Party Girl (a Short Story)

Did you catch a glimpse of those three guys, as I was walking down the street?

“Hey, Party Girl!” called the tall one in the baseball cap. “Come and party with us!”

So of course I did. My heels clicked against the pavement as I sashayed up the walkway. “You guys ready?” I asked.

What? Did you think I should have kept walking? Did you expect me to say no? Then clearly, you don’t know who I am.

I’m Party Girl.

And let’s face it, a party’s just not a party without me there.

Like this party. An ordinary Friday night crowd of tense faces, drowning in Taylor Swift pop at the bottom of a plastic red Solo cup. Pathetic. But those three guys knew what was up. The minute they sensed my presence, they invited me in. Like any good partygoer should do.

And just like that, everything changed.

It’s like Disney magic sparkles floated in the room after me. Suddenly, the music began to pump, and faces came to life.

“Let’s get this party started!” I said. I popped the cork of a frosty bottle of champagne (what, like you don’t carry your own champagne to parties?) and dowsed myself in the bubbly rain. “Whooooooot!” I cheered.

All around me, voices echoed my cries. The music turned up a couple of notches, and soon, there wasn’t a single person sitting. We jumped and twisted and gyrated our hips to the music, lost in the release.

That’s how it usually goes.

But one night, things got a little out of hand. Sometimes that happens. I don’t know why the party spirit hits some peeps just a little too hard, you know what I mean? Like, the high they get isn’t enough, so they have to throw dangerous crap into the mix. Illegal drugs. Stupid stunts. When this kind of thing happens, I usually take off so that no one can blame me when someone gets hurt.

But that time, I was too slow.

There was an underage kid at the party. A skinny, hungry little thing who wasn’t ready for liquor. Especially the amount of liquor they got him to guzzle down, like he was a car, and they controlled the gas pump.

“Stop it!” I said, trying to push the kid toward the front door. “Let him go home.”

But they wouldn’t stop. They pushed and pushed. Then, next thing you know, the kid was out, flat against the discolored carpet, surrounded by the discarded booze of the partygoers who’d fled the scene. In the spotlight of whirling red and blue lights, the remaining fingers pointed at me.

So the officer did the unthinkable. He fastened cold handcuffs around my wrists and locked me away.

“No more Party Girl,” he said with a sneer.

I waited until he walked away. Then I smiled.

The very next night, while I was lying on a lumpy mattress in my cell, a party began. No, not where I was. Somewhere across town. I could feel the vibrations in my bones.

Somewhere, in an ordinary house, a group got together to let off steam. Someone opened the front door, and in walked a boy wearing bright red sneakers and a grin as bright as the daylight. “Let’s get this party started!” he cried, then pulled out a frosty bottle of champagne (I’m telling you, it’s a thing).

And all around him, the party came to life.

The next night, same thing. Only it was a girl with high ponytails and dance moves like Britney.

Then the officers let me go. Because it finally occurred to them that, no matter how hard they tried to lock me up, you can’t stop Party Girl. Anytime a group of peeps is gathered together, Party Girl will be there, too. I am that guy turning up the stereo volume. I am that girl dragging you into the circle to dance. I am the shine in your glow necklace, the beat in your dance tunes, the cherry floating in your drink.

A party without me just isn’t a party.

So open the door and invite me in.

Are you ready?

Party Girl

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Snags in the Plan (aka: Sew-Sew Sewing)

   Like most people, I have a list of things that I’m pretty good at, and a list of things that Im not. For example, I’m pretty good that cooking tasty, nutritious meals for my kids and me. I’m also good at writing, daily exercise, and spending long periods of time in my cave, in total silence, with zero social interaction.

However, I’m pretty bad at a few things, too. Human relationships, for one. Doing push-ups (unless you count “girl” push-ups). I also suck at remembering to put those reusable shopping bags in my car so that I can actually take them to the supermarket. And now, I shall have to add sewing to that list.

I know, I know. What?! You’re no good at sewing? You are a disgrace to former SAHM/homemakers everywhere! We are revoking your card.

Throughout the years, I have tried all sorts of handicrafts. After all, the ability to make things by hand traditionally defined the worthiness of a woman. Ok, so I couldn’t care less about that part. But handicrafts are also supposed to be a simple way to relax, with scientifically proven benefits of reducing stress and anxiety. I got really into scrapbooking and rubber stamping back when everyone was obsessed with throwing Scrapping parties and trading supplies at potlucks. I also really enjoyed quilting, and still occasionally make beaded jewelry. Those crafts were good, and fun. I can feel the stress and anxiety melting away as I slide tiny beads onto a string, or paste photos onto pretty patterned papers.

