Dim Sum Diaries

I added some new stuff to the sidebar. There is now a handy search function so can you can traverse the bowels of the blog based on keyword. Also, under the "Favorites" section, I listed some of my favorite entries (yes, I'm that narcissistic). If you have any suggestions, tell me in the comments.

3:34 pm Update: Wil Wheaton offers some handy tips for surviving Halloween.

Stardate 103103, Captain's Log Update: Capt. Janeway, Snow White and Peter Pan had a very nice time trick 'o treating. :)

Urgent Email From Your Co-Worker - Please Read Immediately

From: Parino, Miriya
Sent: Thursday, October 30, 2003 10:32 AM
To: The_Whole_Damn_Office
Subject: Please...Stop The Torture Now

Dear Everyone,

Please stop. I am sending this email to everyone to let y'all know once and for all that I will NOT be dressing up in a Star Trek costume for Halloween this year. I realize that the year I started working here, 2001, showing up for work dressed as Capt. Kathryn Janeway from Star Trek: Voyager made quite an impression on everyone, forever branding me as a Trekker/Trekkie. There are even pics of this floating around somewhere.

Since last week, I have endured the Vulcan hand greeting followed by insane giggling from smartasses in the hallway. Many people have repeatedly asked me, "So are you gonna be a Klingon this year?", etc etc etc.

The year was 2001, it was the final season of ST: Voy and I was strangely happy to find and order a Janeway uniform over the Internet. I have since decided to NOT dress up as any Star Trek character anymore. I will not be T'Pol, Hoshi Sato, a female Klingon, or a James T. Kirk alien f*ck-bunny.

So please, for the love of Chronos, stop with the questions already!!!

The air quality is so horrible at Mir's house that Mir & family are fleeing (voluntarily) to Disneyland to spend the night. Someone out there (probably Cyc) is probably going to find this funny (I mean this in a non-sarcastic way).

Here is what the CA fires look like from space.

Thanks to Berklee for the heads up.
I discovered a new mil blog, Boots On Ground, over the weekend. I've added it to my list of Daily Reads and will be visiting it often.

I love living in California, but it means I have a front row seat to all the recent craziness. First there was the recall election. I wasn't at all surprised when Ah-nold won the governorship. It was as the prophecy (all who star in this will become governor) foretold, confirmed when Jessie Ventura first became governor of MN. I wonder which state will be lucky enough to have this guy as governor.

Then there were the supermarket strikes I mentioned before. Now we have these extreme wildfires. All over Southern California, the sky is brown and thick with ashes and smoke. Lo-Gung's brother and sister-in-law live in an affected area, so they had to evacuate with only the clothes on their backs. They are currently staying with my in-laws, and had to go to the store to buy clothes and essentials.

On a brighter note, a friend I've known since childhood got married this weekend (Congrats A & C!). I missed the church wedding but made it to the Chinese Banquet held at the Universal Hilton.

(Predator spiel shamelessly borrowed from The Daily Show as my brain is still recovering from the gay bar adventure. Perhaps I'll blog more about these events later.)
Bloggers are NOT ugly! I am living proof of that!

(Hella ugly blogger link via Ernie.)

Awhile back I blogged about the upcoming holiday season. Halloween is coming up shortly, so I took the kids to The Disney Store to get their costumes. Since #2 (son) is still young enough so that I can pick his costume out without any objections [insert evil laugh here], his Peter Pan costume was a simple choice.

The difficult one would be #1 (daughter). Though she is somewhat of a tomboy, she's dressed up as a Disney Princess every year since she was two, and she was of a mind to be one again. The question was which Princess? After aimlessly meandering the store for 10 minutes, I decided to drop a few hints.

Mir: So who do you want to be?

#1: I don't know.

Mir: How about Mulan? She is a strong, Asian female role model. She would be cool.

#1: Nah. How about this? I want to be Snow White!

Mir: Are you sure? I have ideological objections to this costume.

#1: What are you talking about? She has a cape and everything!

Mir: But she's an airhead.

#1: What do you mean?

Mir: Well the strange lady comes to her house three times and tries to kill her each time. And each time she takes the bait. You think she'd get a clue the first time around.

#1: I like it because the cape is cool and its not an itchy costume.

Mir: Okay.

