by Toni McGee Causey
Random things I do not understand, but will somehow make it into a book:
Two men decided to move a meth lab through Baton Rouge. In their moment of brilliance, one of them must have turned to the other and said, "Hey, let’s move this highly flammable lab that can blow up." Wherein the other thought, "Why do it half-way? Let’s take the bumpiest interstate on the planet! I know! Let’s go through Louisiana!"
Saving spiders. I do not understand this. A friend of mine wrote a funny blog about the spider that was sort of taking over her bathroom, and I responded:
I had one in the kitchen once and I felt sort of bad (poor, lost spider, didn’t
mean to come inside) and I caught him in a glass jar. He wasn’t huge,
but was quite fuzzy-looking and I was curious so I got my trusty field
guide on spiders out (what do you mean, what field guide? you all don’t
have field guides? geez. I have a field guide for every critter around
here that can possibly slither in and/or eat me. I’d like to be able to
leave a coherent description of the culprit if I’m dying, thank you).
Anyway, so I check the trusty field guide and find its photo and the spider on there is
kinda fuzzy, but not as fuzzy as my spider, and
then I realize… my spider’s fuzziness is… moving. As in, separating. It
was like the Borg. There were more than 100 (I am not exaggerating)
baby spiders stacked up on Mom or Dad or Uncle Walt there and they
started leaping off and investigating the glass, which then made me
realize… if that spider hadn’t been under glass, all of those babies
would have been in my kitchen.
Now? I kill the damned spiders. I have a rule: you stay outside? you live. You cross that line? you die.
When they start paying they mortgage, they can make the rules.
I do not understand relationships where the women "let" the men do certain things as a reward for doing everything else they’re told to do, nor the men who let them. This particularly applies to those loud, well dressed reality based housewives shows where I think the point is to not only out bitch each other, but out maneuver their husbands, more than anyone else has done at the same time. But then I realized, I just must not have known the rules for using my Glittery Hooha (technical literary term there, as defined by Lani Diane Rich and explained by Jennifer Crusie). (For the romance world, that blog explains it best… and I want to know why two people fall for each other, no matter what genre.) (I love that blog and term.) (I know. I wrote about glittery hoohas.) (My mom has probably had a heart attack just now and when she wakes up, I am going to be in big trouble.)(Because this is the deep south and we do not admit in public that there are hoohas, no matter how glittery.) (There was a sale on parentheses.)
So, what do you not understand? Wide open, anything goes.
And starting today, every Sunday until my book release, end of this month, as in May 27th, I’ll be giving away two signed copies of both books — Bobbie Faye’s Very (very, very, very) Bad Day and book 2 — Bobbie Faye’s (kinda, sorta, not exactly) Family Jewels — to one of the commenters (US/Canada), 18 years old and up. (Hey, there is cursing and murder and mayhem and sex, almost all at the same time. I am not getting in trouble here.) So post anything you do not understand in the comments and next Sunday, I’ll announce a winner… each Sunday for four weeks.