November 9, 2006

Answer Comment Questions Day

BUT FIRST! THE HOLIDAYS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

They are coming, you know. And with them comes present shopping in the dread malls of America. I personally finish my Christmas shopping BEFORE Thanksgiving or I get barn sour. I hate crowds and it brings my happy show down if I see mean people snapping at each other over the last BRATZ doll while a piped in Muzac version of Little Drummer Boy plays. I LOVE to shop for my family and friends though, but…malls? NO! NO! and NO AGAIN! This is why Al Gore invented the internet. So I can shop from home.

May I humbly suggest a signed, personalized first edition of gods in Alabama or Between Georgia? Or perhaps BOTH, if you RILLY like someone. I’m doing a Holiday Edition of the Virtual Book Signings I do with Alabama Booksmith…You have until the WEDNESDAY before Thanksgiving (That’s November 22nd) to get your orders in, and I’ll go by the BookSmith and sign em that day.

You can order here
or you can just CALL them at (205) 870-4242 and put your order in over the phone.

You’ll be supporting a ROCKIN’ independent bookstore, AND you’ll be supporting my novel writing, which allows me to buy little frivolities like food and medicine that make my life such a pleasure, AND you’ll get a portion of your holiday shopping done AND!!! You’ll have something personal and unusual to give Mom or your friend or your especial pet best auntie or your cousin Jack. Dude, we all win.

ONWARDS... In the spirit of Ze Frank ( Suh-Suh-Suh-Sumthin’ from the comments) I better answer some of the questions accumulating in the comments. It's like we're doing three questions, and you get to be me and ask, and I get to be the special guest answerer.

Speaking of my vastly overweight Walrus-Poodle, Jas said: Heck, he's a chunky kind of cat. My vet told me cats rarely overeat. Perhaps he is bored?

You know, perhaps he is. But he’s very world weary and jaded, and he cannot leave the house because he FIGHTS and he only has one eye. So. I’ve gone the cat toy route with him: Feather on a stick. Catnip mouse. Bell balls. I flail the stick around him and trail it along in front of him and hide it behind cushions and have it peek out at him, and he cocks the three-sprout of whiskers he calls an eyebrow and looks fondly down his nose at me, as if he thinks I am a very cute sort of disturbed person, and he hopes I am having a good time playing with my stupid feather thing.

He also has shown no interest in cooking classes, reading Proust, helping with the Domestic Engineering portion of my day, or watching Dexter on Showtime On Demand. The cat is clearly dead inside.

His favorite activity, when he DOES any sort of activity, is beyond my control. There’s this prissy little yaller cat with white feet, goes by Ginger, and Ginger likes to sit on our porch and sometimes our deck. When she does, Schubert’s one eye takes on a maniacal and murderous gleam, and he begins hurling his MASSIVE body at the closest window again and again and again, until the wall is shuddering, and all the while he releases this low pitched gravelly keening noise which I strongly suspect is the FIRST sound you hear should you be so unfortunate as to die and go to hell, the sound a TRULY happy deamon releases as it spots fresh meat.

I suppose I COULD get some sort of YALLER CAT DECOY and set it down on the porch as Trying To Bust Through The Wall and Murder Ginger is his aerobic activity of choice, but I’m not sure my windows could withstand a regular regime of such treatment.

Thus Sagt Edgy Mama: We need a shot of the ridiculous poodle tail up in the air, please?

I TRIED! Alas! He won’t HOLD it up in the air without LASHING IT ANGRILY. When he is at peace, the tail is at peace, and I have 30 pictures of an UPRIGHT LASHING POODLEY blur to prove it.

Desi, enchanted by the idea of HUGE FLOPPY FANTASY PANTS, asked, “by the way...where do you get those pants?”

First, you have to get my friend Amy pregnant. That’s key. Amy does pregnancy RIGHT, which means she gains as much weight as HUMANLY POSSIBLY without bursting her skin. Me too, by the way. I feel that pregnancy REQUIRES me to eat entire bags of revolting Palmer’s chocolate flavored wax, one after another.

ANYWAY. You get her pregnant. Then after she has the baby, she FINDS AND AQUIRES the pants to contain her post partum body. Then YOU have to get pregnant and gain as much weight as humanly possible. After Amy has returned to her normal size, you will have the baby, and she will GIVE you the fantasy pants. Three pairs in various Indian prints. It will make you feel good to wear them because even though they are large enough to contain the city of Amarillo, Texas, the tag staunchly proclaims them to be size “Medium.”

