100 Posts! Dang.

I am pretty happy today.   Hitting this 100 posts milestone on my silly little Donist World blog is a pretty big deal to me.  I would not say that I was exactly thrilled to hear the alarm go off at 5:30 AM every weekday morning, but once I was up, showered, dressed, took the dog out, had some water, ate some breakfast and finally sat down to write something...anything...I was happy with the end result.  Some mornings it took me a while to get started, while others the writing just flowed all too easily, but by the time I completed a post, I felt a very real sense of accomplishment that I have rarely, if ever, felt at a regular 8-5.

Most of my posts I loved and enjoyed writing, and some were admittedly "meh."  Too many times to count in putting down the stories, other memories that had slipped my mind came crashing back to leave me to wonder how I could have ever forgotten such events and feelings.  It was refreshing to recall, but frightening how fluid thoughts could be.

This weekend, or more likely next weekend, I will also finish the third draft of my novel.  I am concerned that for a Science-Fantasy-Hero genre novel that it is entirely too long at 550 pages, but after a rewrite of the first two chapters and some whittling down of some of the unnecessary elements and sentences on the fourth draft I will be ready to do queries, a synopsis and begin collecting the rejection letters mixed with many acceptances provided I pay the an agent a reading fee.  I will have queries out before the end of the year.

Now that I have hit the 100 post mark, I will be scaling back to two or three posts a week so that I can begin storyboarding one of the six screenplays that I have in mind.  I will also be working on a comic book script for my comic book writing course, which I just started.  The completed comic script will be done in five weeks and the first screenplay should be finished before the end of the year.  After that, I will begin the sequel to my novel sometime during February 2011.  If it wasn't for the pesky day job, I can only imagine how quickly my writing would improve and the the amount of stories in all mediums that I could produce.  Then of course there is the young adult novel series and the quirky Tulip website that I want to do.

Regardless, I am excited for what is yet to come, what I have yet to learn, and I what I have yet to create.  I would also like to thank my one faithful reader, Obie, the Boston Terrier and Tulip's brother...just kidding.  Thank you to Amy for helping me with my novel, listening to me read most of my posts and for being very supportive of what I do.

100 Posts! Dang.

The Crocodile Lounge Ultimatum

Although I try not to get political in my posts--there are plenty of blogs out there doing that--I have to say that I am very happy that Prop 8 was overturned by the Supreme Court on Wednesday, but I fear the fight is far from over.  There are many more deserving of marriage than those who have been married multiple times yet were in support of Prop 8.  Take for instance Newt Gingrich and his three marriages with the details being pretty harsh--look them up--and he is one of the supposed champions of the sanctity of marriage.  I'm sure his fourth marriage to a hot eighteen year old in the coming years will be extra-extra sanctityified with an extra cherry on top to pop.  Equal rights for everyone.

That said, I need to point out that my next story uses terminology that I myself do not use.  I am quoting specific real events and detailing guys that won't take no for an answer and I learned firsthand about the extreme levels of bullshit that women have to deal with every time they step out the door.  There you go.

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I guess there were points in my life--roughly 8-10 years--that I enjoyed the nightlife, multitudes of beverages and dancing at 80's dance clubs or clubs that had hot goth/alternative girls in attendance.  One hot alternagirl, who I had first noticed working at a clothing store located around the corner from the evil music store corporation where I worked and who I had subsequently crushed on for about two years, eventually went to work as a bartender for The Crocodile Lounge, an odd-duck bar located in a hotel in a very unstylish part of town.  Unfortunately, we were destined to be only friends, and nice guys did indeed finish last, since she had preferred a guy that ended up in jail for using heroin over me.

We were sitting at the bar on the stools towards the upper left.

Regardless, I was still friends with the woman and agreed to stop by and visit her at the off-the-beaten-track bar.  A motley group of eight of us walked in one evening and the place was fairly empty with the exception of a pair of portly business men who looked as if they had stepped out of the sixties to sell old hoover vacuums door to door.  The bar also seemed displaced in time with a semi-tropical seventies vibe of plants and Pier-1 style wicker furniture and no corners in the room.  We bellied up to the bar and I sat in between my brother, Jeff, and our friend Lael.  The rest of the group sat to the left of us and out of earshot.

The bar quickly livened and a group of five obviously foreign men dressed in a manner that stood out in Santa Barbara, but was most likely considered fashionable somewhere in the world sat immediately behind us.  We were laughing, joking, and skating the fine line of sobriety and drunkenness, when three of the five tourists approached us.

"Excuse me.  Excuse me please," said one of the men in a heavy German accent.

