just add boobs and, what the hell, some dinosaurs

Me (in an email to my family about my book getting rejected):

Rejected.

My brother Steve:

This isn’t bad news.  He is saying she liked your book but it has a narrow audience focus.  So if you can expand your audience then they are interested, otherwise look for someone that deals in a niche.  So what can you do to expand your audience?  Get a camera crew to follow you around anywhere, doing anything or add in a lot of research and background material to draw the reader in and make them care about you or your situation.

Me:

I could add a villain who is also part zombie. Or take out all the pictures of my knee and replace them with naked women.

Steve:

Maybe you could get trapped under a boulder and cut your knee out with a  broken Leatherman.  Zombie are overdone these days, I think dinosaurs are due for a comeback.  How about you bleed onto a fossil and it comes to life.

 

 He's so pragmatic. Meanwhile my Uncle Joe did some research and found a publishing company that publishes books like mine. I'm going to get my submission in to them tomorrow.

rejected!

Random House passed on my book:

Dear Franki:

 

Thanks for letting us take a look at your material. As a runner with a bum knee, I read this with interest and found it quite riveting, not to mention harrowing.

 

A few people read with interest but ultimately it was decided that this book might better reach its target audience with a more specialized publisher with a greater outreach to the fitness community.

 

I did enjoy this look, and I wish you all the best with this.

 

Oh well.  Maybe he'll (the editor who rejected me) have some ideas on where else to send my book.

someone who has a lot of time to make costumes

Some clips from the digifest costume contest...

I wouldn't invite this person to a costume party unless you have a great costume too.

 

And, a guy proposes. That was weird. I guess Kevin and I are too cynical...

 

suicidal batman

Some clips from the digifest costume contest...

I appreciate that some people can spend 200 days making a costume for a 2 day event. But. For real?

This, as far as I could make out, is a suicidal batman.

digifest

This weekend I was arrested by storm troopers, threatened by an asian themed steampunk pirate, assaulted by a robot, and amused by walking speakers.

Digifest. It was fun.

The storm trooper was like "PUT YOUR HANDS BEHIND YOUR HEAD!". I was like dude, it's just a picture.

Asian steampunk meets pirate. That knife is very sharp. I asked if he used it in the kitchen to chop onions and he looked at me like he thought I was really stupid.

The walking speaker heads.

Oh NO! ROBOTS! That's my mentee writer Jonathan in the hat in the background.

Zombies take a break from spreading the virus to answer text messages.

These guys invaded the lobby. Scary.

This car was once parked in my neighborhood!!!!

deva

For the past few years I seem to have been in a constant state of hair crisis. It's not easy to manage an afro.

But today I made an appointment with a stylist named Jess who is an expert in curly hair. She gave me the best haircut I've had in years. AND she taught me how to style it with these little pins so I never have to use a hair dryer again (I am sort of afraid of hair dryers and terrified of curling irons - seriously, if someone puts a curling iron close to my head I start to hypervenilate - I was burned badly on the ear with a curling iron when I was young). Check out the salon, it's owned by a former olympic snow boarder who works at the front desk and is super nice.

Jess also introduced me to a great product line called Deva. It's made for african americans but blondes can use it too. If my hair looks this good at altitude I wonder what will happen when I go to Tennessee in a few weeks...

Not exactly a professional photographer

Denver - making pink slime with dynamite?

How can you not read an article that starts out with the sentence:

It may take explosives to dislodge a group of cows that wandered into an old ranger cabin high in the Rocky Mountains, then died and froze solid when they couldn't get out.

Um, hamburger anyone?

the jagger smile

Perhaps my brain momentarily short circuited after spending 15 minutes looking at kitchen cabinets (that's a long time isn't it?).

Last night I dreamed I was at an ocean resort. I was in the lobby of the hotel, which was really dark, so I decided to go up to a terrace on the second story. I was sitting at a table looking out at the ocean when...Mick Jagger walked up to me. He said "I need a key to the room" and I was like "um what?" and he said "I want to change" and I was like "what are your clothes doing in my room?" He said "we've been hanging out together all week!" I was like "we have????" and he said "that's why I like hanging out with you, you forget everything!"

He walked away and I noticed the waves were picking up in the ocean so I went out to the parking lot, which was just a flat, boring parking lot, and moved the rental car to a street. Then I went back into the hotel and up to the terrace and Mick Jagger was sitting at a table drinking lemonade and he was like "I ordered you a lemonade. Where did you go?"

I told him I had moved the car and he said I was being silly but then we looked at the ocean and the waves were getting huge and they were flooding the parking lot. All these cops showed up in black uniforms and black hats and wouldn't let anyone move their cars. So Mick Jagger was like "you saved our car!" and I was like "but we have to get out of here because the water is rising". Mick Jagger didn't want to leave because he was finishing his drink but I grabbed him by the arm and started pulling him across the veranda.

The water was getting higher and the waves were breaking over the veranda and Mick Jagger said "you have to save me because I can't swim". Then I was like oh great, I haven't been swimming in a long time and now Mick Jagger is going to drown because I won't be able to save him and no one will believe I ever hung out with him.

