Vampires for all!

Let's talk vampires.

Oh I see you roll your eyes. Not THOSE things again. Didn't they, like, die out with Twilight or something? Zombies are where it's at now, sista. Vampires are sooo dead...err undead. Well, who are you to judge me 'person in my head who never actually said this'? You've got some nerve! But also, I like zombies. Zombies are fun. However, zombies are extremely limited. True, you can make them run fast or stagger slow, and their origins vary (disease outbreak, rabid monkeys etc.), but still, they're just zombies. But vampires? Vampires are more versatile.

Vampires are top of mind for me because I recently watched the movie Only Lovers Left Alive where Tom Hiddleston and Tilda Swinton play a stunning vampire couple - she, a bit of a bohemian, and he a rock god. Not gonna lie - Tom alone in tight leather pants was worth the price of admission. It wasn't a traditional horror film though. The vampires in this movie weren't scary, they were sexy. They didn't bite (or tried not to) because they got their blood from other means. If you met them in a dark alley, they wouldn't attack you. They'd just walk right past you because they are the ultimate in cool and you're a troll doll unworthy of their attention.

Not all vampires are sexy though. For example, there's Dracula. You say his name and an image immediately comes up in your head but that image is different for everyone because really it's just a name. Yes, Bram Stoker wrote created the character but that's not the first frame of reference that people generally have. The ORIGINAL Dracula wasn't a mack daddy at all. No, in Stoker's book, Dracula was described as being a repulsive elderly fellow with a mustache and bushy eyebrows. As for the great love affair between he and Mina, well, it just wasn't there. He didn't try and turn Mina because he loved her. He was just pissed off that Harker, Van Helsing and the gang were trying to kill him. In essence he was saying "Fuck you people, I got your woman! Ha!"

Yes, Dracula was a bit of bastard.

But a lot of people don't want to see Dracula that way. They want a gothic Byronic, sexy, mysterious guy. He can be Bela Lugosi, Frank Langella, Gary Oldman...ladies (and some of you gentlemen), you have your pick. Or if you want your vampire to be a scary monster who not so much seduces you as scares the beejeebus out of you - well you can have that too.

I have to admit, I'm kind of torn between the scary and the sexy. On the one hand, as evidenced in my last post about fictional bad boys, the dark and brooding hypnotic villain can be oh so appealing. On the other hand, I love to be scared and a frightening creature, more beast than man, also appeals to me as a horror lover. While Edward from Twilight doesn't appeal to me at all, because I have taste.

So, there's literally a vampire out there for everyone. They can be Stoker or a Rice creation. A tortured soul or an arrogant noble. They can be cruel or kind, disgusting or beautiful. Vampires are for everyone. Vampires are for all.

So, what's YOUR vampire like?

Bad Boys

Bad boys, bad boys whatcha gonna do....

Oh bad boys. I've been thinking about them a lot. You see, I recently re-read Wuthering Heights (see the post about my used book fetish). I remember loving the book as a teen when I read it first but years later I love it even more. Why? Because Heathcliff.

Heathcliff is a dick.

He is NOT a good guy, not at all. Some may think of a bad boy as someone who drives a motorcycle and smokes Marlboros with greased back hair and all those stereotypes, but this guy would eat those boys for lunch. He's not the kind of guy you should swoon for. He's downright despicable. He beats up on well, everyone actually. And at one point he hangs his wife's dog. That's right. He HANGS A FRIGGING DOG! Heathcliff abused everyone in his life (men, children, woman, etc.)  And yet...he was so compelling you wanted to read more about him.

If Heathcliff were around today, his doings would make one hell of an episode of Law and Order.

But still there are some ladies who read the book and fall in love with him. Why? Because he's angsty and dark and troubled and bitter and brooding. And because, let's face it, fictional bad boys are AWESOME.

There are several examples of the bad boy in literature, movies and television where horrible dudes doing horrible things are romanticized. Long before anyone knew that Snape was actually an okay guy, there were girls (and boys) writing hot fanfiction about him. And I've known many a grown woman who fell for Christian Grey although I have yet to figure out why. I have never read 50 Shades of Grey nor have I seen the movie and to tell the truth, it doesn't sound entertaining to me in the least. Although what do I know? I mean, I like Heathcliff, so....

Now I know there's some psychology to this, although for the life of me I can't figure out what it is. I'm not a very patient person in real life. I'm super-nice on the outside but if a guy even looked at me cross-eyed I'd probably dump him on the spot. So why do we women - good women, strong women - like these fictional guys that would possibly hurt us?