So #1 gets her costume of choice.

I am also very excited because a new movie by Richard Curtis (he wrote the screenplay for Notting Hill and Bridget Jones Diary) has a new movie coming out called Love Actually. Hugh Grant and Colin Firth are part of the cast, so what can I say, I'm already there.
Its amazing what you can take for granted. Living in the U.S., I assume that the local supermarket will always be fully stocked with the goods I need. Throw a protracted supermarket worker strike into the mix however, and chaos ensues.

The first day of the strike (a Monday), the local Albertsons was mostly stocked. The picketers pretty much kept to themselves; though they would cheer every time a passing car would honk, signaling its support as it drove by. The only differences I noted were the meat department was low on inventory. Also the rotiesserie chickens they offered for sale in the deli department were more burnt and crispy then usual (maybe the replacement workers were still perfecting their roasting techniques). I loaded up on the basics, figuring the fewer trips I made to the market the better.

So this weekend I ran some errands and I was in a hurry to get home. I still needed to get some coffee creamer and orange juice. Instead of driving to an out-of-the-way-non-striking market, I stopped at Vons. During the week, a co-worker regaled me with horror stories of striking workers actually spitting at customers as they walked in. The manager finally told them to desist else he would call the cops.

With the horror stories in mind, I adopted a brisk thugs don't screw with me or I'll bitchslap yo ass manner as I walked towards the entrance. Hopefully there would be no confrontation. There is a little area by the door where shopping carts are lined up for customer convenience. Five or six striking workers trudged around nearby. As I went to get a cart, one of them (a tall male) blocked my path, preventing me from moving the cart any further. The look he gave me spoke volumes. How dare you shop here in the midst of a strike, he seemed to say.

Now I was getting pissed off. I glared at him and was getting ready to bean him with my purse, when he finally stepped away. I guess he felt he made his point. I gave him a particularly dirty look and pushed my way in to the market.

The bustling store with the gleaming aisles and the fully stocked shelves I'd known was gone. In its place was a ghost town. I wouldn't have been surprised if a tumbleweed had blown through. Most of the fresh fruits and vegetables had been picked over. In the asparagus bin, only five browning stalks remained. They'd been arranged so that they were spaced evenly in the front of the bin. All departments, including the deli, meat, seafood, florist and Panda Express were closed. Many of the dairy products were close to their expiration date. The only thing in abundance were the dry goods, such as canned goat’s milk and various cooking oils. I hurriedly picked up my purchases and went to the checkout counter. I waited somewhat impatiently in line as a scab cashier debated with a customer whether 2 lbs of bananas cost .20/lb or .20 lbs of bananas cost $2.00/lb.

My parents came to visit and they stopped by the non-striking market. They reported that it was complete bedlam, with people stocking up on food as if they were preparing for an earthquake or hurricane. It’s so crazy. I hope both sides resolve their differences soon.


Much later, we went out to dinner with my parents. After indulging in an excellent dinner, we drove back home. I was pleasantly drowsy. My daughter asked if she could sleep in my mom's bed that night (my parents were spending the night).

"Please?" my daughter asked.

"Okay, but if you sleep with Pou Pou (what she calls her maternal grandmother) then you can't play around. You have to go right to sleep," I told her.

"Okay, I'll try," she said.

"No, there is no try. There is only doing," I lectured.

Hubby glanced at me. "Are you tired or something?" he asked curiously.

"No, why?"

"Then why are you resorting to Yoda-isms as a mothering technique?" He starts to laugh.

"Shut up."
Oops did I say that out loud? :)

One of my favorite websites to visit is Mrs. Giggles. She has thoughtfully provided some yummalicious pics of French rugby players posing for the "Dieux du Stade 2004" calendar. Click here to get the password (its password protected to prevent direct linking).

(warning: some frontal nudity but definitely worth it...woo hoo!)
I stole the link for this cute movie, Eighties Ending, from Berklee this time!
I'm gonna change the name of this blog to "I Steal Links From Ernie's Sideblog Because I'm Too Tired To Think Of My Own Original Content".

