Lost in the Seven Herbs and Spices

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When you legitimately cannot go to sleep, you have difficulty. And when you watch Internet television you have no time. There is absolutely no timetable that you adhere to. You are cast afloat in a sea of time. Just a straight number of hours that meet each other at the number twelve. I need something to punctuate time, something to ground it, to stick a tack in it as a waypoint. But there is nothing of the sort.

So here I am, three o'clock in the morning, watching Internet television when a commercial comes on. A commercial for hunger in New York City. In the commercial they have all of these celebrities saying how nobody is hungry in this country, and that there is nothing that they have to do about it, but they are obviously being sarcastic. Besides, words are flashing next to their heads how 1.3 Million New Yorkers need Food Assistance.

Oh how right they are. A McDonalds job just can't feed the whole family anymore. Funny, did it ever? That's why kids want nothing to do with these types of jobs. They make so little money for the effort. Why not sell crack cocaine and make a real killing for the same amount of time? That's the logic. And the logic here is food pantries and soup kitchens to aid starving New Yorkers. Basically, dry goods galore of foods that you've never seen before. Brands from third world nations. Generally tasteless foods or foods that don't taste anywhere NEAR where they are supposed to.

In the commercial, they say that starving is a bummer. Hey, maybe I'm being fucking picky here, being that it's on television and all, but honestly, starving is a fucking bitch with a bad attitude. The bad thing about starving is that you KNOW it's COMING. You are running out of food days before its over. To me I think rationing is bullshit. I eat just the way I want to. This amount, that amount, filling myself up and hurry up and run out of food. Now I'll go four days hungry instead of eight days half full. I find half full more annoying than having nothing. It's like you're toying with yourself.

Go ahead and starve. Get it over with. That's the problem. You dwell on it in fear as as if it will kill you to miss several meals. You'll survive, trust me. Just drink a whole lot of water. A whole lot. Every time you feel a hunger pang, fill up a glass with water and drink it. If you're like me then you'll piss like a busted New York water main pipe, but at least you keep the walls of your stomach from rubbing together. That you don't want to happen.

Like the commercial says, that shit's a bummer. I can tell you that shit's a fucking bitch. When that happens you mentally feel fucked. Your body feels fucked. You feel fucked. It's just a fucked up experience, but I tell you the truth, after two or three days, when your body realizes that YOU ARE NOT GOING TO FEED IT, it stops with the fucking hunger pangs. Yep, they just go away because, it seems, your body is pretty smart. You stomach realizes that if you are not answering its calls for sustenance then you can't give it what it wants, so why continue to keep asking?

After that, you skate. Although you do get noticeably weaker and slower.  You even get tired and seek chairs, couches, and beds faster, just to take a load off. Now, your body is starving. This is true starvation. It's not hungry where it's been an hour and you didn't eat. It's real starvation. Your body is using up fat so fast that it's wearing you down. The cool thing at this point? You enter into a state of Nirvana. Yeah, you get high and you stay high. An elevated sense of self, a higher viewpoint, whatever you want to call it, you are really enlightened. This is probably why wise men fasted to gain an epiphany. It sure feels like one will come.

Another thing about starving for more than three days. DON'T RUSH BACK INTO FOOD. You will have the most terrific stomach cramps known to man and may require hospitalization. Go slow. Lots of water and a few bites at a time. Be good to yourself after being so bad. You've got to give it a break, or it will break you.

Yeah, 1.3 million? And that shit's a bummer?
Trust me, there's not enough stupidly rich celebrites in this city to feed all of the poor. That number is going to grow, trust me.

And then it will be a fucking bitch.

Hobobob

RED HOT Coming Attractions for February!

by Jeanne Adams

It's RED HOT February!

Its going to be an amazing month around the Lair, folks. We have a line up that you just won't believe.

Along with all the usual wonderfulness of the Bandita's, one of the coolest things this month is that we're partnering with the American Heart Association to highlight the dangers of heart disease.

Did you know that heart disease is the number one killer of women, rather than breast cancer as most people would guess? Well, it is! So, to help all our wonderful Bandita Buddies and any of our male Bandita Buddies lady friends, we'll be giving a tip-a-day every day this month to help improve heart health. Some of these tips will get you moving, and others will give you something to think about.

So be sure to stick with us and check back every day, especially if your heart's acting up. Grins. In the meantime, check it out at:

http://www.GoRedforWomen.org/index.aspx

Oh, and today's tip from the AHA: Rather than tempting your beloved with chocolates, consider a gift that has more permanence. Search for a poem that describes your feelings and write it on beautiful paper for a handmade Valentine.