Because they can't. That's the only answer I could come up with.

There's kind of a safety net there. You can experience all the danger and excitement of a real bad boy with no heartbreak, or you know, actual physical/mental abuse and long-term implications. It's a fantasy of danger without having the visible scars to deal with. And no one gets arrested.

I probably am giving this too much thought. Girls will always have crushes on the fictional, dark, brooding dudes who would drive us crazy in real life. Just as guys will always have their crushes on...bad girls? Feel free to chime in here boys. I'm kind of interested in what kind of fictional bad girls you like, because in my mind they're probably all this:

So there you have it. Bad boys will be bad boys and girls will always love them - albeit from a safe distance. Feel free to chime in below with your fictional "bad crush". I can't judge, because, you know, Heathcliff. ;)

Death Entertains Me

Death is awesome. Death is fun. I love death.

Well, not all death. I mean fun death. Like, I don't want anyone real to die, I can't watch the news without crying. And my hope is for your Aunt Martha to make it through whatever ails her so she can live to a ripe old age. But dammit I do enjoy death as entertainment.

My Mom is fond of telling this story. When I was 2 years old, my parents took me to Disney World. They said I was pretty relaxed about the whole affair until we went on the Haunted Mansion ride. Apparently there were a ton of kids my age and slightly above who were scared and crying throughout the entire thing.

Me? I lit up like a Christmas tree.

My Mother (who is not one to embellish stories) said that I clapped and cheered the entire time. I declared that dancing spirits were my favorite thing of anything ever (and probably still are) and I wanted to go through it as many times as they would possibly allow. My parents must have been very patient I guess. I haven't been to Disney World in years but if/when I go back - it's the first ride I'm hitting.

No one in my family loves horror. No one. I did not get this genetically. I don't know where it comes from. Neither of my brothers like the genre and about the scariest thing my parents watch is the occasional John Wayne movie, although once they somehow got duped into watching Hannibal when it was out in theaters. My Mom originally thought it was about the historical figure (no kidding).

I also don't look like someone who embraces the dark. I don't wear much make-up, I have normal boring brown hair,  no tattoos and only my ears are pierced. I would look out of place at a  any horror convention. The only slightly goth thing I have as décor in my house is a sugar skull trivet I have in my kitchen. (I bought on Amazon as an impulse, but you have to admit, it's pretty damn cute).

In fact, I look like someone who would watch Lifetime and cry at the end of Sleepless in Seattle. I do neither of these things. Although the Korean horror film A Tale of Two Sisters made me weep openly. What a great movie that was (sob...sniff).

There's a tendency by "normal people" and the media to blame murders and the like on horror, to which I exclaim "Bollocks!" mainly because I'm a Yank and that word means nothing here but it's fun to say, and also because I don't think listening to heavy metal, watching horror or loving anything goth in general automatically makes one a serial killer. It's takes years of abuse plus a great deal of time, planning and a whole lot of training to do that. And I'm slightly too well-adjusted. Plus I'm lazy.

Also, when people say that horror movies are terrible I always counter with what I call The Titanic Theory. It goes like this:

   Random Person: Ewww....you like horror? But it's so gross! They show people getting killed!
   Me: Did you like Titanic?
   Person: Love that movie! But it's not horror.
   Me: LOTS of dead bodies at the end of Titanic...(smirk)

Usually they end up arguing that it's a romance, after which I point out that the "final girl" lived, just as in any horror movie, while her boyfriend was killed, also as in any horror movie. Also the great "love lost" scene happened while there were a ton of open-mouthed dead people floating around them. I may not be the most romantic person in the world, but open-mouthed dead floating people doesn't sound all that sexy to me. And of course there's the fact that it was something that really happened and a lot of people died. So there's that.

In a weird way, horror has become a sort of comfort zone for me. So while everybody's watching the latest comic book movie, I'm watching zombies eat people in some obscure movie I found from 1989. This comfort zone extends to television too. For example, I have never seen Breaking Bad or Mad Men. I have, of course, seen every single episode of Ash vs. Evil Dead.

So I watch what I watch with a smile, no matter how gruesome, because for me people getting killed in various and sundry ways helps me to relax and cope with life. I mean, if somebody's being knived by a deranged killer when all they wanted to do was party in that deserted amusement park where several people mysteriously disappeared 10 years ago on that very night, well - your problems don't seem that bad, do they?

