Pinhead kitty

Day 5

I have not had a cigarette since 5:30 Thursday evening. I am not quitting, I'm simply experimenting, seeing how long I can go without. No pressure. If I happen to discover I can put them away forever, all the better.

But I haven't killed anyone yet, so that's a good sign, right?

~Meg
Pinhead kitty

I'm Going to Admit to Being a Dorkus

I spent a part of my lunch hour watching previews for New Moon, the sequel to Twilight. Some of you may recall that I ran out to see Twilight on opening night, with my daughter and her friend in tow. You may also recall that I fully enjoyed it. Then, I ran out and bought the DVD the day it became available. (I actually pre-ordered it!) I watched it that night with my daughter and realized that perhaps it wasn't as great as I had originally thought. Then, I showed it to my (I hate this whole label thing, but to make it easier I'm just going to go with...) boyfriend and though it wasn't quite as thrilling as when I saw it in the theater, neither was it as lame as I first thought on DVD. It was enjoyable again, and even he didn't think it was awful. It's a teen romance movie, cheese is to be expected. So here I am, with a love/hate relationship for that movie.

But I am a sucker (no pun intended) for the books. I admit they are not all that well written and the teen angst volume is high. But I found the story engaging and for whatever reason I cared about the characters. I can certainly understand why so many teenagers and adults fell in love with the series. (Though I do believe I could do a hell of a lot better, and I am in the middle of putting my money where my mouth is.)

All that being said, when I realized New Moon was premiering this month, I got that familiar buzz in my head. I got a bit giddy. I am shamefully excited. The second book hit a nerve with me unlike the others because I happened to read it during a very difficult time. I related to Bella quite a bit. I HAD to get to the end. I did nothing but read that book from the moment I opened it, and finished it in a little over a day. (Ok, ok, I allowed myself about 6 hours of sleep.) So when I heard that the producers were excited to announce that there would be more of Edward in the movie than in the book, I got pissed.

I know, everyone loves Edward. He's so dreamy. But the whole point of the second book is that he's BARELY in it! And there's good reason. I know every movie based on a book or short story fucks with the story. But if you fuck too much shit up, it fucks up the rest of the series. And I'd hate to see the intent behind the second book changed just so a bunch of drooling teenage girls get to see more of Robert Pattinson. (Not that I don't find him and the guy playing Jacob Black to be obscenely hot.)

So, to get back to my point (yes, I have one), I spent the better portion of my lunch hour watching the different previews that are available. The one I had caught last night on tv gave me the "uh oh" feeling. But the ones I saw on lunch looked... passable, I guess is the word. I won't know for sure until I see it for myself, but it doesn't look like it was fucked with too much. One part in particular is a huge difference, but we'll have to see if it ruins anything.

Ok, my geek-out is done for now. Until November 20th!

~Meg
Pinhead kitty

Have You Killed Brian Keene in YOUR Blog Today?

*Please note, this story has not been properly formatted, edited, or even spell checked. It doesn't even have a title. I am a moron who forgot all about this until last minute, and so wasn't properly prepared. Here's my on-the-fly contribution to Kill Brian Keene in Your Blog Day.*



Brian stood on his porch and waved at his wife's car as she pulled out onto the main road. She was taking their son to her parents' place for the weekend. Brian had a deadline looming, so Cassandra thought a weekend of silence would help him. He smiled at the thought of her generosity and understanding. He'd have to think of a way to repay her.

But that was for later. It was time for him to get back to work. He'd promised his publisher that the novel would be ready by the end of next week, and he only had about 40,000 words completed. There would be no sleep this weekend. The only sounds around the house would be of his typing, the constant brewing of his coffee maker, and San Dog's snoring.

Around 2:00 AM Brian pushed his chair back from the computer desk. He rubbed at his blurry eyes and stretched, letting out a yawn so loud Sammy jumped up and hit his head on the underside of the desk.

"Sorry Sam Dog," Brian said as he scratched the bewildered dog's head. His tail thumped against the floor, matching the beat of the rain that had just started.

"Coffee. That's what I need, boy."

Brian staggered out of his office and into the main part of the house. He fumbled in the cabinet for a clean coffee mug. He had just started to pour his seventh cup of coffee of the evening when a noise caught his attention. It sounded like someone had bumped into his dining room table. He glanced down at Sam Dog, who let out a yelp and hid under the kitchen table.

"You're some help," Brian muttered. He grabbed a butcher knife off the counter and crept toward the dining room.

"Who's there?" His free hand slid back and forth over the wall next to him, searching for the light switch. A shadow crossed into his periphery, but before he could react he felt a crack on the back of his head, and everything went black.