But sewing? Forget it.

This year, I fell in love with a Halloween costume. Even worse, it is a Halloween costume that is not being sold in stores anywhere. But the more I thought about it, the more obsessed I became. I simply had to wear it to the company Halloween costume party this year! No problem, I thought. They sell the pattern at my local fabric store. I can simply sew the costume.

I am now convinced that my sewing machine has magic powers. One of those is the power to induce amnesia in me whenever I store the machine away in the closet for a couple of years. I forget how things went the last time I attempted to sew. I forget about the snagged thread, the broken needles, and jammed bobbins. I forget about how the finished product often looks like a Kindergarten crayon drawing version of whatever I was trying to sew. This time was no exception. I dusted off the machine, added a little lubricating oil, and plunged right in, as optimistic as always.

A few minutes in, I realized that vinyl lettering is very, very hard to cut. A few minutes later, I realized that the fine print was telling me that I had to sew darts in the bodice. Huh? What are darts?

Two days, and several How to Sew Darts videos later, I learned that my machine hates to sew stretchy fabric. It tends to retaliate by snagging every ten seconds.

One day after that, I held up the bodice to my new costume, complete with darts, shiny vinyl lettering, and two sleeve openings, sewn shut. One hour later, and I was a bonafide expert in using a seam ripper.

There are still two weeks remaining before Halloween. I’m hoping that I’ll be able to start sewing the skirt by then. Maybe I can win a prize for “Most Effort.” Next year, please remind me to buy a costume at the store, like normal humans do.

#HashtagGames (aka: Social Media Without the Social)

Ready everyone? It’s time to play a hashtag game! Today’s challenge: #RejectedHeroSidekicks .

No, I am not kidding. That is an actual trending hashtag on Twitter today. Here are a couple of my favorite contributions:

For those of you who are like me and prefer your social media without much of the social part, participating in #Hashtag games can be a lot of fun, and a pressure-free way to interact with strangers around the globe.

These games seem to pop up randomly, and spread like wildfire around the Twitterverse until they appear in the list of top trending tweets. They sometimes originate with organized hashtag game groups, like the now retired @midnight, or @TheHashtagGame. Other times, they begin with a celebrity comedian, or even ordinary folks who managed to kindle a hashtag fire while bored at work one day.

Most #Hashtag games are simple, and easy to jump into. For example, #FriendsTVin5Words drew all sorts of Friends TV show fans out of their shells, and was so fun to play.

Another good one was #MakeaMovieSmarter:

Some #hashtags seem to get recycled from time to time, such as #RuinaBandWithOneLetter or #AddBacontoaMovie . And once in a blue moon, you get an esoteric #Hashtag game that requires you to be very clever, or maybe have a college degree to play. My favorites? #Doublewise (Best #Hashtag ever!!) and #LessAmbitiousCriterion (Most of you are probably scratching your heads right now. WTH is Criterion?).

Why play #Hashtag Games? Well, for starters, it’s a great way to express your creativity. Or, for the less-creative, to push yourself to think creatively for the amusement of others. Secondly, you can get a good laugh from hashtagging. There is a world of clever, creative people out there who are just dying to share their humor with you. Besides, science has proven that laughter can reduce stress and improve your quality of life. It also makes the workday go by a little faster. Not that I’m advocating playing Twitter games during the workday.

Anyway, ready to stretch your imagination? Let’s go tag some hashes!

Wonder Woman Wannabes (aka: My Comic Convention Geek-out List)

Deep dark secret reveal time.

I have never been to a Comic-Con.

I know. #GeekFail. Especially since I live in California, home of the Granddaddy of all Comic Conventions, in addition to a few assorted mini-Cons. Not to mention that about 85% of the nation’s geek population is clustered in a hub just south of San Francisco. But no; I have yet to don my cape of justice and face the masses.

Once in a while, I find myself wondering if the time has finally come to empty my savings account (aka: jar full of pennies) and purchase my very first ticket to a comic convention. Unfortunately, after calculating the cost of a ticket, plus travel expenses, plus geekdom souvenirs, said jar full of pennies always turns out to be a few pennies too short. But one day, it will happen. And here is how my dream Comic Convention is going to go down:

  • People will want to take selfies with me. Because I will not attend a comic convention as Tiare. Instead, I will cosplay as Storm. Or Seven of Nine. Or possibly Wonder Woman, but then I’ll probably be lost in a sea of Wonder Woman wannabes (say that three times fast). Of course, many of these conventions last several days, so maybe I can dress as all three. And I can hide my shy, introverted self behind the personas of three remarkable, badass superheroes for a few days.