Until next time, sweet dreams. Or nightmares. You know which one I'd choose. ;)

The Sin of Envy

"It seems that envy is my sin." - John Doe

Hey there all! I just want you to let you know that I'm filled with self-loathing and shame. And I blame it on you and your perfect lives.

Cut it out will ya? No seriously stop it.

Actually I'm kind of semi-joking here. But I do have a tendency to get jealous of other people very easily. That whole "grass is always greener" thing certainly applies to me. I'm pretty much convinced that my lawn is a desert with no oasis and an occasional tumbleweed flowing through while everybody else's is a lush green paradise. They have no problems those with the green, perfectly manicured lawns. Everything must come easy to them.

Really if we're going by movie references, I'm Kevin Spacey, and you're all Brad Pitts and I sort of want to put Gwyneth Paltrow's head in a box and then giggle furiously. But then again, it's Gwyneth Paltrow, so can you blame me?

Of course I wouldn't do anything like that. Because, you know, morals. Plus I'm pretty sure it'd be all 'GOOPy'. (Yeah, I just wrote that. I hate myself....)

The thing is I tend to get into ruts. I do the same thing day in and day out. I'm convinced most people are out there living while I'm over here existing. I would love to lead a life of adventure and excitement but for the life of me, I don't know how.

There's a girl I used to work with. We were both trapped in a stifling office. One day she decided to chuck it all and move to the tropics. Just like that. Now she's doing things like captaining boats, sleeping on exotic beaches etc. The funny thing is, someone on Facebook once posted "I wish I led your life" to which she replied "You want MY life? I've never heard anybody say that!"

Wait...WHAT?

It turns out there's a price to be paid for everything. I have really close family and friends I can turn to right here. Her friends are in other parts of the country. I have a home, a place where I can keep things. She doesn't really have a home to speak of and is never quite sure where the next job will take her. It still sounds lovely in my mind, but the thing I'm slowly realizing is nobody's life is perfect.

Everybody's lives look great on social media but sometimes that's not REALLY their lives. After all, we all want to look great to others don't we? I mean I generally won't post a picture of myself with messy hair and a double chin, even though I might look that way at the time. Why? Because I want to look other people to think I look good. We all put out what I call "the highlight reel"- our best selves leading our best lives even though inside we're filled with doubt and insecurity.

So maybe I need to tend to my own lawn a bit, instead of whining about my neighbor's. After all, I usually don't see the amount of time they put into it nor do I see the amount of manure they use to fertilize it. 😉

Brain Vacation

"I abhor the dull routine of existence." - Arthur Conan Doyle via Sherlock Holmes. Or vice versa. I can't figure out the right way to quote this.

Okay let's be blunt here. We live in trying times, We live in tumultuous times. We live in pretty damn tough times. I guess what I'm trying to say is......

These times suck.

Boy do they suck. They suck so bad they even suck at being sucky. It's just one big ball of suck and then when you get to the chewy center there's a bigger burst of suck. But what can you do? You can march, you can scream, you can tweet in frustration but you also need to practice self-care. The ideal way would be meditation, yoga or a nice vacation. But sometimes you can't afford or get to those things immediately, so do what I do.
.
Take a mental vacation.

You see there are times when I hate everything in the world and everyone in the world (except you dear reader, you're perfection) and I just need to get away and do something different. It's in the times of the most stress (which is pretty much every day) where I need to go elsewhere and so I daydream. I call these my "brain vacations".

I'm a big proponent of daydreams. I consider them necessary, like food, shelter, water and reruns of Absolutely Fabulous. And I have some AWESOME ones. I do things in my daydreams that you  wouldn't be able to do on a real vacation. Unless of course you're going to a place where they specialize in that sort of thing...

Oh Ricardo Montalban - what I would give to hear your awesomely sexy voice talk about car leather once more. Sadly though, that won't happen. Even more sad is the fact that Fantasy Island doesn't exist. Luckily though, I have one hell of an imagination.

Here are some of the things that I have done during these mental vacations:

• Solved a mystery with Sherlock Holmes
• Solved a mystery with Sam Spade
• Hunted vampires in London (a personal favorite of mine)
• Beat up The Punisher
• Flew on the airship from Final Fantasy 3/6 (also petted a moogle)
• Had the de rigueur rock star fantasy - except I suddenly no longer sound like Mary Poppins 
• Became a pirate captain (who ironically never stole or killed anybody)
• Had perfect eyebrows

And if you make fun of that last one, shut up, I'm a girl. It will always be my dream.