(Although dark chocolate CAN be good for you....and if you look at the 14th you'll see that we're ALL about poems!)

We kick off the Fabulosity of February with the red-hot Jessica Anderson's return to the Lair.

Bandita Nancy and Jessica will talk about Jessica's latest novella, set in the NIGHTKEEPER'S Universe, CRYSTAL SKULL. This romantic jungle adventure features two of the winnikin, the Nightkeepers aides.

Enjoy the discussion with Jessica as they talk about Jessica's part of the ON THE HUNT paranormal romance anthology.



On February 3, Jana Oliver makes her first appearance in the Lair. She'll talk with Bandita Nancy about her YA Urban Fantasy, The Demon Trapper's Daughter, which frankly looks absolutely fabulous.

On February 4, Bandita Nancy, our resident guest-hosting mavin, is back again with the ever-popular Laura Anne Gilman.

Laura Anne will pop in to chat about PACK OF LIES, the second installment in her Paranormal Scene Investigations her urban fantasy series.

On February 6th, the wonderfully witty Janet Mullaney will be back with Bandita Christie to talk about her latest release, MR. BISHOP AND THE ACTRESS.

Feburary 7th The fabulous, historical romance author extraordinaire Tiffany Clare (http://www.tiffanyclare.com/) returns as Bandita Anna Campbell's guest to talk about her second book, THE SEDUCTION OF HIS WIFE!

And on February 8th, put on your dancing shoes for the gullar sahir Absolutely Fabulous Valentine's Ball! There will be fun, dancing, prizes, and a revelry beyond compare.

On February 9th join us for the return of Mr. Romance, when the inimitable Brad Parks returns to the Lair.

He's sure to woo all our regulars and lurkers with his fabulous brand of Brad Parks wit. Oh, and he has a new book out too....

On February 11th, we're thrilled to have Regency historical romance writer and Word Wench Cara Elliott visit with Bandita Christine to chat about her sexy new release, TO TEMPT A RAKE.

There will be no stopping the terrific trio that will be invading the Lair on Saturday, February 12th. Join Bandita Christie Kelly as she hosts Sally Mackenzie, Vanessa Kelley and Kaitlin O'Riley for a rousing, what-a-red-month, good time.

Ahhhh, Valentine's Day! On THE RED DAY, February 14 the we'll have a very special gues in the esteemed heart doctor, Dr. Robertson, Chief Cardiologist from American Heart Association. For a barrel of fun and frivolity along with some seriously wicked good tips for keeping your heart healthy, we'll have the Terribly Heartfelt, Amazingly Unstable Wacky Love Poems Day.

Dr. Robertson will be with us not only to discuss heart health, but to judge the poetry, limericks, and haiku for 5 prizes along with a heartfelt basket of something or another from AHA and from the Banditas

On February 25th mystery author Linda O. Johnston will be Bandita Kate's guest on to launch her fabulous new Pet Rescue mystery series, starting with BEAGLEMANIA! We'll all be going to the dogs in very best way!

Which, of course fits right in with our whole Go Red, Valentines theme since the Amazing, Annual Westminster Kennel Club Dog Show is on TV starting with four groups on Valentine's Day, the 14th, and finishing with three groups and Best in Show on the 15th. It's a ton of fun to watch, and may the best dog win!

(I'll be rooting for the Dalmatian and the Irish Water Spaniel, how 'bout you?)

A Warning

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"Here, you listen to the wisdom of almighty Hobobob, or you pay the consequences bitches. Oh, where's the hair conditioner?"

New Music Sampler - Monday Night World Music

I've picked up a lot of music in the last month or two. Much of it is brand new stuff - like the new albums from Asa (Nigeria), Rachid Taha (Algeria), or Ana Tijoux (Chile/France). Some of it is not so new, like a terrific Putumayo compilation of Turkish pop-dance hits, a sampler of recent downtempo grooves from the Four Corners record label, or a fun record by Pakistani pop superstar Ali Zafar.

At any rate, it's all new to me, and that means it's to new Monday Night World Music too. And tonight from 6-8:30PM SLT I'll be queuing it all up to share with you. Come by for a selection of "new to us" tunes, most of which have never been featured on the show before. In addition to the stuff listed above, there you'll hear music from India, Brazil, Japan, Israel, and much more.

