"Sugar", which appeared in Prime Book's Fantasy sampler, has been recommended for review for the 2008 Gaylactic Spectrum Awards in the Best Short Fiction category. I just sent a copy off to the jury.
I'm taking a class on writing comic books and graphic novels through Mediabistro. It hasn't really started yet, so I'm not sure what to think. More comments on that later.
The title of this post is a quote from "A Christmas Story", the movie of Red Ryder BB Rifle fame, and those who have seen it know the tone in which it is spoken and the emotion behind it.
At any rate, Wayne brought in a flyer from the property management company, which tells us that half the parking lot will be done tomorrow and the other half in a week, so by the way, the day our side is being done we need to move the car elsewhere for the day, starting at 7 am. Okay, less than 24 hours notice...not good. But I've put up with a lot this summer, including the painters spray-painting my just-about-to-bloom lilies (not that this still ticks me off or anything), trampling every other plant to death, and pulling the dryer vent out of the wall. So okay. Deep breath. I've got a dentist appointment at 9 am tomorrow, I'll just go hang in a coffee shop for a couple of hours if it looks like it's our day to move.
But...while the flyer lists every other building in the complex....ours does not appear. Why? Because apparently I am DEALING WITH FUCKTARDS YET AGAIN. And I apologize in advance if that term strikes anyone as non-PC, but it's the only way I can describe this sort of head-tucked-firmly-up-one's-rear behavior which seems to characterize anyone in any way connected to the management of this complex.
I did notice that when I'm really pissed on the phone I enunciate VERY clearly. Maybe they'll return my call and tell me which day we're supposed to move the car. Since it's already 9:30 pm, though, this seems dubious.