Do I think they're stupid? Yes. Will they every happen? No - unless a certain Mr. Roarke (ahem) decides to suddenly come into existence and return my calls. But the thing is they help me cope. In a time when all the news is bad, and you wake up, go to work, come home just to do it all over again, it's nice to have a little adventure. Even if it is imaginary.

So where do you want to go on your next  brain vacation? I hear there's open bookings...

Geeks Like Us

A couple of years ago a friend of mine called me and asked what I was doing. I replied (quite honestly) "painting my toe nails pink and watching Texas Chainsaw Massacre."

"That's so...you," she replied. "Yeah," I laughed. "I'm such a geek."

Now before you ask, I was watching the original Chainsaw and not that travesty of a remake. Also I have since discovered the beauty of professional pedicures and all that entails, including not splattering nail polish all over light beige carpeting, and trained experts who craftily use tools of destruction against annoying callouses. Sexy.

That phone exchange always stuck out in my mind for some reason. First of all, because my friend knew me all too well, but second, because I thought what I was doing made me a geek. You care about toe nail polish AND Leatherface? It doesn't sound plausible, until you realize that Leatherface occasionally wears a hell of a lot of make-up. I mean, he probably smeared it on using somebody's dismembered hand as a make-up brush, but still....

I wonder if Leatherface ever subscribed to Ipsy? Just a thought.

The thing is, it's easy all too easy to put down yourself for being well, yourself. During our conversation I realized how I sounded. watching Texas Chainsaw instead of some light-hearted rom-com. I felt like the biggest nerd in the world. But what does that even mean? Those who describe themselves as "nerds" will say it's because they like Harry Potter, or comic books, or video games. But that doesn't mean they're the stereotypical nerd with pocket protectors and snorty laughs, it just means they like things.

I, for example, work in marketing and function day to day as a seemingly normal, albeit slightly quirky, type of person. But underneath it all, I'm the biggest horror movie nerd you've ever seen. My DVD collection consists of almost all horror and it's proudly displayed for all to see. Wanna watch Pretty Woman? Sorry I don't have that. But I do have my prized copy of Children Shouldn't Play with Dead Things. Let's watch that one.

So, yes in this respect I do consider myself a nerd. Well, I'm also a Mystery Science Theater 3000 fan (and helloooo to all my MSTies out there), plus there's my love of weird pop culture. But again, that doesn't mean I'm a stereotypical nerd straight out of an 80s film. It just means there's stuff I like.

The truth is, we're ALL nerds, including you people who think you're not. You don't read comics but live for ESPN and can drop football stats like nobody's business? Congrats you're a sports nerd. Do you go crazy for the latest styles and know 15 exciting ways to dress up palazzo pants? Fashion nerd. There are car nerds and cat nerds and dog nerds and "dogs and cats living together" nerds (also known as Ghostbuster nerds). Let's face it, people geek out over a lot of different things.

My point is this. You shouldn't have to hide the things you love, simply because you feel that it might set you apart or have you branded with the dreaded "nerd" word. Because EVERYBODY has things they love. It's part of what makes you "you". And true, we usually gravitate towards people who like the same things we do, but that doesn't mean you have to call yourself a geek because somebody else doesn't share those interests.

Because we're ALL nerds.

So tell me, what kind of nerd are you?

The "Alternative" Oscars

I haven't sat through The Oscars in its entirety in years.

I know, I know...the glitz the glamour, the pageantry, who wore who, I really should be interested, but I'm not. It's not that I don't like movies, I do. But I only like certain kinds of movies.  While everybody was raving about Leo fighting a bear last year, I was proudly stating that I just saw Cherry 2000 for the first time. Also I think the whole thing is sort of dumb, to be honest. 

So apropos of nothing, I made up my own awards for your consideration. The speeches can go on as long as they want to. And if anybody asks, I'm wearing H & M, Levi's and New Balance. Thank you.

Best Christmas Present-Themed Facebook Message with my Brother:

Runner Up: An email I was copied on where my brother said he was going to get my other brother "Paula Deen,wrapped in a bow and nothing else, with a stick of butter in each ear and a few more in other orifices." I wisely stayed out of that conversation.

Best Twitter moment so far: When I realized I was blocked by white supremacist David Duke. Yeah me!!!!!

Best part of 2017 So Far: The lovely Ash vs. Evil Dead gift pack I received from the lovely Starz people. I now have an Ash vs. Evil Dead Lunch Box to go with my Ash vs. Evil Dead beer pong set. Feel free to be jealous.

