfall. Frodo’s eyes required a moment to adjust and see with clarity. A gasp arose from the hobbits as they realized who was before them.

“Why, it is Gandalf the Grey!” cried Frodo in surprise. And indeed it was true, for standing before the hobbits was the mystical wizard himself.

“Yes,” replied the wizard, “and I bring you news.”

What is this news that the mystical Gandalf brings? Will Frodo express his love to Bilbo before it’s too late? With Samwise’s constant vomiting, is severe dehydration looming in his future? And is Merry’s knowledge of erotic knotting and nets enough to save the hobbits from the most terrifying adventure they’ve had to face yet—LOVE?

STAY TUNED.

Halloween 2011: Even Sexier Than 2010

2011-11-03T19:04:00.000-07:00

As always, the house party was a success.

Mood: Melancholic

The first week of November is always tainted by the post-Halloween blues for me. The dismantling of decorative cobwebs, the discarding of rotted pumpkins and the dwindling supply of candy bars in our house are all a few of my least favorite things.

But I shall remember Halloween 2011 as a time of laughter. A time of gelatin libations. A flurry of face paint, powdered wigs and bronzer five shades too dark. It's not too soon to reminisce, is it?

Velvet doesn't think so. HALLOWEEN MEGA BLOGPOST TIME!

We started the Halloween festivities on Friday with a party at my friend Sammie's house. Sammie runs her own fitness company, so we knew this party was going to be full of sexy fitness instructors in sexy costumes. With us being more of sexy TV-watchers/cat owners, the pressure was on to look good. REAL good.

So we sexed it up! I'm talking skintight long johns, bare shoulders with nary a pashmina in sight and powdered wigs with only one coat of baby powder. We were like a small, well-mannered army of skanks.

Heather was a sexy zebra, Velvet was a sexy flapper and can you guess what I am?

No?

...Maybe THIS will help.

Sexy George Washington, duh! Now it all makes sense.

The party was a flurry of sexy dancing, sexy catered foods, sexy DJ's spinning house music and even a sexy pinata filled with candy. Needless to say, we partook in all of these activities.

By which I mean we ate a lot of catered food and candy. A looooootttttt of candy. You have to eat like ten (10) fun-size candy bars to equal one (1) normal candy bar, so whatever. It wasn't weird.

If you want guests who hoard their own candy stashes, we're your gals!

And in the most ironical highlight of the night, guess who won best female costume?

SEXY GEORGE WASHINGTON!

I accepted my bottle of Moet & Chandon, the finest of all the effervescent ales, with a ten (10) minute inaugural address urging my fellow partygoers to improve our alliance with France and to explore the western lands. Eric won the Best Male Costume prize with his (vintage) Tigger costume. You can see him passed out on the couch here after doing too many push-ups (actually true. I told you it was a fitness party). Shortly after our wins, we said our farewells to prepare for Saturday.

Time for costume number two (2) and a festive gathering at our abode!

Guaranteed the living room will still look exactly like this three (3) months from now.

Velvet and I were VERY excited for our costume this year. It was one that we've been thinking about doing for years, and what with Occupy Wall Street and the upcoming elections, we knew it was time.

It required a lot of handiwork, of which Velvet did most and of which she did an amazing job.

Fun Fact: Our book was almost mistakenly titled "Goulish Games," which would have actually been okay, since spelling errors are pretty de rigueur in Sweet Valley High.

Ready for the final product?

We FINALLY got to live our dreams and be Jessica and Elizabeth freakin' Wakefield for a night! And it was everything we ever dreamed it would be!

Not too bad, huh? And yes, Velvet and I understand how good we look with platinum, sun-kissed blonde hair. No need to comment upon it.

In my night as Jessica Wakefield, I made at least three (3) different grand entrances to the party, won twelve (12) contests, was asked out by every single male present and seductively purred one hundred and thirty-seven (137) times. I also cheated on several boyfriends, destroyed a few people's reputations and betrayed my own twin sister numerous times. Busy night!

And of course, the best part of this costume was the multitude of photo opportunities. While Velvet and I definitely recreated some of the classic Sweet Valley High covers, our guests helped us invent a few new stories that Francine Pascal strangely forgot to write.

Title: Smuggler's Secret

Tagline: After her brief stint as a drug mule goes awry, Jessica is forced to spend ten years in a Thai prison. Will she win the title Queen of Lard Yao's Ward Nine or will her newfound rival Anchali upstage her?

Title: Primate Love

Tagline: Liz's summer internship at the Sweet Valley Zoo leads her to find love where she least expects it. Whose chocolate brown eyes will she choose--Todd's or Miko the Ape's?

Title: Tool Time Terror
Tagline: When Al Borland and Wilson come to Sweet Valley to undertake a little home improvement on the Wakefield's split-level Spanish-style house, disaster strikes. Will Elizabeth be able to repair the structural damage done to her beautiful home, or will she be forever doomed to live in a poorly grouted and sunken house?

Title: Distressed Denim

Tagline: Jessica has fallen hard for Brick, a Hell's Angel with a passion for arson. She'll do anything to grab his attention...even if it means murder. After Jessica burns down Fowler Memorial Hospital, Elizabeth knows she must intervene. Will Elizabeth stand in the way of this fiery love match or will Jessica be caught in her own flames of hell?

Title: Brotherly Love

Tagline: The twin's older brother, Steven, has flunked out of college and is back at Sweet Valley High with Jess and Liz. Will the holy trifecta of Wakefield's rule the school or will Steven's elicit affair with Mr. Collins be the scandal that finally tears them apart?

All these titles and more coming soon to a bookstore dumpster near you!

After our guests had fulfilled their dreams of starring in their own Sweet Valley High novel, the party proceeded as most parties do.

People laughed.

People lurked.

(mostly just this guy.)

And people terrorized the cats.

The party ended around 4:30 a.m., with about five (5) people dancing in the living room to Sean Kingston's "Shawty Fire Burnin' on the Dance Floor" (which, coincidentally, is a favorite song of both Jessica and Elizabeth Wakefield's).

Like any good Halloween, we finished with a night of costumed dodgeball.

We may have lost both of our games, but boy, did we have spirit. I also learned the valuable Halloween lesson that wearing a woolen coat and powdered wig to dodgeball will NOT contribute to your catches, dodges, self-esteem or ease of breathing. You live and you learn.

And now I sit in our bat-filled living room and patiently wait until the next occasion when I can don a costume. American Thanksgiving, I'm looking at you.

Mark my words, my cat will be wearing this costume, only sexier.

(I hope you had a) HAPPY HALLOWEEN, EVERYONE!

My Adventure with The Onion

2011-10-25T07:49:00.000-07:00

I'd like to interrupt your regular reading of Hobbit Heartache to tell you a tale. It is a tale of a journey I am currently taking, a journey that most likely will not have a happy ending. After embarking on this journey, well, I can certainly understand how the hobbits feel in their quest to Gondor or wherever the hell they're going. Or how Jessica and Elizabeth felt when they went to Malibu to be au pairs for the summer. Or how Bilbo felt when he went to the sexy Land of the Elves. Or how the twins felt when they went to Paradise Spa and there was a murderous spa director and she...

Sorry. I'll stop.

(You'll have to forgive me; my mind is kind of stuck in those two worlds as of late and will continue to be so probably until 2013.)

Seriously, this is what the inside of my head looks like these days, but with less hobbit beer and more cat puke (Money is sick).

AHEM. Back to my journey. Well, it all began when I learned that the satirical newspaper The Onion was heading to Canada. Writing for a paper like The Onion comes pretty close to my dream job, which involves starting up cereal-based letter writing campaigns, wearing costumes in public and petting dogs (I feel like craigslist is my best bet there). I knew I couldn't waste this opportunity like I did with the Harry Potter job. Or like when I sent my audition tape for America's Next Top Model: All Stars Season to the wrong Tyra Banks. Or when Squash Ontario refused to sponsor me in the World's Largest Squash Casserole competition. No, I really had to nail this.

You thinking what I'm thinking?

Time for a barrage of letters displaying my multifaceted personality and unwavering-to-the-point-of-fear-provoking persistence!

Note: It's a fine, fine line between "you're hired" and "our legal counsel has issued a cease and desist."

Like any hopeful applicant, I began by doing a little research. I closely examined The Onion's policy on receiving resumes. It is as follows: "Please do not send/e-mail resumes concerning listed positions unless specifically told to do so in the listing. Any unsolicited resumes will be immediately discarded."

Well. That seems open to interpretation.

They did not discuss their policy for sending resumes for unlisted positions. Nor did it discuss their policy on receiving acceptance letters.

And thus, the adventure begins:

A month goes by. I hear nothing from The Onion, not even from Matt at the office. I start to fret a little bit, because, you know, I'd asked some important questions that needed answers. Time was of the essence, which is why I had marked the envelope as "URGENT" two (2) times. I wanted to shop for my new uniform clothes while the summer dickey sales were still going strong. I also wanted to print a few mock business cards to distribute before the official ones were made because you know I'm all about networking.

The zebra one is perfect for "Casual Friday," right? That's what I was thinking, too. Now, if only The Onion would write me back so I could figure out how many I'd need for my new job. I took a guess and bought six (6).

I kept my head up and continued to maintain my extensive exercise regime. In the midst of a squat series which involved the use of both wooden planks and steel buckets of boiling water, the answer hit me: of COURSE they hadn't replied! I forgot to send them my references! A rookie mistake, one that I really should have known better. But one that can be easily fixed.

The adventure continues. And since all of my previous references have politely asked me not to contact them again, I had to go a different route.

I also remembered to include my resume and "Books Read in 2009" list this time. I wanted to make sure that they knew I could write articles about all kinds of things, like senior cats and kids that live in boxcars and also monsters (both in mythology and real life).

I also of course included my headshot. It's a bit outdated but I think it still accurately conveys my intensity for The Onion.

(I have new headshots that feature both my roommates and my cat Money but getting rid of the red eye has taken longer than expected. Fingers crossed for January 2012!)

Possibly 2013.

I sit and I wait for another month, checking my mailbox daily with growing frustration. I try to stay positive but I can't deny that my exercise regime is slipping. I'm down to lifting five (5) gallon buckets of water instead of ten (10). My dickeys are gathering dust in my closet, my fanfiction work is taking a turn for the morbid, and yeah, my hygiene is suffering as well. I've been down this road before with previous letter writing campaigns (Francine Pascal, I'm looking at you right now), and it's neither healthy nor good for me.

My deepening depression luckily did not affect our evening spinning classes. 3x a week will do wonders!

To make matters even worse, The Onion prints their first Toronto edition, and sure enough, my articles have not made the front page. In fact, they're not printed at all. I am filled with shame.

(Is two (2) gifs per post pushing the limits? I'm still testing the waters here.)

I reach out my vulnerable and increasingly untoned arms once again.

... And still, nothing. NOTHING. Not even from Joan after I included the first six (6) chapters of Hobbit Heartache, the Sweet Valley High/Lord of the Rings erotic crossover fanfiction especially for her. I'd like to blame it on the postal system, but as I just received a new SVH shipment from Amazon, (Wakefield Legacy: The Untold Story, I warmly welcome you into my life), I know it just can't be.

For when you're in the mood for an epic.

But those who know me know that I do not relent easily. I'm in the midst of a 5,600 word article debating the merits of gray cats over orange ones so I can prove to The Onion that I can be topical as well as informative. And after that, I'm mailing them a collage comprised of both dried and moist onion skins (mostly red, but also yellow and white onion skins for accent) to show my versatility.

It will be five (5) feet tall and bring tears to the eyes of all who gaze upon it.

(If you have any extra onion skins you'd like to contribute, feel free to drop them off at my house anytime, night or day (preferably dawn). My roommate Heather is in charge of the collection, so you can just slide them right under her door or throw them at her window. I will need at least 300.)

Are my letters/handmade projects/half-finished novels most likely being thrown immediately into the garbage, you ask? Oh, almost certainly. Is that going to stop me? Well, probably, yeah. Eventually. I got erotic fanfictions to write! But there is a part of me that really hopes something comes of this, even if it's just a standard rejection letter from a truly awesome newspaper. I really don't want to have to toss my five hundred (500) new Onion business cards. I'm still getting through my Samantha Clark: ANTM All Star ones.

It's sad because I was fairly certain we would hit it off.

You can bet your bippy I'll be keeping you updated of any progress with this adventure, and I gladly welcome any advice or encouragement. But for now, it's back to Middle-earth with me, where I shall emerge only briefly to create my Halloween costumes. Does anyone have thirty (30) cats I can borrow? (Feral preferred.)