I remember back in the day, 1984, when I had my Atari 800 and my Dad's old TRS-80 compys. I thought I was da bomb cuz I played text adventure games (Infocom woot!) and classics like Joust and Frogger. Turns out I was just nerdy. :p

Here is what happens when today's preteens/teens play the old school games (remember Pong?).
Here is my answer to a question that I'm sure has kept the seven readers of DSD up late at night. It is a question that goes to the very core of our humanity...okay not really, but here it is:

*drum roll*

How did Lo-Gung win the heart of Mir?

The answer is very complex. Well, complex enough to extend the length of this blog entry. Lo-Gung is a brilliant chemist, even back in our university days, where we met. Some may be thinking, perhaps he used his scientific background to create something nifty and chemistry related to win the heart of Mir, right? Okay, he didn't create the aforementioned link, but if we had DHTML back then, maybe he would have. :)

Okay, so maybe we're thinking Lo-Gung used his artistic side to win the heart of Mir instead. Maybe he used North Korean style interpretive dance to impress his love. Not that either, I'm afraid.

Actually, it was because he was very sweet and emotionally open to me. That and he has a nice ass. Heh heh, now Hubby's gonna be mad at me cuz I blogged about him.

(links via Ernie)

Also, here are some cool holiday cards by Loobylu if you are in the mood for the holiday season already.
I think I hit the wall today in terms of information overload. No more checking CNN or MSNBC today. No more listening to NPR driving to and from work (Though I see the irony in providing links to the very websites I'm attempting to ignore). My car radio will be tuned to the local classical radio station or my fave The Corrs CD.

Mir, the Super Leaf-Hunter

Instead of dwelling on how depressing the news is, I'll concentrate on helping my daughter with her homework. She is supposed to gather "the various colored leaves of fall" (the homework paper says 'How many red, yellow, orange and brown leaves are there?') and graph them. Keep in mind this is Southern California (known for its mild climes and lack of change of season). All of the trees around me are GREEN. Or brown because the tree is dead. That's pretty much it. There may be the odd tree that actually sheds non-green-color-other-then-brown leaves, but I probably have to drive around the city like a mofo to find one.

Mir Needs A Vacation

I'm looking forward to the anniversary vacay Lo-Gung and I are taking in a few weeks. Since I'll be away from the blog for a few days, I've asked Kyren to be a guest blogger and post an entry/entries around the first week of November. She's really sweet, and I am very excited about it.

The Things In My Head

After I posted Part 3, I carried this feeling of secret satisfaction all weekend. Simply stated, it was that:

I am a writer.

Granted, still an aspiring one. But I feel more confident in trying to complete a manuscript.

In the meantime, I am suffering from withdrawal symptoms because one of my favorite blogs hasn't posted an entry in weeks.

Bah, that's it for now. I told you this entry was disjointed. :p
Previously on "She" (Part 2 of The Dim Sum Diaries Romantic Mini-Series)...

Later that evening after the party, Dan sat on the couch of his darkened apartment. The TV was tuned to ESPN. He sat nursing a beer while watching the sports highlights of the day. The doorbell rang. Perhaps it was Kate, he thought. He nervously ran his fingers through his hair. Wearing only a bright yellow "Semper Fitness" t-shirt and boxers, he hoped he looked presentable. He walked over and opened the door. However, the person standing casually in the doorway wasn't who he expected.

It was Brad.

And now, the exciting conclusion!!!

"What are you doing here?" Dan asked without preamble.

Brad straightened and shrugged. "I wanted to talk. Do you think I could come in?"

Dan folded his arms across his chest. "No."

"Look, Dan," Brad said, dropping all pretense of politeness. "I know I screwed up, but I'm trying to get back with Kate."

"And?" Dan said sarcastically.

"I'd have a better chance if you got out of the picture," Brad said bluntly.

"You pretty much screwed yourself over when you left her waiting in the ER for two hours with a broken arm while you watched the game!"

"I already apologized to her! Shit! How long is it going to take for her to get over that?"

"I don't know. You'll have to ask her," Dan said.

"She listens to you, Dan."

"I'd only be telling her what she already knows."

Brad narrowed his gaze. "I know why you are acting like this. You want her for yourself, don't you?" he said. "I have to admit, she's a nice piece of ass."

Dan lost what little patience he had. He moved forward menacingly, poised for confrontation. "Talk about her like that again and I'll break both your legs," he said grimly.

