It looks as if I’m about to be knocked off “LJ Idol.” I have the fewest votes of anyone at 16 votes, and it’s kind of ironic, because the player who really stirred the pot over the previous round’s votes was told to watch out and expect to be eliminated, but that player is doing pretty well. *I* didn’t do anything to peeve them off. Well, except be me. Point taken.
I decided to play because I wanted to find a few more good people to read/add to the friends list here, and I’ve done that. I wanted a somewhat wider audience, and I’ve gotten it. I have enjoyed doing the topic-related posts, and I might continue doing some of the topics. It’s frustrating that so many people don’t read all the entries and just vote the way they do for any other popularity contest, though. What did I expect? Idiot.
However, I was pleased to hear that at least a few readers liked the SF short whose opening I posted as the open-topic entry. I’d like to finish it and enter it in a short story contest that I know of, but I don’t know what’s the use of dat, because it’ll just be rejected and spat upon and stomped and accused of being a cave-wall copy of something else. I’m really losing heart for this here stuff.
If anybody feels like voting in that LJ Idol poll, though, here’s the link.
I’m on ballot number two. You just tick the tickybox and submit poll (you have to be logged in as your LJ identity, just as with any LJ comment.) It’s only a matter of time before the youngsters kick me off, of course.
Tonight was a disaster . . . Mama stopped up the kitchen sink (the garbage disposal side) with a skillet full of melted chicken fat or somesuch, and she worked on unstopping it for about an hour while I was off at the grocery store. She destroys a disposal about every three years (and always has, in whichever house she has been in), because she won’t follow the rules about not overheating the thing. You are supposed to run water for a while after you finish grinding to cool it off, but she hardly ever runs water AT ALL when she throws all sorts of junk down there.
Hubby has always been hostile towards the practice of using the disposal at all, because he knows how sensitive their little unit-guts are. So when I got home, the two of them were wrangling over the sink, plunging away with a plunger of mysterious provenance (I prefer not to know, seriously) and arguing over the various ways of unstopping sinks. It’s still stopped up after two bottles of liquid Drano gel and lots of plunging prior to that (once you put that corrosive in, you can’t plunge and pick at it because of the chemicals.) I suggested that if it’s still like this tomorrow morning (after two bottles of Corrosive Killer Gel were swallowed up, one per sink side), a plumber could be called in–I could pay for it out of my grocery money. Naturally, both dear-hearts attacked ME because I’m the common enemy.
The Chinese character for “trouble” is the ideographs for “two women under one roof,” you know.
And I was going to bake a lemon cake and dye our Easter eggs this evening. Can’t do much in a kitchen when the sink is toxic and no dishes or pans can be washed.
I ended up reading an e-text of Richard Prather’s _Strip for Murder_ instead. It is hilarious. You should get a copy (it’s available from Amazon and from e-reads) and read it sometime. It’s completely dated (as in “obviously set in the 1950s/60s” and “sexist” and “politically incorrect”) and tongue-in-cheek, but he has such a gift for turns of phrase and funny situations. I’m tempting fate, too, because before that, I re-read _It Can’t Happen Here_ by Sinclair Lewis. It’s a very scary and serious plot showing what COULD happen here and what might actually already be happening here, as far as the plot, which is why it’s back in print. Lewis also has that gift for hilarious, unusual, intriguing turns of phrase. THAT is the gift I have as a writer, rather than the “page-turning” gift. It’s quite useless nowadays unless you’re a TV writer.
I know . . . rereading Sinclair Lewis is going to throw me even further down the rabbit hole of “you’re behind the times.” But I just love him so. And Prather holds his own, too. I even flipped through _archy and mehitabel_ today, but that was really tempting fate, wasn’t it? Gotta be careful to stay away from the top shelf, though: I might be sucked into reading Sherwood Anderson again, and that would be the end, for sure.
(I hid the Willa Cather some time ago.)