Fucked up.

a bit of truth about my refrigerator

Sarah wasn't being mean about my refrigerator. It is pretty pathetic:

I do eat out a lot, how did you guess?

The freezer is even more pathetic.

I guess I know more about architecture than architects

My architect came today to talk to me about my kitchen remodeling plans. I'm not sure we will see eye to eye on everything. Her book of projects totally fits my style. But, I did have moments of doubt. Like this:

Sarah: we could put the refrigerator here, and if it had paneling, it would look like a cabinet

Me: but, it's a refrigerator

Sarah: but people like to cover the refrigerator so it looks like a cabinet

Me: but then wouldn't it look like I didn't have a refrigerator in my kitchen?

Sarah: no, because people know you have a refrigerator

Me: so why would I make it look like a cabinet?

Sarah: so you don't see your appliances

Me: but I'm not covering my oven and dishwasher with paneling, so don't you think the refrigerator might feel bad, like "what's wrong with me that I get covered up with a cabinet? it's because I'm fat and ugly!" Then little tears would leak out the ice maker.

Sarah: refrigerators don't think

Me: mine might, if I get one with a robot in it
Sarah: (after looking in my refrigerator) doesn't look like you need a refrigerator anyway. You just need a coke dispensing machine.

She's going to give me a sketch of her idea for the redesign in a few days. She says my problem is I can't visualize stuff. I hope that's true.

calling all creative spirits who like rockets!!!!!

I have been so enjoying the stories about the N Korean rocket that fell apart. I'm not being mean spirited. It's just that anyone with half a fucking brain knows the future is not about weapons that are material. It's about hackers and software. All the weapons in the world aren't going to save you if they get hacked because every weapon system has...embedded software! And they don't work without it.

Anyway, tonight on a late conf call with my customer I decided I'm going to build the next gen N Korean rocket tomorrow based on shit I have around my house. If you build one and send me a picture I'll post it (c'mon Bob and Steve, it will be FUN).

This project is not in any way an excuse for putting off my other, more practical project, which is to install a new black out screen I bought for my huge front window that I tried to put up today but got the brackets mis-aligned.

Ech. Fucking straight lines.

more entertaining than taxes

A bunch of people at work are taking Thursday and Friday off to do their taxes.

Seriously?

One word: accountant. Paying someone to do your taxes is tax deductible. I haven't done my own taxes since 1994.

Then I was reminded of my shoe calculation spreadsheet (how to calculate the total number of shoes you can reasonably own. More entertaining than taxes.

mile high geeking

Technologically speaking this has been a productive week for me.

I finally re-imaged my old desktop that I use to connect to the internet and cleaned everything off of it. Today I installed a repeater and boosted my wireless from 71% (damn brick walls!) to 91% Also, my tablet is screaming fast accessing the internet.

And I received my new samsung laptop today which has 6, yeah 6, GB of RAM. It's screaming fast. And sexy. I love it.

And on my online meeting today I came up with a way for my customer to seamlessly manage his stories (he does scrum development) through a tricked out report. Seriously, he was so excited he told me he loved me.

Which he doesn't. He's married.

But he loves enterprise architecture and the tool I support. I've rarely met anyone so interested in the arcane details of architecture. I name drop people you've never heard of (like Grady Booch, who lives in Colorado BTW). Today I talked to him for an hour about structured and unstructured methods and he took notes. Usually no one cares when I talk about math related anything.

Maybe my customer has a bit of a brain crush on me. It happens. I've never met him in real life.

It's weird, speaking of love. I love writing, but I love being an engineer. To become an engineering fellow at my company would be as great, if not better, than being a best selling author, though no one but me would give a shit.

That's some fucked up goals. Like wanting to be a great programmer and a luddite at the same time...

wouldn't you like to be my neighbor...but live really far away from me

As the president of my HOA (I live in a row house with three other units in it). I have a few annoying responsibilities, like trying to get people to pay their dues, cleaning up the trash out front because the other people don't do it, pruning bushes, shoveling snow, etc.

My neighbor, who is a first class dick (I put up with his dogs barking for two years before he finally did something, and that only after we almost had a physical altercation), was in charge last year of getting our house painted since I was traveling too much to do it and he thought the four contractors I had out to get estimates gave estimates that were too high. He, of course, failed to get the house painted.

Two years ago he was "in charge" of getting our decks rebuilt because once again he thought the contractors I found were charging too much. I did all the research on decking material, rails, colors, etc. Let's see, what did he have to do? Get an estimate. Let people into my garage since I wasn't home when the decks were rebuilt. Let's just call him asshole.

The other day I sent this out:

We should probably make a decision about painting the house this summer. If we don't I think we should at least have some stucco work done and replace the front lights.

Asshole responded:

Let's paint and fix everything.  It has been to long.  Frankie, do you want to spear head this?  

The woman in the end unit sent:

Asshole, do you still have the paint sample we chose from the selection I brought to our meeting last spring?  

Asshole: 

Not sure, I will look for it.

Then:

Did we all sign off on this color???  I don't remember...

 

Finally, I really need you all to take an active role in your property.  Not living at your house or being gone frequently is not acceptable.  We all have busy lives and you need to do something.  I will not be stuck organizing and taking care of everyone properties again through this project.  Franki, as you have access to the bank account, lets us know where we stand.