Sensing it was time to retreat, Brad backed off. "Fine. But just remember she'll never go for a dumbass Jarhead like you," Brad said as a parting shot. He walked away quickly before Dan could make good on his threat.

His jaw clenched, Dan closed the door firmly behind him.


Kate sat nervously in her car. She had been parked outside Dan's apartment for the last ten minutes, debating whether she should go in or not. She'd better decide soon, as the pizza she brought with her was getting cold. She caught someone walking out of Dan's apartment building out of the corner of her eye. The figure headed in the opposite direction.

Was it Dan? If it was, crap. All this planning would be for naught. But then she recognized the figure. She narrowed her gaze. It was Brad. Damn damn damn!

Kate picked up her cell phone and quickly dialed Lynn's number.

"Lynn!" Kate whispered loudly when she heard Lynn say hello. "I just saw Brad walk out of Dan's apartment building!!! What the hell is that about, do you think?"

"What? You're still not inside? What are you waiting for?" Lynn said ignoring Kate's initial comment.

"I'm getting there," Kate protested half-heartedly.

"The both of you need a kick in the butt!"

"What if he thinks I'm being too assertive?"

"Well its time one of you was. You mooned over him the entire time he was deployed," Lynn reminded her.

"I did not!"

"So what was with all those packages and letters? I swear, you single-handedly kept the U.S. Postal Service in business. By the way, I hear they have a budget surplus this year," Lynn sniggered.

"Can't you be serious for a minute?"

"Fine. You really want to know what I think?"

"I'm sure you are going to tell me regardless."

"I think you are in love with Dan. So get off your ass and do something about it. And don't call me again. Until tomorrow morning to give me the juicy details." The phone clicked as Lynn cut off the call.

"Fine," Kate muttered to no one in particular. She took a deep breath, gathered her resolve and stepped out of the car.

Dan was in a foul temper as he sat trying to read the Noam Chomsky book he bought the other day. However, after reading the same sentence several times, he rubbed his eyes tiredly. He took Kate’s picture, the picture he had carried around with him when he was deployed and tucked it into the page as a bookmark. Perhaps he should just go to bed. Maybe he should call Kate first, just to check in with her... His thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door.

It was probably Brad again, Dan thought grumpily as he stalked to the door. Perhaps pummeling Brad would relieve some of the pent-up frustration he'd been feeling. Without even bothering to check who it was, he flung the door open and stopped and stared as he realized it was Kate.

She had a pizza box in one hand and a bottle of Merlot in the other. She grinned impishly. "I come bearing gifts," she said.

When Dan still said nothing, she said, "Am I interrupting anything?"

"No," Dan said and stepped aside to let her in. You didn't have to go through all this trouble."

"Oh, it was no trouble," she assured him. "I thought I saw Brad walking away from here. What happened?"

Dan's jaw tensed. "Nothing worth recounting."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," he said. "Let's eat." He took the pizza and the wine from her and went to the kitchen to get some plates. Although she raised her eyebrow at his foul mood, Kate let the subject drop. They made quick work of the pizza and the excellent wine, then decided to watch a movie. As he searched through his stack of DVDs, Kate finished putting the dishes away. Settling back on the couch, she spotted the Chomsky book. Dan probably wouldn't mind her borrowing it, so she picked it up and tucked it in her purse.

“Hey,” she asked. “I'm borrowing one of your books, okay?”

"Sure, sure," he muttered. "So, what’ll it be? Lord of The Rings or Die Hard 2?"

Perhaps it was time to make her move. "I'm going to the restroom. Be right back," she said. She sounded casual, but her heart was pounding a mile a minute.

"Sure," Dan said distractedly. The bathroom was located in his bedroom. She closed the bedroom door behind her and opened Dan's closet in search of one of his dress shirts. Finding one, she went to the bathroom to slip out of her clothes and put the shirt on. She left the top three buttons provocatively undone, coupled with a sexy pair of black lace panties. Nervous now and biting her lip, she fussed with her hair a bit. She eyed herself critically in front of the mirror. Not bad, she thought.

She turned off the bathroom light and took a breath, attempting what she thought was a sexy pose.

"Dan, can you come in here for a minute? I need your help with something."

"Did you fall in or something? I..." Dan walked into the bedroom, but stopped when he took in the sight of her. "What are you wearing?" he gulped.