Brian awoke with a throbbing headache. He attempted to reach for the back of his head but discovered he couldn't move his arms or legs. It took a minute for him to realize he was staring up at his kitchen ceiling. He turned his head and saw he was tied down on his kitchen table. He thought of Sam hiding under the table and was relieved to hear his barking outside.

"Hello?" His dry throat caused him to choke and cough.

"Oh, you're awake!" It was a female's voice, one he thought he'd heard before. Her face came into view, peering over him. "Sorry about the bump, but I had to get you restrained."

"Who the fuck are you?" Brian pulled at the ropes binding his wrists.

"I have to admit, for a 'Gangsta Horror' writer, you were easy to take down. Perhaps you really are all talk, like some say on the message boards."

"Look, I don't know what the hell you think you're doing, but you'd better untie me." Brian wracked his brain for a suitable lie. "Coop is on his way over, and you do NOT want to be here when he arrives."

The woman just smiled at him, her green eyes dull and empty, her brown hair pulled back into a pony tail. He knew he had seen her somewhere before. She was probably just some nut from one of his signings. She held up the kitchen knife he had been holding when she bludgeoned him.

"I'll just have to be quick then." She was calling his bluff.

"Okay lady, what is it that you want? I've got an office full of my limited editions. Take whatever you want and we can forget any of this ever happened."

The woman's smile faded and her brow furrowed. Brian could see her ears turning red. She raised the blade and brought it down next to his face. The blade nicked his cheek before becoming embedded in the wooden table.

"I have everything you've ever written! Every book in every format you've ever put out. Why in the hell would I need any more?"

"What is it you want then? Please, I'm a husband and father. Think about what you're doing!"

"I'm saving the horror genre. You've forgotten your roots. You're no longer the zombie guy."

Before Brian could respond, he heard a knock on the door. For a moment he thought maybe Coop had come to his rescue after all, but the smile on the woman's face proved he was still alone. She squealed in delight as she danced out of Brian's view. He could hear her open the door and heavy footsteps entered the house.

"I'm so sorry to have started without you, but he caught me by surprise."

Brian struggled to see who was with the woman, but the doorway was just out of his line of sight. He didn't have to wait long, as he heard the steps getting closer and closer to the table. A familiar face hovered over him.

"You?" Brian swallowed hard. "This is a joke, right?"

"He's bleeding. What the hell did you do?" Big Joe rubbed his temples.

"I panicked!"

Brian couldn't believe what he was seeing. Big Joe, his assistant, driver, bodyguard, and loyal friend for years, orchestrated a plot to kill him. Why? Hadn't he always been good to him? Sure, Brian mocked him in front of everyone, but it was all in good fun. And maybe he did name a necrophiliac after him in his book, but Joe had always been a sport. Joe was happiest when he was serving someone else. Brian just gave him what he wanted, right?

His eyes widened as he saw Joe pull a cleaver out of his backpack. "Brian..." Joe's voice was soft and calm, as always. He swung the cleaver downward as Brian squeezed his eyes shut and screamed. He could feel his bladder release and a steady stream of warm urine ran down his leg. And still he screamed. But he felt no pain.

He opened his eyes and watched as Joe swung the cleaver down again, this time on the other side of the table, cutting through the rope that was binding his right wrist. Brian realized that his left arm was already free.

"This is my new girlfriend, Alisha. I met her at one of your signings. She's a huge fan and, well, the two of us thought it would be funny to pull a sort of prank on you, since you're always giving me such a hard time." The cleaver came down again, freeing Brian's right leg. "She obviously got over excited. She was supposed to wait for me."

Brian's mouth hung open, his eyes fixed on Joe as he freed the last of the restraints. "Pretty funny though, right? You peed your pants! Sorry about your head and cheek."

Brian bolted upright and grabbed Joe around the throat. "Are you fucking crazy? She could have killed me!" Joe's face turned a steady shade of red as he grasped at his throat. Brian released him and Joe slumped to the ground, coughing and sputtering. Alisha ran to Joe's side and stroked his hair.

"Both of you, get the hell out of my house!"

The couple got to their feet and walked toward the door. Joe looked back and said, "So, I'll see you on Monday?"

"Yeah, see you Monday. I'm not paying you for this week though!" Brian stuck his finger in the air and jabbed it toward them.

"You never pay me, Brian." They closed the door behind them and Brian sank into a chair. He rubbed the back of his head and wondered how he would get his revenge. The coffee maker beeped, bringing him back to reality.

He made his way back to his office after finally getting his cup of coffee. Sam Dog was close behind, tail wagging. "I need a real guard dog."