 

I was like WHAT THE FUCK? He never even shovels when it snows. He insisted the HOA pay $75 to have a lawn service rake up our leaves because I was out of town and he was too lazy to do it. "Organizing and taking care of everyone's properties" - fucking WHATEVER. The guy does NOTHING.

 

I wrote:

 

Yes, the colors were signed off on at the last HOA meeting we had.

Everyone has access to the bank account through the internet. And Asshole, you should be receiving monthly statements. I can switch the address back to mine if that's easier*. And they should have mailed you an ATM card to access the account. The PIN for it as well as the bank access information is in the HOA PDF that I sent out a few years ago. There's a copy in the HOA files.

 

I hope he moves soon and someone cool moves in. It's annoying to be the only person that can get shit done, on top of not being thanked for it, and on top of his snarky comments about me traveling all the time. No really, I'd much rather be in an Holiday Inn in New Jersey than home, you fucking fuckwit. 

*I had them mailed to him when I went to the middle east

 

IKEA cult

I got up early on Monday so I could get into IKEA as soon as it opened to look at kitchen cabinets. I figured, Monday after a holiday...who would be at IKEA?

Answer: old people walking really slow and women with baby carriages blocking the aisles. Ech.

I haven't been to IKEA since the debacle of helping my friend Con Way who was in the midst of redoing his apartment and getting crushed by 600 lbs of closet doors.

I forgot how insane the place is. People every where, weird music playing, and these announcements made over the loudspeaker that make me think of The Prisoner or what I imagine a cult would be like.

I ran, almost literally, through a bunch of kitchens before I found cabinets I liked. I opened every cabinet and decided it was time to leave IKEA. I don't think I'll go back there alone and unarmed. They didn't have the raspberry cookies I like. Boo hoo.

Then today my contractor Neal came by to give me an estimate on redoing my kitchen and I'm probably going to go with cabinets from his cabinet guy because they're easier to customize. When all was said and done I agreed to let him redo my downstairs bathroom and my floors as well. That leaves only the gas fireplace and all the projects in my house are...

...no, better not say it. The house might be listening.

I'm meeting with an architect who's going to draw up some designs for me. This project is scary but it will be nice when it's done!

bike bitterness, which is not as dangerous as road rage

Spring has sprung, at least until the next snow storm, and all the mother fuckers were out on the bike trail today. Dammit, shouldn't you be celebrating easter and cooking dinner and shit?

Apparently there are a lot of fuckwads who don't understand the rules of a bike trail. So, here's a few for those who ingested paint chips or lack common sense:

-It's called a bike path because it's for BIKES. That's why there's a pedestrian path for PEDESTRIANS. Why are you and your eight spastic kids walking on the BIKE PATH and running in front of my bike and not yielding at least part of the path so I can get past your annoying asses?
-I believe I may be the only biker who says "on your right" so people will know I'm about to pass. It's annoying when a group of racers blows past me. It's also annoying when people don't yield. Get your fucking cruiser out of Jake the Snake's way or you will have a tire up your ass. This is particularly meant for that fucker redneck guy who refused to yield on the trail when I told him I was passing. Three times I tried to pass him and he purposely blocked my way. Finally I passed him on an uphill turn (nice to have a lot of gears) and he tried to swerve into me, then yelled "passing on a turn is dangerous!" (guess he's never seen the tour de france).
-A bike trail is bi-directional by design. You ride out for a while, then you come back. This isn't England. Ride on your side of the trail so I don't have to slam on my brakes coming around a turn because you are riding on the wrong side of the trail.
-Dogs not on leashes are not cool. Believe that I will have no remorse if your hinky dog runs at my front tire seconds before I pass him and I run him over. Also, walking on one side of the trail, and having your dog on the other, with the leash stretching across the trail is a good way to cause a massive accident. If you're that fucking stupid you shouldn't have a pet. and you should be on a leash.

Guess I'll have to go back to not riding on the weekends. During the week days the riders are less stupid.

I will love you forever if you build me a sushi robot

...even if the sushi robot eventually gets taken over by malignant code and kills me.

It would be worth it.

In other news no one cares about but me, all of my rose bushes, even the baby one I planted in November, have new growth on them. I'm very excited, after things looking so grim last summer, that they are making a come back.

smashed windshield, sugar canvas

My friend S reminded me at lunch today about another "exciting" thing that happened last night...

S insisted we take a pedi-cab the last 6 blocks back to the hotel because his legs were tired. Turns out the pedi-cab driver had just dropped off Bret Michaels (Poison lead singer) and Tommy Lee (Motley Crue) right before he picked us up. They're in town to promote some concert or something. He took them to a strip joint and then picked us up. He was very excited about meeting them.

I was driving home from the airport after dropping S off (he filled my car with gas, I mean, he filled the tank with gas and paid for it, and then told me to wash my car) when a rock flew off the back of a truck (think it was a rock) and smashed my windshield to pieces:

That pretty much sucked.