Runner Up: The day after New Years, which I spent in my PJs, drinking Rumchata and playing Final Fantasy 3 on SNES.

Worst Part of 2017: Everything else.

Best Actress: The blue-haired Barista who pretended to ignore the fact that my laptop headphone jack had come undone and who patiently listened to my boring budget meeting for half an hour.

Best Actor:  Trump, who might look kind of human, but is actually one of the aliens from They Live.

Best Performance Overall: Me on I-75 this week, singing loudly to Gaston's song, complete with pantomime. With the windows down. In February. You're welcome.

 

In Memoriam: (no clapping please)

Dignity, class and honesty in politics
That one sweater I kept from 10 years ago that never came back into fashion
Scott Baio's career (although I think it passed on some time ago)
IMDB Message Boards (that one HURT)
The eggplant I had every intention of cooking, but forgot about in the crisper. I'm sorry.

So that was it, and no I couldn't come up with a cute name for the awards so I just called them "Alternative Oscars". Because they're not the Oscars, but I don't really want to say they're not.

Got any awards or academy-worthy moments of you're own you'd like to share? Categories are open.

Cheryl's List of Odd Fictional Crushes

I have the greatest boyfriends. 💓

Yes I said 'boyfriends'. And no, I'm not a total playa, I don't cheat. I haven't led a life of passionate intrigue, using men at will and throwing them away in favor of a new romance when finished. Although that does sound like fun.

You see, the boyfriends I'm talking about don't really exist.

But before you cluck your tongue in dismay and think "aww poor thing", keep in mind you've been there. I don't care how old or young you are, married or single, you've had crushes on characters that didn't exist outside of a book or a movie, sometimes both. I've seen many a lady in my time lust over Edward and Christian from the Twilight Series and 50 Shades respectively. Not me of course, I have taste, but they did. And it's not just the ladies. Guys drool over hot chicks all the time. And no boys, Margot Robbie's Harley Quinn will never be yours. Sorry. Not Sorry.

So in honor of Valentine's Day, I present to you: Cheryl's List of Odd Fictional Crushes. I've already discussed my love for Cyan from Final Fantasy but here are the others. Enjoy. 

Mark Hamill/Luke Skywalker - The names were pretty much interchangeable when I was a kid and I'm pretty sure Mark/Luke may have been my first real crush. At the very least I remember playing Barbie with my best friend and my doll regularly going steady with him. My friend's, on the other hand, was always torn between John Schneider and Scott Baio. I definitely made the wiser choice.

 

Vampire Hunter D - I dunno....maybe it's the hair, maybe it's the wicked sword, maybe it's the fact that he's a goddamn vampire hunter, but Vampire Hunter D, the title character of one of the few animes I'll watch, is just awesome and I'll forever love him. Badassery never looked so damn cool.  

 

Captain Hook - Nah, I'm not talking about that 'Once Upon a Time Jack Sparrow looking MFer'. I'm not talking about Dustin Hoffman or Disney. I'm not even talking about Jason Isaacs' great portrayal in the criminally underrated 2003 version of Peter Pan (although he was the best in my opinion). I'm talking about the original Captain from the book Peter Pan. As a kid I felt sorry for Hook while at the same time being slightly intrigued by his sinister nature. I also wanted to kiss him. I was a weird child. Don't judge. 

Ra's Al Ghul - Not the movie one, although Liam Neeson is certainly nice to look at. I mean Batman: The Animated Series' Ra's Al Ghul. I don't even know why, since he's evil, balding and creepy. Maybe it was his body. Or the fact that he had the voice of David Warner. And who could resist the voice of David Warner? Just try. I dare you.

 

Quint (Jaws) - Robert Shaw played the most manliest man in all of mandom. A salty sea dog with tales to tell and the squintiest bluest blue eyes you've ever seen. Oh Quint, I know you became half the man you used to be (literally) but we can still make it work....

 

Sherlock Holmes - Most ladies I know crush on Benedict Cumberbatch who truthfully does nothing for me. You know who I like? Book Sherlock Holmes. I finally got to reading some of Conan Doyle's works last year and fell madly in love. Granted I don't think our fictional relationship would last long because he's a bit a pompous jackass and I sort of wanted to smack him. But you have to admit, intelligence can be pretty damn sexy. Even if it is slightly annoying.