"Your shirt. Do you want me to take it off?" she said silkily.

"Yes! I mean, no! I mean..." Dan backed away as she advanced towards him, unaware that she was angling him towards the bed. He stopped when the bed hit the back of his legs. There was no retreat.

"You kissed me the other day, Dan," she said. She pushed him onto the bed. He fell flat on his back with surprising ease. "And now I'm going to kiss you. Do you have a problem with that?"

"Yes...no...Kate..." he managed to babble before she climbed onto the bed and straddled him. She pressed her lips to his in a tentative kiss, pulling back after a moment. She could feel his harsh, uneven breaths against her cheek, as he pulled her roughly against him so that her body was full-length against his. His body was hard and clenched all over as she ran her hands up and down his back. Groaning, he pulled back.

"Kate," he managed. "We better stop before..." Her response was to wantonly rub herself against him. He gasped. The sensations were intense...too much, too soon... He could only take so much. He firmly but gently pushed her away.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

He rolled them both around so that their positions were reversed. Now he was the aggressor. He gazed into her dark chocolate brown eyes. "Its all or nothing, Kate," he demanded tersely.

Her hand moved of its own volition from his cheek to his jaw line. "All then," she said equably.

Dan groaned and kissed her again with all the love in his heart...


A few days later, Kate sat alone at the bar, sipping a martini. It was after work and she was meeting Lynn and Dan, both whom hadn't yet arrived, for drinks.

"Walter," she called out, gesturing to the bartender. "Another one of these, please."

Walter the barkeep finished wiping up the dark mahogany counter and winked at her. "No problem," he said cheerfully.

The bar had not yet filled up with the upwardly mobile young professional crowd that usually hung out here. As she toyed with her drink, she smiled giddily to herself. Things with Dan were going well...and one could dwell forever on his powerful well-muscled body that always moved with easy grace. His brilliantly intelligent eyes...his excellent ass...

"Hey, baby!" a deep voice boomed behind her.

"What!" she yelped, startled from her thoughts. She turned to see Lynn gazing bemusedly at her. "Lynn, you have to stop doing that."

Lynn grinned as she sat down next to Kate. She gestured to Walter the barkeep. "A white wine please." She turned her attention back to the conversation. "So how are things going with Dan?"

Kate sighed happily. "It's incredible..."

Walter stopped by them again. "Don't look now, but Brad's coming this way."

"Shit," Kate muttered under her breath.

"Hi Kate, hi Lynn," Brad said as he walked up to the bar and took the other seat next to Kate. Both returned his greeting with something less then enthusiasm.

"Hey Lynn, do you mind if I have a minute alone with Kate?" Brad asked.

"Sure," Lynn replied. "I need to freshen up anyways." After sharing a decidedly feminine glance with Kate, Lynn stood up and headed towards the restroom.

"Anyways Kate," Brad said, "I want you to know that I still love you. I'm so sorry about the broken leg incident, but can we put that behind us?"

Kate raised an eyebrow. "You have a funny way of showing your love," she said sardonically.

"Kate, I said I was sorry! Can't you give me another chance?" Brad asked plaintively.

She took another sip of her martini. "I don't think so, Brad," she said firmly.

"Its Dan, isn't it?" Brad said bitterly.

"That's none of your business."

"He got to you, didn't he?"

"I saw you walking out of his apartment building the other night. What did you say to him?" Kate demanded.

"Never mind that..."

"You better tell me. Now."

"Fine! I asked him to step aside so I could have a chance with you!"

"Let me make it perfectly clear. You and I were over a long time ago. I'm with Dan now."

Brad took Kate's hand in his. "I don't understand how you can be with a guy in the military," he tried in a more reasonable tone. "His occupation is so unstable and you'd have to move everywhere. His kind stands for all that is wrong. Didn't you oppose this conflict?"

Neither Kate nor Brad saw Dan enter the bar and stop suddenly. He stared at the pair arguing heatedly for a moment and left.

"Brad, it’s over." She took her hand from his. "I think you should leave now."

Realizing Kate would not change her mind, Brad sighed. "Fine," he said and left the bar.

Lynn came back. "Is everything okay?" she asked cautiously.

"Yes," Kate said calmly. Kate and Lynn waited for Dan, but he never showed.


