Bandito’s Burritos is a delicious little restaurant located on W. Holly Street in downtown Bellingham, Washington. One of their major attractions is a well-stocked salsa bar featuring home-made toppings from 1 to 5+ stars, in flavors from savory to sweet. Today, they had this:
If I worked there, I wouldn't have written the "ha ha." Which is why I'm not allowed in the food service industry.
While so far this salsa is my favorite April Fool’s joke (that sucker was NOT one star), I keep seeing awesome contributions to today’s fun, so I’m going to compile a list. This will be updated throughout the day as I find more jokes.
Grand Prize: A signed (and personalized, if you like) copy of Black Blade Blues, the first of a new urban fantasy series from J. A. Pitts, published by Tor. Also, you get my Cliff’s Notes version, which is pants-wettingly hilarious. Runner-up: You get my Cliff’s Notes version.
This is how it works:
1. Create an image (or sculpture, or sweater mural, or some other art piece–I ain’t picky) using the theme: “A movie or stage prop that turns out to be real.” 2. Submit your entry by posting it online with a link back to the contest, and e-mailing me the URL. 3. On April 23rd at the stroke of midnight PST, voting begins; on April 25th at midnight PST, voting closes. 4. Popular vote will decide the winner. If there is a tie, my mother will break it.
And now, more about what you win. This is the blurb for Black Blade Blues by J. A. Pitts:
Sarah Beauhall has more on her plate than most twenty-somethings: day job as a blacksmith, night job as a props manager for a low-budget movie, and her free time is spent fighting in a medieval re-enactment group. When the lead actor breaks Sarah’s favorite one-of-a-kind sword, it sends the director into fits. Sarah agrees to repair the blade to avoid reshooting scenes.
One of the extras claims to be a dwarf and offers to help her at the forge. That’s when things start to get weird. Could the sword really be magic, as he claims? Why does he want her to kill a Portland investment banker? And what is it about that homeless guy that has her on edge?
As if things weren’t surreal enough at that point, Sarah’s girlfriend Katie breaks out the dreaded phrase… “I love you.”
Black Blade Blues is about forging an existence in a world that is much different than one expects.
Oh, and dragons.
The contest fine print, which is regular sized because I’m not a douchebag lawyer: You must be eighteen to enter, because while I would have loved this book when I was sixteen, your parents might be more tight-assed than mine, and I don’t like being hunted and slaughtered and made into a Sänskin rug. Also, by entering, you agree to let me archive your entry on my website. I won’t duplicate, redistribute, or alter it without your permission–I just want the contest preserved for posterity. And finally, I’m not going to spend a long time writing more fine print, so if something comes up and I have to make an executive decision, I’m just going to do that. By entering, you agree that I am Contest God and you’ll shut up and take it like a rhinoceros. (I hear they’re pretty stoic.)
Thanks for playing! And hey, if this theme isn’t something you think you can work with, watch for the next one coming up in a couple of weeks. It has to do with superpowers…
I don’t think I can say this without sounding like a self-centered dick, so I’m just going to go for it. Grief is my excuse!
You don’t know how I feel. You think you do, because you’ve lost pets before. And trust me, I appreciate that you want to support me. I love you for trying to compare our pain so I know I’m not alone. I’m not ungrateful so much as uncomfortable when you compare my canine loss to yours. I don’t think your loss was any less terrible, but I do think it’s different.
Because:
You can’t know how I feel. You tell me about your dog that died of this or that. Maybe yours even had gastric carcinoma (aka stomach cancer) like mine did, and you had to clean up its vomit for over a month while it wasted away and lost the energy to do its favorite things. Maybe it even panicked during euthanasia like mine did, and you had to hold it and feel its heart battering the inside of its chest as it struggled desperately to stay with you.
It’s possible that you met your dog as an adult, and that in the beginning, it owed you nothing except a place to stay. That it ignored you when you gave it commands, and you spent three years in a constant battle of wills to get the damn thing to stop dumping the garbage on the floor or licking your face when it had cat turd-breath. Maybe it wasn’t raised to love you, and it decided to of its own free will.