After you lose MOST of your baby weight (retaining 5 extra pounds forever PER baby, apparently) you do NOT pass the pants on to the next pregnant friend like you promised to do when the pants were gifted you. Instead, you decide to pretty much live in them whenever you are working. You can invite other people to come live in them too, whole crowds, but it might be distracting.

Good luck with the getting Amy pregnant, by the way. She already has three little rowdy boys. Also, her husband might not like you trying.

Posted by joshilyn at November 9, 2006 8:23 AM

ANYONE who tries to get me pregnant EVER AGAIN will be harmed. I am giving you fair warning. And yes this does include my husband. Although eating nonstop for nine months is a fairly pleasant way to pass the time.

The fantasy pants came from...dare I destroy the myth?...JC Penney. Yes they did. Eight years ago. Good luck finding a pair...;)

Posted by: Amy-Go at November 9, 2006 8:49 AM

I have already given my Mom signed first editions of gods (Mother's Day last year) and Between (birthday this year). Got another novel I can give her???


Posted by: Kestralyn at November 9, 2006 10:17 AM

You should hold a Fantasy-Pants-Finding contest. We all go out and find something (orderable online) that we think might be like the mythical fantasy pants. Whoever comes closest gets... one of your books? And then we can all follow your fashion lead and work in voluminous pants.

Posted by: Laura at November 9, 2006 10:58 AM

Amy-Go is such a good and loving friend. Hmmm, so just google fantasy pants? They don't come with walruspoodle cats...thank God.

Posted by: Cele at November 9, 2006 12:07 PM

Do I spy another Dexter fan?

Also - try a stuffed version of Ginger IN the house. Wonder what he'd do then.

Posted by: dragonfly at November 9, 2006 1:28 PM



Just don't.

Posted by: Gabi at November 9, 2006 1:30 PM

Actually, the thought of an angrily lashing poodle tail on a toe-poking sumo cat is pretty funny.

I have an overweight cat too. His name is Rocky, though we named him when he was just a tiny furball and NOT sumo cat. Nominative determinism, anyone?

Posted by: Edgy Mama at November 9, 2006 4:32 PM

ummmm,I didn't like being pregnant much, liked getting fat-er even less. Can't I just go buy bigger fat pants? 'cause I'm thinking I'd have a real hard time getting Amy pregnant, with or without her husband's permission.
I'm going to the thrift store, I bet they have some way cool fancy fantasy pants. AND I am going to post a picture of them on my blog and make you jealous of fancyFantasyPants!

Posted by: Desi at November 9, 2006 8:54 PM

Are they these pants?

I have a couple pairs of them. You just order the pants and they pull whatever Indian print they happen to have at the time. One turned out to be blue and purple and the other was black and taupe. They are free size... They are magic paints, I think they will fit anyone from a 6 through maybe even a 16. I am serious!!!

Posted by: Martha O'Connor at November 9, 2006 10:57 PM

PS-Pants, not PAINTS.

Note the regular price versus the 'hip' price... I paid the hip price... mais oui! :D

Posted by: Martha O'Connor at November 9, 2006 10:58 PM

Cat exercise tip #37:

Tie small flag to tail of cat and watch him run away from it.

V. Fun.



Posted by: Heather Cook at November 9, 2006 11:11 PM

I reckon he is desperate to get outside. Can you make him a run or something so he can get out but it is enclosed so he doesn't fight. He's just trying to be a normal cat after all and staying in is not normal.

What about one of those cat gyms?? sounds like the toys are way beneath his superior being.

Love the fantasy pants story! I'd keep them too!

Posted by: Jas at November 12, 2006 6:47 AM

At Last! Another One! Everyone else thinks I am A.)Crazy, (which is indubitable) and also, B.) Overorganized, for having all of my Christmas shopping done before Thanksgiving. Anyone who thinks I am organized is DEFINITELY crazy.
For Miss Bookey, it's going to be a My Little Pony Christmas (per her "Mommy, I want 1-2-3-4-5-6 PONIES!!!") and for Zac, Santa is stuffing an Xbox 360 down the chimmney.
Do not even think the word, Spoiled!

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