Book Bitch: Mission Earth One

Okay, gang. OBLIGATORY PLUGS FIRST.

Silver Bullet is still cheap. As in free. You'll also notice I've mixed things up a little bit. I'm playing with Amazon's options (and getting really frustrated with them, but they're still the best platform I've used so far) and have split off one of the stories in Silver Bullet into it's own thing. It will be free today and tomorrow. You've probably already read it, so I'm not going to go OMG GO GET IT, but if you wanted to have a copy knock around on your Kindle for a while, it'd probably help me out.

And if you don't have it, definately go get Silver Bullet, because Blue Ghosts comes out in October and it picks right up where it left off. Can you follow the story without it? Probably. But you might want to introduce yourselves pronto.

(And if you have any questions about what I'm doing, comment. I like comments. I like comments a lot. Also? I hate begging, but PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE review the books if you've read them. Preferably on Amazon, but anywhere would be nice. Please guys. It'd help a lot.)

Okay, so today? We get to watch Soltan Gris fail at everything.

Not all that different. Soltan has been failing at everything since this book started, but he's been doing so in a painfully obvious way that accomplishes nothing for us, the readers forced to watch him fail instead of watch Jettero Heller be awesome. Because yes, he is a Mary Sue and horrifically boring, BUT AT LEAST HE ISN'T A RACIST, SEXIST SHIT LIKE SOLTAN. And the only thing worse than watching a Mary Sue be Mary-Sue-ly awesome? Is watching a Mary Sue fail.

So what happens next???

Soltan makes it back to the tug (next chapter:) and has another arguement with the computer, which he fails at. Also, we get to overhear Hubbard's homophobia as a kid is told to go seduce someone they hate so that the narrator gets the news. Isn't it wonderful how disgusting that is once gender is removed?

Next Chapter:

JETTERO HELLER HUMILIATES SOLTAN GRIS.

See, as Soltan has reminded us six billion times in the last four days, HE HAS NO MONEY. And as per Fleet tradition, someone with a new promotion has to take all his buddies out to the nearest nightclub and pay for it. And Jet is calling in this debit right now.

He, the Countess Krak (and I can no longer pretend this is not another name for the Countess's ass. Thanks, Ron) and Jettero's beautiful famous sister, Hightee Heller (OH MY GOD. A WOMAN WITH A NICE NAME. STOP THE PRESSES) all go to a nightclub where you have to preform in public, otherwise they double the bill.

These guys are on a secret mission to Earth that should have left ages ago, and Soltan Gris allows his prisoner Jet, the Countess, who is also his prisoner, and the sister that is more famous than Space Elvis, to take him to a restaurant HE CANNOT AFFORD TO GO TO, where they will all have to preform in public.

He is suffering. It is beautiful. There is a running list of exactly how expensive all the things they are buying are, Soltan is whimpering at how much things are. And then the lights flash! SOLTAN GRIS HAS TO PREFORM IN PUBLIC.

HE DOES BIRD CALLS! WHISTLING BIRD CALLS. AND FAILS AT IT, HARD. YES!!! I AM ENJOYING THE VICARIOUS SUFFERING OF L. RON HUBBARD'S GUILTY SUBCONSIOUS AND I DO NOT CARE!

And then! Soltan notices that there are cameras here. And if any member of the table does something exceptional, they will be on the news and everyone will know that Jet has not left Voltan for Earth, yet. Because they are still to go to Earth and help us be Rescued From Ourselves, children. And as Hubbard has NAILED INTO OUR HEADS, the three most exceptional people in all the universe are sitting at this very table!

First! Jet and the Countess preform the Manco Mancho (STOP NAMING THINGS, RON!) and then the Countess does magic tricks. And then Hightee Heller preforms, and it's like Taylor Swift just dropped into your local bar for a drink and decided to do a set with Uncle Hal's garage band just for giggles.