Come hang out with me (Carter) and enjoy the newness! You can join us in world at Madhu's Cafe Indien, or listen in on gullar sahir's main stream. Hope to see you there!

Pregnant in Paris

This weekend, my mom dug out a bunch of old photos from when she was pregnant with Lucy and me. They were so much fun to see. My parents had just moved from the U.S. to France, and they thought they were having just one baby (they didn't expect twins!). My mom described what the experience was like...

"When we moved to Paris, I was already pregnant and very excited," my mom told me. "We went to French restaurants every night and explored Paris and surrounding towns on the weekends. During the day while Dad worked, I would walk through Le Vésinet, a beautiful residential district, to St. Germain en Laye, where I would have tea and a croissant and write letters home. Some days I would go swimming at a public indoor pool on the way back. I had a fitted black maternity suit--very sexy and French! Once on the way home, I was craving a hamburger, so I stopped for lunch. It was delicious. As I left the cafe, I saw a poster with an outline of a horse, saying that the special of the day was hamburger a la cheval!"

"During my pregnancy, Daddy and I called the baby 'Freddie' and whenever we visited a gorgeous French cathedral--Notre Dame, Chartres--we would always light a candle for 'Freddie.' "

"In early January, I was eight months pregnant. My belly was quite big, and my doctor was worried that something might be wrong. Dad was on a business trip, so I went alone to the Hôpital Américain de Paris for a sonogram...

"I was lying on my back with the cold jelly on my belly and the technician said, 'Je vois un bébé.' I smiled, and he kept working. Then he said, 'Ooh la la! Je vois deux bébés.' I was stunned! Twins! He kept working and then he exclaimed, 'Mon dieu, je vois trois bébés!' Triplets! He was a bit flustered and wanted a second opinion so said he was going to get a doctor and left the room. I lay there thinking, 'Hmm. I only have two arms, but I am going to have three babies!' When the two doctors came back, they took another look and finally said, 'Madame, you are definitely having two babies only!' I thought, 'Only two! That'll be a cinch!' Later I wondered if they had worked some clever psychology on me..."

"When I left the hospital that afternoon, I was so excited. I passed a little shop and spotted this cute mouse doll with two mouse babies! I bought it, and when I met Dad at the airport the next day, I gave it to him. He was perplexed and just looked at it (Why was I giving him a stuffed mouse?). Then it dawned on him, 'Oh my gosh! Are you serious?' He was shocked but thrilled. The next week we lit candles at a church for 'the Freddies!' "

(Next I'd love to share a few from after we were born, if you'd like to see...:)

A Message From Mr. Spock

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"I'm still trying to understand the logic behind this blog. It seems to me that Hobobob is a very sick and twisted individual with severe mental problems, and yet he is given a device like this blog to reach thousands of people, which in and of itself is illogical. But Gawdamn, I enjoy reading this fucker! There is absolutely nothing like him on my home planet of Vulcan. To this end I say, keep it up you sick sonofabitch."

- Signed

Mr. Spock

Happy birthday, Lucy!

My twin sister Lucy and I turn a whopping 32 today (eeps)! I wish I could beam myself to San Francisco to buy her some carrot cake.

(Photo from our wedding by Max Wanger)

MANCAT MONDAY WITH DANTE AND DYLAN: DOORMANCY!

I truly think that Dante and Dylan could have marvelous careers as 'doormen', or more correctly as 'doormancats'.  Although the job doesn't generally pay top dollar, the tips are usually quite generous, as the type of establishment that employs doormen, caters to the wealthy.

And Dante and Dylan have another advantage to offer a prospective employer -- they come complete with their own fur coats -- purrfect in any type of weather.  No other uniform is required.

Here are Dante and Dylan at the front door.  Dante has the advantage being positioned on the sill.  Poor Dylan's just a doormat!

Come to think of it, Dylan would serve better as a court jester to aMEWS the guests upon arrival.

Dante stands fast at attention like a good doormancat should.

Dylan's gone 'doormant' (the slacker), while Dante mans (or is that cats) his post.

Fast forward (or more correctly, backward) to the back door.  Dylan is alert and at the ready for doormancat duty.  Now he just has to wipe that silly look off his face.

And here are my two 'doormancats' at the end of their day (and their rope, it seems) begging to be let in.  They both need some downtime after a hard day's work.  I think they've earned a little 'doormancy', don't you?