There are others (there are always others) and granted I don't live forever in a dream. After all, you do need to dip your toes in real life from time to time. But it's fun to imagine things that could never be, just in case the world gets to be too much to handle. Another bonus? If you get into a fight with a fictional boyfriend, you win the argument. Every. Damn.Time.

So, since we all know we have them, what are some of your fictional loves?

My Defective Muse

I need a muse.

I used to write more. Honestly. But lately, I've been spiritually bereft and devoid of ideas. I couldn't even come up with a decent blog post idea. Don't I deserve a muse? Haven't they served some of the greatest authors in history and inspired some of the best literature known to man? Hey, if it was good enough for Byron and Keats, then surely it's good enough for me.

I was thinking about this the other night as I started writing a story about a sentient chair that starts talking back to people when they sit on it. Oddly enough it just wasn't coming together, so I decided to take matters into my own hands. Clasping my hands upwards in prayer, I cried out, "Sweet Muse, dear Muse. Please come and bestow your gifts upon me. Shower me with your golden prose and words of wisdom."

And she appeared. My Muse, my very own Muse, gliding delicately down from the ceiling. A misty blue light surrounded her, illuminating her pink taffeta dress and halo of blonde curls. Her soft features seemed to radiate with warmth and beauty. I was awestruck. I was beyond myself with anticipation.  I was enraptured.  I was…

"What the hell do you want?" she croaked in a raspy voice.

I was in trouble.

"You're my muse! I need inspiration!" I could already tell this wasn't going to go well.

"Oh, they all want inspiration." My Muse sighed wearily and flung herself onto the sofa. She unhooked the clasp on a pink purse and brought a couple of cans of Coors Light. Of course they were warm. "Here ya go sweetie", she said brightly, handing me one. "You need a good idea, huh?" She cracked open her beer with a loud pop.

"Well I have a good ide - yeah....I need a good idea."

"Well, I got a couple for you, I think." She opened up her purse again, took out a pack of Marlboro Reds, and shook one from its carton. "Whatcha ya got so far?"

I showed her my screen.

"What the hell is that?" My Muse laughed and exhaled a stream of smoke from one nostril. "A fucking talking chair? Boy do you suck!" 

"W-Well, " I stuttered defensively, "You're my muse. It's your fault I'm in this mess." The Muse rolled her eyes and flicked ashes onto my leather sofa. "Look," I pleaded, "Don't you have anything for me? A glimpse of inspiration? A crumb of wit? Anything?" 

"Well, I have something you could write about…" My Muse sighed and leaned back into the sofa cushions, one hand in her pink waistband.

"OK!" I put my fingers on the keyboard, ready to type.   

"But what's in it for me?" She sniffed her armpit and winced slightly. 

There are those who believe that muses are divine deities whose sole existence rests on their ability to arouse passion and inspire prose. The daughters of Zeus and Mnemosyne, they are goddesses that spout words; jewels that fall from the sky and land upon their chosen vessels, like dew atop a gilded lily. She wasn't wasn't one of those muses.

.
"There's not supposed to be anything in it for you!" I screamed. "You're my GODDAMN MUSE!"

"Relax, Jesus Christ!" My Muse grinned and picked her nose with one perfectly manicured fingernail. "Don't get your Calvin Klein's all in a bunch."  

This wasn't working. Maybe I was just imagining her wrong. "Aren't there any, like, guy muses?" I asked. "You know, gorgeous hunky men with long flowing hair, deep booming masculine voices, strongly chiseled features and the bodies of Greek gods…"

My Muse sighed and blinked sleepily. "Oh, there are guy muses", she said, casually smashing a empty beer can on her forehead and tossing it behind the couch, "But they look nothing like Greek gods, I assure you. I've met a few. Fat little guys with thick glasses and no girlfriends. Live in their parent's basements. Guy muses are a dime a dozen sweetie." She paused and sucked thoughtfully on her cigarette. "But they only work on certain assignments mind you; sci-fi, really bad fan fiction, stuff like that." She threw the cigarette onto the carpet and stepped on it with one pink satin-clad heel.

"That's all they work on?"

"Well, it's a full time job isn't it?" My Muse countered. "I mean terrible fan fiction is all over the internet nowadays and somebody needs to inspire it. Do you even realize how difficult it is to write a sex scene between Harry Potter and Draco and make it sound believable?"

I let out an involuntary shiver.  The scary thing was, I think I did know. 

"Listen honey," My Muse said, pausing long enough to spit over her shoulder, "Why don't you just write about me. I mean, I'm an interesting person. I've got hobbies…"

"You?"