Hobbit Heartache: Chapter 3

2011-10-13T07:39:00.000-07:00

(Guess who's learning Photoshop?!)

Imma stop you before you dive right into Chapter Three (3) of Hobbit Heartache, the Sweet Valley High/Lord of the Rings erotic crossover fanfiction. And I'm going to warn you: this chapter gets real.

You're right to feel like this.

Yeah, I know that in Chapter One, things were all fine and dandy and the Sweet Valley gang was flying to Middle-earth, and maybe even some people were getting a little frisky in the plane bathroom and Winston was all gangly and awkward because he has big feet and the twins had a shared dream and those are always fun and we were all excited to start Sweet Valley High's 427th's Spring Break.

These two had fun in Chapter One.

And I also know that in Chapter Two, the hobbits were all feasting and dancing in the Shire and sure, maybe Frodo was a little sad but then Bilbo came home and he had crazy news and they're about to go on a huge adventure and also sure, maybe Samwise drank a bit too much brandywine and passed out, but who hasn't been there?

Frodo had a bit of fun in Chapter Two.

Here's the thing: NO ONE HAS FUN IN CHAPTER THREE. And that's because things take a turn for the terrifying. If I've learned anything from my years of reading SVH, it's that when you leave Sweet Valley, bad things happen. Very bad things. And also that I should just give up on life because my hair is not a sun-streaked gilded blonde, but alas, a mousy brunette. But persist I shall, if only to bring you the third chapter of Hobbit Heartache. So I really hope you enjoy it.

Enough talk; let's land this plane in Middle-earth!

Artwork by the explosive Zak Tatham

Chapter Three

Elizabeth gazed out the bus window, taking in Middle-earth’s lush green scenery. How beautiful, she thought, almost like Sweet Valley’s country club. The club was the most breathtaking place she knew, and the site of many Wakefield family celebrations. Elizabeth sighed, feeling the first pangs of homesickness for her family back home and their elegantly decorated split-level Spanish-style house. The group had only been in Middle-earth for a few hours, but already it had been a rough trip.

Upon landing in the JFK Middle-earth Airport, the students had been led by Mr. Jaworski to the luggage area to collect their bags. But instead of seeing a colorful merry-go-round of luggage, they had been greeted by an empty terminal, with cobwebs and dust covering the luggage carousel. When they tried to find an airport employee to help them, the students only found a short child sitting behind the customer service counter. When the worker caught sight of the group, he scurried off as fast as he could without saying so much as a word. And Winston swore up and down that the worker wasn’t even wearing shoes!

After waiting for over an hour, the students had to board the charter bus Mr. Jaworski rented without their luggage. Mr. Jaworski had climbed into the driver’s seat of the bus, looking frazzled and uneager to attempt driving on the Middle-earth primitive roads.

Elizabeth thought back to that airport worker and how strange he had been. He couldn’t have been more than a ten year old, based on his height, she mused. And he seemed to have an unusual amount of body hair. He must have some sort of hormonal disorder, that poor kid. I wish there was some way I could help him. Maybe I could hold a fundraiser or some sort of charity ball when we get back home and mail the proceeds to Middle-earth.

Elizabeth was jolted out of her generous thoughts by a huge bump on the bus. Her flawlessly shaped head banged into the glass of the window, and she groaned in pain. The bump woke up Jessica and the rest of the students who had been napping off the jet lag.

“What? What time is it?” mumbled Jessica, rubbing her sleep-filled aquamarine eyes.

“It’s okay, Jess; we just hit a bump on the road. I’m sure we’ll be moving again in no time,” responded Elizabeth soothingly.

“Maybe if they’d pave the stupid roads, we wouldn’t hit so many bumps,” said Lila crankily, stretching her arms over her head.

“Come on, Lila, we have to respect Middle-earth’s traditions and ways. Experiencing different cultures is the most exciting part of traveling! It can’t all be like Sweet Valley, where the roads are as smooth as Jessica’s and my skin and no one ever litters,” replied Elizabeth, to which Lila merely rolled her eyes and leaned back in her seat to resume her nap.

“Hey, what’s going on, Mr. J? Why aren’t we moving?” yelled Bruce from the back of the bus, where he had cozily settled in with Annie “Easy Annie” Whitman.

Mr. Jaworski turned the bus engine off and climbed down the bus steps to investigate the problem. After a few minutes, he returned and stood at the front of the bus, looking at the tired students with a grim face.

“Well, guys, I’m afraid I have some bad news. We hit a major pothole back there and it looks like the entire front wheel and axle are out of commission,” he announced.

“What does that mean, exactly?” asked Elizabeth, her voice full of concern.

“Are we going to die??” shrieked Jessica, a look of sophisticated panic painted onto her dazzling features.

“I will not be dying in Middle-earth on a bus wearing a two day old outfit,” stated Lila frostily.

Mr. Jaworski sighed. “Please, everyone, calm down; no one is going to die. I’m just going to have to try to make it back to the airport to get some help and call a mechanic. We were only a few hours away; I can make it there by sunset if I start walking now. We’ll have this bus up and running by this evening.

While I’m gone, everyone must remain on this bus at all times. Does everyone understand? I don’t want to hear that any one of you took a single step off of this bus. Not a single step. Elizabeth will be in charge until I get back. I know that you’ll all cooperate and treat her with respect, isn’t that right?” Mr. Jaworski looked pointedly at all of the students. “Now sit tight; I’ll be back as soon as I can!” he called, already heading out of the bus door and into the lush forest, a backpack slung over his shoulder.

Elizabeth’s luminescent eyes widened and she sat up straight in her seat. She felt honored that Mr. Jaworski would trust her with such a responsibility. She vowed right then and there that she would do her best to keep her friends safe and out of harm’s way. She stood up and strode to the front of the bus where Mr. Jaworski had stood seconds before.

“Okay guys, you heard Mr. Jaworski. We just have to stay calm and stay in the bus and we’ll be fine,” said Elizabeth.

“But Liz….what if I have to…you know…” called out Winston, a pained look on his gangly face.

“Very funny, Win. You’re just going to have to hold it,” said Liz, a blush coloring her cherubic cheeks.

“Uh, Liz, I kind of have to go, too,” said Ken bashfully, his sandy blond hair falling into his face.

“Guys! Didn’t you listen at all? We have to stay on the bus! We’re in the middle of the woods—it’s not safe out there. Plus, it’s going to be dark soon,” said Liz in an exasperated voice.

Bruce stood up, a defiant look on his face. “You know what, Wakefield, I’m sick of this bus and I’m already sick of listening to you get off on being in charge. I’m going outside to smoke this Cuban cigar I snuck on the plane. Any ladies who want to join me can come along,” he said, stepping over Easy Annie and into the aisle.

Elizabeth watched in dismay as Bruce strode down the bus steps. One by one, he was followed by almost all of the students on board, most casting guilty looks at Elizabeth as they stepped off the bus and into the fresh air. Soon just the twins were left on the bus. Jessica gave her sister a pleading look with her shiny eyes.

“Please Lizzie…a few minutes outside won’t kill us. We all need to stretch our legs or else we’ll go crazy!” she said, her voice dripping with honey. “Just a few minutes is all.”

Elizabeth sighed. Jessica was very hard to resist whenever she wanted something, a fact that Jessica herself was well aware of. Before Elizabeth even said a word, Jessica saw her relenting eyes and squealed in happiness. “Let’s go, Lizzie; you won’t regret this!” she cried over her shoulder as she bounded towards the bus exit.

The visually appealing girls left the bus and surveyed the outside. The students had divided into little groups in the forest. Olivia, wearing a long skirt made of hemp and peat moss, was sitting on the grass strumming her guitar. Winston was performing an Irish jig to Olivia’s music, continuously stumbling on his lanky legs. Lila was examining her makeup with a mirror and scowling in the general direction of the music. Easy Annie was chatting with Ken, slowly moving her arm down his muscular chest and into the waistband of his jeans. Leaning against the bus was Bruce, smoking his Cuban cigar with an air of nonchalance. Jessica made a beeline for the handsome Bruce and Elizabeth followed reluctantly behind.

“Well, well, if it isn’t our fearless leader,” said Bruce, sneering at Liz. She frowned in return, the frown somehow still not tainting her dainty features.

“Hey Bruce, got one of those for me?” purred Jessica, leaning against Bruce so their toned bodies touched. Having no physical contact with males for the past day had proved very difficult for the flirtatious Jessica. While she usually had a more-than-frosty attitude towards Bruce after their short but disastrous relationship, there was a definite shortage of eligible males on the trip. And, Jessica reasoned, while Bruce might be irreparably damaging to the self-esteem, he sure was easy on the eyes.

“I’m not sure you can handle this, sweetheart,” teased Bruce in a husky voice. “My father got it at a famous cigar store in San Francisco during his trip last week.”

“That’s odd, our mother just came back from San Francisco, too,” remarked Elizabeth, looking puzzled. “She said there was a wallpaper conference…” Elizabeth trailed off and realized that her mother hadn’t provided any more details of her trip. I must not have been paying attention, she mused.

Jessica cleared her mucus-free throat, annoyed that Bruce’s attention had strayed from her. “Oh, I think I handled it just fine when we were at the lake house,” she said seductively.

“Hey, I’m part Cuban! Lemme have a puff of that!” called out Winston, running over and grabbing the lit cigar out of Bruce’s hand.

“Egbert, I swear on my father’s fortune that if you do not give me that cigar back in three seconds, I will snap your scrawny, four-eyed body in half,” said Bruce, lunging at Winston, who danced out of his grasp and waved the cigar wildly in the air.

Jessica and Elizabeth giggled while the two boys did a sort of fencing routine, with Bruce trying to swipe at Winston, who kept stumbling out of the way. The other students noticed the scuffle and began cheering for the different boys, pretending it was one of Sweet Valley High’s popular wrestling matches. Then suddenly the playful expression on Winston’s face changed as he tripped over his size eleven feet and fell to the ground, the cigar flying in the air and landing directly under the bus’ gas tank, which had leaked a small puddle of gasoline during their earlier troubles.

Elizabeth instantly knew that they were headed for trouble. She hollered in her loudest voice “Everybody move!” Get away from the bus!” and ran towards the forest, pulling a confused yet beautiful Jessica behind her.

Sparks began to fly and a horrible smell filled the air as the students fled towards the woods. A series of crackling sounds came from the bus, each one louder than the next. It sounded as if the bus were breaking from the inside out, with horrible creaking sounds that made Elizabeth shudder with fear. Suddenly, a huge explosion tore the bus apart, throwing Jessica and Elizabeth to their striking knees.

Flames burst high into the air, the orangey-red hues mixing with the black smoke to color the sky an ominous shade. Winston and Bruce staggered forward, each coughing furiously as the thick smoke entered their subpar lungs. Jessica caught sight of Lila running ahead, her porcelain skin covered in soot and dirt. The twins pulled themselves upright and used their natural athletic builds to run as fast as they could until they could see the bus and the horrible flames no more. They collapsed on the ground and gasped for air, their proportionate chests burning with exertion.

When the girls’ racing yet resilient heartbeats had finally slowed down, they looked around. Winston and Bruce were a few feet behind them, both sitting on the ground in a daze. Lila leaned against a tree looking stunned.

Elizabeth was the first to speak. “Is everyone all right?” she asked in a choked voice. “Jess, you okay?” Jessica hugged her flawless sister, unable to respond.

Winston slowly nodded, while Lila and Bruce both mumbled replies.

“Where are the rest of us? Where’s Olivia? And Ken? And that girl who tried to kill herself that one time because I didn’t let her on the cheerleading squad?” asked Jessica urgently.

Lila let out a strangled cry. “Olivia…I saw…she didn’t…” she tried to choke out before dissolving into sobs.

“Lila, take a deep breath. What about Olivia? Is she hurt?” asked Liz urgently.

Lila took a moment gain her composure. “When…when the bus exploded, I saw Olivia. The flames just swept over her; it was like they swallowed her whole. There was nothing I could do so I just ran away. I couldn’t help her! It just happened so fast…I don’t think she made it. And I think her guitar made her burn faster,” finished Lila, tears running down her face.

“Oh God,” moaned Jessica, on the brink of good-looking hysteria.

“And Ken? Annie? Did anyone see them after the explosion?” asked Elizabeth.

“Yeah, they had been sneaking off together before…before it happened. I saw them running the opposite way when the bus blew up, towards those big shaded trees,” Winston spoke up.

“Okay, so first things first, we try and find them and everyone else. Then we wait for Mr. Jaworski to come back with help,” said Elizabeth, trying desperately to keep her harmonious voice from shaking.