It had been exactly three days. Dan hadn't returned her calls. Or wouldn't, Kate fumed as she scrubbed her tub. Cleaning her apartment was her way of coping with stress and frustration, resulting in a meticulously clean abode. She'd guessed that he'd seen her arguing with Brad and walked out. And didn't even give her the chance to explain.

The man had a stubborn streak a mile wide and a head like a rock. Perhaps drastic action was necessary to remedy the situation. She considered her options briefly. Deciding on a course of action, she got up and picked up her cell phone off her bed. After punching in a number, she waited.

"Hi Karen..."


Dan sighed as he sat in the family room of his parents' house. He and his Dad were watching the news and drinking beers. After not answering any of Kate's calls for a few days, he'd come to the conclusion that he was a fool. He missed her rather desperately...the way she walked around barefoot (big turn-on for him)...silly little things like that. Perhaps he should call her...

He was about to tell his dad goodbye when the sound of his mom banging around in the kitchen caught his attention. He leaned over to his dad.

"What's up with Mom?" he asked curiously. Karen had called Dan and suggested that he come over. Knowing the tone that his mom had used as one he would never dare disobey, even if he was a full grown adult male, he had come over immediately.

Dan's father rolled his eyes. "I don't know, Son. I just nod and smile. She's been like this all day. Shh! She's coming now!" Dan's father quickly quieted at Karen's approach. Karen beamed at Dan. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled in warning.

"Dan," she said cheerfully. "I need you to do me a favor, Son."

"Sure, Mom," he said cautiously. "What is it?"

Karen held out a large box. "I need you to deliver this to Kate. It’s my heirloom Waterford punch bowl. She needs it immediately for her parents' 30th anniversary party tonight."

Dan took the box from his mother and stared at it suspiciously. "Why does she need your whatsit bowl? Doesn’t the caterer provide such things?"

"The caterer didn't have one," Karen hedged. "So she needs it now." Karen glanced pointedly at her watch. "And by the way," she added as she handed Dan a garment bag. "You better wear this."

Dan frowned as he unzipped the garment bag. "My dress blues? What? Where did you get this from?"

Karen paused for a moment. "You left one hanging in your old bedroom. It is a formal affair, after all," she said a little too innocently.

“So, you called me over here to deliver a punchbowl to Kate,” he said incredulously. “In my dress blues.”

"I'd go, but my joints are bothering me." Karen patted her heart in a gesture that always got the men in her family to see things her way. Realizing that he was fighting a losing battle, Dan shook his head in bewilderment as he went to his old bedroom to change. His mother had successfully played the trump card of guilt. "I thought the party was next week," he mumbled to himself. He'd forgotten how adroitly his mother could handle him. After dressing in his uniform, his mother had all but pushed him out the door.

“Don't mess it up! It’s very delicate!” she warned direly.

“Yes, ma’am,” he muttered. He wondered if she meant something other then the punch bowl as he drove towards Kate's apartment.


Feeling somewhat of a fool, he knocked at her door. Kate answered and let him in. The apartment was dimly lit with candles, and soft romantic music floated through the air. Dan looked so handsome in his uniform that Kate caught her breath.

He thrust the package into her hands. "My mother said you needed this," he said curtly.

"Oh, the glass flutes. Thanks," she said.

His gaze narrowed. "No, it was a punch bowl."

"That's right." She cleared her throat. "The punch bowl." She walked over to the kitchen counter to set it down.

"The party isn't tonight is it? You and my mom set me up," he accused.

"That's right. You were set up." Temper flaring, Kate put her hands on her hips. "I can't believe you! You didn't even ask for any explanation before you passed judgment! Then you don't talk to me for three days! Something drastic was needed to get through the rock that passes for your head!"

Dan raked his hand through his hair. "I'm sorry. I was jealous," he said contritely.

She'd been ready for an all-out argument with Dan. Getting none, she eyed him warily. "I gathered. But I told Brad it was over. But there is something I want to know. What is this?" She held up her picture she'd found in Dan's Noam Chomsky book. "Why is the picture so battered? Did you use it for target practice or something?"

"No!" he said. He took the picture away from her. "Its nothing," he muttered as he shoved it into his pocket.

She moved towards him and put her hand on his shoulder. He stilled. "Dan," she said gently. "Please tell me."

