Want to Laugh… Here’s How JD Smith Gets it Done!

Every once in a while I run across someone weird like me… okay, it happens all of the time but who’s counting? Anyway, as I was running one day, JD Smith’s publicist contacted me. She even giggled in her email. Is that possible? Well, yes Mable, yes it is. So, I’m happy to present for your giggling pleasure today, JD Smith…

7 Tips for Writing Humor

1. Ideas can come from anywhere at any time, so try not to get in their way. Looking too hard for subjects and angles might make you freeze up and focus only on the same topics that other people write about, like the stereotypical differences between men and women. See what comes from your life as you live it and as you watch the world around you. What do you notice, obsess about, find absurd? What makes you cringe? That’s where your ideas come from.

2. Have something to write with and write on at all times. Ideas can slip away as easily as they arrive, so you want to catch them when you can. If you can get away with using a grease pencil on bathroom tiles while you’re showering, by all means do so. Carrying a notebook everywhere works for a lot of people, but there is more than one way to rock. Sometimes I travel light and write ideas on the back of receipts tucked into my wallet.

3. Don’t censor yourself. Others will be all too happy to do that for you—not that you should let them. You can always edit later, and in all likelihood you will, but when you’re writing the first draft you need to shut off any voices in your head besides the funny one. Don’t worry about what your second cousin, your third grade teacher or the school board might think. If you’re writing humor you probably aren’t running for office anyway. Some of the biggest laughs come from edgy and scary places, and ignoring them means passing up a lot of opportunities. Besides, some people have wider tastes than we give them credit for.

4. Sound like yourself. What’s the point of trying to write like Dave Barry or Ian Frazier or [insert name of your favorite funny writer here]? That box has been checked, and imitation would just deliver more of the same. The world hasn’t heard your voice yet, so put it out there and see what happens, and learn as you go along. You may be an observer, a storyteller or a satirist—or some combination of all three.

5. If you have a point to make, let it arise from the humor. Starting with an obvious point of view and trying to hang a joke on it amounts to second-rate preaching. Lenny Bruce had things to say, but at the end of his career (and life) he came off as more angry than funny.

6. Laugh first, analyze later. When humor works—your own or someone else’s—take a little time to figure out what makes it work. What surprising contrasts arose in an article, story or script? Were shifts of logic or word meaning involved, or did the humor come from a character’s actions? And those are only a few questions you might ask. Don’t try this on a first date unless your companion is a fellow comedy nerd.

7. Don’t expect to make everybody laugh. The sense of humor varies greatly from one person to another, and it largely involves factors beyond your control: culture, language, amount of education, and whether someone is a dog or cat person. Even the most successful writers and performers can’t get a laugh out of certain people. Making nobody laugh, however, is a problem. Then you may need to rewrite.

J.D. Smith is a humorist, award-winning writer and former Jeopardy contestant. His latest book is, Notes of a Tourist on Planet Earth: Being a Collection of Hilarious Essays, Poems and Ponderings about the Human Species
(Cassowary Press).

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Photos of Robert–the Cutest Dog on the Planet

I had a ton of photos on my camera from 2010 and 2011. Only yesterday did I download them all into my computer. Procrastination exemplified.

These photos (as one might guess from the title) are of Robert, our sweet tiny boy. He is a West Highland Terrier, or “Westie” as some call this breed. My husband calls Robert, Colonel Popcorn. I call him Mr. Squishy Pants.

I hope you enjoy photos of Robert, our angel.  This pic is just after his knee surgery last year. I didn’t get photos of him recuperating this year after the SECOND knee surgery! Robert’s ears don’t stand up straight, which we adore. He still looks like a little puppy to us. 🙂

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Addictions, Bulldogs & Catboxes–The ABCs

I’m supposed to clean now–the cat boxes, the guest room, the toilets, dust, vacuum and mop. Bleh.

We have friends arriving from Phoenix tomorrow around 5 p.m. and here I sit on the computer watching my inbox fill up and posting to Facebook. Earlier I’d run through a couple of games of Solitaire. Pretty soon I’ll be checking the TV to see if the Law & Order: SVU marathon is still going on.