"Yeah...,"I said warily.

"Yes...ve vere vondering...," said the man

"Yeah...," I repeated.  Jeff and Lael were now turned around in their seats, wondering what the German man was wondering.

"By any chance are you...uh...faggots?" said the German man in all seriousness.  Slight, hopeful smiles appearing on the faces of his two friends.

"What?!" I exclaimed, completely taken aback and thinking the guy needed to consult his translating device again.

"Yes, sorry.  Are you men faggots," the man repeated.

Lael chimed in at this, "I'm an actor, so I guess you could say I'm half-faggot."

My brother nearly sprayed his gin and tonic out his nose, as he began laughing uncontrollably.

"Vat???  I don't understand," the German man said, clearly confused.

"No, no.  None of us are gay," I said attempting to end the questioning, although I did doubt the validity of my comment considering one of my brother's friends who was gay at the opposite end of the bar.  Now, there is absolutely nothing wrong with being gay, my housemate and friend of six years was gay, but I was completely taken aback by being picked up on by a man.  Hell, I would have been equally stunned if a woman had propositioned us instead.  It just was not something that ever happened to a bunch of D&D/theater/comic book nerds.

The three of us stared at the the three of them, who were clearly not taking the hint and the man made one last attempt.  "No?  Yes.  Ve vere thinkink that ve could go back to our room and maybe pull a train or somethink.  Vat do you say?"

'Pull a train,' what?  Was this guy so drunk that we magically appeared interested in them, we hadn't even noticed them.  "Look," I said, "we are not gay and we are not interested.  Thank you, but no.  You should also be careful of who you say that to...some people might take offense and get angry." I turned my back on the men and Lael and Jeff laughed and managed to do the same.  The men went back to their table to relay the information that we were indeed not "faggots" to their friends and the five Germans began scrutinizing us from their table, possibly trying to uncover some clue.

"What the hell does 'pulling a train' mean?" said Lael, laughing so hard that he barely managed to get the words out.  My bartender friend had come by at this point and I relayed what had just happened to her; she doubled over with laughter.

"What does 'pulling a train' mean, and why did they think that you guys are gay?" she managed to squeak out between laughs.

"Wait, what?  What do you mean by 'you guys?'"  I said, slightly offended.

She smirked at this, leaning forward to say, "No offense guys, but none of you exactly scream gay to me.  You know, the clothes, the hair and disheveled looks.  Nope, sorry...my verdict is not gay, not even close."  She looked down at the end of the bar to my brother's friend, "...with maybe one exception.  Maybe those guys meant to go to Chameleon and not the The Crocodile."

Now there was a thought.  Maybe the Germans had mixed up their reptiles and instead of going to the gay bar, ended up at a hotel restaurant bar instead.  What a disappointing mistake.  With the exception of one guy, none of us appeared even remotely gay.  I was overweight, unshaved, had a pony tail and wore faded slacks and a paisley shirt.  Jeff was wearing a concert t-shirt and Lael was unshaven and wearing a hole-ridden t-shirt with a cowboy riding on a giant jack rabbit.  We may as well have been playing Risk at the bar.  None of us were expecting to be hit on by anyone, whether woman, man, vegetable or mineral.  Honestly, who would hit on us?

We spent the next twenty minutes discussing the various positions that "pulling a train" could possibly entail, before deciding to call it a night.

On the way to the cars, we heard, "There they are.  Have a gud evenink.  Gud night faggots."  There on the other side of some hedges were the Germans waving, laughing and wandering the perimeter of the hotel.  We shook our heads in confusion and drove away.  Hopefully they found an actual gay bar during their stay in Santa Barbara, otherwise it was destined to be a boring trip for them with no pulling of trains for anyone.

The Crocodile Lounge Ultimatum

Don's John and Willie the Dog Knows How to Please the Ladies

This one is going to be a bit short and sweet...or rather short and disgusting.  Amy and I were at the Tiburon celebrating my birthday and the last of our friends had left for the evening.  We were standing outside at the street, just the two of us, waiting for a cab, when we drunkenly looked at one another and simultaneously announced, "One more!"  We did not return to the Tiburon, however, opting instead to go to Don's John, aka Don's Cocktails next door for a change of scenery.

We grabbed a seat at the bar and the mood was fairly quiet, but the weirdness started almost immediately.  The bartender was smiling at us and while we futilely attempted to determine how we knew the man, he announced that he was the same bartender from the Tiburon, and that no one was over there since we had left and that he had decided to follow us to the neighboring bar and serve us drinks there as well.  Okay...sure, why not.  I honestly don't remember if there was a Don's John bartender working, but I was fairly certain that our personal bartender was as loaded as we were.