I can take pictures and drive at the same time 

But then I got home and found a package from my brother's girlfriend. She made me cookies!She has a business called Sugar Canvas. Leave me a comment if you want information on how to order some for yourself. There were more cookies than this but I ate them before I took the picture.

I'm eating the flower tomorrow for breakfast

denver lebanese style

So after I dropped off my piece of shit new laptop (turns out the image they loaded on it was corrupt, which is why I was having so many problems - it was a known corrupt image but they loaded it anyway - and I won't get my computer back until today at the earliest because most of the routers in my company's IT building are down and it's taking forever to download the new image - oh, and of course, no loaner laptop - I've said it before, we are an IT company) and met some sales people for lunch. They're in town for a data conference for the intell community.

Afterward S and I went back to his hotel so he could change. We were going to go to the botanic garden. So I waited in the lobby for 30 minutes but S didn't come down. I texted him and he said to order a glass of wine.

I hate waiting.

Then, right after I got the wine S showed up. But he still hadn't changed so I brought the wine up to his room so he could change. Then he decided we should go see the gym of the hotel. I poured the wine into a coffee cup and we went to the gym, which was like a real gym and not a crap hotel gym. S insisted I go into the men's room with him to see how nice it was. It was kind of weird walking around a men's room in a gym carrying a glass of wine.

We headed back to my house, got into my car, and went to the botantic gardens. Because S had fucked around for so long we only had 30 minutes until the gardens closed. Sami tried to argue with the woman at the ticket counter that it should stay open longer for us. Lebanese people are like that. So she told us to walk a certain way around the gardens because security walks the opposite direction and it would give us more time.

We made it around the gardens in record time and then I wanted to show S the poison frogs, lollipop plant, chocolate tree, and orchids. But the doors to the green house were locked. S saw a security guard and knocked on the locked door but the guard ignored us. Then he opened another door for a group of three women. That totally pissed S off so he started banging on the locked door. I was like "dude, let's just go in the open door". Then he tried to argue with the guard for not unlocking a door for him. I distracted him with the orchids.

We were finally thrown out by security who wouldn't even give us two more seconds to see the poison frogs.

We went back to my house and had a glass of wine. It was almost 7 o'clock so we walked down to 16th street mall to find a restaurant to eat in. S always says he isn't picky and then he's super picky when I suggest a place. We went to writer's square but he didn't want to eat there. So we walked down to Wazee because I was trying to find this indian restaurant I like. But I couldn't find it and S was accusing me of taking him down a dark street, like what, I was going to mug him?

He decided we should walk back to this steak place named Willie G's. We were seated but there was a large table of drunk obnoxious people and he said they gave him a headache so we had to leave because the waitress wouldn't seat us in a booth in a quieter area of the restaurant (he argued with her for like 10 minutes). He made the waitress look up the address for the indian place even though I told him I could look it up on my blackberry. She seemed pretty pissed by the time we left.

So we walked all the way back down to Blake Street (not far for me but S doesn't like to walk). We found the indian restaurant but it was closed for some reason. Then he decided to go to a restaurant we had seen that was even further down 16th Street. But there was a 45 minute wait.

By then I had the impression that if I didn't find a place soon S was going to kill me. We ended up eating at this asian fusion restaurant. Thankfully it was good and S was happy. It was 9 pm before we got our food.

He wanted to know exactly how far I made him walk...

Then we went back to his hotel and met up with Cosmo, who's from Jamaica, and Bill, who works with S and is also a friend of mine. Cosmo told me where to visit in Jamaica and then revealed his plans to leave his girlfriend in Denver and move to NYC. I was like "why don't you tell her your leaving?" Oddly, his response was "because she's just not feelin' the city." Also, he told me a story about a Jamaican artist who he admired who's work he wanted to buy. But before he good the artist was shot and killed in Kingston. The robbers got $30 and a watch. A gallery in LA hoarded the artist's work and the price skyrocketed and no one could afford to buy it. Cosmo was pissed. Then, 5 years later, a friend of his lost his home. Cosmo went to help him pack and found out all along the friend had been hoarding two of the artist's paintings. Because he had no money he sold them to Cosmo. There was a cleverly phrased moral to the story but I can't remember what he said. I should have written it down.

Then we all piled into Bill's car and he drove me home.

one of these kids...is just like the other!!!!

I've been obsessed with sharks since I was little. It appears the obsession is genetic. My nephew is obsessed with sharks too.

My sister is being a good sport about it.

Michael won't put his shark book down even at dinner.

Michael - coming to a shark tank near you!

you broke it again????

I spent an hour with my customer today trying to figure out why SQL Server permissions were only working for some people trying to access the software tool I support. I kept telling him the problem was with the SQL Server app but he kept insisting it was tool permissions.

Finally I asked to drive. It turned out:

1. he had spelled the two non-working account names wrong
2. instead of deleting the wrong accounts and importing from LDAP like I told him to do he just imported from LDAP so the right accounts didn't get picked up

Then he was like "Oh, I guess you were right." Um, yeah.

Then, at 5 pm sharp, he broke something else. Then he wanted to have an in depth discussion about his meta model. At 6:30 I was like dude, I have to get up at 3 am tomorrow and I have work to finish.