As he sat back in his chair and tapped at his keyboard to get rid of the screen saver, he heard footsteps behind him. "Dammit Joe, I told you two to get the hell out of here!" He turned and saw a man he didn't recognize.

"I just read The Rising. You call that an ending?"

Brian could only scream as the man lunged at him, swinging a machete at Brian's neck. A fountain of blood spurted from the stump where his head used to be. The man took a long look at the head that was still rocking back and forth on the carpet. He glanced around at the bookshelves that lined Brian's office. A copy of City of the Dead caught his eye. He picked it up and read the back cover copy.

"Ohhhhh. There's a sequel." He tucked the book into his coat pocket, and walked out the door.

Don't let Brian's death be for nothing.
Pinhead kitty

Halloweenie Goodness

Andy's comment on my previous post reminded me that I have not officially announced my most recent publication. So, here it is!

The always amazing and super talented Deena Warner creates an incredible Halloween card every year. The last few years she has asked an author to write a tale to accompany her illustration. This year I was honored that she asked me.

So go here and check it out: http://deenawarner.net/halloween09.php

Thanks, Deena, for letting me be a part of your Halloween tradition!

~Meg
Pinhead kitty

Surreal News

I don't know how much coverage this is getting, probably really only in Jersey. I wasn't going to write about it, but in an effort to try to make some sense out of it, here I am.

I spent the first 29 years of my life in the same house in Chatham, NJ. A quiet, affluent town where nothing ever really happened. I lived on a small street, and at the end of it sat St. Patrick's church. I went to Sunday school and mass there every Sunday as a kid. I got married there. My kids' christenings took place there. My daughter went to the attached school from 1st to 5th grade, until we moved to where we are now. I am no longer a religious person, as you all well know. But there were a few priests I've met over the years that went through St. Pat's who were all very good to my family. The last priest to come through before I moved was Father Hinds. I did not know him all that well, but from what I did know he was a kind man who did a lot of work for the less fortunate. My daughter knew him better as she went to the school there. What I came to learn since was that my parents both knew him well, he was there for them during an extremely difficult time back when I was just a baby.

So I get a call from my mom while I was at work on Friday. My ex-mother-in-law had called her to ask if she had heard about a priest dying at St. Patrick's. Turned out Father Hinds had been found dead in the rectory kitchen. The police would not say what happened, only that they were treating it as a crime scene. I was shocked to hear of something like this happening in my old town, but I assumed either it would turn out that Father Hinds died of natural causes, or it would be due to some botched robbery or something. My mother was very upset at the news, but it didn't really hit me that way. I mean, I felt bad for Father Hinds and his family, but death happens all the time.

Then tonight we finally discovered what happened. Jose Feliciano, the janitor for the church and school for the last 17 years, was arrested and charged with Father Hinds's murder. He admitted to having an argument with Fr. Hinds at about 5:00 pm on Thursday night, during which he grabbed a knife from the kitchen and stabbed Fr. Hinds 32 times in the upper torso, face, hands, and back of the neck. Mr. Jose is well known to the parishioners and families of St. Pat's students. His kids went to school with my daughter, one a year ahead of her and one a year behind. I used to talk with him whenever I dropped her off and picked her up and when I did lunch duty. He was a calm, quiet, and kind man, always had a smile on his face and was so good to all the kids. He used to call my daughter "the hat girl" because in the winter she rarely wore the same hat twice. His kids are good students and well-liked. His family had been an integral part of school and church for close to two decades. People always say in cases like this, "I never thought him/her capable of murder." I hate to be one of those, but it's true. I thought for sure there had been a mistake, I can't fathom what they could have possibly argued about to cause Jose to become so brutal.

They aren't releasing the details of the argument, so for now we'll sit in wonder. But Mr. Jose confessed to the crime, and there was plenty of evidence collected from his home to prove that he did, in fact, commit a heinous and brutal murder.

My mother is beside herself. My daughter refuses to believe Mr. Jose did it. I can't wrap my brain around it.

I haven't spoken to Fr. Hinds or Mr. Jose since moving away in 2007. And I was never exactly "close" to either. Still, this news bothers me.

Click here for the story.

~Meg
evil inside

What Happens in Vegas...

The last horror convention I went to was Horrorfind 2007, and it was a sucky con indeed. Limited time and money have prevented me from attending any since. I sorely miss NECon and intend to attend next year. But that's not what this post is about.

Thanks to the awesomeness that is Monica O'Rourke, I attended the first KillerCon in Vegas this past weekend. I volunteered to help out and was able to find a cheap flight, so off I went. Now, it's the law that I can not speak about what went on there. I mean, being Vegas and all, details are just not permitted. But I thought I'd give you a bit of a "vague recap" (to steal a line from one of the new buds I met there) and a couple of shout outs. So, here it is, my list of awesomeness for KillerCon 2009:

1. Talking with my hero Joe Lansdale.

2. Getting quality time with F. Paul Wilson.

3. Having John Skipp and Cody Goodfellow save my sanity SEVERAL times. (I already hearted Skipp, but this was the first I met of Cody, and I now heart him too.)