The group slowly trekked back to the scene of the explosion. Waves of smoke blew off of the scorched bus and a small fire still burned. Upon discovering Olivia’s charred remains, Lila and Bruce both gagged while Winston vomited. The twins, incapable of such unappealing actions, instead wept slow, graceful tears which streamed down their saddened yet exquisite faces.

“At least she’s in the earth now,” eulogized Elizabeth elegantly. “She always did love dirt.”

The newly formed gang spent the next six hours searching the woods and calling out Ken, Annie and the other student’s names in vain. They wandered far into the thick forest until all sense of direction was gone. As dusk slowly turned into the darkness of night, the exhausted students sank down to the ground to rest.

“I can’t even see in front of me,” said Bruce, picking dirt off of his cashmere sweater in annoyance.

“I know; I keep tripping over roots and hitting my head,” added Winston, rubbing his head and wincing.

“That’s not because it’s dark, it’s because you have huge feet, Win,” joked Jessica, demonstrating her knack for comedic timing. The group laughed, relieved to finally have a light moment.

“You’re right, guys. There’s no point in looking any more tonight. Let’s just set up a camp and we can figure things out in the morning. A full night’s sleep will do all of us some good,” stated Liz. Too worn down to do anything but obey, the group dispersed in all directions to find supplies.

Elizabeth started off into the woods by herself, leaning down to gather pine brushes and sticks for firewood. She hummed a tuneless song to distract herself from the day’s hardships and wished that she was home with Todd, curled up on the couch watching a documentary about the Industrial Revolution. During the commercials, she would fall into Todd’s strong, chiseled arms and look deeply into his chocolate brown eyes. She longed for his soft, salty kiss and the warmth of his lean body. She imagined herself pressed against him, rubbing her tanned limbs against his tanned limbs, massaging his muscular shoulders and feeling his hot breath on her swanlike neck. She longed for the day that they would finally progress past kissing, the day that Todd would touch her taut—

Elizabeth’s daydreaming was interrupted by sudden movement out of the corner of her aquamarine eye. She wheeled around and saw a ghostly figure in white in the distance, seemingly floating across the ground. Elizabeth squinted her glistening eyes and peered closer. The figure looked masculine but with long, flowing white hair that caught in the breeze. He was wearing a plain white robe which was both simple and elegant at the same time and skimmed over his tall, thin frame. He seemed to be carrying a staff of sort, perhaps to help him walking? Elizabeth wasn’t sure, but suddenly longed to hold that staff in her feminine hands.

Staring at him sent electric shocks down her resilient spine for some reason, and Elizabeth felt captivated by this mysterious man, as if he held some kind of strange power over her. She quickly forgot all about Todd’s salty kiss and wondered what the man in white could do to her with his staff, and if he liked foreign movies with subtitles, too.

As he moved out of her keen eyesight, Elizabeth broke out of her unexpected trance. She looked down at the sticks in her soft hand and the heartbreak of the day came rushing back to her. But suddenly the bus explosion and the charred remains of her dead friend didn’t seem quite so bad anymore. Elizabeth was destined to meet this mysterious man in white; she was sure of it! She just knew that he would somehow change her life and teach her wonderful things.

“I’m going to find that man,” she swore out loud, “and nothing is going to stop me!”

Will Elizabeth ever find her mystical man in white? Have we seen the last of Mr. Jaworski & co? Will Winston stand for manslaughter trial for the death of Olivia, or was foul play at hand? And who will be invited to Elizabeth’s “Dance–the-Hair-Away” charity fundraiser for Middle-earth children with hormonal disorders? Only time will tell.

STAY TUNED.

Won't someone think of the hobbit children? Elizabeth Wakefield will.

PS--Again, I must thank Zak, my amusingly amorous artist, for his contribution. Chapter Three (3) pic is a beaut!

PPS--I must also raise my voice in appreciation to my dear roommate Heather, who is currently giving me Photoshop lessons. She can't read, but she sure can graphic design. Clone stamp tool, am I right?!

Thanksgiving Part I

2011-10-10T19:57:00.000-07:00

Happy Thanksgiving to all of my Canadian friends!

Since I don't have any family here in Canada, I usually celebrate Canadian Thanksgiving by watching TV marathons and then eating the leftovers my roommates bring home. This year there was a 3rd Rock from the Sun marathon. Doesn't get much better than that...

...except maybe having a real Thanksgiving and being with family and bringing on the YAMS and all that stuff, maybe. But not by much.

This year I mixed it up a bit and made Velvet take a walk and admire the fall leaves with me.

Did I mention that it's my favorite time of year?

Oh yeah, Velvet says happy Thanksgiving, too.

The only way this holiday could have been better is if our cats would just finally learn to walk on leashes already. It's been three (3) years now; COME ON!

I hope you all had Thanksgiving feasts aplenty and that your cats have the ability to walk on leashes.

This cat ain't walking nowhere.

PS--I'd like to congratulate my dear friend Wes and his lovely bride, Rachel, on their beautiful Tennessee wedding this past Saturday. I'm so glad I could be there with you two, and enjoy the Canadian chocolate bars. They shall count as my wedding present.

PPS--Thank you Heather for the leftovers.

Hobbit Heartache--Chapter Two: Mr. Bilbo Returns

2011-09-27T07:18:00.000-07:00

Since posting Chapter One of Hobbit Heartache, the Sweet Valley High/Lord of the Rings erotic crossover fanfiction story, my inbox has been flooded with demands for Chapter Two. The fact that my email inbox is extremely small and can only hold three (3) emails at a time is irrelevant. FLOODED.

I want you all to be happy, except for those of you I dislike, so it is with great pleasure and some trepidation that I post Chapter Two: Mr. Bilbo Returns. Time for our first hobbit party!

If there's one (1) thing that SVH and LOTR have in common, it's their love for a celebration...and that's probably it.

LOTR fans, a reminder before you read this and weep with sadness: This is my complete imagining of the LOTR world, as I have neither read the books nor watched the movies. I know the bare bones and I'm attempting to piece together the rest. It is a task that is much harder than I thought would be. Especially trying to compose hobbit songs. So, so many hobbit songs, mostly about trees.

You may now commence your weeping.

(Can you tell I'm going through a major gif phase lately? I can't stop, don't want to stop, DON'T MAKE ME STOP.)

PS--If you missed Chapter One, in which the Sweet Valley gang are on an erotically charged airplane ride to spend their Spring Break in Middle Earth, you can catch up here. Intro, rave reviews and more back story are here.

And now, without further ado, let's meet at the Shire and get sloshed on brandywine, shall we?

Chapter Two: Mr. Bilbo Returns

The door to the grass hut opened and dirt fell down to the ground from Frodo the hobbit’s twine sandals. He knelt down to remove the sandals, the trusty protectors that had aided his large feet as he gathered berries and herbs from the forest for the evening supper. Frodo was often keen to search for food and happy to provide for his fellow hobbits but of late he felt a deep, unexplained yearning. It was as if something dear was missing from his life but he could not imagine what. This feeling, of course, worried Frodo.

Frodo crossed the room and stood at his window. He looked wistfully outside, to the tall forest trees which could talk, to the grass clearing where hobbit celebrations oft took place, to the clear brook where the hobbits bathed together in brotherly fashion. Hobbiton, though small and humble, was his home.

Frodo began to sing, softly at first then gaining strength:

Sturdy is my home, like a redwood tree it stands

I sleep with a blanket of trees and clouds above me,

Their leaves, the hills and my heart make up this land

Protected though I feel, there is something that is amiss

A feeling has me blinded but why I cannot see

My limbs ache for contact, they burn for a gentle touch

Is it a fair hobbit I long for, for a simple touch or kiss?

Frodo’s song was interrupted as his cherished friend Merry entered his hut.

“Dear Frodo! I could not help but hear your song and knew I must visit! Tell me, friend, why does your voice sing of sadness when we have such a gathering this evening? Surely you must be excited,” said Merry.

“Oh, but I am, Merry; I am excited. Tonight there will be dancing ‘round the fire, a feast of roots and vegetables and stories passed down from our eldest. A celebration is truly what we hobbits are known for, and that is a rightly fact,” replied Frodo.

“Then why the solemn song?” asked Merry, for Frodo was known as a hobbit full of cheer and song.

“Something is missing from me, Merry, something that is deep in my heart and fills it with blackness. This feeling arrived recently and will not leave; it plagues me in the night and leaves me empty and weak as a dwarf. It is truly awful, this feeling, and I must find the cure or I fear for my future.”

Merry listened to his dear friend speak and felt worry fill his own heart, for indeed this sickness did sound almost crippling in its symptoms. However worried he was, he vowed to not show his fear to Frodo, for that would surely frighten him more.

“Why Frodo, we have all had that feeling before. I believe all you will need is an evening of revelry, spent with your neighbors and companions, feasting and singing until you fall asleep under the stars and dream of the forest,” said Merry, hoping that his voice rang true with reason.

“Perhaps you are right, though we did feast twice in the week past and still my heart bleeds. I shall trust in you and join the festivities,” said Frodo.

Merry reached out to embrace Frodo but before the two hirsute fellows could join together, the town’s bell rang out loud and clear, summoning all of Hobbiton to the town Shire. Merry cursed the metal instrument’s cruel timing and gazed with disguised longing at Frodo’s squat but strong limbs, wondering what they might feel like on a warm summer’s evening. I may never know, Merry thought, his mind taken over by a cloud of melancholy. Nevertheless, he swiftly collected his composure for his friend.

“It is time! Gather your supper offerings and we shall walk together, and soon you will see that your heart will lift,” said Merry, filling his voice with cheer and hope.

Frodo collected his twine sandals and his black woolen cape, for the chill of nightfall was fast approaching though spring was newly upon them. Frodo and Merry walked briskly to the Shire, where a crowd was gathering and the fire was freshly built, its amber sparks catching the wind’s gentle breeze and rushing up to join the clouds.

In in the center of the crowd stood Bilbo Baggins, Hobbiton’s eldest and wisest hobbit. Bilbo’s travels had taken him far across Middle-earth and he was, in fact, just returning from a voyage to the Land of the Elves. Bilbo’s travels meant that he always had a tale to share and a song to sing, and therefore was admired by all of Hobbiton and treated with great respect. Frodo in particular had long admired Mr. Bilbo’s wisdom and the gentle curves of his body, so similar to the sweet fife played at celebrations. The sound of Bilbo’s voice singing clear across the night air could often send a warm shiver down Frodo’s body, though he did not know why. In any case, Frodo was very happy to see his beloved Bilbo home safe and tried in vain to catch his eye across the excited crowd.

“Frodo? Frodo, where has your head gone? You seem to have heard nothing of what I have just said! You must be in a world of your own, for your face is flushed and your limbs are tense” said Merry, daring to lay a hand on Frodo’s shoulder. “Look, Samwise and Pippin are just cross the way; let us join them for Mr. Bilbo’s speech.”

The two hobbits joined their friends and settled down in the grass. Samwise was a helpful sort of fellow, always eager to help plant seedlings or to till a field in need. Pippin, though truly a lighthearted hobbit, was a bit slow in comprehension and perhaps could even be called dimwitted. He oft trailed behind Samwise on hunting excursions, skipping through the greens and speaking to the blue-throated birds which swooped through the sky. Pippin would have been considered a burden to the town had he not been a skilled dancer, enthralling the crowd at each festival and gathering.

Samwise was quite protective of his Pippin and the two were like brothers in their closeness. Merry sat down next to Pippin, their hair-covered feet touching each other. Sam noticed the intimate proximity of the two and, of course, was not pleased. He took a swallow from his jug of brandywine to appease the unsettling anger that threatened to surface. But just then Bilbo Baggins waved his arms about, signaling that he was ready to speak.

“Hullo! What ho! Welcome fellow hobbits! Thank you for joining me on this evening. The sun is setting, for she is tired and must rest. We will not rest; for tonight shall be a long night,” proclaimed Bilbo. This statement was met with cheers from the crowd, with Frodo’s voice the loudest of them all. “I have been away from Hobbiton for too long and I have missed you all.” Frodo yet again felt a shiver course through his body and wondered if perhaps the crisp night air was causing him to catch cold.

“Fellow hobbits, I have much to tell you. I have tales from the Land of the Elves, from creatures that stand ten hobbits high and from creatures which live deep underground that feast on the darkness and hide from the sun’s light. I have travelled to mountains high and have touched the sun herself and I have danced with forty elves at the same time,” Bilbo continued. Frodo pictured his Bilbo cavorting with the elves, well-known for their amorous and often perverse ways, and knew that were there elves present at that very moment, he would slaughter them without a doubt.