What the…

I mean, I remember a time when I refused watching TV, hadn’t heard of Facebook and a computer? Well, those were kept nicely at work and used FOR work only.
Yesterday, I thought of addictions. I sat for four hours submitting queries and manuscripts to publishers, played a few hundred thousand games of Solitaire all the while sitting on my arse watching L&O!

Today has been slightly different. I ran Rocky, our cocker spaniel, to the groomers at 8 a.m. and have received a few responses from yesterday’s submissions–some rejections, some acceptances for review. Acceptances make me feel good.

But, I think I’m becoming a computer addict. And, I’d love to write more but I have to check my email again.

Well… uh, um… I just got a message. And, I gotta go! But, oh! Here! Check out the cute YouTube video of bulldog surfer/skateboarder at the link below. This doggy rocks!

Later gator. -Susan

http://www.youtube.com/watch_popup?v=cqxTUxzOceE&feature=youtube_gdata_plaJ

Before the Sun in Julyuary

We rushed down here to our den, around 5:45a before the sun came out and spread its yellow hazy glow across the floor that has climbed up the wall and onto a red checkerboard quilt. The gray morning held a layer of fog and cloud along the horizon and felt like a wet blanket. But, we rise like farmers, at daybreak, because the deer rise early and need feeding.

The chill of wet air hit me in the face when I stepped outside, then the spicy allure of fresh pine and Nootka rose assaulted my nose making me breathe in deeply. Outside we keep the rolled oats, corn and molasses mixture; the peanut, raisin and sunflower seed mixture; and the grainy pellets for hens a-layin’ …outside in our scrappy pergola, the same one the elderly cats have been sent so their messes don’t affect the inside of our house so much. There they stay safe, warm and dry.

Bucky, a male deer, is always waiting for me. He grew three-points this year and right now they look all fuzzy and soft. Soon, he’ll start shedding the velvet cover of his antlers in bloody fashion, with pieces of the woolly skin hanging , scabbing over and finally falling off. I had never seen the process before and cringed last year when I realized how sore it must feel to scrape the velvet clean, revealing beneath a cream-colored shiny bone.

I’ve grown fond of this small herd. Upon rising each day, I peer outside in hopes of spotting one below my bedroom window. I rush Robert’s (our Westie) morning “constitution” as the deer meander, watching me, watching Robert with stomach’s growing impatient. And, the kitchen window, like a picture frame features many deer passing through, for me I’m certain, for my enjoyment.

Some people chastise the feeding of deer. I get it. I really do but I simply don’t care. This is what I figure, the deer existed on this land well before I ever had an inclination to live here and for that matter, well before ANYone had an inclination to live here.

I believe that God provides for everything as if for “the lilies of the field” (Matthew 6: 21-34), and so he’s provided for the deer, them for me and me for them. It feels like a calling of sorts. Animals–companion and wild–have been a part of my life since childhood. They bring me great joy. And, I’m happy to do my part however small it might be to take care of them the best that I can, by feeding them and giving them a space to feel safe.

Be kind, be loving and forgiving and smile. People will wonder what you’re up to! Blessings, Susan. 🙂

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Birds! Beware… a Home-wrecker’s Afoot!

People interest me and that’s probably why I write. When I say “interest” I wouldn’t want you to automatically think it’s a good thing or a bad thing–it’s just a thing. Watching and listening to people fills me with delight, confusion, anger, excitement, hostility, bemusement and a whole slew of other feelings that I will refrain from listing. However, many of these emotions blend with a sense of confusion.

One thing I particularly become confused by is a human being’s incessant desire to remove animals from their homes. When we see a fox on the property we fear automatically that the fox will kill all of the birds (please remember this) around our house and we take steps to run it off. When we find a bee’s nest, we fear stings so we remove it. When we find an anthill we fear antbites so we pour gasoline into. When we see a raccoon scurry up a tree we fear for our cat’s and dog’s safety so we shake the tree very hard in order to make the critter tumble out then we trap the thing and relocate it.

And, why? Because we don’t want them around.

Well, listen up folks! You’ll spend your entire life evicting, removing and relocating all things living.