"I collect beanie babies." the Muse continued, oblivious to my interruption. "Turn-ons include tattoos and sunsets. Turn-offs; guys who cry and…"

"Why on earth would I want to write about YOU?!" I asked. This was getting ridiculous. 

My Muse leaned forward and smiled. "Look at it this way", she said, blowing a cloud of smoke in my face."Ya got nothing else. Either you write about me, or continue with your talking chair shit."

Then she belched.  

Inspiration struck.

Confessions of the Apocalypse

Okay, confession time.

I've been on Twitter way too much lately. I've been reading every political article my friends post on Facebook and even (god help me) the comments underneath. I've been watching the news before work and after work and also reading online articles.

The good thing is I know what's going on in the world. The bad thing is I KNOW WHAT'S GOING ON IN THE WORLD. And everything I see leads me to only one conclusion.

I mean it has to, right? We can't go on like this forever. Everything's painful, dark and dismal and racist and sad and depressing and generally horrible, so yep, we're all going to be very dead very soon. I'm sure of it.

The way I see it, the end of the world could come in two different ways. The first involves the earth exploding into a huge ball of massive destruction in what I'd like to call The Big Awesome Fiery Apocalyptic Crash of Epic Doom or BAFACED for short (and yes that acronym means nothing). All that will be left will be a mere whiff of ozone, some discarded Snicker wrappers and thousands of individual socks that still don't have a matching partner. Because irony.

The second, and far more likely, scenario, is zombies. Everyone thinks that if zombies took over, they'd be able to handle it. The truth is we'd all be worm food because no matter how badass you think you are, you still shriek when you see a small spider skitter across the floor. So when the inevitable zombie uprising happens, you're not suddenly going to become some muscular demi-god killing machine dispatching the undead with an unlimited supply of guns and ammo at your side. Nope, you're going to be the same person you were before. The type of person who pulled a groin muscle reaching for the remote while eating a Hostess Twinkie and watching The Walking Dead in their underwear.

Yes, the world is doomed.

But before all the mass destruction and potential brain-eating, I just need to get a few things off my chest. Some confessions of the apocalypse if you will. Full disclosure: some of these are stupid, some may be (slightly) controversial but all are totally true.

So here it goes:

*  I think Radiohead is overrated and I find Thom Yorke's voice to be whiny and annoying.

*  The Dark Knight was just okay.

*  Sometimes when you're talking, I'm paying attention. But usually I'm just Mystery Science 
    Theater 3000 riffing you in my brain.

*  I would marry book Sherlock Holmes if I could.

*  I honestly wouldn't marry TV Sherlock Holmes even if I could.

*  Nutella is just okay.

*  Those jeans DO make you look fat.

*  Captain Hook was misunderstood. 

*  Eric Idle once retweeted me. This may have been the high point of my life. 

*  I figured out the ending to The Sixth Sense and nobody believes me but honestly I DID.

*  The ugliest word in the English language is 'fart'.

*  I'd take Luke Skywalker over Han Solo any day.

*  I hate racists so I guess I'm kind of prejudiced that way.

*  I have never seen an episode of Dr. Who.

*  I ate the last cookie.

Well, that felt great. I can only hope that whatever being awaits us in the afterlife will forgive me of all the aforementioned sins and cleanse my immortal soul. Because I know some die-hards out there who are never going to forgive me for that Dr. Who one and some that may actually want to kill me over the Luke/Han one. Seriously. I might need to go underground until the world explodes.

So those were mine. Anything you'd like to confess before we all die? 😏 (Oh and sorry about that jeans thing. I just really thought you should know).

Chasing the Paper Dragon

Hello, my name is Cheryl and I am an addict.
                                                   

Hello Cheryl!

My story is typical. It started out small -  people started to give me the junk for free. But when that dried up, I had to pay for it. There's a place in Detroit where I find myself from time to time. It was once an old glove factory and looks...well...like an old glove factory. There's no air conditioning in the summer, no heat in the winter and everything's covered in a fine layer of dust. But in that dank dark place, I'd find everything I needed for my fix. So I'd go there every chance I could, no matter how terrible the conditions. You know what I mean?

Yes we know!
I don't.
Shut up Harold.

So I guess I should just finally say it out loud. I, Cheryl, am a used-book junkie.

You're probably pissed off right now. I don't blame you. The story of a drug junkie is far more compelling. Drug tales are awesomely tragic and the good ones have their story of staring into the abyss and then finding the courage to live again, all set to, what I imagine to be, a kick-ass soundtrack. Sadly I have no Hunter S. Thompson tales of wild head trips and the hardest drug I take is ibuprofen. And that's purely recreational.