    • I will jive with my tribe. There is a Geekdom out there for everyone. As for me, I look forward to the chance to talk Harry Potter facts with some fellow Ravenclaws, or speculate about the burgeoning ship between Wonder Woman and Superman (what!). I refuse, however, to enter into a debate about DC vs. Marvel comics. Sorry guys, my level of geekology is simply not high enough for that. The only comic books I actually read growing up were Archie comics. Unless you count the Foxtrot comic strip collections. Do those count?

Foxtrot Comic Strip costumes

  • I will get to listen in on some awesome panels about current and upcoming coolness. Game of Thrones! Star Trek: Discovery! A Buffy the Vampire Slayer reboot, with Sarah Michelle Gellar as the Watcher! (one can dream) I would especially love if said coolness included a panel discussion about the upcoming Ready Player One film. I know, I know, it may not live up to the book. But then, very few films manage to achieve that, right?

SAN DIEGO, CA – JULY 24: (L-R) Actors Jared Padalecki, Jensen Ackles, Misha Collins, Mark Sheppard, and Samantha Smith attend the “Supernatural” Special Video Presentation And Q&A during Comic-Con International 2016 at San Diego Convention Center on July 24, 2016 in San Diego, California. (Photo by Kevin Winter/Getty Images)

  • I will get the opportunity to meet at least one Geekdom superstar. Hopefully, one whose movies/TV Show/books I’m already familiar with.
  • I will go home with some great souvenirs, like a Time Turner necklace, a working Star Trek communicator badge, and a couple of cute t-shirts. Oh, and any of the following action figures: Seven of Nine, Harry Potter and Voldemort, Daenerys and Jon Snow and a dragon, and Jason Fox, from Foxtrot (seriously, does Foxtrot count as a geekdom?).

There you have it. My future Comic Convention wish list. Maybe I should start saving quarters instead of pennies, so that I can manage to save up the gazillion dollars it will take to attend one. Anyone got a niffler you can spare?

By the way guys, Eventbrite is a great resource to get tickets to Comic Con or post your own event.

The Truth is Out There (aka: Happy Alien Day!)

At last! An official day to celebrate the visitors to this planet — those of the the third kind instead of the first kind. The ones the rest of you usually forget all about, thanks to that mysterious flash of light from the men in black suits. But not today. Today, the world is aware and in awe of the aliens who walk among us.

Yes. Today is Alien Day.

Sorry, immigrants. Not that kind of alien. Today is for the beings from galaxies far, far away. And also this galaxy, seeing as how some of us are from Jupiter. (Trust me folks — if you could meet my family of origin, you’d probably agree that I must be from Jupiter, too). So what shall we do to celebrate the rest of this glorious day? Sing Katy Perry songs? Paint our faces green? Watch The Martian? (Okay fine, Matt Damon played an immigrant to Mars who got stuck on the planet, not an actual martian).


I know — how about a list of the Top Ten Best Aliens? Starting with:

10. The aliens from Close Encounters of the Third Kind. It’s the earliest alien film I can remember, and I used to walk around humming the music they played to communicate.

9. The aliens from Men in Black. Loved how easily they disguised themselves as humans. Most of the time.

8. The aliens from Aliens, for scaring the heck out of all of us with their tendency to hibernate inside of people’s bodies, then hatch from their abdomens like little demon babies covered in goo.


7. The aliens from Toy Story. Who doesn’t love their passionate worship of The Cla-a-a-aw?

6. The aliens from Independence Day, for looking exactly as we all imagined the Roswell aliens must look.

5. Seven-of-Nine. I know, I know, she started off as a human. But once she was assimilated into the Borg, most of her humanity was stripped away. Eventually, she became a highly intelligent badass who was more alien than human, but learning to embrace more of her humanity every day.


4. E.T. With his adorable weird face and love for chocolate, how could he not worm his way into our hearts? Glad you made it home safely, buddy.


3. The aliens from The Arrival, for having such super-amazing technology and learning to communicate so well.

2. The aliens from the Star Wars franchise. Especially Luke Skywalker, Han Solo, Princess Leia, and Chewbacca. I’d totally count C3P0 and R2D2 if I knew whether droids could count as aliens or not.

1. Superman! Especially as portrayed by Tom Welling in Smallville, followed closely by Christopher Reeve. Other than his alienness and unfortunte allergy to Kryptonite, Clark Kent is pretty much the perfect man. Plus, he can fly.