AND THEN SOLTAN SEES THE BILL! AND SHOOTS OUT THE LIGHTS! BECAUSE HE CANNOT AFFORD TO PAY! And there is PANDAMONIUM, loyal blog-readers. PANDAMONIUM, as people fling their bodies before Hightee Heller's gentle form, willing to die to save her from RANDOM BULLETS, and all four escape the nightclub with their lives intact, and their names gaurenteed a spot in tonight's headline news, BECAUSE SOMEONE (this being Soltan) SHOT AT HIGHTEE HELLER. WHILE SHE WAS PREFORMING IN A NIGHTCLUB WITH UNCLE HAL'S GARAGE BAND.

And then Jet reveals that he'd paid the bill himself, because he knew the whole fucking time, Soltan had no money.

The whole mission has been blown for absolutely nada.

Oh, Hubbard's going to ruin all this tomorrow, and I don't care. For right now Soltan Gris suffered as I have suffered, and the whole world is rainbows, my loyal blog-readers. FUCKING RAINBOWS.


TOMORROW: Soltan finds out why he's been so sick to his stomach lately. And no, sadly. It is not M-preg.

Restaurant HELL

Work tonight made me want to stick my head in an oven. The only way I can cope with working here is to have a rythem. Greet, drinks, order apps, provide chips N dip, order real food, provide apps, provide salads, provide food, remove plates, ask re: deserts, provide desserts if ordered, provide check, take money, bus table. Insert next table somewhere around "drinks" and we are good.

Whenever we have a party my boss decides to change this order. And then gets on to us for not making this transition flawless. As in screaming. As in tonight, I think she grabbed me so hard my arm got a bruise. Look, I have to behave myself on here because  I KNOW this woman checks blogs and facebooks and twitters and such, and the only mercy I have is she thinks I am so very vanilla and boring, she doesn't have to check mine. But this job? Is not a good place to be. And the only reason I haven't blown yet is I'm making 20K a year minimum. It's an insane amount of money given the town I live in, and it's more than I've ever made at any other job. And I know she knows when she crosses the line, because right when I start thinking "One more word and I am GONE" she starts being super uber nice to everyone. And then we check our tickets and realize we made a hundred bucks tonight, and everything is kind of okay. Except for the arm bruising part. That's not okay.

But nights like tonight? Are why I've begun to drink more than I ought to.

MOVING. ON.

GODDAMN this story is so much fun. Brutal and a little on the uncomfortable side, but I really, really am hearting this thing. But it is being irksome to edit. I call the job done when I can read through the whole page and not put more than two-three red marks on the page (and only if one of those marks is that gee-do-I-want-this-word-or-this-one crap I tend to do a lot. Put the word in. Take the word back out. Put the word back in).

IT WILL BE DONE. BY THE END. OF THIS MONTH. SO. HELP. ME. GOD. I am going to keep this goal GOING. Which means what will eat my lunch come September 1st will be cover art and not book. I promise promise promise promise promise. And even if I have to use a blank placeholder you guys WILL be able to buy The Scifi Story Of Mystery by September 15th. This is my oath to you.

Now. I am going to take what I call a break from life...and CONTINUE editing...while watching Kingdom Hospital and drinking copious amounts of Moscato. It would be whiskey sour, but I have no whiskey. Cheap-ass Moscato is a good compromise. 

Dear Julia Roberts

You're a good actress. Admittedly you do one role. Cute. Akward. Giggly. America's Sweetheart--okay, in that one movie you were actually her sister, but there is no way in hell anyone thought they were talking about Catherine Zeta-Jones when they started pitching that movie, you know? But to get back to my point...you're a good actress. Good. And you have to know how to pick scripts that display your abilities to their fullest. Like, you know, America's Sweethearts. (I refuse to see Eat, Pray, Love. I know it's probably a good movie, but watching a rich white woman act in a movie about a rich white woman who talked her publisher into paying for her world tour isn't my idea of a good hour spent, ya know?)

So I have one question: HAVE YOU GONE COMPLETELY MENTAL???



