Archive for the ‘No Pants’ Tag
Dear readers, you know that Doubleawk wears a lot of hats. All of her literal hats (and her husband’s hats), it should be noted, come from Salmagundi, the best hat and accessory store ever/epicenter of rad hipness, located in Jamaica Plain, MA, my old hometown.
Her metaphorical hats are a bit more complicated. Yes, she’s a writer, a blogger, a former teacher, an educational and writing consultant for a still top-secret organization, and a person who for some reason today feels the need to refer to herself by her blogging handle/in the third person.
She’s also a former book publicist, which just goes to show the truth in that old saw, “once a book publicist, always a book publicist.”
That’s right, I’ve contracted out to my friend Brian as a publicist for his yet-untitled 611 page fantasy tome, the first in a series of equally hefty novels about the Annurian empire. Does being a publicist fly in the face of my work as a citizen-journalist-blogger? Maybe. But you can be assured that Brian isn’t really paying me to publicize his book. I did charge him a twelve-pack of Corona Light for helping with the party, but I’m being forced to give a Corona Light to every person he gets to come to the party without my help. So far, I’m down to nine Corona Lights. I promise not to drink all nine of the Corona Lights at the party, because this would be bad publicity for the book and my dignity.
Brian is a fun writer to hang out with because he believes in sharing his work as he goes and soliciting advice from his audience. He’ll also sometimes name something after you, although I’ve thus far been unable to get even a dwarf of species of beetle named Leda. He claims it’s because my name is overripe with bird-bonking allusions, but I’m unconvinced. In any event, throughout the writing process, Brian has solicited advice from his friends via email, which was fun, even if most of my advice was totally ignored.
Once I accidentally replied all on a character name vote, vetoing an option because it was the name of a real douche bag I’d known in college. Then another friend wrote back and said he was besties with said douche bag, and I was horrified. You always think people who hit reply all instead of reply are total idiots. Then it happens to you. Turns out the friend had never even heard of the college douche bag, and was just trying to freak me out. Also turns out that I lost the vote, and now the character shares the name of the college douche bag. Which character, you ask? Well, you’ll just have to read the book to figure out if I thought you were a douche bag in college. Or you could just ask me. But I digress.
Brian’s August 29th party in/near Putney, VT will feature:
–guests dressed up as characters from the book (but don’t let this stop you from coming because you:
a) haven’t read the book or
b) think it sounds incredibly dorky
–a signature cocktail based on the novel
–a “page signing.” Bring a printout of your favorite page of the novel, and Brian will sign it for you. Could be worth millions someday! Or 1/99th of 1 cent.
–target shooting with a bow and arrow (Don’t worry. I will stay far away from weaponry)
–a book titling contest (that’s giving it a title, not something having to do with boobs. But there will be boobs at the party).
–an opportunity to have a character or something else named for you!
Let me know if you want to read Brian’s book before coming to/instead of coming to the party. I can send you a copy. Have any friends who are super into the Sci-Fi/Fantasy genre? (Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone). Let me know and I can probably get them a copy, too. Have any friends who work in publishing? I’d love to be the one who hooks Brian up with a publisher. Then maybe my pay would be restored to a whole twelver of Corona Light. Which I will share. With you. Sorry I have such gross taste in beer.
Finally, I want you to watch this movie I made about Brian, his book, and his party. I made it with this new web-program to which I am totally addicted called xtranormal. You should become addicted to it, too. It allows you to make and watch movies about the things that really interest you: yourself, your life, and your friends. You might even find a character who looks like you! Check out how much the girl looks like me!
Disclaimer: Brian does not have an English accent in real life. I gave him one to make him seem more appealing so you would read his book and come to his party.
Email me at doubleawk [at] gmail.com and I’ll send you the full party info! If you like, I’ll also send you an electronic teaser of Brian’s book!
Also, you can fan Brian’s book here!
Yesterday, John and I decided upon a social experiment. As we popped the cork of a bottle of champagne to celebrate his acceptance of a job offer for next year, we agreed to have a snark-free evening. What’s that, you say, dear reader: you can no more imagine John being snarky than you can imagine me being snark-free? Well first of all, poop on you. Second of all, within the confines of our own home, John and I engage in a fairly balanced, tit-for-tat snarkfest.
