October 2, 2005

Blah Blah Euphemism, Blah Blah Dog Toot

I am in Pensacola at my mom-in-laws---aka Nana. We drove down last night to set up her new computer (Scott) and fix whatever Ophelia broke (Scott) and speak at the Friends of the Library fundraiser (me) and spoil my children (Nana.) My children are in charge of eating too many Fritos and watching the movie ROBOTS over and over and over and over and over. We all have our assignments and we are all pleased with them.

Not to complain or anything...but the dulcet tones of Robin Williams ARE beginning to grate. Just a little. And not be judgemental, but when the four little eyeballs of my loin-fruit begin (INEVITABLY) to bleed from staring into the white light of the Holy Television, I am going to have to throttle myself with one of Scott's neckties AND throw myself into the sea to keep from warbling, I TOLD YOU THAT WOULD HAPPEN IF YOU DID NOT STOP. I SAID! DID I NOT SAY? Which is one of about 100 things I took a solemn vow to NEVER say when I was eight, and enraged, and people kept saying dumb stupid dumb stuff to me about would happen if I didn't blah blah this and stop blah blah-ing that. "Somthing actions, something something consequences," they said, nattering on like they KNEW when they didn't know REALLY, they were just SUPPOSING, and I was NOT going to fall ANYWAY, so I might as well run with a THOUSAND sticks in my mouth, geez.

WHAT IS GOOD: THE TIMES. I got a heads up from HODDER (my UK press). Remember gods in Alabama was The Times book club pick? WELL! I JUST SAW THE INITIAL REVIEW. It was, to appropriate some slang, BRILLIANT. My favorite line:

"...a fast paced thriller written so well that you think you are really reading a slow-burning novel."

That makes me all flushed and giddy, and ever since Scott read it to me, I have been marching around Nana's singing that line repeatedly to the tune of HAIL, BRITANNIA. By about the 4,000th repetition, I began to suspect my mother in law might SLIGHTLY prefer even the dulcet tones of RW. So I stopped. But to myself I am still singing it. Inside, where it counts.

HEY! LOOK! This is me in London standing under Hodder's sign outide their building, about to go be slightly intimidated by the excrutiatingly prettiness of my UK editor:

Hodder.JPG

I include this picture for digressionary reasons that will become clear later but that WE SHALL NOT DISCUSS. In order to explain WHY we shall not discuss them, I offer up this Predigressionary Digression: I have weird notions of propriety. I will discuss ANYTHING in the general, a little less in the specific, and there are a few topics I prefer not to discuss at all in the specific as it pertains to me. So, for example, while I am happy to engage in lively bantersome exchanges about tooting, and while I agree that it is hilarious when the dog toots (especially if he then looks with comical surprise at his rear, as if asking the rear what that triumphant blowing fanfare was) I see no need to discuss whether or not I personally have ever experienced any untoward intestional gasses. I am sure that if such gasses did begin to amass themselves, the angels would come and carry them silently away before we EVER NEEDED TO TALK ABOUT IT. When certain discussions move from the general to the specific as it pertains to me, I get very flustered and displeased. SO. While the inclusion of this picture would make it very easy to move the discussion FROM the general TO the specific as it pertains to me when I begin my future digression, let's just not.

Let's speak in generalities. And if generalities should fail us, we shall always have euphemism to fall back on. I am ALL ABOUT ephemism. In fact, I have left specific instructions that the words VIVA LA EUPHEMISM be engraved upon my tombstone. SO. Here endeth the predrigressionary digression.

What is BAD: As you may have noticed from last week's rather quiet Kudzu, I am having BLOG BLOCK. I can't seem to BLOG. I sit down to blog, and then I have nothing to say, and I begin working on my novel instead. Or I wander off to peer at Samantha on DAYS OF OUR LIVES and call everyone I know to make THEM stare at her so we can speculate about whether or not she has had BREAST REDUCTION SURGERY.

I have two theories as to WHY. (Two theories about why I am blog blocked, not two theories about the WHY of breast reduction. OH! LOOK!

THE DIGRESSION YOU WERE FOREWARNED WAS COMING IS NOW HERE:

I KNOW all the why's of breast reduction, INTIMATELY, as does any general and not specific person who is both top heavy and athletic. These non-specific people have MEMORIZED the why's as they go back and forth about having it or not having it. The WHY's are practically engraved on their non-specific eyelids, everything from from back pain to black eyes, and they also know all the reasons why not, like the one in a million shot of being the one in a million person who dies on the table during BOOB SURGERY, absolutely GUARANTEEING that something OTHER than VIVA LA EUPHEMISM will be on their tombstone.

HERE ENDETH THE DIGRSSION!

So, two theories about the blog block....

Theory 1: I am REALLY tired. The stomach flu followed up by an overnight drive to Pensacola has sapped me of my Vital Essence-y Juices, and as soon as I get home and sleep for 7 illness-free hours in my own bed, I will be fine.