“But dear friends, I cannot waste further time on such stories. I have important news, news that you all must hear at once. In my travels, I have learned that there exists a ring, a ring which is golden and inscribed with the most beautiful of penmanship known to all of Middle-earth. This ring has the power of seduction and can alter the minds of those around. This ring is pure evil and must be destroyed or we shall all perish under its reign.

In order to destroy this token of ungodly power, we will have to travel to far-off lands and other realms. Our endurance and our wits will be tested. Some of us may not survive this journey. For those who do not, you will at least perish with the knowledge that you have fought bravely in the ultimate battle of good and evil.

My hobbits, I call on you in this time. I must ask of you the ultimate sacrifice, of your willingness to live or die. I ask you now, who amongst this group will stand and pledge to join me on this journey?” Bilbo finished, his wrinkled face flushed from the effort of his words.

A hushed silence had fallen over Hobbiton. Frodo felt as if an amber spark had danced away from the fire and landed in the curls of his long, brown hair, so captivated was he by wise Bilbo’s speech. And as if his hair-covered legs were under the control of an elf queen’s spell, Frodo jolted upright and stood to his full height of four feet, one inch, squaring his hair-covered shoulders and locking eyes with Bilbo.

“Mr. Bilbo Baggins! I, Mr. Frodo, will join you! I will walk to the ends of Middle-earth and I will fight any creature or dwarf that dares to oppose us!” called out Frodo, his strong gaze never once leaving Bilbo’s prudent eyes.

Merry watched this happen and felt an iron hand tighten ‘round his heart. He felt both the heat of the ochre fire and the heat of Frodo’s passion, the scorching waves urging his diminutive limbs to stand forth. For Frodo and Bilbo to journey together, to spend many a night lain close for warmth, to join hands as they crossed rivers and shared fresh herbs, it would be too much for Merry to bear. So Merry joined Frodo upright, standing shoulder to shoulder with his friend.

“I too will join you, Mr. Baggins,” stated Merry.

The sudden movement of Merry awoke Pippin, who had been lulled to sleep by the warm fire and had therefore missed all of Bilbo’s speech. Upon seeing his friends standing tall and proud before the group, Pippin at once knew he wanted to stand tall and proud as well, though for what purpose, he knew not.

“Hullo, Mr. Bilbo! Me! Here I am!” sang out Pippin, hopping up to stand and waving to Bilbo. A murmur of concern swept through the hobbits much as the wind sweeps through the Lothlorien forest at night.

At once Samwise staggered unsteadily to stand by Pippin’s side, knowing that Pippin could not face such a journey without Sam to guide and protect him along the way.

“Tis all right, Mr. Baggins; I will join Pippin and we shall both promise to help in anyway that we can,” said Sam.

Bilbo gazed at these four hobbits standing before him. Frodo, staring at him with an intensity like never before seen, Merry, looking downward with shoulders that sagged, Pippin, humming a jolly tune to himself and playing with Samwise’s curly locks, and Samwise, gathering himself to his full height. These hobbits, the bravest of all of Hobbiton, would soon begin their journey.

Bilbo began to speak. “My friends, I thank you. All of Middle-earth thanks you, for you and I are now the ones responsible for protecting our people and our land. We shall begin our voyage in the morning. Pack your rucksacks tonight and bring only the provisions you can carry. You will each need a weapon of sort. We will forage for food as we travel.

To all of Hobbiton that we leave behind, please remain strong in our absence. We will return as soon as we can, but will not return until our task is complete.”

A lone voice called out to Bilbo. “But Mr. Bilbo…this ring…where did it come from? And where is it now? And how does it contain all the evil of the world? And can such a powerful tool be destroyed? No details did you provide and I cannot understand!”

A confused murmur once again ran through the crowd, with hobbits nodding in agreement and looking to Bilbo in search of answers.

“Ah, my friend, I am glad that you asked. However, I cannot answer your questions but ask instead that you place your unquestioning trust in me. With this trust, I shall ensure that good will conquer evil,” replied Bilbo.

A cheer rang through the crowd as the hobbits hopped to their feet to show their support for Bilbo. A song of goodwill and hope began, and the hobbits danced ‘round the fire, spinning and skipping to the beat. Brandywine and barley milk were passed around freely and a family of fifty rabbits were roasted on the fire.

After many a dance and many a song, the four brave hobbits that would soon face peril and the malevolent lay their heads down on the grass and fell into a deep sleep. Their dreams were filled with the same image, which was, of course, a golden ring whose beauty was both incontestable and frightening.

Will the hobbits succeed in destroying this mysterious golden ring? Will Merry ever be able to touch Frodo’s warm, hair-covered sweet bod? Will Samwise finally come clean about his hidden dependence on brandywine? And the Shire has been abuzz with Bilbo’s frequent visits to the Land of the Elves. Could someone have an elf or three on the side?

STAY TUNED.

(And thanks again to Zak for the beautifully erotic hobbit art.)

Cut it out, $10,000 Dodgeball Tournaments!

2011-09-25T20:47:00.000-07:00

Mood: Content

You know if I'm posting on a weekend, it's gotta be something big.

AND IT IS! My dodgeball team, the Devil Bats, won $1,000.00 in a dodgeball tournament yesterday. It was our biggest win yet.

Wheeee!

The tournament was thrown by my friend Dan, the founder of Dodgeball Nation. The top prize was $10,000, so teams came from all over North America to compete. We played and watched teams from Ottawa, Wisconsin, L.A., Dallas, P.E.I. and of course Toronto.

After seven (7) hours of playing, the Devil Bats came in third out of twenty-two (22) teams.

Revel in our sweat-drenched bodies! Did I mention it was seven (7) hours of playing? But in the end, we smelled like hundred dollar (dolla? can I pull off dolla?) bills.

To celebrate, we like to take a picture to demonstrate how sexy we are, followed by jump shots. You know, all the standard sport team shots.

Here's us in February when we came in third place and won $750, and us yesterday after coming in third place and winning $1,000. If nothing else can be said for us, we're consistent. And quite possibly growing sexier (and a little more naked, for some people).

...And we're definitely getting worse at jump shots. But hey, that's nothing $1,000 can't fix.

Thank you Eric, Velvet, Kerry, Lazy, Sammie, Mergeler, Mike and Jonah, my teammates that I cherish very much. We'll be playing in a tournament in July 2012 to win $15,000, so expect to see a few more sexy shots (SFW), and hopefully a shot of us jumping for joy with $15,000 raining upon us. And also sweat. Lots and lots of sweat.

Check out me (and my roomie Heather) in action! As you can see, I'm an invaluable part of my team. I also apparently have the stance of a caveman. $15K, here we come.

*Photo credits and big thanks go to my friend and fellow dodgeballer, Ryan.

Hobbit Heartache--Chapter One

2011-09-20T19:16:00.000-07:00

Pack your duffel bags and goatskins, kids; we're going to Middle-earth!

That's right--it's time for your first taste of Hobbit Heartache! For those just joining us, Hobbit Heartache is a Sweet Valley High/ Lord of the Rings erotic crossover fanfiction story. The world's first of its kind--can you believe that?!

Yes, I see that confused look on your face. And...is that distain? DISGUST?! Sheesh, hear me out first. This explains the project in a bit more detail, though it likely won't answer your question of who in the world would want to read this. Well, my plan is to give anyone who has a birthday/wedding/housewarming party in the next year an autographed copy of Hobbit Heartache from me as a gift. That way I can force people to read it.

YOU'RE ALL GETTING A COPY AND I DON'T CARE IF YOU DON'T WANT IT.

Before we dive in, a bit of info--chapters will mostly alternate between a Sweet Valley High viewpoint and a Lord of the Rings viewpoint. Stylistically, you'll be able to easily distinguish between the two (2) because the SVH chapters will be written to resemble a typical Sweet Valley High book (meaning every single opportunity to insert a glowing adjective praising the twins will of course be taken). LOTR chapters will be written in a manner that almost perfectly mimics Tolkien.

(This is surprising considering I have never read his work. Not even once.)

(LOTR fans, prepare to ignite your angry mob instrument of choice now.)

"SHE SAID SHE COULD WRITE BETTER THAN TOLKIEN!"

I kid. That ain't me. My style is definitely more Pascal than Tolkien.

Each chapter is roughly five (5) to six (6) pages long, so they may require a bit of work from you, dear readers. You guys are used to my mega blog posts, so just consider this a Special Edition Mega Blog Post. My motivational advice? Let the promise of eventual erotica keep you going!

Ever wondered just what was hiding under that tunic? Or why Bilbo's smile is oh so coy? If so, this is the story for you!

Oh, and I'd also like to welcome on board my new erotic fanfiction illustrator, Zak. Zak is responsible for the naughty drawing at the top and you'll be seeing his work throughout the story. I'm happy to have him along for the journey. Be warned: I think he wants to take it reallllly erotic.

Liz, no one ever knew you could get so freaky.

Now, with all of that housekeeping out of the way, don your sexiest halter top, sit back with your favorite burlap blanket, pour a lukewarm glass of brandywine and enjoy the first chapter of Hobbit Heartache.

Chapter 1

“Oh, Liz! I think I can almost see land!” Jessica Wakefield squealed, bouncing up and down in her airplane seat. “Look; I’m so excited that I have goose bumps!” she said, extending a tanned arm for her twin sister Elizabeth to inspect.

“Yup, you sure do,” Elizabeth confirmed, taking in Jessica’s slim, goose bumped arm. “But what changed from five minutes ago, when you told me you’d rather be stuck on a desert island with Winston Egbert again than go to Middle-earth for Spring Break?”

“Welllll,” Jessica drawled, “I decided that even if Middle-earth seems boring, I’ll just make sure that I meet some not-so-boring boys to make it fun. Plus, I bet they’ll have sexy accents, like Jamie Peters or that guy I dated who turned out to be a vampire.”

Elizabeth watched her attractive sister shivering with excitement and smiled a knowing smile to herself. It was typical Jessica, changing her mind every ten minutes. If Jessica were ever forced to apply for an actual job, her resume would read everything from star actress to subpar jewelry designer to occasional model/gang member.

What others might declare an undiagnosed case of bipolar disorder, Liz understood that it was just Jessica’s way. Whereas Jessica spent her spare time dancing like a trollop at the Beach Disco or cheering on the Sweet Valley High Gladiators as Head Cheerleader, Elizabeth preferred the calmer, more mundane aspects of life, much like an extremely elderly woman. Her favorite things to do were to spend quiet evenings at home playing non-erotic Scrabble with her long-term boyfriend, Todd Wilkins, or to give well-thought out advice to a friend or stranger in need.

Personality-wise, the twins were like Bruce Patman and Enid Rollins—as different as night and day! At first glance, however, Jessica and Elizabeth appeared exactly the same. Both stood a statuesque five feet six inches and were a perfect size six. Their long limbs were tanned and toned from years of swimming in the Wakefield family’s spacious backyard pool. Honey-blonde hair fell to their un-masculine shoulders in gentle waves, streaked with golden highlights. Though their hair never required styling, Elizabeth usually wore hers pulled back with a single chaste barrette, while Jessica let hers flow wild and free. Both styles looked astonishing.

The twins possessed sparkling aquamarine eyes the exact color of the Pacific Ocean on a glorious afternoon, though Jessica’s usually twinkled with a mischievous glint and Elizabeth’s reflected a sense of complete serenity and a deeper, all-knowing understanding. They often received compliments on their majestic eyelids and their thick eyelashes, which were so long that they on occasion gently startled the twins upon waking. Their lips were almost daily compared to rosebuds and their snow-white teeth to an oyster’s pearl found in the Pacific Ocean on that same glorious afternoon. Their tongues were a healthy shade of crimson and fell delicately inside their mouths. Both Elizabeth and Jessica’s wisdom teeth had descended perfectly and there was of course no need for any dental surgery. When the twins joined into conversations with witty and delightful insights, their breath smelled of either Christmas morning or a freshly made batch of blueberry pancakes, depending on the season.

Their waists were whittled and their noses were enviable. Both girls had hands which were somehow gentle and powerful at the same time and strong, clean nails which demonstrated that they each received more than an adequate amount of calcium in their Californian diets. They were blessed with supple knuckles which would easily allow for a two-carat wedding ring to be one day slipped onto a dainty finger. Jessica’s elbows were graceful while Elizabeth’s were glistening. The skin which covered their perfect bodies was tan, smooth and completely unblemished, except for the one distinguishing physical feature between the twins—a charming beauty mark found on Elizabeth’s right un-masculine shoulder. This beauty mark only served to somehow improve Elizabeth’s looks. Though both very active, neither girl had a single scar or unsightly mark on their bodies nor could even begin to explain what “cellulite” was. At least twice a day, the twins would stop to compliment a beautiful stranger on her dazzling looks before realizing that they were simply staring into a mirror. This grew exhausting but both girls luckily had unusually high levels of energy.