We began to sip our final cocktails of the evening, when I glanced down to my left and noticed an Australian Cattle Dog hanging out in the bar and staring at me with intent disinterest.  "Hey sweetie, check out that cool little puppy," I said in a voice that sounded remarkably like Barney Gumble from the Simpsons.  Amy saw the dog and said, "Hi doggie," in the female equivalent voice of Barney Gumble from the Simpsons, and apparently that was all Timmy the Drunk needed to pull up a seat next to me and begin to tell us his stories.

Donist after six or seven vodka tonics.

Now, usually I would just give anyone that was rude enough to butt into a private conversation the evil eye, and possibly tell them to bugger off, but that night I was Jolly Drunk Man and smiled when Timmy the Drunk joined us at the bar.

"Oh...that there is Willie, he's always here with me," Timmy said, gesturing to the dog.

"Really?  He's a cool dog," I said, with all of the seriousness and intelligence that I could possibly muster.

"Yeah," said Amy, doubly so.

"You know...Willie really knows how to please the ladies...if you know what I mean," said Timmy in a shouted whisper.

"Wait...what?" I said, definitely not knowing what he meant.

Timmy raised an eyebrow and with a devilish grin said, "Let's just say that Willie has pleasured about 90% of the women that I have been with from here.  You know...orally."

I looked around the bar at the few women in attendance and sobered slightly.  Amy's eyes were as big as tea cup saucers as she stared at the slightly annoyed looking diminutive dog.

"Yup, he definitely has a way with the ladies."

At this point I started laughing and held my cocktail to the air in honor of Willie, who looked as if he would prefer to be eating a bowl of kibble or possibly pleasuring "the ladies" instead of being there.  When I had first seen the dog, I wanted to get up to go pet him, but after the little tale of Willie's exploits I decided against the action and remained in my seat to finish my drink.

Timmy ended up hanging at the bar and telling us how he used to work at a horse stable, and about all of the hot, rich women that he would bed during those days, as if he were a modern day Lady Chatterley's Lover or something.  He also said that the women paid him for his services, and in looking at Timmy, I could only assume that the time that he was reflecting upon was many, many moons ago.

At this point, the creep-out factor began to push its way above the surface of the many vodka tonics and Amy and I excused ourselves for the evening to go outside and catch a cab home.  "Goodbye Willie," we chanted as we stumbled out the door and laughed until we were barely able to stand.  Now that I think of it, I should have asked the little Australian Cattle Dog for a tip or too, god only knows I could always use some help "pleasing the ladies."

I is very good at making the sexy time with the ladies.   Know?

Don's John and Willie the Dog Knows How to Please the Ladies

The Twilight Saga: New Moon aka...Take Off Your Top! Part 3

Hi Diary,

Talk about a lengthy breaks...sigh.  Oh well, at least I am back now and all that face time with the judge and hours upon hours of community service are a thing of the past; at least until next month for my next evaluation.  On.  With.  The.  TWILIGHT!!!  Hell's yes.  Honestly, pretending I was Jacob while I picked up garbage in between the beach break and the crashing waves was the only thing that got me through it.  I do have a hell of a sunburn though!  WTF, Judge, why do I always have to do the most dangerous jobs?  Oh well.

After the Cullens family totally kicks Bella to the curb, she spirals into one of those deep dark depressions that you can't climb out of.  Remember, Diary, when they stopped making Zima Gold and how it took me the better part of a year to pull myself from the precipice of inevitable self destruction?  Well, it was kind of like that for Bella, but honestly, I have to cut the incredibly self-absorbed baby-bitch somewhat of a break, because who in their right mind would not be devastated if the Edward had left them.  Anyways, Bella ignores her friends and treats them like scum, won't talk to her dad and is generally bitchy to everyone--basically she acts the same as she has throughout both movies when she was supposedly happy.  

Bella begins to flirt with danger, which causes her to envision ghostly images of Edward pleading with her not to do the stupid shit that she is about to do, and do you know what she does, Diary?  She ignores his wishes completely, just like she always does.  Wow.  If Edward came to me in my mind, like he used to do before I started up my med regimen again, I would listen, by golly!!!  It's f_ing Edward, you have to listen to Edward!!!  ...although sometimes Edward's requests are not the best, like that time he told me to take all of the goldfish from the pet store for my own "Will it blend?" experiment, but I know he was just joshing me...silly Edward. 

