I Watched Too Much Lost (No Spoilers)

I just think that many hours in a row of one thing is kind of bad for the brain. Like, Clockwork Orange bad. My dreams last night were ridiculous. So ridiculous, in fact, that I woke up during one of them and had to write it down. For you. Please don’t miss the ending, as it has a very special guest star.

Okay, so Kate, Jack and Sawyer are walking through the jungle when Jack casually mentions he wishes he could have some Chinese food. Kate smirks and says, “Follow me.”

She leads them down this windy, rainy path until she pushes through two trees and uncovers: Chinatown. They wind through the crowded streets and into a Chinese restaurant. Kate finds a table around a corner where they can eat protected from being seen. Jack, breathless from the journey, looks at Kate as sweat rolls down his forehead. “Nice work,” he pants. She smiles. Continue reading

Activating Chao Camp: Absence of Dignity

July 4th Weekend, 2009: a bunch of fools descend upon Anna Beth Chao’s home in Monroe, Louisiana for four days of beer, music, Sonic, and whatnot.

Anna Beth, Allison and Pamie talk about a number of issues, including the state of their hair (or lack thereof), their superpowers (or lack thereof), and dignity (or lack thereof). Look for a super-quick cameo by Chris Huff.

(And apologies for all the post-derby-bout bruising all about my arms and chest. You’ll soon see why they’re the least of my problems.)

Forces of Nature


A Short Play to Demonstrate the Amount of Control Anna Beth Chao Has Over My Life

[Two women sit 1736 miles away from each other.

An unemployed blonde with absolutely nothing to do for months stares at her living room bookcase, picks up her cell phone and sends a text.]

PAMIE: What if I moved the Flurgen* to the other wall? Where the puffs hang? And put tiny couch where the big couch is?

[The other woman is tiny, wearing Hammer pants, and is currently painting the area behind her kitchen electrical sockets, using a toothbrush made of unicorn eyelashes. Her phone buzzes. She looks at the message, and immediately texts back:]



* Flurgen = code for the IKEA bookcase that almost killed us.

And for those of you who can’t get enough of watching me look like a dork, Glark posted his footage of Zipline Badass. In HD. Bonus: He aligns both POVs, so you can Zapruder my humiliation.

Happy Mardi Gras! I’m totally flashing you my boobs right now, I promise.

My Only New Year’s Drunk Dial Was From My Soberest Friend.

Normally, Dave Cole does not drink. In fact, until the last few hours of 2008, I believe he’d never touched a drop. The Power of Anna Beth worked again (see: everything anybody has ever done that wasn’t their idea and might not have been the best idea but made everyone else happy), so at her suggestion, Dave and Tara decided to split a bottle of champagne for their New Year’s Podcast.

But before the podcast, there was Dave’s drunk post, which let us know we were in for some fun:

Tara just said that people are facebooking my drunk dials. They don’t know the historical signifcance of what just happened. It was the interrsection of awesome and me and drinking. One day Pamie will be sad she wasn’t around to take the call. Pamie was probably out making a skirt. Continue reading

calling all winos.

I got to spend some time this past Sunday afternoon in this wine cave with some good people (including these people.) When Chris and Tess are around, I just let them choose whatever it is I’m drinking. It always works.

I didn’t buy anything, so I avoided anything like the last time I went wine tasting, but that’s mostly because I was starting to feel some jet lag. Next time.

Speaking of trips from LAX, AB is here for a visit, even though she was scheduled on every single flight cancelled by American Airlines. She eventually made it, and now the weather has decided to pretend it’s last summer so that she’ll feel more welcome. We’re already sunburned.

The Strike Is Over.

Man, I can’t believe I finally got to write that sentence. Now the weird hurry-up-and-wait daily grind of pickets and meetings can be replaced with the more familiar hurry-up-and-wait daily grind of story pitches and… meetings. But now with more Internet flavor!

It’s a big, exciting week. I’m gearing up to go back to work, cranking out the Tenth Annual Valentine’s Day Poems for tomorrow, and guess who’s just around the corner? Yay! The Dewey 2008 Drive starts Monday, February 18th. Get your book-sendin’ fingers all stretched out and ready.

I don’t wanna brag too much about my role in ending this strike, but it does look like I’ll be starting work at the exact minute my plane was supposed to take off to visit Anna Beth in Louisiana. When debating this trip weeks ago, I said if I didn’t book the flight, we’d be on strike forever (or at least until the summer). I knew I had to book the flight, if only for the good of the Guild. What’s a little cancellation fee to protect the future generations of writers? So, I did it. And look what happened.

You’re welcome, everybody.

get out the pencils, put away the thread

I’ve completely forgotten how to write and I don’t have any ideas about anything.

I do, however, have a collection of crafts and a pile of new gadgets. I got teased by most of my friends, but I couldn’t help it. Pencils down, hobbies up.

During the strike, I was often reminded of an Onion piece that came out after 9/11: “Not Knowing What Else To Do, Woman Bakes American Flag Cake.”

I knitted scarves. I sewed dresses, shirts, blouses, and fabric scarves (named “Scarfish,” and also declared both “uncomfy” and “weird.” But the first one I made, for Anna Beth, was a huge success, because it got the AB Chao stamp of approval).

I made little fabric dolls for a friend’s 35th birthday, catnip-filled toys, hand-embroidered bags (one was my strike bag — small enough to wear every day while picketing), skirts, and passport covers. Yes, passport covers. Also, I learned that ripped t-shirts don’t make very good fabric for knitting, unless you are making some kind of floor rug.

I made a book sculpture, a jar full of japanese paper stars, and on one particularly low day I attempted origami swans. Continue reading

What Do the Numbers Mean?!

Normally when I’m pondering that question, it’s because I just saw another fantastic episode of Lost. But tonight after Lost, I’ll be asking that question again, because it’s the premiere of Eli Stone!

See, if they get good numbers, then their show can get picked up for another season, which means good news for the super-friendly, ultra-pretty, lovely writers on their staff, but even better news for me — because that’s one step closer to daily Chaos. (Chaos is the state of bliss and crazy that occurs when all three members of the Chao family are in your presence.)

I’m rooting for the numbers.

I miss you, AB.