Jessica and Elizabeth also possessed a keen sense of equilibrium which lent them a gait that was both cat-like and agile. To call their knees knobby would be an insult to knees everywhere, as theirs were shapely and led the way down to trim ankles. The girls wore size six shoes to match their size six figures and were equally comfortable in high heels for dancing or athletic shoes for an impromptu hike in Death Valley. Their toenails were pearlescent and looked like ten perfect seashells perched on gilded feet. The soles of their feet were-

“Hey! What are you two lovely ladies smiling about?” said Winston Egbert, Sweet Valley High’s resident junior class clown. He leaned across the plane aisle to poke Elizabeth in her slender arm and jolt her back to reality. Thinking about themselves often sent the twins into a pleasurable reflective state, recognizable by the small, satisfied smile on their lovely faces and glossed-over yet still sparkling aquamarine eyes. Friends of the twins had learned how to identify when the girls had slipped into this state and to not rush them out of it.

“Oh nothing, Win. I’m just getting excited thinking about the next two weeks we’re going to have in Middle-earth! Do you think we’ll be able to do the soil erosion testing that Mr. Jaworski talked to us about?” asked Elizabeth.

“Uhh…maybe, Liz. I don’t know,” shrugged Winston. “But I heard that Middle-earth has some prime nude beaches. And I just might have forgotten to pack my swim trunks on purpose,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows up and down in a comical fashion at Jessica, who wrinkled her pert nose in turn.

“Oh please, Winston, like anyone would want to see that. Once we land this plane, keep you and your nude body far away from me,” said Jessica, rolling her glittering eyes at Elizabeth.

“Now, Jess. Remember that even though it’s Spring Break, we’re here on a school trip. We’re all going to have to work together to get our projects done. And I definitely don’t want to end up doing all of the work while you have your fun. You’ll have to find a balance because I want to have fun, too,” said Liz firmly.

“What’s this I hear? Star student Elizabeth Wakefield wants to have some fun on Spring Break? The altitude change must be getting to you, Liz,” chimed in Lila Fowler, with one perfectly groomed eyebrow raised.

Lila was seated one row behind the twins, much to her chagrin at not being seated in first class. Lila was used to getting exactly what she wanted and was rarely seen in anything but the latest designer fashions. She lived with her father in their sprawling mansion that hosted almost daily parties, Fowler Crest. Mr. Fowler was an extremely successful business man who travelled the world and saw his daughter only on occasion. In exchange for being a proper father, he gave Lila complete control of his credit card as well as numerous repressed daddy issues. Lila was considered one of Sweet Valley High’s biggest snobs but was also one of Jessica’s best friends. Elizabeth had a hard time stomaching her but the two had a civil relationship, mostly due to Liz’s charitable kindness.

Lila had been forced into going on the class trip to Middle-earth because her father was away in Paris collaborating on a business project with Alice Wakefield, the twins’ youthful-looking mother. As a prosperous interior designer, Alice often worked intimately on various projects with many of the leading men in town. Sometimes Alice was too tired to wake up early on the weekends and make a fresh batch of blueberry pancakes for her family, but her kids usually forgave her. Ned, her husband, did not.

“Yes, Lila. I want to have some fun while we’re in Middle-earth. What’s wrong with that?” Elizabeth testily replied.

“Fun like sneaking out and dancing all night long? Or fun like staring at plant cells under a microscope all day? With you I think I need to clarify,” sneered Lila, causing Jessica to giggle. A passenger seated a few rows back suddenly sat up straight at the sound of Jessica’s delighted giggle and wondered what caused an angel to laugh like so.

“Come on, guys! You act like I’m an old maid or something. There’s nothing wrong with having fun with your schoolwork. And besides, with Todd away at basketball camp and Enid back at rehab, I think this might be the perfect time for me to do some things that I really like,” said Elizabeth.

“Well, Miss Independent, if you’re really up for some fun, you know where I’ll be. On a silk towel on the beach, soaking up the sun and being served lemonade by a Middle-earth hunk,” replied Lila, leaning back in her seat with a satisfied smile on her attractive face.

Just then Bruce Patman sauntered down the aisle, holding a chilled glass with a slice of lime on the side.

“How’s coach treating you second-class citizens?” sneered Bruce, taking a sip of his iced drink. Despite being on a plane for the past eight hours and in the bathroom with Annie “Easy Annie” Whitman for the past two, Bruce’s khaki pants remained crisp and without a crease. His navy cashmere sweater had not a trace of lint on it and his Italian alligator skin shoes shined as if they had just been freshly polished. His dark brown hair perfectly framed his face, accentuating his strong features and classically handsome looks.

Bruce not only had the looks but the goods to back it up as well. The Patman family was among the wealthiest families in Sweet Valley. They were rivaled only by the Fowler’s, a fact which Bruce and his parents hated. The most popular boy in the senior class, Bruce was notorious for his womanizing ways and his many conquests. It was every girl’s dream at Sweet Valley High to take a ride in Bruce’s sleek black Porsche with the personalized license plate of “1BRUCE1.” Both Jessica and Elizabeth had been in 1BRUCE1 numerous times, though never all together. That was, in fact, one of Bruce’s personal goals.

“Bruce…is that alcohol on your breath?” asked Elizabeth with a concerned tone in her melodious voice.

“Oh calm down, it’s just a gin and tonic, Saint Wakefield. You could probably use a few yourself,” retorted Bruce.

“At Fowler Crest, I drink red wine with dinner every night. It’s what everyone does in Paris,” stated Lila, leaning forward to join the conversation.

“How did you get back to your seat so fast, Lila? Weren’t you just in line for the bathroom?” asked Bruce, his brow furrowed with confusion.

“Seeing as I don’t use public bathrooms, no,” replied Lila with distaste.

“That’s weird…I could have sworn that was you,” said Bruce slowly, swirling his drink in thought.

“But hey, more importantly, how did you even get a drink, Bruce? Last I checked, we’re all underage,” said Winston.

“Oh please, like that’s a problem for me. The stewardess used to work for my father and is a family friend. Except my Mom hates her. Plus, we own this airline,” replied Bruce, taking a swig of his drink.

“That’ll do it, I guess. Order me a pink lemonade martini with extra olives, would you?” asked Winston in an exaggerated upper-class British accent.

Bruce dismissed Winston with a wave of his hand and instead looked at the girls.

“So ladies, what are the plans for once we land? Who’s up for sneaking into my hotel?” jeered Bruce.

“Ohh! I am; I am!” yelled Winston, frantically waving his gangly arms around and practically falling out of his seat.

“Wakefield, what’s up with all this silence? That’s not like you. Big plans for this trip?” asked Bruce, looking directly at Jessica.

“You could say that,” Jessica replied, with a coy smile on her perfectly symmetrical face. “I think this is going to be a very important trip for me. I may not be returning alone, if you know what I mean.”

“I have no idea what you mean, actually,” said Bruce, already losing interest. He craned his neck to find a stewardess to refill his now-empty drink.

“Well, I keep having these dreams about a ring-“Jessica began.

“A ring that’s gold with writing all over it! And it’s really important or expensive or something! I keep having that dream, too!” exclaimed Elizabeth, turning to her twin with a shocked look on her unbelievably good-looking face.

“Liz! Do you think…do you think it means someone is going to propose to us? Maybe we’ll both get married in Middle-earth! Can you imagine? It’s going to be so romantic!” squealed Jessica, her awe-inspiring face flushed with excitement.

The two faced each other and shared a meaningful look. Being identical twins, they had a sort of psychic bond with each other, something they referred to as “twin’s intuition.” Elizabeth could always tell when Jessica was in trouble or needed help, and vice versa. This skill proved handy when Elizabeth was kidnapped by a deranged hospital orderly named Carl, or when Jessica was lost at sea after a class sailing trip went awry. Or when an evil doppelganger named Margo tried to murder Elizabeth to take over her life. Or when Jessica was held hostage by an evil camp counselor while working at summer camp. Or when the twins foiled a murder attempt and were stalked by the angry murderer. Or when Margo’s own twin sister named Nora tried to avenge Margo’s alleged death by attempting to kill Elizabeth once more. Or when Elizabeth fell in love with a werewolf while working in London and narrowly avoided being mauled to death. After all of those hijinks, the two intuitive girls had learned that whenever they shared an identical dream, it meant something important was going to happen.

A crackly voice came over the loudspeaker just then and made an announcement.

“Good afternoon to all of our passengers of Air Force Patman. We will now begin our initial descent into the Middle-earth airport, terminal three. Landing time will be in approximately thirty minutes. Please return to your seats and prepare for landing.”

A cheer went up throughout the plane from all the Sweet Valley students on board. As Mr. Jaworski tried to quiet down the group, Winston popped out of his seat for one last dash to the bathroom, tripping over his size eleven feet and spilling out into the plane aisle. Olivia Davidson finally put down her guitar, having played it for almost the entire ten hour trip. Easy Annie scrubbed frantically at her cheerleader’s uniform after noticing some unfortunate stains. Ken Matthews, star quarterback for the Sweet Valley High Gladiators, had somehow managed to sleep for the whole plane ride and only now woke up, looking around groggy and confused. Lila reclined in her seat and pulled her silk eye mask back over her mocha-brown eyes, well aware of the negative effect air travel could have on her delicate complexion. Bruce sauntered back to first class, winking at a stewardess on his way. A buzz of excitement seemed to fill the entire plane, and students peered out the windows to watch the landing.

As all of this activity was going on, Jessica and Elizabeth sat frozen in their seats, still reeling from the discovery of their mysterious shared dream about a gold ring.

“This trip is going to be amazing, Liz; I just know it!” said Jessica, her radiant eyes shining.

And even Elizabeth, forever the practical twin and the voice of reason, couldn’t help but get goose bumps all over her slim body. She could feel in her calcium-fortified bones that it was going to be an important trip and that something remarkable would happen. But getting married? Elizabeth wasn’t too sure about Jessica’s interpretation of their dream.

Well, I definitely won’t be getting married. My steady boyfriend Todd that I would never cheat on isn’t even here! Maybe I’ll make some kind of incredible archaeological discovery and write an award-winning piece on it, she thought to herself. A credible international piece of work would certainly help her portfolio and maybe even get her a promotion at The Oracle, the school newspaper where Elizabeth wrote a weekly column, the “Eyes and Ears.” Though Elizabeth usually only reported on recycled school gossip or whatever miscellaneous celebration that Sweet Valley was holding that day, she took her work very seriously and tended to believe that each piece was ground-breaking news. Elizabeth thought of all the potential this trip held and a wide smile broke out on her stunning face.

“You know, Jess…I think you may just be right!” replied Elizabeth.

What awaits the Sweet Valley gang upon their arrival in Middle-earth? Will Jessica’s excessively cocky prediction of a proposal come true? Will Elizabeth forget about soil erosion and embrace her wild side? And knowing that neither Easy Annie nor Bruce has a history of air sickness, what in the world were they doing in the bathroom for two hours?!

STAY TUNED.

Introducing...Hobbit Heartache!

2011-08-03T11:00:00.000-07:00

IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT

I'm pleased to share with all of you that I have a new, very important literary project on the horizon. It's something that I began work on a few months ago (see--yet another reason for why I've been doing such a pitiful job of posting on my blog. That, and you know, summer).

Glorious, glorious summer.

I'm truly excited about this project. It's something that I think has the potential to unite radically diverse groups of people, something that holds the promise of transcending traditional literary canons and something that if Aesop were around today, he would surely claim it as his own.

Not yours, but mine.

Dear Readers, I present you with the official sneak preview of Hobbit Heartache.

"Could a wizard ever fall for a Wakefield?"

(um, like duh!)

Now, I know what you're thinking: "This looks amazing!" Yes, it does, and I will tell you more.

Hobbit Heartache is a Sweet Valley High/Lord of the Rings crossover erotic fanfiction story. As perhaps the world's first of its kind, it has naturally been gathering buzz for a few weeks now. Here are a few early, unbiased reviews:

-"As far as novels go, this has all the elements of one. There were many, many words."-Heather, Roommate

-"An Instant Classic."--CBS-TV

-"Hobbit Heartache is...a...good...book." --Christina P., Business Woman

-"Taut, disorienting and genuinely creepy." -- John Powers, Vogue

-"What Ms. Clark has done here is to create a story whereby both The Lord of the Rings and Sweet Valley High are present." --Carla K. Thasman, The Daily Dog Bugle

-"It was...good [reading]." --Daniel K., Esq.