I think, actually, he likes hanging out with me. And he said he's going to invite me back. No one in my customer's group knew about the insane asylum or the ghost town and they want me to come back and take them on a hike.

Which is kind of weird because 3 of the 7 people come from families that have lived in Smithfield since the early 1800s. I guess that's why people hire consultants, to find those kind of things out.

another potential lead on my book

The editor I pitched on Saturday afternoon wants the first 50 pages of my book!!!!! Even though she was sick and I was her 30th pitch of the day!

Four other women got picked too, and I'm really glad one was the woman who wrote the book about the lawyer, especially since she was told no one would be interested in her book. Go Christine and semper fi!

insane asylum hike

Today I went hiking in the area around my customer's site. There's a huge farm there with lots of trails.

My customer's site was built near the ruins of an insane asylum that was active in the late 1800s. Lots of murders and abuses went on there and eventually Rhode Island came up with a series of reforms and the asylum shut down. It was run by the owner of Smithfield Farm and he often beat and raped the women who were housed there (most of them for being unwed mothers). He would also kill the really crazy people.

As I walked along the trails I could see remains of Hanton City, also known as the lost city. I was lucky to be here before the vegetation was in bloom, so I could see the remains of the city.

one of the many stone walls built in the forest

No one knows what happened to the city. One theory is that the residents were runaway slaves living there secretly (one assumes they eventually left when slaves were freed). But the theory is unlikely because they would not have had the equipment to build the structures that are found in the lost city.

Another theory is that the city was where people with communicable diseases were isolated, which would explain why it's so remote.

A third theory is that the city was founded by British Loyalists, who were either forced to live in isolation or did it on their own.

I found the grave yard:

 

...which was pretty creepy. Also, all along the trail were stacked cairns. It felt like walking around the woods where they filmed the blair witch project.

Finally I came out on an area of the trail where the power lines are:

 It was pretty bizarre to walk out of a dense forest and see this. The power lines made a low hum. And, oddly, I could hear a band playing at what I'm guessing was the Bryant University campus. Spooky.

Then the weather turned and I was worried it would start snowing again (it snowed yesterday) so I headed back to my hotel (getting lost, briefly, on a trail).

That was one of the eeriest hikes I've ever done.

I head back to civilization Tuesday morning. I'm glad. I only brought one outfit to work out in and it smells really bad.

If you ever happen to find yourself in this area I recommend the house of pizza and yamoto sushi. I've been eating at both places all week.

the next buckaroo bonzai: Doomsday Penis Code

Last night I was watching a show called Ancient Aliens in the TV. My customer recommended it and I was too tired to read so the guy at the front desk found it in there for me and I settled down to watch it.

THEN! SUDDENLY! There was a guy from my writer's group being interviewed on the show!!!!!!!! I was like whoa THAT'S WEIRD. So I emailed Kevin:

Remember that guy [] that came to meetings with his boring civil war novel? Well, I'm watching a show and that dude was on the show! There he is again! Weird!

The show is about ufos.

Kevin:

Well, that makes sense. UFOs caused the Civil War, I think. Not-So-Nearly-Ancient Aliens.

Me:

[] was around during the civil war, but the aliens kept him alive to infiltrate our writer's group because some members are also aliens. Mike, if he is an alien, is a kind alien. []'s boring stories were an attempt to put us under hypnotic control.

I won a software award today. I hate my employer. Glad I have a job interview in Aurora next week.

Kevin:

A great big Fonzie "thumbs up!" for winning the award, yet it sucks dead monkeys that they're making shit-tons of money off your "spare time" invention. Definitely get a better job, then sue them. Or better yet, tell them that you inserted a "doomsday" code in it that will delete all the computer's hard drives and replace them with a picture of a talking penis... unless they cough up money for you.

I would not wish Aurora upon my worst enemy. What place in that shithole would require your brain-power and sheer, staggering sense of dry irony?

Me:

Okay, why did I just have to look up Fonzie on wikipedia? Because I'm confused by tv references.

I always code easter eggs. But, nothing that will bring about the destruction of the world. I'm not that good at writing code.

 

Kevin:

 

The point is, to spread the RUMOR that you inserted the code. Not that you actually DID. They can't sell it if the buyers hear there's a DOOMSDAY PENIS CODE ready to delete hard drives. Just like the movie "Independence Day" and that shit was TRUE.

 

Me:

 

Dude, next project, let's co-author a screen play called doomsday penis code. It could be the next buckaroo bonzai.

 

Kevin:

 

"Buckaroo Banzai" didn't make any money, though it was a clever film. I like your idea, though. We'll write the "Avatar" of penis-titled movies.

Me:

Not if I have to watch avatar. My dad turned it off after 10 minutes. I can't watch more than he did because he's my dad.

 

Kevin:

 

Avatar earned nearly $2.8 billion. If we're aiming high (and what penis isn't?) then that's the mark we're looking to hit. But hey, hitting $280 is fine, too.