Anyhow, Bella starts using her friends like the sopping wet discarded tissue papers that they allow themselves to be and she even decides to do the same to Jacob, who's hair has grown about a foot and a half over the summer since the last movie, which is hella impressive.  Jacob proceeds to be even cooler about Bella's bullshit than even Edward was, and agrees to help her restore motorcycles so that she can toy with Jacob's emotions even more and continue her slow death march of "I'm going to do dangerous shit" nonsense, and proves that her motorcycle riding skills leave something to be desired.  Eventually, Jacob, like Edward, gets completely tired of Bella's crap and bails on her sea-hag ass as well.  Man, Diary, Jacob was soooooooooooooo nice to her and he all but tells Bella that he loves her with a love that is timeless and that no medication or restraining order could ever take away, and what does the bitch do?  That's right, leads him on and gets all sea-haggy on him.  It just isn't fair. 

Jacob decides that his time is better spent hanging with a a bunch of guys that like to wear short pants and...nothing...else...at...all and roam about the woods looking all hot!!!  Now, now, Diary.  I'm not funny that way for Jacob--although I want to hang with him more than anything else in the world--but when I say "hot," I mean literally!!!  These short pantsed, shirtless, completely yoked, fine upstanding young men are so hot that they run around in the cold rain with steam coming off of them because they are...WEREWOLVES.  Wooooooooo.   Ruff!!!  Ruff!!! Ruff!!!  Woooooooo.  Shit, Amy is giving me the look again.  She will NEVER understand me, Diary.  Although she did admit that Jacob is H-O-T.

Jacob would rather hang with these guys than Bella.

Bella figures out that the boys are all werewolves, when the vampire with dreads...the same one that warned her of the danger that she was in from the first film...decides that he too is sick of Bella's crap and decides to eat her.  The werewolves, who are very nice, even though they should have let the vampire chow down on Bella and spare everyone loads of whining in the future, protect Bella and tear the vampire into kibbles and bits.  Not knowing what else to do with Bella, they take her to a cabin so that she can have muffins the size of bowling balls.   I love muffins, Diary, I really love muffins!!!  

From this point, Bella still gets all dangergirl every moment that she can, jumps off of a cliff and Edward is lead to believe that she is dead, prompting him to take off his shirt to reveal an amazing chiseled chest...the abs of sorrow. Bella meets the ultra-hottie, Alice, and since vampires and werewolves can never be friends, even though Jacob's fancies should be directed towards the insanely rad vamp and not a sea-hag, no fighting ensues and Bella--in her first act of selflessness--agrees to go save Edward from revealing himself to the world as a sparkly vampire.  Although, come to think of it, she probably just wanted a free trip to Italy and to be seen driving in a car with the too-hot-to-even-exist Alice.  Misunderstandings ensue and the Cullens family returns to Forks, where for god only knows what reason they actually agree to have Bella become a vampire.  WTF!!!  Are they insane?  Some people just need to learn the hard way.

Wait, who voted yes on making Bella a vampire?  That's for eternity you know!

Jacob is mad, Edward is mad, and Bella could care less since she is going to get her way.  Edward, in a last ditch attempt to scare Bella off, agrees to turn her, provided they marry first, but she agrees.  Edward...you are my boy and everything, but C'MON.  Think man!!! THINK!!!  Jacob also says that if Bella gets turned than that will break the truce between the werewolves and the vamps and the war will be on!!!  Bella, of course, does not give a damn.  Maybe Edward and Jacob should hangout all topless together and just talk this mess out.  Edward would talk about his love of ab...stin...ammintz and Jacob would just listen...he is such a good listener, Diary.  

Ummm...yes.  Yes, I will get in the car with you.  Here are the numbers to all of my bank accounts, too.

Finally, Victoria, the hot redheaded vampire, is still pissed at Bella and wants nothing more than to choke a bitch.  The end.  AWESOME!!!  I can't tell you how many times I was mesmerized into a catatonic state by this movie, Diary, and it seemed like it would go on and on and on and on forever.  It was glorious.  

Mr. Mousey has cases of these, but they are all posed doing VERY bad things to each other.

I am off to practice ab...stin...ammintz and to begin camping out at the mailbox for the long wait for The Twilight Saga: Eclipse blu-ray to be released and for it to come through Netflix.  I guess I better give Mr. Mousey a call...oh wait...that's him at the door.  "Pull your pants up, Mr. Mousey, I'll be right there.  You know better than that!"  Bye Diary.  TWILIGHT RULES!!!  Team Jacob?  Team Edward?  Shiiiiiiiittt, Diary.  Why choose?  I want to be the referee!!!  LOL.  TTFN!!!

The Twilight Saga: New Moon aka...Take Off Your Top! Part 3