4. Singing backup for The Slushpile (F. Paul Wilson and Heather Graham's band).

5. Losing $90 at the casinos, but only paying for 1 drink the entire 4 days I was there.

6. The dealers at the Pussy Cat Dolls Casino. I so wish I could have taken pics there.

7. Meeting new friends (i.e. the aforementioned Cody, as well as Heather Graham, Dave Simms, P.S. Gifford, Christie White, and a slew of others I don't have the time to mention).

8. Tomo's hot beef platter.

9. My failed attempt to hatnap Keene's cowboy hat (it looked better on me!).

10. Room service and TV laziness with Matt Schwartz.

I just want to give a huge holler to Monica and Wrath James White for making the con possible. You guys rock my socks and I had such a blast! I HATE to fly, so getting me on a 5-hour flight was no easy task. I'm so glad you did! I will be attending next year, and so should all of you!

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Parental Advisory

New Anthem, Thanks to Cassandra

I don't wanna be the girl who laughs the loudest
Or the girl who never wants to be alone
I don't wanna be that call at four o'clock in the morning
'Cause I'm the only one you know in the world that won't be home

Aahh, the sun is blinding
I stayed up again
Oohh, I am finding
That's not the way I want my story to end

I'm safe
Up high
Nothing can touch me
But why do I feel this party's over?
No pain
Inside
You're my protection
But how do I feel this good sober?

I don't wanna be the girl who has to fill the silence...
The quiet scares me 'cause it screams the truth
Please don't tell me that we had that conversation
When I won't remember, save your breath, 'cause what's the use?

Aahh, the night is calling
And it whispers to me softly, "come and play"
Aahh, I am falling
And if I let myself go, I'm the only one to blame

I'm safe
Up high
Nothing can touch me
But why do I feel this party's over?
No pain
Inside
You're like perfection
But how do I feel this good sober?

I'm comin' down
Comin' down
Comin' down
Spinnin' round
Spinnin' round
Spinnin' round
Looking for myself.. Sober

Comin' down
Comin' down
Comin' down
Spinnin' round
Spinnin' round
Spinnin' round
Looking for myself.. Sober

When it's good, then it's good, it's so good, 'till it goes bad
Till you're trying to find the you that you once had
I have heard myself cry never again
Broken down in agony and just trying to find a friend

I'm safe
Up high
Nothing can touch me
But why do I feel this party's over?
No pain
Inside
You're like perfection
But how do I feel this good sober?

I'm safe
Up high
Nothing can touch me
But why do I feel this party's over?
No pain
Inside
You're like perfection
But how do I feel this good sober?

How do I feel this good sober?

~Meg
sleepy boo

Z is for Zombie

Life is catching up with me.

I've always been a busy person, which is hysterical because I'm the first to admit how lazy I am. But I do what needs to be done for my and my children's survival...and the survival of others I love. But something has to give.

I've hit a point where I'm always tired. And I'm not talking tired in that *yawn* *stretch* sort of way. I mean my body feels heavy and aches. My eyes are constantly dry and fuzzy, eyelids always heavy. Most of the time I'm amazed I can keep my head up and my eyes open. My head always hurts and even breathing takes effort. I am fucking exhausted.

So what's a person to do? Time to evaluate the things that need to get done and NEED to get done. Because honestly, nothing I do is for want. It's all for need. Well, I suppose reading and Xbox and watching the tube every now and again are all wants. But lately I don't do enough of any of those things to make a difference if I stopped all of it.

All I know is, I woke up this morning feeling like death. I realized that I've woken up like this every morning for the last month. And I just don't know how much longer I can do this before my body revolts against me.

But my body is the least of my worries. I feel like I'm losing my mind. No, not in the psycho, whackadoo sense. But every day I lose more focus. My memory is shot, short term especially. My speech is even affected. It's like I'm in a constant state of heroin high. I feel disconnected, almost like I'm floating through life.

I will say my greatest fear, aside from anything bad happening to my children, is losing my mind. I've always prided myself on my intelligence. Now I feel like I'm losing brain cells by the boatload. It scares me.

This is the first I've really acknowledged any of this, even to myself. Sure, I've been complaining of exhaustion for weeks now, but this is the first time I've sat down and really analyzed what it's doing to me. So now I'm facing a whole new problem to deal with, and I'm just too tired to think it through.

~Meg