 

I can't believe I'm having this conversation with my dad

My dad never read anything I wrote before I wrote a chapter about him in my book. He hasn't read my book, just the parts about him, but he did provide me with technical corrections to the chapter where I describe a conversation we had about carbon:

My dad said, "Those lower cost solar panels are made from amorphous silicon semiconductor material. They can readily be produced but are low in efficiency, and over time they degrade and can fail early. The crystalline material is better." I thought about all the fluid in my knee turning to a crystallized mass, cutting the soft tissue.

He paused, also contemplating crystal structures, but not the ones in my knee. “"Isn't it interesting that carbon has three polymorphs? One produces pencil lead, one sparkling diamonds, and one fullerenes that spawned the nanotechnology revolution. Carbon is a unique element since it can form single, double, and triple bonds with itself..."

     My vision went white. I was going to pass out. I collapsed on a rock, and then I lost consciousness. When I regained consciousness I looked around, confused. There were pine needles scattered on the ground near my feet. I wished Martha Stewart was with us so that she could make me a pillow with them. I knew I would never leave that rock.

Anyway, I was talking to him about my cringle crisp caper book which he also read  (because he's on chemo and it's light reading). I was standing in the lobby of my hotel to get better phone reception when I was talking to him.

He said "I liked the book, but the ending sucked. The croco-diamond didn't do enough to make up for robbing the ton-o-tap". I was like "but he invented salsa and renamed the cringle crisps after the kangawrong". And my dad was like "that's not enough, he needs to give up the d.Dornian diamond to pay for a bunch of equipment to modernize the giant man's farm". I argued with him for a while and realized he was right.

Then I told him that I was also thinking to add in a song that the whitey biteys would sing, called "Under the Sea", to thank the giant man, kangawrong, and croco-diamond for the mittens. It goes:

Under the sea! Under the sea!

Won't you come see us under the sea?

We'll eat starfish crackers and jellyfish cheese!
So pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease 

won't you come see us under the sea?

My dad thought it was a good idea.

Then I hung up the phone and noticed everyone in the lobby was looking at me as if I'd gone mad.

Because, seriously, who argues with their dad about croco-diamonds? And recites a poem about jellyfish cheese.

oh just MAKE IT FUCKING STOP

So, at 5:15 pm today, FRIDAY, my client decided to upgrade the software I support. Of course he screwed up and caused a licensing issue and I had to dig around the guts of Windows 7 for 2 hours to fix the problem. Had not intended to work until 7 pm. Oh well. I like working 12 hours a day.

And, for some reason, my new laptop is so fucked up I can't project on a projector (that started today, randomly) and items on menus in my installed applications just disappear and I can't get them to come back.

Oh, and my customer had to give me a license for Visio because I can't get one through my company and I need Visio for work I have to do this weekend. Really? My client is paying for my software licenses? I hate my company some times. Glad I have an interview on Wednesday.

The good news, I guess, is that I was given a Labs award from my company for a software integration I created in my spare time. They'll sell it for millions. I'm supposed to be happy because the award is very prestigious. They did give me some money for it. I'm going to use it to buy a sub zero under the counter refrigerator when I redo my kitchen in the summer.

No, seriously, I'm going to redo my kitchen.

I know I've been saying that for like 6 years but this time I'm not lying.

the rest of the pitch story

So on Sunday I sat down with the last person I had to pitch to. He's a senior editor for Random House. I could tell while I was doing my pitch that it was going well because he kept snickering (the pitch was supposed to be funny). After I finished he asked about my story arc. I had no idea what he was asking me but I must have answered the question correctly because he said he thought my book sounded exciting and that he thought it was an interesting project.

I liked that he called it a project.

So then I was sitting there not sure what to do so I said "Okay, I guess I'll go". He stood up, shook my hand, and gave me his card. I was like "Um, what should I do with this?" and he was like "send me your book!" Then he started laughing. He must think I'm a moron.

Anyway, I found out later from the group leader that instead of requesting just 5 pages or 20 pages he requested my whole book!

I sent it to him yesterday evening. This morning I got an email from him saying "got it, thanks!"

So if this fails it's because my writing sucks.

If he likes it the battle has just begun. If I sell him on the project he has to sell his senior management. Then they find me an agent. Then they have to convince a distributor to carry it. Editing the book can take 6 - 10 months. It's usually a year from the time the project is green lighted (which, on average, is four months from when the manu is requested) to publication. With lots of work in between.

Fingers crossed...

One of the women in my group started a facebook page for us. It's called Pitch Bitches.

day 4 - success!!!!!! sort of!

A senior editor from Random House requested MY WHOLE BOOK to read! Usually they just ask for 5 or 20 pages! And he said he's excited about what he's heard about my book!

Doesn't guarantee anything. Of 100 people read usually only 1 gets picked.

More later, the internet at my hotel is shit right now.

day 3 - pitch fest turns to bitch fest

This pitch fest is like trying to make the cheerleader squad.

When the group leader was giving feedback from the morning pitch she said nice things to everyone about what the editor said.

I was sitting in a corner sending my earlier blog post. A woman I've been talking to was like "what did she say about Franki?" and the group leader was like "Oh, um, Franki, if you want to know what she said I can tell you later."

I was so pissed, like why don't you just tell me now? I don't really give a fuck if she hated my book. She doesn't even publish my genre.