Well, I hope you all enjoyed this brief Alien Day blog party. May you always treasure the strange who walk among you, and never stop believing that The Truth is Out There. Now, if you’ll all just look in this direction and face the rod I’m holding in my hand…

IMG_0065

A Hole-in-Eight (aka: Anything But Mini-Golf!)

“Ugh, I can’t stand mini-golf!” I groaned as my kids and I pushed open the heavy wooden castle doors and stepped outside. “Anything but mini-golf!” The sky was filled with dark, billowing clouds, giving the mini-golf kingdom an ominous appearance. Someone was going to suffer a round a bad luck on the course today.

Me, probably.


My kids, however, did not share my sense of foreboding. Brightly-colored golf balls in hand, they raced over to the first hole, eager to face the challenge. It had one of those loop-de-loop obstacles, then a straight line to the hole. My kids each stepped up to putt, giggling as the ball bounced off the loop-de-loop or returned to the beginning. I shook my head in amazement. How were they able to be so at ease when they had played so poorly? Sheesh…almost like I had raised them well.

I stepped up to putt, already accepting my certain defeat. It had been many years since I had even bothered to pick up a mini-golf club. Even now, my mind was filled with the pitying laughter of the ghosts of mini-golf past; a remnant of those futile attempts which resulted in a hole-in-seven, or eight, or ten, when the par was like, two. I placed my neon yellow ball and took my usual backwards stance, as I am a left-handed golfer, and therefore cursed, as putt-putt courses were clearly designed for the right-handed crowd.


Then I swung.

To my disbelief, the ball swirled around the loop-de-loop, then made a beeline for the hole. It dipped around the edge, teasing, then rolled off to the side. On the second putt, the ball went in. A hole-in-two. My mini-golf unlucky streak was broken!

At first, I thought it was a fluke. But then, I began hitting an almost-perfect game. A hole-in-one on the second hole, followed by another two, then another one. With every great shot, I was starting to hate miniature golf a little less and less. My kids, meanwhile, were producing quite the comedy of errors. My 12 year-old son, who plays actual golf, kept overshooting every hole at least four or five times. My 17 year-old son kept getting shut out by the automatic doors on the little buldings. And my 15 year-old daughter, who has never played golf in her life, magically learned how to chip the ball. Which apparently you’re not supposed to do in mini-golf. She chipped her ball into the bushes, into a pond, and over a windmill. She might have chipped one right onto the head of one of the guests playing on a nearby hole if her aim had been a little better.


I did experience one hole that made my newfound love of the sport falter a bit. It looked deceptively easy – a somewhat straight shot toward a small hill, with the hole hidden in a dip in the center. My kids finished their shots, then for the next ten minutes, gloated as they watched me struggle. “Come on, Mom! This hole is simple!” They taunted, clearly pleased to unthrone the queen, if only for a moment.

After a round of 18 mini-holes, I had achieved the impossible — a total score of 57. I had conquered miniature golf! Whether it was due to a serious streak of good fortune, or a course designed by left-handers, I have no idea. I’m also not sure whether I had so much fun due to so many sub-par holes, or due to the fantastic company I was playing with. I just know that I would totally play mini-golf again, and without the moaning and groaning.

“Okay, Mom,” my kids said as we put away our golf clubs. “Now it’s time to go play lazer tag!”

“Oh no,” I said, as my kids shoved me back through the heavy wooden doors of the arcade castle and led me toward the battle arena. “I can’t stand lazer tag. Anything but lazer tag!”

Fiffer-Feffer-Splunk (aka: Happy World Poetry Day!)

Say-It-With-a-Poem

Today’s a special holiday

observed across the land

a time to honor poetry

the crummy and the grand.

 

Egads! You cry. You rhymed your blog?

Oh dear, such cruelty

to force the world to read your slop

transformed to poetry!

 

Take heart – for only once a year

deserves such accolade

tomorrow, from your memories

these dreadful rhymes will fade

 

(Nature aims to set the mood

with gray and thunderous rain

as though the weather knows it too,

that rhyming is a pain.)

 

I guess I could have skipped the rhymes

and written in haiku

or flowing, esoteric prose

Like Maya Angelou.

 

Or, break the rules like Dr. Seuss

and fill the gaps with junk

like cats in hats and Sam-I-Am

and Fiffer-Feffer-Splunk

 

But genius poet I am not

so my apology

for this experiment

in lame originality.

 

Well, that’s a wrap, it’s time to go

amazing how time flies.

I’d better hustle back to work

and quit this exercise.

 

Now it’s your turn.

Come on…it’s not like you can do much worse.

Let’s honor World Poetry Day

by writing blogs in verse.

poetry talk