The similarities become distinctly unlikely when we get this far, but it’s even possible that you’re a person in a minority group at high risk for getting your ass kicked by people who don’t even know you. Perhaps, once in the middle of the night, when you were alone, three people decided you looked like a punching bag, and they moved in on you like a pride of meth-peddling lions, and you were terrified because they were accusing you of getting in their way, and explaining how they were going to remove you, and what the hell could you do because you’re a hundred and twenty pounds and never been in a fight in your life. And it’s possible that you touched your dog’s collar, hoping it would understand. Maybe your dog lunged at them like mine did, snarling and ready to rip their throats out because it already knew what was going on, and it would rather fight three full grown men, each of them three or four times its own size, than let anything happen to you. It’s possible that you got to watch those pieces of shit turn in silent tandem and go back the way they came, that you saw that out of the corner of your eye, because you got to act all cool and look straight ahead as if they weren’t even there and you’d never heard their challenges, because your dog was so awesome.
It’s possible. But I doubt it. Even if I have another dog capable of that courage and loyalty, I hope it never gets the chance to prove it. And so I won’t know, will I?
The next dog I own will probably be just like yours. I will love it, and it will love me. I never thought that wouldn’t be enough until I found out there was more.
R.I.P., Shai. It took me awhile, but I loved you as much as you loved me.
I’ve never been trained as management. I’m learning by watching my boss. Who has ALSO never been trained as management. You’d think this was a recipe for disaster, but for some reason our store has the lowest turnover rate in the company. (Knock on wood!) Most of our employees have been here for four years or more, at a retail position where we routinely field more sexual harassment than a really hot prison guard. When and if our employees leave, they do so reluctantly, because they have to move or they’ve finished their degree.
While I’ve never been taught how to hire for a job, I was taught how to apply for a job while I was in high school. I learned that:
Your resumé should be as concise as possible. Managers are physically incapable of turning pages because they have giant, curved claws instead of fingers like normal humans. You write in blue or black ink. Graphite will smudge on the manager’s wings and prevent it from lifting into the air properly. You fill out every field. A manager’s CPU is confused by blank spaces in a query string. You should dress slightly nicer than you would at the job. Managers should see you as a potential mate, but not a potential rival. Once you’re hired, you can dissuade them with the same bottled fox urine that gardeners use to keep away rabbits. You never run from the interview. Managers will always pounce on a moving object and disembowel it with their powerful hind legs, even if it’s a Volkswagen or a tornado.
My manager Nicole is not a highly educated woman. She says things like, “volumptuous” and “would of,” and I tease her about it with all the ceaseless enery of a younger brother who found a juicy diary hidden under her mattress. But while Nicole isn’t highly educated, and that might cause some people not to take her seriously, she is by far one of the most competent human beings I’ve ever met.
When she hired a guy who filled out the application in pencil and wore blue jeans to his first and second interviews, I was understandably apprehensive, but he turned out to be great with customers, and just as good with the employees. He’s the kind of man who will drop what he’s doing to cover a shift or who brings coffee or little presents to the people sharing his shift. He even engages in low-stakes prank wars with me. (If you don’t know me well: pranks are my favorite social activity.)
Nicole wast taught in school just like I was, but I guess because she isn’t an evil, winged, predatory robot who has a deathly fear of fox urine, she has a different way of doing things. She recognizes that not everyone had the same opportunities in school. If they grew up in an area with poorly paid, poorly trained teachers, they might not have been properly warned about managers the way our more privileged applicants were. That doesn’t mean they’re less intelligent or less able to be personable and knowledgeable.
While I was weeding through the applications for really bad ones, my co-worker came up and pointed at how the applicant had included their references. “You’re not supposed to do that,” she said. “You’re supposed to say they’re available upon request.” She’s a very literal person, and it’s not surprising that she paid attention to what she was taught in school. But if she was doing the hiring, I wouldn’t be there. I wasn’t taught in school that managers are threatened by the proof that people respect you.
If you’re ever responsible for hiring someone, don’t let your CPU be confused by someone else’s search parameters. You’ll have less claws and disembowelings. And I’m sure you’ll find you can still fly.