Jesus. I have to go take a shower now. Back in five.

Okay, let's start with the endurable stuff: It's costume porn, the sets are awesome, and the CGI castle doesn't make me want to rupture something from the wincing. Which I did thirty seconds in, when I heard someone say the words blah blah blah in a fantasy movie. One that isn't Shrek related. Although this is less kissing cousins to Shrek and more that one guy who lives up in the mountains with his mother and his sister (They're the same bloody person)

...

(How about the shop, then?) /hot fuzz quote

Anyway, I get that Shrek and it's offshoots are popular, having modern in-jokes in fantasy material is equally popular, but you know what? There's a demographic you're supposed to be courting, given that this is competing with another, identical movie. And I hate Kirsten Stewart. I hate sitting through Twilight Movies (GODDAMN YOU LIONSGATE FOR PUTTING HUNGER GAMES TRAILER IN FRONT OF BREAKING DAWN you will suffer for this I promise you) (Yes I know I can watch it on Youtube)(I already have) (I'm still going to see it on the big screen) (I am that obsessed) and watching KStew stumble through her horrible dialogue. Snow White and the Huntsman is now officially on my Please God Don't Let it Suck prayer list. Because it looked that awesome. (Probably because she didn't talk)

I get that studio executives somewhere heard that a Snow White movie was being made, and they decided the best thing they could do is make a competing Snow White movie so that people intending to see KStew would go see this one (let's be honest here. I can smell the slapped together desperation through my laptop) and get a big name actress to give it some form of legitimacy. But lemme let you in on a little secret: The villian? Should not get top billing in the picture. Because I do not care yet. Well, unless your goal was to make me want the  villain dead, because if that's the case they've done a pretty good job. This means that 1. there was nobody famous in the right age range for Snow White, who was desperate enough to take the role. 2. they had to make do with what they could get.

But there's a huge difference between "make do with what we can get" and "HEY! JULIA ROBERTS!"

I will probably wind up seeing SWatH because it looks awesome. This? Does not look awesome. This is a version of Snow White and the Seven Dwarves that contains a fucking midget joke. It contains Tony Montana references (AT THE SAME FUCKING TIME) and everything else sucking combined could not begin to compare with how much you suck in this trailer, Julia.

I haven't seen the movie yet. I don't intend to go see the movie yet, because I'm REALLY tired of Hollywood dressing up fresh steaming turds with the Brother's Grimm and us fantasy fans having to make do.

Why are are you in this, Julia? Seriously. I was warned. Don't watch this. It's horrible. I watched it. And I'm going, hey, it's not so bad. Cliched, a little overly polished--and then you open your mouth and I go "huh?" My jaw dropped. The evil nega-fan within me stared in horror and then began rocking in the corner. I had to check my laptop to make sure it hadn't begun to bleed out the USB ports.

Were you blackmailed? Please tell me you were blackmailed. And then tell the world what it was, because whatever it was it can't possibly be as bad as having to see you in this movie. I know you have kids now (I think) and that you'd like to make movies your kids can watch. Please see the above part where I mentioned this has a midget joke in it. Probably more than one. (And let's not even mention the Snow white, S'no way joke. Seriously. If we never mention this again I can probably block it out forever). I know that using little people as the butt of the joke is kind of the latest modern fad, but blackface was pretty popular for a while there, too.

And aging beauty jokes? Seriously? Julia, you might have a couple lines that you would call wrinkles, but not only will no one else on the planet ever notice them, a little botox will buff that right out (oh god, there's going to be a botox joke in this, isn't there? I know it. I just fucking know it. I'm going to come back in six months and write in, yep, there was a botox joke). And Julia, I hate to break it to you, but there is no way in FUCK you'd ever need a corset. E.V.E.R. Let alone need to have it be wrenched together.

I am hoping desperately this is a terrible hoax, and that you were blackmailed into participation in this terrible hoax, and that I never have to see that thing again.

I'm going to go wash my blog out with holy water now.