Friday, October 30, 2009


I don't have a costume this year.

This shouldn't come as too much of a surprise to any of you out there in Internet-land, because I usually don't have a costume. I mean, I sometimes consider it, however briefly, on occasion and a year or two ago I wore a domino mask, which was a major effort for me, but usually... meh...

I thought about maybe wearing a name tag that said JON, possibly in black sharpie, but that seemed like too much effort, what with the writing of my name and the peeling off of the back of the sticker and all that. I also thought about dressing up as a Non-participant, but, you know, really... that seemed a little too "Oh, look at Mr. Clever guy... stab!" So, this year? Nothing. Honestly, I'm pretty okay with this. I know God approves, and loves me the most of all his children, because Little Ms. Super-cute Fiancee's evil plans of a theme-couple-costume fell through at the last moment due to no actions on my part (Thanks, Big Guy... wink). So, as a result, here I am again, it's the eleventh hour and I have no costume. Why is this, do you think? Year after year? It's not like I hate Halloween or anything...

Actually that's not true.

I do hate Halloween.

Well, maybe hate is a strong word... hmmm... No, it's more like: No, thank you. That's really it. When it comes to Halloween, my attitude is: No, thank you. In fact, that's my attitude towards most organized holidays. No, thank you. Frankly, I like my life how it is and holidays... ugh... they're generally just a disruption that I could do without. Except Thanksgiving, of course, but that goes without saying. Heaven is a soft couch, a football game on TV and a turkey coma, my friends. But Christmas? Oh, more socks... and what's this? A sweater that doesn't fit? That's awesome, thanks! Fake smile! St. Patty's Day? Well, I already covered that. Bastille Day? Fuck you, you hipster douchebag. Boxing Day? Do you really think I'm going to switch roles with the servants? I don't think so...

Anyway, my point is: I'm just not that into the organized holidays. It's not me. I'm not that person. If you are, great, that's awesome... yeah, no, you totally look just like a Stormtrooper, dude, except, you know... fatter... but that's great. Go on with your bad self.

But as for me?

No, thank you.

Friday, October 23, 2009

I got nothing

Yep. Nothing. Hence the long silence of late, folks. I mean, yeah, it’s true… I’ve been a bit busy lately, but honestly, I haven’t been that busy. It’s just that I’ve got no new news to report. Sorry. I feel bad about this, of course, because no new news means no new blog and what does no new blog mean for you all? A cold, hollow, meaningless existence, I’d expect, much like living your life in an endless fog… oh, the infinite sadness.

So, yeah, like I said, no new news. I continue to wait for word on my various Queries and Requests for further samples. In the interim, my fingers remain crossed. There’s not much else I can do otherwise, just wait and hope. And honestly, it will probably be another month or two before I ever hear back, so I’m trying to settle in for a long wait and distract myself with other projects in the meantime.

Speaking of which, I met up with Marshall Banana: Baby-maker, and perused some of the early art he’s done for the comic scripts I sent him and they look pretty fucking good, man. Really good, in fact. So, that’s exciting, and a load off… it’s new news, too. I guess, I forgot to share that with you earlier this week. So, things on the practice comic book front are progressing and looking promising. If you see him on the street, please be sure to tell Monsieur Banana that he’s doing a good job.

Oh! Here’s some more news for ya’… Tomorrow is actually a pretty big day.

Tomorrow is Little Ms. Super-cute FiancĂ©e and my Four Year Anniversary. Four years ago tomorrow, she and I went out for the very first time. We had late night beers at the Uptown Bar (soon to be closing… sad face), we followed that up with a full-plate order of chicken nachos at the infamous Little T’s, then we watched Ghostbusters to the wee hours of the morning. She left at 5:30 in the morning to go do a fill-in DJ shift at Radio K. It was a pretty awesome date. By the end of the first week, we’d gone on three more dates (to this day, I can only really remember those first three dates, the rest just kind of blurred together). After our fourth one, she pretty much moved in and, well… here we are.

So, what are our plans for the day?

Last year, we did a little overnight mini-stay-cation at the Graves Hotel, which was awesome. This year, well, we’re thinking of keeping it a little more low-key and wallet-friendly. We’re thinking maybe we’ll nosh on a little Gosa Gosa C at the super awesome Blue Nile. After that, it’s off for a little flat track roller derby action and beer with the North Star Roller Girls at the Minneapolis Convention Center and then… Then, it’s off for one or two more beers, but these ones will be special , as they will most likely be the last ones we have at the Uptown Bar (site of our first date), before it’s razed in the name of progress next month. That’s a big time Sad Face, because the Uptown Bar is one of the last places in Uptown with any kind of personality whatsoever, and now it’s soon to be gone forever in favor of a Hot Topic or a Bed Bath and Beyond or some horrible shit like that.

Anyway, it should be fun.

Oh my God… it’s fucking snowing out! Son of a bitch!

Tuesday, October 13, 2009


So... I'm freaking out a bit here at the day-prison.

As long-time readers, most of you may or may not recall that I am currently querying various Literary Agents concerning their possible representation of my recently finished manuscript: Gunslingers of the Apocalypse. By all accounts, this process is a long and arduous one, however, much like the spanking machine at Fraternities, it is also a very much required rite of passage on the road to being published legitimately.

I sent out my first five queries somewhere in the neighborhood of about 3 p.m. on September 23rd, 2009. The first one came back the very next day. No, thank you, was pretty much all it said. Polite, but impersonal. Undaunted, I immediately sent out query number six.

Then I waited.