-"I was laughing and laughing and laughing." --Roger Ebert

-"I felt like I had read it before. Bravo!" --Velvet, Female

-"Superior to The Silence of the Lambs."--Johnathan Rosembaum, Chicago Reader

-"It wouldn't open in my email."--Jean C., Mother

-"Almost too sexy. It made me feel...uncomfortable."--Anonymous, Male

And there you have it. I'm not trying to brag here; that's just what they said. When you get glowing reviews like that, here's how you feel:

I raise the roof on an almost daily basis, but this time it had special meaning.

What's that? You DEMAND a synopsis?! Say no more:

It's Spring Break and the Wakefield twins and Sweet Valley High gang are heading to Middle-earth for two weeks of sun, revelry and the ultimate battle between good and evil!

At first Middle-earth doesn't seem to be too exciting. But soon the gang befriends a group of fun-loving hobbits, whose jovial ways suit Jessica just fine. The hobbits are so fun, Jessica has a hard time choosing her favorite! She finally decides she wants Frodo, yet he seems more interested in the hobbits than her, and his eyes sure seem to linger on Winston's size-eleven feet. Has Jessica finally found the man-creature she can't have?

And a mysterious older man in white has caught Elizabeth's eye. Who is this Gandalf, and how does he have so much wisdom? Elizabeth feels like she has finally met someone who understands her academic pursuits, like writing Sweet Valley High's acclaimed gossip column. But is Gandalf too good to be true?

...And with all this talk of a ring, will one of the twins soon be getting engaged? STAY TUNED!

Somehow, just somehow, the dry air of Middle-earth only seems to improve Jessica and Elizabeth's glowing complexions.

Now, yet again, I know what you're thinking. Sweet Valley High? The Lord of the Rings? Those are some of literature's most beloved and respected characters and I better treat them right. Well, don't worry; I've tackled tasks like this before. In my younger years, I penned a 46 page (non-erotic) Buffy the Vampire Slayer fanfiction screenplay. And that project was so very wildly successful (so what if my screenplay was returned to me unopened not once, but TWICE, from Joss Whedon's office? So what if our trailer's YouTube views remain steady at 270? I judge a project's success by how embarrassed I am of it a few years later. And so far it's only mildly).

The bottom line is that you can trust me completely with these characters.

A face you can trust completely.

One (1) frequently asked question I've been receiving is if Buffy will find her way into this fanfiction. The answer is sadly no, because I don't think she could tolerate either of the Wakefield twins for more than five (5) minutes. Will the Family von Trapp make an appearance? I don't want to give it all away, but yes.

Captain von Trapp and Lila will clearly get it on.

*One small detail: I know next to nothing about The Lord of the Rings. I own the books but have yet to read them (they're on my list, I swear!). As for the movies, I saw a bit of the first one years ago but remember very little. I'm basing everything LoTR-related in this story off of what I've overheard from other people and my own notions of what I imagine LoTR to entail.

Which is pretty much this:

Now, I know the basics. There is a ring, there are hobbits and there is an epic journey. Brotherhood plays a part. I shall do my best to fill in the rest. My LoTR-loving (is there a word stronger than love? Something that ties in obsession? ) bf read my first Frodo-centric chapter and informed me there were numerous inaccuracies in the first (1st) sentence alone. So apparently hobbits don't wear sandals? Maybe they'd like to sometimes. And, like what, it's completely implausible that Frodo wouldn't be harboring a secret crush on Bilbo Baggins?

(I will admit that I did not know the two [2] were related when I began that erotic story line. And now I've gone too far to turn back. But look how happy they are!)

What else can I tell you about (the five existing chapters of ) Hobbit Heartache?

You will be shocked.

A few may laugh.

You will cry and need to be consoled/closely gripped by loved ones.

And since it's erotic fanfiction, well, things gonna happen. I can't tell you what, but you know how I love those (extremely misleading) teasers.

.

...And if you're a die-hard Lord of the Rings fan, you'll probably want to rage. Or cry and be gripped by a loved one again.

But remember it's all in good fun.

But also extremely serious.

Though I suspect only my mother (hi Mom!), my roommates (cable bill is due, guys) and confused Lord of the Rings fans who were misdirected by Google will be reading Hobbit Heartache, I invite you all to come along for the ride! I'll be posting chapters as I write them (in other words, very, very slowly). All of the gang will be there: Jessica & Elizabeth, Frodo & Bilbo, Bruce Patman & Winston, Samwise & Pippin, Lila & Mr. Jaworski and of course, Merry, the salacious hobbit who's finally grown tired of hiding his dark, lecherous ways.

You never once fooled me, Merry.

Chapter One coming soon!

PS- Many thanks go to Heather for helping to create the book cover. Work it, gurl!

PPS--If anyone would be interested in illustrating (the erotic crossover bestselling fanfiction) Hobbit Heartache, let's talk.

It's All a Blur Last Night...

2011-07-03T06:46:00.000-07:00

So what'd you do the other night? Oh, that's cool. Now guess what I did?

I WENT TO A KATY PERRY CONCERT!

(...and I just lost the respect of half my readers. I will miss you three [3]).

Right now you're probably saying something along the lines of "What?! But you're so sophisticated and mature! And you have but the finest of tastes! And your choices in music are impeccable! And you sing like an angel! And your rhetoric rivals that of Protagoras!"

Well, geez; first of all, thank you. It's true. All of that. But we all have our guilty pleasures. Besides KP, my other guilty pleasures include the extreme amount of enjoyment that I receive from watching America's Next Top Model, dressing our cats up in costumes (duh), and those dessert buns that you get in Chinatown.

(Do you know how hesitant I was to Google Image "Asian buns"? My creepy search history grows.)

About six (6) months ago, my roommates Heather and Velvet and my friend Eric and I decided to buy Katy Perry concert tickets on a whim. We justified it to ourselves by saying we were purchasing them in a ironical, humorous kind of way, but really, after you spend $40.00 on a ticket in the nosebleeds, the joke's on you. And we were way, way too excited to pretend that it was a joke.

This was us. But more excited. And less bangs. And mostly no gloves.

We had promised ourselves that we'd spend those six months diligently learning KP's prolific music library. Never happened. Learning all of her songs seemed like a lot of work for a guilty pleasure.

I am sorry Katy Perry, but it's true.

But we made up for a lack of song lyrics with an embarrassing amount of enthusiasm for our costumes.

Velvet was a "California Gurls" summer beachy neon-esque Katy Perry.

Same thing. And why yes, we DID just win a dodgeball championship and a massive trophy! Thank you for noticing. And yes, this is obviously our maid's week off.

Heather decided to honor Katy Perry's most sophisticated piece of literature, "Peacock."

Dead on.

And I saw a picture of Katy Perry in this dress and figured it would be easy to replicate.

Our friends make fun of us for having a huge costume trunk, but seriously, it comes in handy on an almost weekly basis.

And then there was Eric...

We only forced him to wear the sequined tube top. He showed up at our house with the pink wig; I swear!

With pink wigs, sequins and glitter donned, it was off to the Air Canada Centre we went!

So at a Katy Perry concert, you'd think you'd see lots of other people dressed up in outrageous costumes, right? Yeah, no. It was not so. We received open-mouthed stares the entire night, and lots of people stopped us to take pictures of us, especially Heather.

But I do recognize the fact that not everyone has an oversized costume trunk at home (how do you people live?! Please, tell me how), and of course appreciate any effort that is put into costuming. I thought these homemade Katy Perry sunglasses were really cute. These gals sat in front of us with their Mom and very accurately represent the average age of most in attendance.

After an impressive opening performance by Marina and the Diamonds, the waiting for Katy Perry began. We had to endure a way-too-long "performance" by a guy named "DJ Skeet Skeet." (Really? DJ Skeet Skeet? REALLY?) My friends and I cringed at the thought of the 13- year-old crowd jamming to a guy named DJ Skeet Skeet. He kept the audience entertained with such thought-provoking queries as "Who here likes summer?" and "Does anyone here have Facebook?" We began to feel ashamed by our very presence at the concert.

Does anyone here hate annoying dj's?

And then, when we could bear the questions of DJ Skeet Skeet no more, our lady finally arrived. But not until after a ten (10) minute bizarre video featuring Will Sasso from Mad TV played, focusing on Katy Perry trying to find her lost cat, Kitty Purry. This video would continue playing throughout the night during song breaks. Oh joy.

She opened with "Teenage Dream" and the arena exploded with screams.

All from this guy.

And so the show began! It was exactly what you would expect from a Katy Perry concert:

-Practical costumes bordering on the austere

-Minimalist sets

-And a mature and intensely intelligent crowd

As KP ran through her hits, we quickly began to notice a pattern. Katy Perry gyrated onstage with her dancers, we blushed and hoped the 13-year-olds had their eyes closed. Katy Perry bantered with the crowd, we cringed at the inappropriate sexual innuendos. And I was fully prepared for this, because, you know, it's Katy Perry. But the pre-teens! Shouldn't the young, impressionable pre-teens be at home listening to The Beach Boys?! (Answer: Yes.)

MOST CRINGE-INDUCING MOMENTS AT THE KATY PERRY CONCERT

-Doing a bit with her backup dancer who was dressed as a slot machine for "Waking up In Vegas": "Hi Slot. Oh, did you think I called you Slut? It's okay to call you Slut because we're friends! That's what friends do!" Gah. Must restrain self from telling young seatmates to disregard this advice.

-Passing an imaginary joint to her backup dancer while singing "I know a place, where the grass is really greener," in "California Gurls." ILLEGAL.

-Doing motions with the microphone that I do not care to elaborate on while singing "I wanna see your peacock, cock, cock." Use your imagination for this one.

-Before singing a ballad, asking "Does anyone here ever feel depressed?" to which the 13-year- old crowd responded with a huge 'YAYYYY!!!!!" Then I felt depressed.

Katy Perry, you make me feel awkward in front of children.

Oh, and remember how I said the audience was composed of all 13 year olds? Well, I lied. There were also a few older gentlemen in the house. Including a charming one who sat next to Velvet and had a pair of binoculars trained on Katy Perry the entire concert. On her dazzling set of teeth, I'm sure.

Velvet, stop smiling! You're sitting next to a pervert!

Awkward moments aside, it was a really fun concert. We were on our feet for all of the hits and sang along full force. Katy Perry continuously told us how much she loves Toronto (I'm sure she doesn't say that to every city she visits, right?) and I was actually very impressed with how well she sang live. She was silly, mostly charming and definitely put on a good show. She knew to keep it light and fun and never try to be too serious.

Don't look at me like that, Katy Perry. It's not that you can't be serious; it's just that you're more fun when you're not.

The grand finale was "Firework," and though I am very easily impressed, I was EXTREMELY impressed. I mean, there were fireworks going off INSIDE, you guys! I think every person was on their feet, including the parents and the pervert.

And stop worrying! Katy Perry was reunited with Kitty Purry, so there was a happy ending for everyone.

THANK GOD. Who wouldn't want to be reunited with that adorable, huge, not-terrifying-at-all purple cat?

And, as we have learned, subway rides home are always more fun when you're in costume.

"Uh, where are you guys coming from?" "Dinner, why?"

I shall leave you with these words of wisdom from Mrs. Katy Perry herself:

Are you brave enough to let me see your peacock?

Don't be a chicken, boy, stop acting like a beeotch

Imma peace out if you don't give me the payoff

Come on baby, let me see what you're hiding underneath.

Right back atcha, Katy Perry. Thanks for a great show!

Cut it out, Hilary Swank! My Event Planning Advice

2011-05-31T06:25:00.000-07:00

So, uh, it would appear that I haven't blogged for awhile. Gah.

Would you like to hear my excuses for blogging only one (1) time in the month of May? Please? They're really good. And it'll make me feel better. Aw, thanks guys. You're sweet.

Here goes:

-I haven't blogged because I've been busy creating life with my very first garden.

See? Busy creating life? I told you they were good.

This is the first time that Velvet and I have ever attempted to plant a garden. And though we're both equally clueless when it comes to anything garden-related, we continuously check with each other whenever we're planting. "So we should probably put the squash and the tomatoes next to each other, right?" "Oh yeah, we're definitely going to want to do that." "Think we should space these spinach seeds 5 inches apart?" "Makes sense to me."

(If our garden fails, I'm blaming it on the raccoons. Not our faulty methods. The out of control, squash-loving raccoons.)

Our garden has produced one (1) strawberry. A delicious, ripe, ready-for-the-pickin' strawberry. It shall be not eaten, but gilded. Oh, the fruits of our looms!