I won NaNo at 50,006 words! A day early, which I don’t think I’ve ever done before. Audrey put a banana peel on my head as a victory hat, since we didn’t have a viking helmet lying around. (Or we did, she hid it because she just wanted to put garbage on my head.)
I'm having a bad fruit day. ;__;
Afterward, we took my dog for a walk and looked for Christmas lights. We found this house, which is clearly an anime smiley.
^__^
Those were the best parts of the day. Perhaps the worst part was when I realized how carefully I’ve cloistered myself behind a curtain of intelligent people. The barricade is rarely broken (sometimes by customers or friends-of-friends). I made the mistake of following Keffy into the NaNoWriMo chat room this afternoon, in spite of his warnings. Here is a collision of “wry humor” and “absolute idiocy.” I think my respect for humanity was totaled, but at least I’ll get a LOLInternet settlement.
Want to see when I’ve been drawing? It’s all the flat bits on this “Nano stats” graph. So instead of being a tortoise or a hare, I am some kind of unholy abomination that came from the loins of a hare that got a little drunk by the pond one night. Most scientists agree I should be destroyed.
I have to put away the comic for a couple days so I can catch up on NaNo, but here’s another tiny teaser:
When I break the fourth wall, this is about the only face we see.
Plus, here’s a comic from my friend Audrey. It’s about my pets. And my filthy house. Click to make it bigger!
There’s a bitchin’ storm here in Bellingham, almost supernatural in force and fervor. Some of my friends and I went on a walk down to the waterfront. Here’s our chilling firsthand account, in real-time tweets and a few photos.
37. plunderpuss Operatipn #stormwalk commencing. Expecting mystery, adventure, and sudden death. about 3 hours ago from txt
36. plunderpuss The wind on the construction site sounds like howling. My dog is growling at it. We’re almost at the waterfront. #stormwalk about 2 hours ago from txt
35. Keffy This vehicle has been abandoned. No other souls are out. Pressing on. #stormwalk about 2 hours ago from txt
34. plunderpuss It’s hard to see in this wind, but the whitecaps are huge. It almost looks like they’re climbing up the rocks. #stormwalk about 2 hours ago from txt
33. Keffy Oh shhit+ #stormwalk about 2 hours ago from txt
32. plunderpuss Fck, there s really something in the water Also my dog ran off. dammit #stormwalk about 2 hours ago from txt
31. Keffy Something from water… It’s a dude. Naked, pale, blue veins, like a goth swim team. He isn’t responding to our queries. #stormwalk about 2 hours ago from txt
30. plunderpuss Dude there’s like 10 crazy jackasses swimming now we’re um, not staying. One of these guys is making the constructipn site howl. #stormwalk about 2 hours ago from txt
29. Keffy They are following us down the path… Aud is creeped. They smell like tide flats. Walking away faster. Still can’t find dog. #stormwalk about 2 hours ago from txt
"I hope this turns out. If you can see tell me wtf is going on. #stormwalk"
28. mitchv noooooooooooooooarrrrghurghhghh *farts* #Stormwalk about 2 hours ago from txt
27. Keffy Mitch is riding ahead of us screeching and ringing his bell. He won’t come back. There is a mist ahead. I am afraid. #stormwalk about 2 hours ago from txt
26. Keffy Wind is picking up. #stormwalk about 2 hours ago from txt
25. plunderpuss Lost @mitchv and my dog. Fimd them later, have to get home NOW. Fish guys gone but other shadows in rain. Such bad idea #stormwalk about 2 hours ago from txt
24. Keffy ocean skyline has gone dark with reverberating howl #stormwalk about 2 hours ago from txt
23. plunderpuss Power in streetllights gone. Benthic darkness, can’t see companions. Wailing so close. #stormwalk about 2 hours ago from txt
22. Keffy dark where where where #stormwalk about 2 hours ago from txt
21. plunderpuss Alex is acting weird and Audrey is trying to stop him from running BACKTO THE BAY. Some lights now thank god. #stormwalk about 2 hours ago from txt
20. Keffy Alex won’t stop singing murmaider, it’s in my head oh god #stormwalk about 2 hours ago from txt
"Alex just attackd Aud, evidence .what do I do. Shes not moving #stormwalk"