Theory 2: Scott is performing some sort of spooky ritual upon my hapless person as I sleep and SOUL SUCKING the SAUCINESS right out of me. I imagine the sauciness is an orange vapor that comes out of my mouth, and he hoovers it up into his nostrils with great sniffing horks and then says "AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

Theory one is PURE conjecture, and I am, after all, A SCIENTIST. So I have to give theory two more credence. See, I have EVIDENCE to support 2, which I present herewith: In recent days, while I have been saucelessly unable to find anything blogworthy, SCOTT HAS GOTTEN REALLY REALLY SAUCY. He is usually dry and witty with forays into the land of the wretched pun, but not SAUCY. He says he is not sucking the sauciness out of me, but if YOU were sucking the sauciness out of me, would you admit it? He attributes his new Hollandaisical Persona to my recent rash of shoe shopping.

Me: My shoe shopping? OH, blame the VICTIM, why don't ya. What does my admittedly out of control shoe shopping have to do with ANYTHING?
Him: You really haven't noticed?
Me: Noticed what?
Him: Every time you buy shoes, I **mow the lawn.** (By the by, for those who have not been keeping up, let me say that MOW THE LAWN is probably a euphemism. Those of you who HAVE been keeping up may now chime in with a hearty, "Um, duh.")

I was horrifed to realize he was RIGHT. Apparently, successful shoe shopping makes me REALLY want the lawn to look nice. I feel this is a connection that does not bear close examination, and am sticking with my SOUL SUCKING SAUCINESS NOSTRIL VAPOR theory.

PS. B4B Goes LIVE tomorrow afternoon.

Posted by joshilyn at October 2, 2005 2:47 PM
Comments

THIS is a BLOG BLOCK? Have them more often, please; hysterical laughing is my favorite state of being. You could write about SEWER DISTRICT MEETINGS and it would be hilarious.

The mental image of Scott sucking sauciness out of you has done me in for the rest of the day.

Posted by: Jilly at October 2, 2005 4:05 PM

I shall never be able to look Scott in the eye again, now that I know about the connection between shoes and the lawn. Eep.

(Funny, every time _I_ buy shoes, I wish I had a... uhhh... lawnboy.)

Posted by: Mir at October 2, 2005 4:45 PM

Just to settle the did Samantha reduce or not quandry, I think she just stopped breast feeding her new son. Remember when she was running around as Stan and "out of town"? She was having her baby. How terribly sad that I know this, I'm off to stuff something worthwhile into my brain- where's my US Weekly?

Posted by: Nic at October 2, 2005 5:46 PM

And following the scientific evidence to its logical conclusion, I think you've also addressed why you're so tired...

Posted by: rams at October 2, 2005 6:23 PM

Awesome picture of you. You look very... perky. Ahem. I am jealous. LOL! CONGRATS ont he awesome review. I reccommend your book, at work, constantly, but it seems everyone has already read and loved it. LOL!

PS I borrowed the 2006 Literary Agents book from work (done by the Writer's Market people). *trembles*

Posted by: Heather at October 2, 2005 9:56 PM

Gee whiz, when I mow the lawn, all that happens is the grass gets shorter. What am I doing wrong and where can I get some of those saucy **s to spice it up? LOL

Posted by: David at October 3, 2005 10:06 AM

Dern it, I forgot. Congrats on that BRILLIANT review. :-) Having been there recently, would you say they might call CAPITAL/CAPITOL?

Posted by: David at October 3, 2005 10:10 AM

I am not quite over my mind and body numbing cold. Nasty cold, not enough drugs, but I do recognize returning saucieness when I see returning saucieness. Okay, laugh, but when you wrote about shoe shopping and the lawn mowed...well Scott would not be happy (I think) with the aeriating mental image envoked.

Brilliant review from the British press, quite brilliant, but of course we are all well decided you are a brilliant writer.

And pretty girl, we're also all in agreement - you are not blog blocked - you are our addiction.

Posted by: Cele at October 3, 2005 11:14 AM

Please, OH PLEASE be Blog Blocked again and again and again if it is going to cause you to put such things in net-print that make me laugh so hard that I spew the Diet Mt. Dew I am supposed to NOT be drinking right out my nose.

By the by, I am certain that it is true that for Southern Goddesses in general and Southern Goddesses who are brilliant and beautifully bosomy (is that a word??) in specific, any emitted gases actually take the form of wafting gardenia fragrances and that is why it smells so sweet when one walks down the street on any given Sunday afternoon in the South after folks have consumed post-church fried chicken. (That was a freakishly long and confusing sentence...My apologies)

Posted by: Angela at October 3, 2005 4:24 PM

I think Samantha's portrayer recently had a baby. Someone previously may have said it but I'm guessing she stopped breast feeding.

I'm looking forward to seeing you at the Southern Festival of Books! I loved gods in Alabama; when is Between, Georgia releasing?

Posted by: Jana at October 5, 2005 3:11 PM