(Special thanks to hand model who wishes to remain anonymous and is almost certainly maybe not my roommate.)

Obligatory cat glamour shot, springtime garden edition.

-I haven't blogged because I travelled to Detroit to play in a dodgeball tournament.

So how did my team do? I don't want to talk about it. I'll just say that we finished amongst the top three (3) teams. I will also say that there were only four (4) teams total. Insignificant details.

But since we were in the States, we got to go to TARGET! This is a major deal, as most Canadian gals can understand.

Springtime in Detroit, is there nothing lovelier? And no, we sadly did not make it back to the Motorama Motel. But I shall return one day and hope to find even fresher blood on my ceiling when I do.

(...and my final excuse is one for my gentlemen readers out there. Hey, you two (2)!)

-I haven't blogged because I've been too busy playing paintball for the first time ever.

I wouldn't try paintballing for just anyone, but I like my friend Mergeler enough (tall blondie on left) to give it a go. Heather and I joined Mergeler's birthday celebrations despite our fears of, oh, you know, getting shot. Our experienced paintball friends helped soothe our anxieties by reminding us that yes, it was going to hurt and that yes, they would take special pains to track us down while playing.

<3

The Before. Even though we look like men in this picture, Heather and I were the only girls in the entire place. We were both terrified/one of us was extremely sunburnt (guess who).

And the after. Six (6) rounds of paintball later, we learn that paintball does in fact really hurt. I have five (5) bruises to remind me of that for the next few weeks.

Anyways, enough excuses for why I haven't been blogging. You came here to seek life advice and wisdom, not listen to me talk about paintball (...or did you?). And wisdom is what I shall give you.

My roommates often refer to me as a "jack of all trades." They'll deny it in person, but it's true. I can read books, I eat cereal at an almost alarming rate and I am a cat owner. But though I am very skilled at those things, I like to challenge myself to try new fields. I've tried baking, I've tried resume writing and I've tried feline grooming. It was time for something new.

No more feline grooming.

So my friend Carla and I decided to try our hand at event planning.

Now, this was a few years ago, back when event planning was a fairly new concept. To set the scene, the movie Amelia , starring Hilary Swank and Richard Gere and focusing on the life of Amelia Earhart, was set to hit theaters. Having been on the set of this movie (no lie! I promise! You can trust me completely!), I knew it was a momentous occasion. The public was going to eat this movie up. SOMETHING HAD TO BE DONE!

Hilary Swank. Amelia Earhart. That Hair. What more could you want?

So we contacted the people who would obviously be the most excited about this film: The Canada Aviation Museum. And we proposed to them the grandest, the most exhilarating, and also the most logical event ever to come their way.

(see below)

100 foot IMAX screen? A chance to sit in a pilot's seat with Hilary Swank? A Question & Answer segment?! I may be biased because I created this event myself, but WOW. That sounds like fun. I love Q&A's!

Most people are visual learners so it's helpful to include a hand-drawn poster whenever possible.

A month goes by. More than a month, in fact. Precious days were flying by, and still nothing from the Canada Aviation Museum. Don't they understand how hard it is to plan an event? How trying it is to to write letters that don't sound creepy to celebrities? How exhausting it is to create your own themed hors d'oeuvres menu?! GOOD LORD.

I was angry. Carla was angry. But you know who was the angriest of all?

This guy.

We reached out one (1) more time, but this time with some sad news. Swank was out. Of course she was. She's a fairly busy lady who waits for no one, not even the Canada Aviation Museum. We would have to use an Amelia Earhart impersonator. (On the plus side, I discovered this guy, whom I will certainly be hiring as my Mr. Bean impersonator for my next birthday. Wheee!)

Same thing.

I bet you're wondering how this magical event went. Well, I'll tell you how it went.

HORRIBLY.

And that's because we received NO REPLY. EVER. And now Amelia has come and gone, with barely a splash made in Canada. I don't think any of my friends saw the movie. I certainly boycotted it. You know, you pour your heart and soul into an event, you (hypothetically) invest hundreds of your own dollars, you find spend copious amounts of time researching Amelia Earhart impersonators, and for what? FOR WHAT? Nothing.

So what did I learn from this non-adventure? Eff event planning*. And airplanes. And most importantly, Hilary Swank.

Your face just makes me angry now.

Friends, have you ever tried to plan an event for a museum or company to a disastrous end? Do you like to create hand-drawn posters? And can YOU impersonate any historical figures? Let's use this time to share with each other!

*If you have a special occasion coming up, please don't hesitate to contact me for event planning help! Let your special day be my special day, too. Rates dependent on specialness of event.

Pastels Not Optional

2011-04-26T09:00:00.000-07:00

This past weekend we had our 25th Annual Easter Park Day Celebration Gathering Event Day.

Tagline: Wear pastels or feel Easter's wrath.

(Bonnets optional but encouraged.)

Guests were politely asked/required to don their Easter finery, join us for a day of fun and egg-related activities in the park, and to bring us candy. Most did not comply.

As always, there was Easter frisbee.

(the pastel shirt qualifies it as Easter, obviously)

There was picnicking.

Somehow Heather managed to discover our location and crash the party. At least she stayed her distance. And wore a peach polyester frock. That can make up for almost anything.

And there was face painting. Oh, the face painting! Give me any excuse, no matter how weak or far-fetched, to paint my face and I'm in. I'm really looking forward to Mother's Day.

Jordan was an Easter egg. Velvet is our current in-house face painter and she is a master. Some of her past works include:

Seriously, quit your job and become my personal face painter already, Velvet. We'll discuss this further at home.

Velvet requested that I paint her face as a tiger/Easter parrot mix. I could not have failed her more and I think that is aptly reflected in her expression. My bad.

Zak was the Easter bunny. Not creepy at all with that moustache. Nope.

I presented my face as a blank canvas to Velvet and the result was her piece de resistance (her piece of resistance, to help out my non-francophones). I terrified little children everywhere and startled myself every time I looked in a mirror. And that, dear readers, is what Easter is all about.

"What? You wanna be our friend?! Great, let's get some face paint on you and we'll find you some pastels and then...oh. Not talking to us? Oh. That makes more sense."

After realizing that we would make no new friends in the park that day (don't tell me that people don't judge you by your exterior; it's all lies! They do! And face paint scares them!), we shook off our deep inner pain and partnered up for the THREE (3)-LEGGED RACE!

And that's when things got real.

We flew through the park legs abound, some of us faster than others.

Like I said, some of us faster than others. In case you can't tell, that's me and Eric way ahead in the distance. It's a little blurry because we were so fast, coordinated and athletic.

Amy and Rob didn't win, but it looks like they had a good time. That's nice, guys, but you don't get any trophies for having a good time. You don't get any trophies if you win either, but that's not really the point here. I think the point is that it was Easter and on Easter you wear pastels and do three (3)-legged races....right? Was that my point?

The champions laugh at the pitiful efforts of our competitors, marvelling at their lack of speed and agility, despite having three (3) legs to work with.

And by "champions," I mean that Eric and I won the three (3)-legged race. No doubt about that, just the honest truth.

The games continued into the day...

Velvet, Lazy and William all placed in the Easter Egg-on-Spoon relay race. I trust that this achievement has already been added to their resumes.

I know what you're thinking. You're wondering why I didn't place--well, I was photographing the entire event. Glad to clear that mystery up. Heather didn't place because she is not coordinated and peach polyester frocks were not made for running.

The non-winners of the Easter Egg-on-Spoon relay race. Non-winners is a nicer way of saying losers, because on Easter no one really loses. Except all of these people.

Time for the traditional Easter Egg Toss. From our many, many years of playing this sport, we have learned that it results in two (2) ways.

This is the most common ending.

...and this is the more amusing ending.

Egg yolk on your Easter finest--it had to happen to someone. Of course that someone wasn't me, as I believe I won the Easter Egg Toss as well. There is no photographic evidence of this but you can trust me.

Unlike past years, we did not include a deviled egg speed-eating contest. I will finally concede that it's just really not a great idea. SIGH.

Still delicious after eating 30? I don't see why not. If someone could please confirm this to me, it would be much appreciated!

We DID however hold our Extreme Easter Egg Hunt, where chocolate eggs were hidden everywhere in our house, no holds barred. And I do mean everywhere, from within a jar of curry powder, to inside a bag of cat food, to tucked into a tub of Vaseline (what? that's not gross), to the depths of our vacuum cleaner (again, not gross. EXTREME). It's my dream to one (1) day have an Easter egg hunt so extreme that participants will actually have to ply up floorboards and search deep within jars of peanut butter.

One day.

Not so extreme? Our Pin-the-Tail-on-the-Creepy-Easter-Bunny game. I didn't even feel excited winning it. But I did win.

For me, the most glorious part of our Easter celebration was that I completed four (4) kip-ups, a task which I've been trying to master for almost a year! It was captured by Eric's phone but the quality is poor since it was night and outdoors. All you can see are my eyes and face paint glowing as they fly through the air. I deemed it too scary to post, but if you've ever seen Buffy the Vampire Slayer, know that it was exactly like that.

Exactly. like. this.

I hope you all had lovely Easters as well. How many deviled eggs did YOU eat? Did you win any relay races? Do you think hiding an egg in a Vaseline jar is gross? (nah.) Hit me with your thoughts.

Happy Easter Tuesday, everyone!

P.S.--Lent is over; let's all eat chocolate until we puke!

Cut it Out, Vegan March!

2011-04-06T11:47:00.000-07:00

It is with a slight sense of relief that I'd like to announce that Vegan March has officially come to an end. For those not in the know, my roommate Heather and I decided to go vegan for the month of March, giving up all animal products (meat, dairy, eggs, gelatin, etc.).

Now, I had every intention of thoroughly blogging Vegan March. I really did. I wanted to share the ups, the downs (oh so many downs), recipes, tips and maybe even some vegan-themed jokes (everyone loves those, right?). A careful review of my blog will reveal that I accomplished none of that, nary a single vegan blog post in March. I blame the weather and low iron.

So instead of an extensive, behind-the-scenes look at Vegan March, a few highlights and lowlights will have to suffice. And maybe one (1) vegan joke. It's probably better this way. Let's begin with the lowlights and get 'em out of the way.

Lowlights of Vegan March

1.) I attempt vegan baking.

Now, I'm not saying that vegan baking can't be fun, delicious or nutritious. Vegan baking can indeed be all of those things. Just not when I did it.

My baking partner in crime, Daniel, and I decided our first attempt at vegan baking would be S'mores Stuffed Chocolate Chip Cookies. We found the recipe and inspiration at The Chubby Vegan, a new blog I'm digging (all of the delicious looking pictures come directly from his site; give it a look!).

This is the picture that enticed us into trying the recipe. Makes you forget dairy and eggs even exist, huh? You bet your bippy!

I had to do a few minor variations on the recipe, as I bravely (foolishly?) gave up all chocolate for Lent. So instead of dark or semi-sweet chocolate chips which would normally be fine to use in a vegan recipe, I had to try unsweetened carob chips for the first time. And because we couldn't track down any vegan marshmallows, I had to go without. Dan, on the other hand, was free to pile his cookies high with both delicious chocolate chips and marshmallows. Did I resent him for that? Yes, of course I did. For the entire night and some of the next day.

Here's what the finished product was supposed to look like. A massive, soft, chewy cookie with a s'more hidden inside. WOW! Just imagine the air of excited anticipation in the house to see our cookies come out of the oven. It was something else.

...and then these emerged from the oven.

Hmm. See the oversized cookies on the left and right, the ones exploding with chocolate chips and marshmallows? Those were Dan's. See the shrunken, dried-up looking pieces of crap in the middle? Yeah, those were allll mine. It was the first time that when I offered baked goods to my roommates, they politely declined. Dan and I also attempted peanut butter & carob chip cookies which were so dismal that we didn't bother photographing them. After a week of sitting untouched on my kitchen counter, they somehow found their way into the organic waste bin. At least the earth shall benefit from them.

We learned a few important lessons from our adventures in vegan baking:

a.) Substitutions can make or break your baking recipe, so think carefully before going wild.
b.) Unsweetened carob chips are not the same as chocolate chips. I'm bolding this because it is very important. They are bitter, absolutely disgusting and I never want to try them again unless I am baking for someone I hate.
c.) Food glamour shots are really hard to take. See above for evidence.

So all in all, our vegan baking was a disaster. Oh well, things get better, right? Not quite yet. Onto more lowlights!

2.) Heather and I are stricken with the flu.