I will now take bets on who snarked first.
It was Muckle.
Eight minutes into the experiment, he said, “And that’s why men are better than women.”
Now for a quiz. Was he referring to:
b) muscle mass
c) the patriarchy
d) Wham! Fantastic, the first CD I ever owned
e) Y-Chromosome DNA
But, fair readers, it wasn’t a sweep. Four minutes after John’s first barb, I uttered the following, “Some Christian you are.”
Was I alluding to Muckle’s propensity to
a) pray to Hecate
b) disbelieve the story of Genesis
c) lie to his parents about where he is calling from
d) eat latkes
e) don hot pants
Regardless, I think we learned something: going snarkless is fine, but it’s always fun to criticize fundamental qualities like gender and religion. And Muckle looks really good in hot pants.
To top it all off, later that night, I learned that I had won John’s apartment cleaning services in the recent Sloan charity auction. Now I get six hours of apartment cleaning from him, and I don’t have to feel guilty. And you can be darn sure he’ll wear those hot pants as he cleans.
I’ll warn you when the cleaning is going down so you don’t accidentally stop by for a visit (or so you can plan a “surprise” visit accordingly).
Now that’s what I call a marriage.
Good day, Blogophiles!
Today’s title, Blomotional Strategies sounds dirty, but really, it’s just a hybrid of blog and promotional. And it’s my title because today I’m going to write about promotions and business. Whenever I write business, you should pronounce it Bizz-Nass in your head, which indicates that I am writing about it in a flippant and sardonic way and that I actually know nothing about it.
First order of business: I’m currently trying to sell a bunch of old stuff on Ebay: DVDs, video games, chaps, the usual. I’m totally out of storage space, and one of the best ways I can think of to support myself as a writer is by selling things I don’t need. Unfortunately, no one else seems to need them either. No bids yet.
I also took my wedding dress to be cleaned because I’m thinking of selling that on Ebay, too. Especially since it’s going to cost me $140 bucks to clean it. That’s right, I’m paying more to clean my wedding dress than I’ve paid for anything else in my closet (except a pair of size 28 Seven Jeans, worn exactly once before my thyroid disorder was diagnosed–available now on Ebay!). I’d like to solicit feedback on the idea of selling my wedding dress: feel free to comment. Am I being anti-sentimental? Should I be crafty and make it into an outfit/pillow/shroud/parachute/1000 hankies? Or do I have to keep it in my closet for the next 50 years attracting moths and taking up space?
Next stop on my morning of commerce, the consignment shop, where I was hoping to unload more premium denim (this time, too big!), and several shirts which I finally admitted a) will never come back in style b) I am too old to wear. Some of you may remember that whole 70s porn-star phase I had right after college, which involved a lot of metallics and pleather. I want to apologize for that. And offer you any pieces from the collection you might secretly have admired–yours now at bargain basement prices.
The real promotional excitement happened as I tried to do my good deed for the day. “Excuse me, sir, excuse me,” I called out, running to thwart the unfolding tragedy. “There’s a cup of coffee on top of your car!” He laughed and handed me a $5 Starbucks gift-card! And this was no ordinary car, it was a Zip Car! Starbucks and Zip Car–two great tastes that apparently go great together.
“It’s not coffee, it’s a magnet,” he explained, as he zoomed off to foist free coffee on the next unsuspecting do-gooder.
I was pleased, of course, but I also felt duped! And it got me thinking, what other sorts of fake scenarios could companies concoct to reward us for trying to be decent human beings. Perhaps Nine West and Cottonelle could team up. If we tell the woman she has toilet paper stuck to the bottom of her shoe, we get a $10 shoe coupon (shupon, obvs) or a roll of toilet paper. Or maybe no teaming up is necessary. Glide floss could reward us for telling a stranger he has spinach in his teeth, or I could strategically place a boogie in my nose and give you a trial size pack of Kleenex if you point it out. Yes, it seems guerrilla marketing really is the wave of the future (except here in Boston, see http://edition.cnn.com/2007/US/01/31/boston.bombscare/index.html ).
Maybe that’s how I can unload some of this stuff. I’ll go out without pants, and if a stranger points out I’m not wearing pants, she can buy my old jeans for half-off whatever it is I’ve decided to charge for them! Everybody wins!