Then an unexpected shit storm started  because some of us have been pitching to editors that have nothing to do with our genres. And the conference guy told a woman with a story about a lawyer that she had been asked to write by the lawyer "there isn't an editor here that would be interested in your story so there's no point in you doing any more pitches".



In the afternoon I pitched to an editor who was
1. sick
2. 8 hours into her day of listening to book pitches (I was the 30th person to pitch her)
3. not someone who works in my genre (she does women's literary fiction, i.e. eat pray love and every other book like that which I will never read)

I was so over this conference that I rewrote my pitch, didn't bother to read it over before I printed it, and didn't bother to practice it before I met with her.

Surprisingly, she seemed interested. But, I chalked that up to the pictures on my pitch. Also, at one point she was looking at me and smiling, and I didn't know what to do, so I said "I guess I'll leave now" (normally they say "thanks!" when they want you to leave). Ech. She was the only editor that shook my hand.

Later, I was at a conference happy hour, and my group leader came up and said "how do you think that went?" and I was like "I have no idea." She was like "do you think she was interested in your book?" and I said "no, I think she just was curious about the shark picture because she was bored (I have a pic I took of a great white on my pitch sheet) and so she was like 'tell me about the shark and then get the fuck out of my face'." (explaining my rather awkward exit).

Then the group leader was like "Oh. Because I think she was interested. You'll find out next week."

I'm probably jinxing myself even writing that on my blog.


Every one was like "stay out and party with us!" But I had a client issue and had to go back to the hotel to take care of it because the fuck wit install engineer who was supposed to get my software installed for my Monday engagement decided instead to not do his fucking job.

Ech.

I should write a fiction book about desperate women trying to get their books published.

really? is this a sick joke?

So I got here this morning at 9 am to practice my pitch. The group leader reviewed it and suggested I change it back to the version I had yesterday with a few word changes. Ech. So I ran back to my hotel and rewrote my pitch and had to kick a middle eastern guy off the hotel computer so I could print it. I got back to the morning pitch fest with 2 minutes to spare.

The editor I pitched to has done 4 books in 10 years. She does nothing with my genre. The only things she said to me are "I'm afraid of sharks" and "I hate swimming".

I ran back to the hotel after my pitch and rewrote my pitch  again.

What the fuck am I doing?

day 3 - coming out of my corner swinging

I only got 4 hours of sleep last night but I managed to finish another rewrite of my pitch. I did some research on the pitches that won last year and revised mine accordingly. It's not what the book is about, but they can find that out when they read it.

now I know why I don't read much fiction - day 2

So today everyone pitched their stories to an editor. I knew I was screwed when, after the first woman did her pitch, the editor said "Oh, I like anything with the word daughter in it!" and then started talking about her daughter. The book was about a Canadian family who decide to spend a year driving around in an RV car schooling their 7 year old.

A woman in my group, who is a plastic surgeon in Beverly Hills, pitched her book which is about a plastic surgeon in Beverly Hills who agrees to star in a reality TV show because she has so much school debt. I think it's a great pitch. The editor said "that's a little too edgy for me."

Um, what? Nip/Tuck and Dr. Beverly Hills 90210 are two of the most popular shows ever (okay, I know that because the doctor told me that, but I looked it up and it's true). Her book shows the inside story on what happens with plastic surgery. And this was not of interest to an editor that does women's fiction?

I don't know why I even bothered to pitch her because she doesn't do my genre. She said I should focus more on myself than what I did for adventures. Then the group tore my pitch apart. They were like "what is your book about?" I was like "what the pitch said, not letting an injury prevent me from being an athlete" and they were like "but we don't get that from your pitch". Ech.

And then one of the women said "you say your book is funny but you are just trying to mask your pain." No. I laugh about my situation because there's nothing I can do about it. So then she said "why don't you just take drugs?"

Then one of the other women said "Her book is about having a void in her life." I guess she found it unbelievable that I might enjoy ice climbing.


The person I feel the worst for is a woman who's a lawyer that wrote a story about defending her brother against a controversial law in Kentucky that says teachers can't have sex with anyone under 17 (the legal age for consensual sex for everyone but teachers is 16). Her brother, who is a teacher, had sex with a 17 year old who wasn't his student (that's how he ended up getting off from the charges). It's obviously a very emotional topic (the point of the book is that she became close to her estranged brother defending him even though she thought what he did was wrong). A bunch of the women in the group were like "I just find it hard to believe you would defend him even though he is your brother. It's seems like you need more motivation than that."

I got invited out for a drink but instead I'm going to work on my pitch again. I'm just so annoyed and frustrated right now.

And, I wasn't a finalist in that kid's book contest. However, The Adventures of Poo Boy was, as well as The Kissy Momster.

What the fuck...

pitchfest - day 1 - I'm depressed

So I did my first day of the pitchfest. 

Today was kind of depressing. We are in groups according to genres, and my "genre" is women's fiction and memoir. So, picture me in a room full of 14 women. They've already given me a nickname: the human crash test dummy. BTW, none of the other women were given nicknames.