19. plunderpuss I ran, Alex has weord crap on his neck looks like gills. Not waiting for others to freak. #stormwalk about 1 hour ago from txt
18. Keffy San ran off. Aud dead. Alex gibbering. Gills, green, pulsating. So horrible. I should leave? #stormwalk about 1 hour ago from txt
17. plunderpuss Tree or something fell near me. Still better than whatever’s going on by water. I’m afraid to go home. Alex lives there. #stormwalk about 1 hour ago from txt
16. plunderpuss Sweet, my dog found me! She’s limping. #stormwalk about 1 hour ago from txt
15. plunderpuss At historic train depot. Something wrong with dog. She’s so cold. #stormwalk about 1 hour ago from txt
14. Keffy I just found @plunderpuss ‘s dog. I think. It’s cold. Still hearing the children. Are those gills or tentacles? #stormwalk about 1 hour ago from txt
13. plunderpuss I think she’s sick. Her neck is swollen. Also I don’t like sounds from road. Slimy, scraping. #stormwalk about 1 hour ago from txt
12. Keffy Running to downtown few lights pissing rain. More lightning, wind. There are laughing children i can’t see them. #stormwalk about 1 hour ago from txt
11. plunderpuss Something wrong. Dog split open, tentacles (!?) came out. Stung my leg but I’m on C street by gravel pit, hiding on beached boat #stormwalk about 1 hour ago from txt
10. plunderpuss I cant hear if its coming, rain too hard. Dark shape on horizon in lightning, warehouse sized. Not sure where to go. #stormwalk about 1 hour ago from txt
9. Keffy Dog howling. Things moving in dark. I can’t it’s coming. I can’t everybody gone every #stormwalk about 1 hour ago from txt
8. plunderpuss #stormwalk was terrible. Dont understand what is happening. Someone please resc about 1 hour ago from txt
i. plunderpuss …And thank you for reading #stormwalk. Stay tuned for special features.
ii. plunderpuss #stormwalk #outtake The dog really wants to rent John Carpenter’s “The Thing” and we don’t know why.
It took me a week to recover from this convention. If you were there, I just want you to know I partially blame you.
I forget which airport had this glowing lion, but I totally want it on my wall.
I wasn’t the only one that found something I loved on the wall. Check out Keffy’s soulmate:
The Holy Grail of Chest Decorations
Also, let’s laugh at him for being short:
The best part of the convention, of course, was meeting online friends I’d never met in real life before. I did get a photo with Gio Clairval, who is absolutely enchanting. She described part of Italy so beautifully that everyone listening was tempted to move there next week. Hell, some of them might already be there with the fake visas I sold them after they got too drunk to stand.
She dressed me in her feather boa. Apparently I wasn't gay enough to begin with!
I didn’t get photos with Amanda Downum or her awesome husband because apparently I am just as stupid as I am pretty. No, seriously, look how pretty I am. I got this Jerome Russell glitter that is my new favorite toiletry. This photo was taken in our hotel room.
There is an octopus just out of the frame that is way cooler than anything you can see.
So was this one. There are two lines, and a hold button. For putting people on hold while you crap. I tried to use it but it didn’t work, so I guess it’s so advanced it detected that I am not, indeed, a prosperous businessman.
Another favorite part was getting to speak with Carol Berg, who is a phenomenal writer. She will take you on a ride of violence, intrigue, and saving the world, and along the way she will turn your heart inside out. Go buy her books. Since I stupidly forgot to ask for a photo with her, too, instead you can have this shot of one of my dinosaurs on a fake panel:
Oh yes, I brought the damn things.
David Levine’s Twitter + con experience was similar to mine. I’m more convinced every day that Twitter is one of the most amazing inventions in human history. Yes, I’m comparing this little social network with the wheel, the control of fire, and the Atari 2600. If you think it’s frivolous, I pity you. (P.S. Learn to Follow users who are interesting instead of people you feel obligated to pay attention to. Your whole Internet will get better.)