Animals can make messes. Sure. But, then so can humans. I mean, criminy, look at our earth, especially in the U.S. We litter, spew out tons of toxins into the air from our cars and manufacturing plants, smelters and refineries. “And, oh my, that fuzzy little rabbit in that hole in my green grass will do more damage than I can even fathom inside just a year so pour acid into the hole so that it doesn’t do anymore damage than it already has!”

Hello!!! Knock. Knock. Anyone home in there?!

Think folks! Ignore the animals and we’ll all live in peace and harmony. I know. I do it!

I just heard about this one…

For some ungodly reason, a certain person (who shall remain nameless) wants to remove a few nests from their home’s eaves. Now, these birds have been living there for years, more than a decade. In fact these birds have been living here for 14 years. They come and they go, seasonally, always to return. Yet, for some reason, this person think they need to call a stop to their habitat and MOVE them to a “better” location. What the…

Really? They like this location or else they would already have MOVED!!!

So, that’s today’s rant. I’m veklempt by it. Pass me a fan! I’m going to faint.

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Apple Therapy for Dogs–Make Good Poopy!

After Robert’s surgery… let me back up.

For those of you who don’t know, Robert is our sweet little West Highland Terrier–a Westie. He just had surgery on what is commonly thought of as an ACL and meniscus tear. But, actually, the canine equivalent of an ACL (anterior cruciate ligament) in humans, is called the CCL (cranial cruciate ligament).

So, after Robert’s surgery, the nursing staff and the physical therapist both warned me that the pain medications, the ones he was prescribed post operatively, caused constipation. And, for me to “just be aware.”

My mind whirled in backflips because no dog of mine will ever suffer that feeling of need, cramping and desire yet producing a big fat zero in the poopy department. No Sir-ee!

Apple therapy! I thought and told Bob, the hubby, that I was going to buy pallets full of apples–green, yellow, red, small, big, oval, round–you name it.

“I’ll chop them into his food.”

“Does he like apples.”

“Yes. And, I can cook them into meat with carrots too.” And, thinking… Pallets of carrots too!

But, lo & behold, there’s this gem of a product called HAPPY HIPS (from Dogswell in their Veggie Life line). Basically, Happy Hips are healthy treats for dogs. They contain no antibiotics, no byproducts, no added hormones, they use only cage-free chicken and have added glucosamine and chondroitin.

What they look like are pieces of dried apple wrapped in a dried chicken strip. The apple being the largest part of the treat. They look so yummy that I’ve thought, “Hmm. I’M hungry, what if…” But have resisted the call to eat one! Still, the dogs LOVE them. And so, instead of pallets full of veggies and fruit to purchase (which in a manner of a week would begin settling into compost), I decided to buy the Dogswell line as an alternate source of fiber and nutrients, ones in order to assuage the effects of the dasterdly constipating pain meds.

Now, here’s the rub, I want to tell you how good Robert’s poopy is but I’ll forego all of the stinky details. Suffice to say, Stellar! 

I guess this is what I would categorize as an advertisement however, it’s not intended as that. Although I highly recommend the Dogswell products, this blog posting should settle in your heads as one that educates and informs. Clear?

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In the Land of Delusia!

Image via Wikipedia

Life feels right, up here in Delusia. Looking down from my aerie throne—a throne of gold, silver, brass and copper—we watch as clouds waft by below the buckles on my sandals. We feel content.

The air smells sweet of honeysuckle and naranja blossoms. Can you hear the coo-coo-cooing of the white felinis majoris alighting on my shoulder, as she clings with her sharp claws to the linen of my toga? We named her Princess. She visits daily eating my crumbs and drinking from my obsidian chalice and when, after waiting for dusk, she jumps off my shoulder in a dive, Pegasus-like, she snags a thermal well below the base of the shrine and fans out her angel wings then, pulling up hard, she looks back, winks and makes a graceful arc as she soars back to higher ground on that cliff, over there where she sleeps.

Delusia feels sacred. It feels secure. Where we live miles above others on a platform no common man can reach or ever touch us, nay, not even the fray of our garments.

In our home, we find solace. Our peace-of-mind-rules and wild notions require a constant charting down. And, after our regimen of charting out our fanciful quests, we pour sweet mead and rest, all the while pondering, in wonderment, at our latest list.

