Jeri stopped by the League to chat, unfortunately she had to witness something unseemly.

Which is it "donut" or "doughnut?" After all, it is made out of dough, so the latter seems likely. But they aren't nuts, per se. So maybe it's all just nonsense. Anyway, I'm done worrying about it and the research would bore me to tears. So let's get on with the post.

I've been to donut Mecca.

I've seen God.

I was chatting about this with my Yahoo group awhile back, as I'm wont to do. But here's the story for all of you. Last week, when I accompanied Richelle and Caitlin to their reading/signing at Powell's--if those two don't need a chaperone, no one does--I was firmly mid-Atkin's induction and thus carbs were a no-no. But being out of state, one loses a bit of motivation. Alcohol does not help the situation.

Well, on many occasions, I've sought out the comfort of a warm donut (I probably should have used the other spelling for that sentence, lest I give the wrong impression). And in Portland, there is a place. A place where the icing flows like manna from heaven onto bulbous pastry so tender you'd sock your moms. What's even better? The recipes seem culled from the depths of MADNESS!

The place is Voodoo Doughnut.

I've attempted to make my acquaintance with this locale many times, always to be denied. I didn't think this particular night would be any different. So, to my surprise, following much debauchery at a Portland pool hall, my companions and I were driven to Voodoo Doughnut. Which was open (as it is 24 hours a day, unless you're really jonesin' or are me--in many cases-- and then it will be closed mysteriously).

Under the cruller chandelier we made our selections.

Mine...


The Cap'n Crunch--though it could have easily been called the Cap'n Crunchberry. Dear God what diet could survive in the presence of such glory? It was delicious. Raised and fluffy and covered a thick slathering of pink icing and an avalanche of forbidden breakfast treats. Ummm.

I just gave myself shivers.

Caitlin opted for the Double Bubble (not pictured). A decision, she insisted, made entirely based on the Double Bubble gum protruding from the center of the delicacy. I don't know much about the flavor, but her jaws were smacking, so I'm certain it was a success.

Richelle had to be dirty and ordered herself a Dirty Snowball...


I'll have you know, the woman ordered that one sight unseen. I was half expecting something yellow to pop out but the donut turned out to be far more enigmatic (yes, I think that's a dollop of gooey peanut butter protruding from the hole, if you catch my meaning.

I'm not saying there's a sexual connotation to the name "Dirty Snowball" but there is another donut that might clear up the issue...
( Under the cut, as to protect the children... )
There were so many weird donut varieties, I thought I'd have an aneurysm, or maybe, someone has jammed the pretzel into the voodoo doughnut's head...


It could happen, you know? Anyway--and I can't stress this enough--the next time you're in Portland, do yourself a favor and cheat on your diet at Voodoo Doughnut. You'll be happy you did...and bloated.

First off, nothing helps a sick boy feel better quite like book check day.  Kensington was generous enough with their offer that the single checks (of which there are 4) are pretty fun to look at.  The problem is stretching them out so that I can focus on writing and not starting up that Life Coaching business I'd been threatening before the writing bug settled in.

Which brings me to...

One of the big things that I left out of the RT travel blog was the stressor of Tax Day.  Unlike every one of our friends, we always have to pay.  Always.  I can't even remember the last time we got a return check.  Primarily because my work has always fallen into the self-employment category, first as a counselor and now as a writer.  But since we have to pay, we put it off, right up until the last minute.  That meant that our return was mailed off from the Pittsburgh airport.

Well...our tax liability was more than the bank account could bare, so we stalled with a small check and held our breath.  The assumption is that the IRS will bill the remainder minus the stimulus package payment.  Could be wrong, though.  We'll see.  My biggest fear is that because full tax payment didn't accompany our return, we won't qualify for the stimulus.  Any tax peeps out there?

Whatever.  We'll deal with it.  At least we have the ability now.  It's a relief, for sure.

Meanwhile back in the writing world, m_stiefvater, brennayovanoff and everflame have started up a new writing community called merry_fates which is bound to be fun.

Tiffany Trent tltrent and Jeri Smith-Ready jer_bear711 have book birthdays today.  Check out Maiden of the Wolf and Wicked Games today.  And remember that Jeri will be with us at the League this week.

Speaking of the League, it's day two of the Personal Demons book club and the demon goodness is spreading like VD.

Those two shouldn't go together, ever. But I'm following through with my stuff. So what you get is...