Everyone has a really strong pitch. I think they didn't know what to do with mine. There was a stunned silence when I finished reading it and then the woman running the group said "Well. That wasn't what I was expecting." I tried to explain the difference between coordination and athleticism. They didn't seem to get it. They kept saying "If you were a competitive runner why would ice climbing be so hard for you?" Ech.

And I revised my pitch. AGAIN.

It's pretty high school the way things go down. Pitches start tomorrow. Every day we pitch to an agent or an editor. 

You go in to a room with just the agent or editor and the person running your group, make your pitch, and then the agent or editor decides which books they want to take a look at. Then we're all called back into the room and the group leader announces whose books made the cut. And the group leader keeps counseling us not to cry during our pitches and not to cry afterward if our book is rejected because "it's all subjective".

Okay, it's not like high school. It's like kindergarten. I'm fucking over 40. I don't need someone to tell me not to cry during a business meeting.

 Fuck. I should have come here with my kid book.

And it's humid so my hair looks insane. I don't know if that's a plus or minus. Also, we were apparently supposed to dress in business attire. Oops. I guess I didn't read that memo. An agent can't seriously expect me to wear a suit. What's the point of being a writer if I have to be professional? I might as well stay a consultant.

from snake-tacular to muons

Since I have to spend the weekend in Rhode Island next weekend I was trying to convince a friend of mine, who is a double amputee, to go to the aquarium with me to check out some sea dragons and so I could stand in front of the snake cages and work on my snake phobia.

Unfortunately he's out of town, but he mentioned he is also afraid of snakes and didn't want to hang out around snake cages.

So I made the following suggestion:

You should put something in your legs that would electrocute snakes if they try to bite you. And maybe the electric current could also cook the snake and then you and your friends could eat it.

Or, maybe more humane, play annoying music that only snakes can hear so they won't come near you. Like Van Halen's 1984 album. All the snakes would be like "let's get out of here before Jump comes on!"

He didn't think it was a great idea (as in "too stupid to even respond to"). And, after doing some research, it turns out he was right:

I've been doing research over the course of the day (lots of boring call in meetings, no one can see what I'm doing).

Apparently certain noises agitate snakes and make them more likely to strike. Van Halen would probably agitate them. So don't listen to my suggestion in the last email.

BTW, I found an awesome snake trap. On the lid it says "WARNING! Live Snake May Be Inside!"

I also found some snake repellent. It's made out of mongoose urine. Gross.

Did you know snakes don't like to slither over sisal rope? Apparently it hurts their underbelly.

And then I followed the wikipedia links to other pages and eventually ended up on a page about muons. If I were a muon I would wear a shirt all the time that said "electrons, I will crush you".

Because, muons are like 200 times bigger than electrons.


And I sent a fan letter to this guy who runs my new favorite (okay, I didn't have an old favorite) snake web site. You can see a snake pooping. Their poop is really gross because they pee out the same hole and they don't have, according to the web site, enough plant fiber in their diet. 

There's also, I just want to mention, a glue trap for snakes. The glue breaks down over time so the snake could get away, in theory. But it usually starves to death first. But, then you can pull it out of the glue trap and throw it away as opposed to having to throw the glue trap away while the snake is still attached.


The web site dude hasn't responded back yet. That's okay. He's probably catching snakes. Which is a good thing.
 

escape to new york

Well, I'm in the city and in my hotel room, which is a lot bigger than I expected it to be. It's almost a regular sized room.

It wasn't easy getting here. My flight was delayed an hour because there was fog in NYC and they wouldn't allow planes to land. Then the traffic controllers got all mixed up. First they told us we were clear to take off so everyone got on the plane. Then while we were taxiing down the runway (boy, that's a weird word, taxiing, I like it) they said we weren't cleared to take off. So we sat on the run way for about 40 minutes. The baby behind me was crying. I hate that.

I guess it was a good thing we were delayed because a shit show storm was brewing for my engagement next week, all because the install engineer doesn't do his fucking job. This is the third engagement I've done with him where he failed to get the software installed and operational before I showed up. Oh, and the engagement manager forgot to order the training material for a class I'm giving Monday.

I'm glad I get to do everyone else's job, and my own.

Oh, and a blog posting I put up yesterday on my work blog went viral. Kind of cool.

Well, into the void tomorrow. I wonder if I'm going to have to pitch to an agent tomorrow or if we're just working with editors...it would be cool if something finally happens for my book but I'm trying to not get my hopes up.

new york, new york

So tomorrow I leave for the pitch conference to see if I can get an agent for my book. The fun starts Thursday at 9 am and goes to Sunday 4 pm. Though, I'll be leaving at 2 PM to take a train to my customer engagement next week.

I keep rewriting my first five pages. I need to stop doing that.

I read a really depressing statistic. Most agents get 10,000 queries a year. They usually pick 2 to publish. That's even worse odds than when I applied to Johns Hopkins. Ech.

perhaps I've taken fake smoking too far

So, I'm taking my anti-smoking medication so I can stop smoking my fake cigarettes. Is that weird? My dad thinks it is.

Also, I just found out on wikipedia today that nicotine ISN'T bad for you. Me, I mean.

So I spent an hour filling all my zero nicotine cartridges for my fake cigarette with nicotine liquid so they'll have nicotine in them.