Our list? It’s contents? Why, yes. I can say. Sometimes we wish for no more than a slab of neufchatel cheese and a loaf of olive bread drizzled in truffle oil. And, of course, a cupful of freshly squeezed pomegranate juice. Once, I remember, the list contained a gallery of related items, things like rubied eyeshadow and garnet toenail polish, saturine lipstick with ground peridot, and lastly on that note, was a pair of diamond covered elbow-high gloves! Other whimsical items might include more extravagant wishes, like, for Heaven’s sake… peace on Earth. A laughable notion to some but, nonetheless, one of our more regular visitors to the charts.

But, for now, I grow weary and need to close my eyes. The wind rocks my thrown to and fro much like a cradle held in the arms of a noble fir. So, night-night for now…

And, as I drift off, I can’t help but ask, “Why would anyone not want to live in this place? In my home, Delusia?”

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Cats, Autograph Parties and District 9

In that order…

Also, this is a rather long, possibly boring post so to spice things up, I’ve inserted a topic-oriented cartoon, quote or joke into each section. For instance, in the cat section, you’ll find a cat cartoon. Find them if you can. And, no, the overriding joke is not that I have so many cats—that would just make the joke on me. And, I’m not laughing.

CAT ISSUES

I have fourteen cats. Please. Don’t. Say. It.

I mentioned yesterday in my blog about the cleaning that my personality might fall within the boundaries of obsessive-compulsive. So, please, don’t even say it. I know, already! I live it. Everyday, I live with the fur balls, the hair clinging to all of my black clothing, the hideous cat boxes. No one needs to tell ME something’s slightly off.

Still, I absolutely adore my little kitty cluster and all of their messes. It’s their sweet faces that hooked me as kittens and it remains their enchanting personalities that make me love them today. They have become family and I honestly would feel lost if not for cats. They make me laugh when I’m sad, they cause all sorts of kitty trouble and have attitudes just like any human being and, plus, I can bury my head in their fur when I cry and they understand, somehow. Now, that’s love.

Audrey sits right next to me this morning as I type. Audrey talks nonstop. I chat her up as well and between us it’s a back-and-forth of:

“Yow.” “Really, Audrey?” “Yow.” “I didn’t know that.” “Yow.” “Why it’s almost impossible to believe.” “Yow.” And so it goes.

She’s part of the movie star compendium. It seems we obtained these critters in litters and so, I’ve named them as to which ‘group’ they belong. For instance, we have:

• the movie star group (as I said just moments before),
• the food group, and
• the miscellany group

The movie stars consist of my six-year-olds, Audrey, Sinatra, Marilyn, and Humphrey. Their mother is Midnight who came to us as a single cat bearing great tidings of joy and a gut full of babies, as it turns out.

The food group consists of my twelve-year-olds, RazberryJam, PNutBudda, and ApricotJelly. The parents of Raz, Nutterbutter and Jelly are Frank and Momma Kitty. The parents of Marmalade, my eleven-year-old of the food group, are Vincent and Momma Kitty. Momma Kitty and Frank have since passed away. Again, each time Momma Kitty showed up, she had been “cattin’ around” and had little squigglies living inside her belly too.

See a pattern here?

The miscellany group consists of cats with no ties to any other cats and who either came with me from Phoenix or came to live with us some other way. Their names are: Winky (the Phoenix cat, now 18 years and 7 months old and counting), Pinky (another twelve-year-old), Serena (twelve) and Vincent (not sure but OLD, like Winky-old. I named him Vincent after Vincent Van Gogh (pronounced ‘Gochcckckckchcc’) because his right ear looks like an eyelid flipped inside-out.

Okay. After reviewing this section, it reads more like Chronicles from the Bible rather than a good cat tale tail. Sorry for that. Too bad. More to come. This blogging apparently has no ending. At least no planned ending! Oh, and if you’re wondering (and I’m sure you’re not at this point), the Surpreme Cat in our house is Raz.

What? You thought it was Me!? Heavens no. I’m the slave to all cats large and small. I have no standing. Although, I do have the fingers and opposable thumb in which to crack open the canned kitty munchies. But, that’s really my single advantage.