...and the book club for Stacia's Personal Demons is up and running. Also, the winner of the missing League member has been announced. To prove it wasn't me and because I was goaded, here's my uncensored shot.

Feel free to make fun.

I saw this clip and couldn't stop wondering: Where do I get me a murderously intelligent, sensually self-programmed non-being?



It also reminded me of Trent's Demon Seed from the new NIN album (free here).



Oh...and I've done my weekly post over at the League!

We've relaunched the League of Reluctant Adults. See?

I'm sitting at a coffee shop in downtown Olympia with cmpriest and blackaire for author playdate.  Caitlin's neutering me with her  word count, Cherie's taking pictures and forcing me to look at kittens and I'm refusing to spend another Goddamn dollar on coffee refills--didn't that shit used to be free?

I've been told that I don't post enough cute puppy pictures. So...



How you like your cute now?

Kessler's snared Charlaine Harris!  Jackie's wildly entertaining Cat & Muse interviews is working it out with Sookie Stackhouse.  Get over there!

Also...

And I should burn to ash in her rays, Michelle Rowen's Lady and the Vamp hit the shelves this week.  What are you doing?  Go get it.

We've got a winner in the Personal Demons contest. Shvetufae over on livejournal came out of the hat. Her best advice...

"When you get angry at what someone else does, take a look at yourself and ask if it's because you're afraid you do the same thing in some form."

Beautiful and sound. Email me your address and I'll get that book off to you right away. me@markhenry.us

*****************************

Over on the League of Reluctant Adults, change is in the air. There's a NEW League coming. Check in on Monday and see for yourself.

*****************************

Now for something really cool. Plague Carrier #1 (mela_lyn) and I have been working on a yahoo group for those of you infected by Happy Hour of the Damned, Amanda Feral, zombies and/or snark in general. I hope you'll all sign up and make it your first choice for distraction.

Join the Glamazombies now...
Powered by groups.yahoo.com

Nope. Just my weekly post at the League.

Two different meme tags in less than a week. Most recently by Jackie Kessler. It's that book thing. Here are the rules:

1. Pick up the nearest book.
2. Open to page 123.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the next three sentences.
5. Tag five people and post a comment to the person who tagged you once you’ve posted your three sentences.

The book is CHOKE by Chuck Palahniuk and not for the squeamish or easily offended.

Here goes...

The milkmaid, Ursula, comes out of the cow shed and looks at us with her stoner eyes just about filled with blood.

"If there was a girl you liked," I say to him, "if she wanted to have sex just to get pregnant, would you?"

Ursula grabs her skirts up and comes stomping through the cow poop in her wooden clogs.

***********

And there you have it. But much like I'll throw caution to the wind when I get a chain email, I shan't be paying either of these memes forward.

Here's the next one. Your standard 6 things meme attributed to one Karen Duvall.

6 what, though?

I'll just wing it...

1. My dogs are trying to kill me. I woke up last night at 2:30 with my oldest mongrel panting while sprawled across my legs. The middle child crept up my left side and tried to strangle me by pressing her throat against mine, while the baby burrowed under my shoulder. Why can't I just have regular insomnia?

2. I'm addicted to Bizarre Foods with Andrew Zimmern on the Travel Channel. Have you seen that shit? The season finale is on now. I think he just ate some scrotum.

3. Caroline and I started Atkins again. So far so good. While I'm definitely craving carbs, I'm already feeling more alert and less lethargic. It's only been two days. That says a lot about the effects of sugar and simple carbohydrates.

4. Heard the new Ladytron today. Black Cat. There's a harder edge to it, want to hear it?



5. I'm bound and determined to get Road Trip of the Living Dead spotless and ready for John to hand over to the copy editor...by FRIDAY!

6. The Day of the Dead remake is a serious piece of crap, but an oddly appropriate double feature with Michael Moore's Sicko.

Done.

It's a big day for urban fantasy and paranormal romance. Just check out the book birthdays over at Urban Fantasy Land. Break a leg, ladies!

One of the things I forgot to mention in my previous RT blogs were all the free and signed books I snagged. Take a look...


So some of these are mine, but more importantly some of them are for you. Where should we begin? I'm thinking Personal Demons, since I'm throwing Stacia a book club at the League (save the date: May 12th). This one's not signed, since she's trapped in the Tower of London or somewhere, chained to a computer. So how about a contest?

Are you up for it?

Since Stacia's main character is a psychotherapist and I've got a bit of experience with that, let's roll with our best advice. Just leave it in the comments and I'll choose a winner at random. There are no wrong answers.