The next two have recently come back and they both want to read more. (Teeth clenched: EEEEEE!) One came back last week, the other just today. Neither asked for the whole thing, just a limited amount of pages (fifty and thirty respectively) and I have complied. Now, honestly, this doesn't mean much beyond the fact that my query was interesting enough to make them want to check out a little bit more and they could totally still reject me, but, shit... man... I am that much closer.

That much closer...

The thought makes me tingly.


Be on alert for further updates as the situation progresses...

Friday, October 9, 2009

Scribblerati Post

Hey kids! How's it going? It's my week to put something up at The Scribblerati group blog and I have done so. Oh yeah... I have done so. Go there, read it, say hello!

Tuesday, October 6, 2009

It's okay to question...

So, Little Ms. Super-cute Fiancee and I traveled to the distant wilds of the Minnesota-Iowa border this past weekend to celebrate Big D's birthday. It was fun. We played a little Wii, and I am happy to report that I am not nearly as sore from the experience as last time. We had a ton of good food, some great conversation, we played with the animals, and just generally hung out. It was very relaxing, for the most part. A good time was had by all.

And since it never quite seems like a vacation if we don't get some one-on-one time, Little Ms. Super-cute Fiancee and I decided to go to a movie late Saturday night. Surprisingly, or maybe not so much if you read this blog even occasionally, we went to Zombieland. I'll post a review about the film, and probably talk about the whole small town film going experience itself, later this week, so lets move on from that. (In a nutshell: Fun.) You see, it's the events that took place afterwards that concern this particular blog.

Now, earlier in the evening, before setting off, we'd talked about being careful of deer, as they are a very real and very common highway hazard, especially this time of year, so I was watchful and alert. I'd been here before, you see. So, we're coming home, barreling down the Interstate at a hard-rockin' 80 mph and, as any non-city native can tell you, when you're out there, past all the lights... it is black as pitch, man, we're talking Country-dark here. But you have to keep moving, fast too, because besides the deer, the other hazard out there in the country is country drivers. Believe me, you do not want one of those drunk fuckers to come bombing up on your ass out of the dark. So, we're moving along, flying, and all of the sudden, we come across a blackish-red smear across the pavement, a splattered trail of blood and bits that must have been 30 feet long. In a word: A big god damn mess. So, I am on the verge of saying: "Look, Little Ms. Super-cute Fiancee, look... someone tagged a deer... big time. I told you..."

The body was still sprawled out in the middle of the road...

There was a brief moment where you could see it's massive size in the glare of the headlights, a tossed over bulk of torn brown felt and strips of crimson.

We plowed it under.

You could feel the tangle of bones thunder beneath us, jabbing at the floorboards. We barely had time to exclaim: "Ah!" and we had passed the carcass by.


Holy crap! The rest of the ride was spent in tense silence, eyes jumping restlessly between the still a-okay dashboard instruments and the thick velvet-black that pressed in all around on our suddenly very dim-seeming headlights. We both strained into the dark for that flash of moonlit movement, for even a glimpse of shadowy, hulking silhouettes, hoping not to see that brief flash of gold as the deer turned our way in the moments before dashing into our path...

Luckily, it didn't happen. No deer and no noticeable trouble from the Little Ms. Super-cute-mobile. We made it home safe and amazingly, the next morning, the only apparent damage was a slightly bent (and blood smeared... ew) front license plate. Well, that and few bloody and fur-bristled bits of deer falling from the undercarriage to splat on the concrete. Other than that? Nothing.

Tres lucky, no?

So then, Sunday, we began the long and arduous trek back to the welcoming bosom of civilization and the deer-less protection of Casa La Awesome. Or so we thought... The Check Engine light comes on and being that it's Sunday, it looks like we're staying an extra day until we can get in to see a mechanic Monday morning.

Which really wasn't too bad, because the Lasagna was even better the second day...

Anyway, long story short (too late), the light was on due to an O2 sensor hanging off the catalytic converter, no big deal. We decide to drive it back home and get it fixed at our regular mechanic and the damage is really the nothing type of damage, the car is safe to drive home. Like the mechanic says: "You might have a misfire, but that rarely happens." The drive back was terrible, of course, because after a dry Sunday, Monday decided to be rain-soaked and the Interstates were clogged with the classic type of Minnesota Road Construction, seemingly never-ending and almost completely bereft of any workers, but we made it home without issue.

So, that night, we're doing dishes and discussing household stuff, as awesome young couples are wont to do, and the subject of the repair came up. Now, I was saying that since it's no big deal, we can wait to get it repaired and therefore avoid incurring any extra expenses at the moment.

Little Ms. Super-cute looks at me like I'm insane. "Shouldn't we get it fixed as soon as possible?"

I shake my head, "No, it's no big deal. It's not a necessary part. It's only relatively recently that cars even had catalytic converters."

She squints at me, unsure, and says sincerely, "But what about it sparking and setting on fire?"

"Ah... what?"

"The guy said it could set on fire."

"What guy?"

"The mechanic," she explained, "he said it could spark and set on fire, but that it rarely happened."

I was dumbfounded. It took me a moment to realize what she was talking about. "MIS-fire," I reiterated. "MIS-fire. He said it might mis-fire, but that it rarely happened."

Her face clouded for a second as she mulled this over. Then the light came back on. "Oh... That makes sense... I was wondering why everyone was so nonchalant about it..."

I set down the dish I was washing and slowly turned off the faucet. "Honey..." I said. "If ever in the future, someone wants you to drive a car that... maybe... possibly... might set itself on fire, even if it's a small chance..."


"Say no."

She looked at me for a moment and then held out her hand for the next dish to dry as she said haughtily, "Yes, I suppose you're right."

So to sum up kids... Questions when you're unsure: Good. Being in a car when it blows up: Bad.