Okay. Next.

AUTOGRAPH PARTIES

The next stop on the live part of my EASY AS PIE AT BOBBY’S DINER book tour (versus, one might suppose, the ‘dead’ one) will be for the Pacific Northwest Writers Association (PNWA) “Holiday Party” and will be held in the Writer’s Cottage in Issaquah, WA at the Gilman Village. They invited me, along with Elizabeth Boyle, Robert Dugoni and Marcella Burnard. I’m so looking forward to meeting the other authors.

What’s great about author signing events is that we get to meet people who read books and, in my opinion, there’s nothing better than to sit and talk about books with people who love to read.

“I stopped believing in Santa Claus when I was six. Mother took me to see him in a department store and he asked for my autograph.”- Shirley Temple

That’s really all I wanted to say. My publicist says I must add a little blatant self-promotion in all of my external schtuff. I like to call it schtik. But, she’s the expert.

And, that’s about it as far as the promotions go. THANK GOD!

Now, for the last, item.

DISTRICT 9

I love movies. All sorts of movies. I watch them day and night. They fall into one of my work categories called “artistic development & all-around fun.” I watch movies because I like to see how a story develops, how it has been visualized by the director and to watch for those perfect plot points when the story does something unexpected.

Last night, I watched the movie District 9 (a contemporary portrayal of “Elysium”) which has been categorized as a sci-fi thriller. It might not appeal to the normal watcher of chick flicks (although, I have to admit, I just love chick flicks too). No. It might not appeal to those movie snobs who only prefer foreign films like “Kadosh” (oh ya gotta see this one! It’s fab.)—by the way, did these people ever stop to think that Hollywood Blockbusters fall under the category of ‘foreign films’ if they’re shown in, say, Portugal?

Anyway.

District 9 has everything—a solid plot, amazing special FX, thoughtful direction, fabulous acting, a soundtrack that will make you cry, great foley art, and it’s been shot onsite. I mean, I could go down the list of credits ad nauseum, still the viewer must recognize the visionary brilliance of the team who produced this movie. I think District 9 teeters on genius.

They have wrapped this story into an action flick with a moral vertebrae running the length of the it. The Arabic music intertwined within it and the military overtone, make us harken to the, seemingly, never-ending war in Iraq and Afghanistan.

The protagonist group, the “prawns” as they become demeaned to by the people in South Africa—think about THAT for setting, they didn’t miss a beat—is reminiscent of the hatred seen by the pre-Apartheid discrimination, Nazis in WWII, the slavery of African Americans and, now, the persecuted Arabs.

I love this movie. But, beware mommies. Do NOT take the kids to this one. It’s rated R for good reason—violence being the main reason, language the next. The content will not suit a youthful mind, eye or ear.

The producers and directors of this film have taken a moral statement and have thrown it up to the top of the mountain with a glaring neon sign. It’s not subtle. It’s in your face. And it’s profoundly well-done.

Kudos. What an excellent film. Oh, and for those foreign film snobs, District 9 has subtitles for the alien-speak. Thought you might wanna-know-it.

I have selected several jokes for this section because they kind of apply to District 9. And, remember, District 9, although powerful, is still just a movie.

Things You Wouldn’t Know Without Movies (from www.basicjokes.com)

-A detective can only solve a case once he has been suspended from duty.

-If you decide to start dancing in the street, everyone you bump into will know all the steps.

-Most laptop computers are powerful enough to override the communication systems of any invading alien civilization.

-When a person is knocked unconscious by a blow to the head, they will never suffer a concussion or brain damage.

-No one involved in a car chase, hijacking, explosion, volcanic eruption or alien invasion will ever go into shock.

-Police Departments give their officers personality tests to make sure they are deliberately assigned a partner who is their total opposite.

-When they are alone, all foreigners prefer to speak English to each other.

-You can always find a chainsaw when you need one.

-Any lock can be picked by a credit card or a paper clip in seconds, unless it’s the door to a burning building with a child trapped inside.

-Television news bulletins usually contain a story that affects you personally at that precise moment you turn the television on.

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