</soapbox>
Anyway… One of the best parties was the release for Soulless by Gail Carriger. Several people were dressed up as the characters and spoke in character throughout the (almost too popular) party, and they had a variety of “sweetmeats” you’d expect at a Victorian tea party. Plus, there was this inexplicable and super-awesome octopus:
I must have looked so INSANE while taking this photo.
I gave Julie McGalliard a present she probably doesn’t want to talk about in public. But as you can see, I wrapped it in black velvet with red ribbon, so it can only be something Twilight related. And also? It came from my work. MWAHAHAHAHA!
Here, she doesn't hate me yet.
I also met an editor who has my manuscript on her desk. I was almost too shy to say hi to her, but it’s because I like her website and she had the best steampunk outfit and incredible hair. (Those are all much more intimidating than editorship.) I also got a chance to thank an editor who gave me a kind critique at the beginning of my forays into the publishing industry. And I got to eat awesome cheese courtesy of Jay Lake, plus some weirder foods later, like fried grasshoppers and pink-sugar-codfish from the Japanese grocery store. Paolo Bacigalupi is a saint…he was surrounded by people with sugar-codfish-breath, and he didn’t complain at all! I like that guy. Go buy his books. Here’s the other thing I got at the Japanese grocery store:
I used this to wash down the grasshoppers and codfish.
But speaking of the pink-sugar-codfish, it is sad I didn’t get any photos of people’s faces as they tasted it. Or any photos of it in Jay’s bed. Where I guess it somehow ended up.
I’m too busy with NaNo and Skulduggery to resize all my WFC2009 photos. See, here’s part of my NaNo:
Before Meryamunra could say anything, Usire stuck his hand into the bandages. The god’s hand passed easily, and though Meryamunra could feel some resistance, it didn’t hurt. Usire teased out the soul and held it up to the red lights.
It was like a jellyfish Meryamunra had once seen in the Mediterranean, during his only visit to Rosetta. This one was only the size of Meryamunra’s fist, with a clutch of tiny, delicate tendrils hanging off of one side. The translucent substance was rainbow-oiled on its surface, and it molded limply to Usire’s hand. Meryamunra felt safety coil around him, the sense of a blanket on a cold night or the arm of a friend when he wept. He stopped fearing the undergods, even though he knew that he couldn’t be this secure in the underworld, not without his amulets. He watched with heavy-lidded eyes as Usire dropped the soul on the scale—and then Meryamunra fell to his knees and shrieked soundlessly.
The fall was so hard, the safety was gone, and the scale was cold, so cold, freezing burning freezing his mind, his flesh, his everything. He clutched at himself, bones gripping withered flesh under bundles of rags, but there was no warmth to be had in this mummified body.
Anpu! he screamed, but the jackal-headed god didn’t respond.
And here’s a crappy cell phone pic of some of the unfinished Skulduggery panels:
Unfinished panels are an invitation to write your own dialogue in the comments...
So for now, I’m going to force this music video on you. Everything Lady Gaga did bored me before today, but I like this video. It’s not just the sparkle, or the catchy music, which are great and all. It’s the creepy vibe! It mostly disappears at about 3:15 or so, but before that, I just cannot get enough of the creepy someone-tricked-my-hand-puppet-into-eating-strychnine dance. I hope I see people doing it at clubs. I mean, I’m going to laugh at them, but I’ll also feel a chill or two go down my spine. If they do it right.
At 1:45 this morning, Seamus came home from karaoke and asked me if I knew the school was on fire.
There’s a historic school building (est. 1903) in our neighborhood. It used to look like this:
And right now, it looks like this:
Just moments after we took that photo, something electrical exploded in a giant flash of blue light, and the power went out for blocks around. The firefighters have been battling the fire for the four hours I’ve known about it, and it was already an inferno when we first went out to look.
Please: take a minute to imagine what it’s like to be roused in the middle of the night to spend subsequent hours fighting a monster that can kill you without touching you. The men and women who risk their lives fighting fires are amazing.
Because that raging, 1400-degree tantrum is scary.
#stormwalk 