He looked into her eyes for a long moment before he answered. "That picture. I carried it with me everywhere. It meant home, and you. That way you were always with me. It always gave me hope," he said.

Moved beyond words, she cupped his face in her hands and touched her forehead to his.

"I love you," he said hoarsely. "I think I've always loved you."

“I love you,” she murmured as he drew her face to his in an urgent kiss. "And by the way, I'm not wearing any socks..."



I told myself not to blog today. I've been feeling under the weather lately, and am not in any mood to write creatively (thus delaying Part 3 even further). Yet here I am, typing away because I am so addicted to this blogging thing.

So read Pob's Blog. He is a great writer and his latest entry (actually all of them are) is touching and well-written.

Note to self: Self, if you are depressed, do not listen to the Internet radio love-songs channel all day. It doesn't cheer Self up.

6:04 pm Update:

Guess who called me?

*Cue West Wing theme music*

Martin Sheen!

Granted it was a prerecorded message urging me to vote no on the recall. But now I have a great bragging story to tell drunk people at parties!

After dinner, me, Hubby and the kids are gonna go vote (not the kids).
Close your eyes and imagine with me for a moment...

You are an editor in the Romance division of a well-known publishing house. The holiday season is fast approaching and your goal in life is to sell as many of your authors' books as you can. So what do you do?

You ask six authors (some fairly well known, some new) to write a short story (about 40 pages long) centered around romance and Christmas, which will become a holiday anthology.

The result? 40 pages...not long enough to have any meaningful character or plot development, but the basic plot which boils down to this...

1. Two people who either have a past or have been lusting after one another for awhile now.

2. They decide to immediately hook up (and by hook up, I mean point #3) by page 5, after mooning longingly at each other for six months or more. Either to get the other out of their system or to finally make their move.

3. Sex. Lots of it.

4. Some dialogue interspersed in between aforementioned point #3 to hastily explain the couple's history to the reader and quickly resolve their relational problems in 40 pages. Always ends with "I love you!" and a proposal of marriage.

5. Lots of campy lines. Here's an example in which Earl (in a short story by Susan Donovan), a furnace repairman, is mysteriously called to a beautifully dressed, lonely woman's apartment to repair her heater on Christmas day. They desire each other and decide to engage in point #3.

Before #3: "She was...hotter than any furnace he'd ever had the pleasure to repair."

During #3: "She began to howl, and the sound penetrated Earl's soul. God, how he loved to make a woman howl..."

After #3: "He chuckled. Maybe he had tuned the furnace up a little to high after he restored the power, but the house had been a freaking meat locker!"

Because you know that your most hardcore of romance readers (and we all know that Mir is, as with all of her favorite things, hardcore about romances) cannot resist and will buy a holiday anthology even if it is completely cheesy.

Someone Has Too Much Time On Their Hands...

Eh, no original content today, just a link from Ernie about this funny site. The School Is On Fire episode is especially humorous.

Update: Here's a REALLY addicting game from Ernie again. I'm a copycat today :(
Rumors have been circulating at work for the past few days. The bigwigs are coming. There may be possible layoffs. I'd known since last week and though I tried not to stress about it, the fear of losing my job always loomed. Like some black cloud following me around.

And guess who came to our office today...the big wigs. A total of 6 7 people were laid off. Luckily I wasn't one of them.

The people who were laid off were given 10 minutes to clear their desks and escorted out of the building. The entrance to our office is now locked 24/7 and is accessible only by keycard. Everyone is pretty freaked out now.

Its time to possibly explore my options job-wise (despite the sucky economy). I'd love to just quit and stay home with the kids and be able to devote my time to writing, but we need the money.

Today sucks.
Notice the surprise? I asked Katia (who also designed this blog template) to spice up the main graphic for Halloween, and I think she did a whiz-bang job!

Just read a humorous description of Tony Blair via Pewari's Prattle.

BTW, Pewari is preggers with her second child, and I wish her all the happiness in the world! However, her entry describing what she is going through now only confirms the fact that I DON'T MISS PREGNANCY!!

Although sometimes while walking through the mall, an article of clothing catches my eye. "Oooh," I tell myself. Then I realize I'm standing in front of the maternity clothing store. Old habits die hard. :(