My best advice: Never go to bed angry...or...resolve the issue before it has time to fester.

I'll choose the wiener on Friday. That's it. Go!

Now, where was I?

Saturday, I think. The big day. Book fair. 300 or so authors lined up behind tables like buffet selections. The day started off like the previous three: coffee downstairs, checking email, chatting with Kim and Guy, who were the other early risers in the UF bunch. The authors were asked to set up at 10:00 for the 11:00 event, so I showed up at 9:45. I was a little excited and not just for the signing but to meet all my lj peeps.

I found my spot, which was primo, Megan Hart and Kim Harrison. How much does that rock? I had like 20 or so books stacked up and waiting for me at my spot and the overwhelming feeling that they'd be there at the end, too. I set up my stuff and went off in search of trouble.

Can't wait for next year in Orlando. We're going to have to add in a second week just to see the sights.

The PS22 Chorus has done a cover of Flying Dutchman by Tori Amos. If you don't know about this choir or don't love you some Tori then feel free to move along. But to say they brighten my day is an understatement.


Ps. Revenge of the RT Monster Blog is in the works.

My weekly post (X2) is up at the League.  I've got some questions, so if you could help out that'd be great.

After my big ass photo essay over on Fangs, Fur and Fey, things got a little hectic down Pittsburgh way. I met tons of awesome people that I can't resist telling all you guys about, drank way too much and slept less than a whore at a sex addicts convention. But, rather than drag this out, I'm going to just throw some pictures at you and see what sticks.

If only I had a camera cable. This shit here is seriously fucked up. Yep, I got talked into attending the mangeant.

Hey you!  I just did the photo journalism thingie over on fangs_fur_fey.  Check that shit out, if for anything because I was forced to restrain myself from saying things like, check that shit out.

Oh...and blackaire is gushing about me again (scroll down her livejournal, I have a real link).  This time she's really trying to make my parents proud.  They'd be so happy to read about how I'm a sick fucker.  I suspect they know, already.  But we haven't had the specific discussion, them being busy with church activities, and all.

Anyway, today is all about getting the face out there so, I'm going to put on my official Cheyenne McCray badge holder (I'm dying to know how much she forked out for them; seriously it's the ultimate in promo, everyone is required to have one).  Awesome.

Last, Michelle Rowen is the first official charter member of Team Seattle.  It's like we were separated at birth (if only because Michelle stuck to the uterine wall for 5 or 6 years before finally clawing her way out).  We love our Torontoe sister (with an "e"), and now so must you!

More later, I'm off to wax my body hair.  All of it.  If I don't the cover models will beat me with tire irons, or straightening irons.  At this hour, I can't be expected to know the difference.

I'm exhausted, withered and flaccid, just generally, not down there...or anything, though I haven't checked. I could be completely immasculated for all I know--too tired to look. The sizzling estrogen of so many Romance and PR fan is soaking through my pores, I've felt a nagging sense of Regency...I mean urgency to get out of here and explore the City of Steel. A recharge from all the metal skyscrapers might restore my dwindling testosterone, to dip into a phallic reference. But before I go there, lets take a trip on a jet plane...

Like I said, Caitlin pulled up to the house at 3:15 (that's AM) and we drove to the offsite parking for Seatac, which turned out to be the Best Value Inn and Lighted Parking (thank you internets), I half expected to kick the dead hookers out of the way to get into the office, luckily they were only passed out.


More later.

After one of the most crazy days ever, full of running errands, coming home, realizing that I forgot something, running back out, coming home and then having to do the two hour trek to the accountant's to pick up the taxes which were late getting done--I'm told--as a result of our accountant reading my book (I gladly accepted that blame), I'm finally settling in to relax before Caitlin shows up on our doorstep at the God-awful hour of 3:15 A.M.

I must chill.

...and pack (and apparently blog).

Good thing I can sleep on a plane.  Oh...wait.  No I can't.

But I can read.  I'm finally going to finish Rayo Casablanca's super sick (and awesome) 6 SICK HIPSTERS and jump into some Palahniuk (Choke), which is a great way to gear up for the writing that needs to happen after I get back from the convention.  It seems I've been stalling on getting anything substantive done on the new book.  Getting ready for a con is a great procrastination excuse, but after I get back no more excuses.  It's on.  Right?

Anyway, blogging will probably be minimal, as will responding to email.  I can't wait to meet all the writers and lj peeps that I'm hoping actually exist and aren't just a figment of my imagination.

See you all there!