You see, I love the look of an old book, I love the smell of an old book. I have come dangerously close to petitioning my local electives to allow me to marry old books. There's something incredibly romantic about a yellowed page, a bent spine, that unexplained tea stain on page 132 that didn't come from you. They're like little mysteries. You weren't the first one to read this book, there were others before. There's history in those pages. Also the thought of spending all day in a used book store fills me with more glee than it probably should.

But before you say this isn't really a problem....

It isn't.
Shut up Harold and let the lady talk.

The problem I have is that I keep on collecting books with no room to store them. Also I don't read them because I hate sitting still and have the concentration span of a small goldfish. So there they sit, collected and unread, piled under or over other discarded prose in my small storage space. I've rescued them only to banish them to the 7th circle of hell. Or whatever circle of hell fits. You see, I bought Dante's Inferno - but never bothered to read it.

One of my prized finds is a copy of Wuthering Heights with some awesome wood engraved illustrations. I haven't read it yet (of course) but I did read the book in high school, so that kinda counts, I guess. Anyhow, it wasn't only the artwork that intrigued me, it was a small inscription on the inside - Howard F Leitner Nov, 1943. I don't know who he was. I don't know if it was Howard's, or if he gave it to someone or how it ended up at John K King used books in Detroit. But there's a sense that we're connected somehow - through the pages of a beautiful book.

  

That's probably why I don't own a kindle. There's no real history in a Kindle. You can download novels to friends but there's no real love in that. And as for those explained treasures, like an inscription or a coffee stain, forget about it. You do either one of those things to a Kindle and boom - you've negated the warranty.  And if you borrowed it from someone, they are gonna be pissed.

So I guess the first step is admitting that I have a problem. The second step would be to probably do something to curtail the evil book jones I got going on, but I'll be honest. I have no plans to stop. You know, once an addict...blah blah blah.

Whew! So I got that off my chest. Felt really good. Any questions?

Yeah one. WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?
Shut up Harold. 

An Introduction and an Explanation

Hello and welcome to my blog. First of all I can tell you that there won't be a consistent theme throughout all my posts. Most of what I write is dependent on mood swings, current fictional crushes, what I had for breakfast that day, etc. What I can tell you is that this isn't my first blog, although I've contributed to others.  I used to run a blog dedicated to horror films entitled Werewolves Beating a Dead Horse. It's still out there, although a bit neglected. Someday I might return to it.

Sooo...you might be asking yourself. Licentious Howler? Why that exactly? Well sit down a spell, pour yourself a cold glass of something good and let me tell ye the tale.

One morning around Christmas time, I woke up with a song in my head that I couldn't get rid of. After searching through the dusty file cabinets in my brain for half an hour I was finally able to figure it out. It was the traveling theme from Final Fantasy III on SNES.  I messaged my brother that he had to bring the game to Christmas because I had to play it. I knew not why, because I played it 20 something years ago (borrowed it from him then too) but I needed to play it NOW.

The one thing I remembered (apart from the music) was the beautiful illustrations by my favorite artist, Yoshitaka Amano. But I have to admit - time, along with memory lapses, made me forget a lot of the plot and characters. During my replay, I rediscovered Cyan. I LOVE CYAN. This is Cyan.

Anyways, during a strange moment in the game Cyan, who recently lost his wife and child, is propositioned by a woman of ill repute in a bar. He....doesn't take it well (understatement). "How DARE YOU! YOU LICENTIOUS HOWLER!" he cries and one can imagine his face twisting in fury as he screams at the poor girl who probably just couldn't resist his sweet ass 'stache and rampant machismo. He then goes on a rant about how proper women should have some decency and modesty before running into a wall and bonking himself on the ground. Morality hurts.

Not only did I fall in love with the character but I fell in love with the term 'Licentious Howler'. After playing that scene I wanted to start a band so we could call ourselves The Licentious Howlers. I wanted Licentious Howler to be my screen name for everything I signed up for. I wanted to adopt a wolf baby and name it Licentious Hower. But sadly, I lack sufficient musical talent, changing all my screen names would be a bitch, and wolf babies are not easy to come by so instead I decided to write a blog.

So that's the introduction and the explanation and if you've stuck around to the end of this post you've got a better concentration span than I do. Stay tuned for more silliness in the upcoming weeks.