In the middle of Vegan March, I came down with the flu and had a luxurious three (3) day vacation of lying miserable on the couch, struggling to eat Saltines, feeling all hot'n cold (just like Katy Perry!) and alternating all of that with some puking. The flu came just in time to miss my dodgeball team's championship game. Oh well, who wants to play the game you worked all season for, right? Gah. The good news is that Heather caught the flu a day later and then I had company on the couch. This was a fun week for our non-vegan roommate, Velvet.

You can see Heather and I at our lowest low here, bravely yet futilely trying to fight the flu virus that had mercilessly ravaged us. You certainly don't need Photoshop to see our honest, real, unaltered pain here.

(*Since we did not actually document our bouts with the flu, these are professional actors hired to reenact this event. Their fees cost me about $500 so you better appreciate it. )
Oh dear, there I go again.

3.) Social outings become complicated/veggie burgers become a staple.

I found the most challenging parts of Vegan March were going out to eat with friends. Now, I'm very lucky that I live in Toronto, where vegan/vegetarian options are usually plentiful. Still, at many restaurants and pubs I found myself often resorting to ordering the veggie burger for fear of hidden dairy ingredients. In a particularly social week, I ate four (4) veggie burgers. I've got nothing against veggie burgers, but there's gotta be a limit. And that limit is four (4).

We need a break.

Bring on the veggie burger cake, though. Seriously. I like the idea of getting a meat fix from a sugar and icing-based source.

Being a vegan at the movies was also a new experience for me. Everyone knows that movie snacks are like, only the most fun part of going to the movies (if you don't believe that I take movie snacks seriously, read this letter to Peanut M&M's). Gone were the days of eating Junior Mints, buttered popcorn and rib-eye steaks. My new life path led me to eating dried prunes and mangoes whilst trying to ignore the mocking from my friends.

Lesson learned? Being a vegan is much easier when you're preparing the meals yourself or when you have time to properly plan ahead.

(Another lesson learned is that there is a time and place to scrimp and buy the generic brand, but that time is not when purchasing dried prunes and mangoes. [Mergeler, you can back me up on this, right?])

Trust me on this this. I totally got Life-branded.

4.) I start to hate people.

By far, the most annoying thing about Vegan March, way more annoying than any food restrictions, was having to deal with people's reactions when they found out we were going vegan. Common reactions included "Are you insane? Seriously, what's wrong with you?" "Uhhh...why would you EVER do that?" and my favorite response, a long and uninvited lecture on the virtues of eating meat. As well, many people enjoyed explaining the terms "protein" and "calcium" to me, as if they were new concepts that I'd never heard of. I liked explaining the terms "tolerance" and "this is none of your business anyway."

If it's good enough for Weird Al, Natalie Portman and Andre 3000 (all reported vegans), it's good enough for me (...if only for a month).

But enough with the negative! Let's hear the many, many highlights of VM.

Highlights of Vegan March

1.) My birthday celebration continues.

Perhaps my favorite part of the month was receiving a belated birthday gift. A very important belated birthday gift. Anyone recognize this beaut?

That's right! I now own my very own Sweet Valley High 250 piece puzzle, featuring the cover of SVH #49, Playing for Keeps! See, everyone? It pays to blatantly and publicly beg for whatever you want (thank you very much for the present, boo).

The puzzle has been very well received in our house.

Everyone loves it, even the spawn of Satan.

And yes. I realize that this highlight has nothing to do with going vegan. Don't rain on my Sweet Valley High parade, aight?

These two could probably be vegan if they stopped stuffing their faces at the Dairi Burger everyday after school, am I right?

2.) Eating healthy food can make you feel really good.

Though you can definitely still eat an unhealthy diet while being vegan, it DOES force you to cut out a lot of the crap. Taking out pizza, chocolate, chips, candy, ice cream, cheese, etc. and replacing those foods with fruit, vegetables, beans (lots and lots of beans), brown rice, etc. means you're going to feel a positive difference in your body. And there's definitely a small sense of satisfaction when non-vegan people try to tempt you with forbidden goods and you're just all like "naw man, I'm good."

Some of our favorite vegan foods included:
-Natura Rice Milk
-Fried tofu (if you fry a healthy food, it's still healthy, right? ...right?? Don't answer that.)
-Organic vegan berry muffins from Organic Oven Bakery
-Vega Whole Food Health Optimizer (great for breakfast smoothies, an easy way to get some protein and essential fatty acids without meat)
-Happy Planet organic soups (especially the Moroccan Chick Pea and the Thai Coconut Curry, good lord I love soup)

Foods I Consumed Record Amounts of: Spinach and dark leafy greens, beans and lentils, nuts and seeds, hummus, tofu and freaking veggie burgers.

Food I Sadly Did Not Consume Any of: Great Grains (damn you once again, modified milk ingredients!)

(Hey, did you know if you Google Image "Great Grains Canada" I'm currently the 9th picture to be displayed?! Another life goal accomplished!)

3.) Heather and I finally receive public accolades.

In a somewhat surprising turn of events, Heather and I were declared "Canada's Sexiest Vegans" by a very acclaimed and influential magazine, read by millions of extremely important people. Unexpected for sure, but appreciated. We of course turned down the award, because we're not in this for the fame. That ain't us. We're in it for the money.

4.) We expand our worlds, one animal product-free item at a time.

Though I wish we had had the time to do this to a greater extent, Heather and I did manage to sample a bunch of new and exciting vegan foods. Over the course of the month, we tried vegan pizza, vegan burritos, seitan and tempeh-based meals, cooking with coconut oil, vegan refried beans, vegan Indonesian food and vegan carrot cake. For the most part, there were definitely enough vegan options out there to make us feel like we were never going without. And did you know you can still eat Oreos as a vegan? Surprising but true.

Mmm, seconds please.

Despite all of these wondrous highlights, I think Heather and I were both ready to move on by the end of March. On March 31st, we picked out our first non-vegan foods to eat after the clock struck midnight. We prepared to rejoice with much revelry and energy.

VEGAN MARCH HAS OFFICIALLY COME TO AN END.
April 1st, 12:01 a.m.
Heather, Money and I rejoice with much revelry and energy.

Now, I don't want this post to come off as anti-vegan. I really, really don't, because I'm not. I would definitely try veganism again and would recommend others trying it as well. I think if done properly, it can do great things for your body. Veganism forces you to pay close attention to everything you're consuming instead of mindlessly grabbing something on-the-go or eating whatever's easiest. There's also a great community of vegan blogs to consult for advice or recipes (I've spent hours at Finding Vegan staring at the beautiful food pics and then feeling depressed because I will never be able to make anything that beautiful).

SIGH.

(To attempt to make this, go here. And good luck with that.)

My advice for anyone interested in trying veganism is to do some research and educate yourself beforehand to make sure you'll still get the proper nutrients in your diet. Once you've done that, go nuts! And by go nuts, I mean eat lots of spinach.

Seriously, I ate so much spinach. Oh, and as promised, I leave you with one (1) vegan joke.

-How many vegans does it take to screw in a lightbulb?
-I don't know, but where do you get your protein?!

(I would laugh but it's all too fresh for me. I never want to discuss protein again.)

Sooooo, who's in for Meatless May? Holla at me! And special thanks to Heather for creating a gif of me throwing up and for going on this special journey with me; we now have a bond that can never be broken, unless you're late with the phone bill again.

Cut it Out, Lucky Charms!

2011-03-10T13:31:00.000-08:00

GUEST BLOGGER: Carla K. Thasman

I often wonder if it is possible for a cereal to bring you luck.

Hello, everyone! It has been quite some time but I am so pleased to be back on the "blogger scene" and able to share with you a letter about one of my favorite activities: cereal!

As you all know, I do love writing letters, lists and yes, even books! My early book 600 Ways to Eat a Spaghetti Squash That Don't Involve an Oven or Cooking used to be on Amazon but I can't seem to find it anymore. Please message me if you have a copy to share.

(Here is one way to eat spaghetti squash without an oven--roast in the sun for 3 days, sprinkle with olive oil and cumin, then enjoy! Serves 1.)

It is both delicious and convenient.

The funny thing about this letter is that it also involves a food that you don't usually need an oven to make--a cereal called Lucky Charms. I tried this cereal and oh my, it perplexed me.

Lucky Charms is a cereal made by General Mills, a company that I spend a good deal of time thinking about. Now, I'm not very familiar with Lucky Charms but from what I can tell, it involves boring pieces that taste like oat and fun shapes that taste like marshmallows. And these marshmallows are in the form of talismans and objects meant to be lucky, which is most likely where the cereal gets its name, I suppose.

These are the things that are lucky:

Now, I honestly don't believe that any of these oddly-shaped charms could bring me any sort of luck.

And the more I stared at my bowl of Lucky Charms and thought about it, the more it just didn't make any sense. Red balloons that look like clots of blood aren't lucky. And some of these "lucky" charms were just downright exclusive. Pots of gold? Well, if I'm not Irish or Jewish then it doesn't mean very much to me. I wish it did.

I thought about these charms so much that day that I was very distracted and got on the wrong bus. And then I bought the wrong kind of horse feed. I'm certain that in fact these charms brought me BAD luck! I was so distressed that I went home and wrote General Mills a letter.

I believe that I was simply voicing everyone's opinion here and stating the obvious. I don't know many people who carry around a shooting star in their pocket, but I do know plenty who have a lucky rusted nail (myself included).

Shooting stars can be the size of a boulder and would likely cause damage if placed in a cereal bowl.

I was very excited to hear back from General Mills, a company known throughout the land for their superior customer service. Just imagine a cereal bowl filled with all of your favorite talismans! What a wonderful start to your morning that would be! I was sure General Mills wouldn't disappoint me with their response. Corporate responses rarely do.

Wow!

I just knew they would come through! I was so pleased that Mary White appreciated the time it took to share my comments. I knew that Mary would understand what it's like to be a working woman who just wants a few multicultural marshmallows in her cereal. I was also glad that she would be reviewing my ideas with the appropriate personnel. They sound like the right type of people to handle this situation.

Though I haven't heard back from Mary or the appropriate personnel in about two years, I suppose I will just keep couriering my sketches to them. I have used my time wisely and have since come up with 34 new charm ideas for General Mills. One of them is a beehive with golden honey slowly dripping out of it and the honey is as gold as a brand new coin. And let me tell you, if I knew how to make a twelve-grain-loaf-of-bread-with-a-single-penny-hidden-inside-of-it-shaped marshmallow, well then, I would just do it myself and make everyone happy!

(I also think that each box of Lucky Charms should have one lucky penny or rabbit foot hidden inside of it so it could actually be certified as lucky. I haven't shared this idea with Mary yet, though--one step at a time.)

But alas, we all know that change can take a very long time and this would be quite the change. I suspect that April 2011 will be a very productive month for General Mills though--so keep your eyes out for brand new multicultural marshmallow charms that will truly make every consumer feel as if everyday is their lucky day.

Readers, what charms would YOU like to see in your bowl of Lucky Charms? Do you think the idea of "luck" even truly exists or are we the masters of our own destinies? And can anyone please provide me with a detailed sketch of a pure white calf under the Aries sky so I may send it to Mary? Urgent!

(I am picturing something like this but with a calf and on a marshmallow. Thank you!)

OMG Bday GG!

2011-02-24T07:23:00.000-08:00

Can it be? Can it really be?!

Yes, everyone: the rumors are true.

GREAT GRAINS ARE OFFICIALLY FOR SALE IN CANADA.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Obviously I will be doing a mega blogpost ASAP with an in-depth look at this miraculous event, complete with (imagined) interviews with Post, a Great Grains photoshoot and a previously unseen monologue (/diatribe) that I had penned to Post urging the fair sale of Great Grains. It is 45 pages long and has been described (possibly by myself) as "THE must read for 2011."

I know, I know. I should have had this mega blogpost done by now. My mission in life has been accomplished; why the hell haven't I written about it yet?! I hope you don't think I've grown lazy and self-satisfied now that I have my Great Grains, lounging on the couch drizzling crunchy pecan clusters over myself whilst singing victory hymns. This happened only once (1 time) before my roommates made me stop. Whatever. In my heart, I know that I'm not "creepy."

In defense of my late blogging, I will say that today is my birthday. So that's obviously been keeping me busy the entire month of February. I've also been busy winning $750.00 in a Dodgeball Nation tournament with my sexy team, the Devil Bats.

(NSFW)

2 hott 2 handle.

I'm also wearing a party dress and birthday hat at work today, but that's a whole other mega blogpost. Let us all celebrate this momentous occasion by eating at least three (3) bowls of Canadian Great Grains! I've already had five (5)! SO MANY GRAINS!

This is truly the happiest day of my life, never to be topped.*

*until Joss Whedon and Charmian Carr finally reply to my goddamn fan mail.