From the Library: Imbolc

Today's program on gullar sahir's Main stream is a musical celebration for Imbolc. Imbolc (also known as Saint Brigid's Day) is an Irish celebration/festival of light on February 1 that reflects the lengthening days and the approach of Spring. Some celebrants light all the lamps in the house or candles to celebrate the day. The music you will hear today is a mix of Early Music and Celtic Folk.

gullar sahir produces this program in conjunction with the Alexandrian Free Library Consortium of Second Life. You can listen to the program now at http://main.radioriel.org. Today's music originates from the music library of Gabrielle Riel.

The Legion of Super Losers

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It's amazing living the life that I live.

There is something new and humiliating every day that will happen to you. And much of it does nothing but lower your self esteem. Trust me, if you want to keep your self-esteem, then don't become homeless. Homelessness causes you to accept anything from anyone no matter how flimsy or low. No matter how degrading or vile, why? Because that's the way you feel about yourself on the inside.

You're just a cog in the whirling wheels of society, chewing up shit and shitting it back out. You are basically nothing, subsisting off others, like a leech. Keep your head up, is the old refrain. My question is, why? Why the fuck would you want to do that? Especially when you are wearing someone else's clothes that largely don't fit. Someone else shoes. Their food. Their lives. You have nothing to really call your own. Even your laptop, your baby that you can't live without is not yours but a loan from friends until you can pay for it.

So why not have a fun and degrading day? Hey! Don't look at it so bad. It doesn't bother me any more. I have a teflon soul and a cast iron spirit. As Phil Collins would say. I don't give a fuck anymore. So here I am at home, sick. I wake up last night with dry, painful sinuses, runny nose, headache. I hate when this shit happens. I'm miserable fast. I pop some pain killers, and drink a lot of hot tea. While drinking hot tea, I also make Iced tea. Since I'm doing one, I might as well do another.

So while I'm toiling for my own benefit I hear a ring at my doorbell. I go to it, and on the other side are two well dressed strangers. They are ringing Richie's doorbell when I open my door and they turn to me with a smile. "Did you want to get your free shoes today?" Wha? "Free shoes. We have brand new shoes downstairs. All you have to do is bring your Medicaid card and you can get a brand new pair of shoes. We're closing up shop now, so you have to hurry."

Richie opens his door, which shocks and amazes me, because I have not seen nor heard the man in months. Somehow I believed that he just floated up into the air and left the planet. Like the Earth stopped for him, flinging him off and into the cosmos. But no. There he was, declining the offer for free shoes.

Well, trust me, I should know by now that there isn't anything free in this world and sometimes there is a cost for things. Today, the cost is my self-esteem. I ride the elevator down and go into the cafeteria. A jovial guy asks a few questions before I walk in, and a nurse approaches me and sits me down in a seat. After several questions about my health, she takes my blood pressure and directs me to another table where two women are handing out forms. I sit, hand over my medicare card and am handed back forms to sign.

No sooner than I'm done there, am I shuttled back to another doctor, a podiatrist who asks me to take my shoes off for an examination. I'm already embarrassed at this point because I don't wear socks and my feet have been filled with fluids because of sitting in my chair, banging on my computer for hours on end. But okay, he wants to see these dry, ashy, peeling, clubbed hooves of mine? I pull them naked out of my shoes, and plop them on the chair that he's set up between us to examine me on. "Oh, you have a bunion!" He points out. He points out other things too, but his examination is quick and painless. He writes out a prescription for my feet and hands me back to the women who hand me to an attractive, blonde haired Polish woman with a terrible accent. Half the time you're asking her what did she just say.

I go with her behind a partition and she tells me that she has to check the circulatory system in my legs. Sure. So I hop up on the bed  that she has there. "Okay, take off your pants," she says with her heavy accent. Now I don't think I hear her correctly, because what does all this examination have to do with getting a free pair of shoes? Nothing actually. Like I said. Nothing is for free. Well, I tell the young lady. I don't know how to break this to you, but I don't wear underwear. Yes, that's right, I GO COMMANDO! It's just more comfortable than wearing cotton jockeys, and grime does not collect and stick on my ass, so that when I get up off toilet seats I no longer leave a ring. It's just one of the occupational hazards of being homeless.

"Oh," she says. "It's alright. I'll cover you up." So she takes two pieces of papertowel and lays it on my lap. "Okay, take off your pants." Okay, now get this, I'm pulling my pants down to my ankles while this woman has her hand on my package, keeping a paper towel in place. Gee, thanks. Do I get a kiss and a dinner afterward? She lays me back down and takes sonogram readings of the thighs and the backs of my knees. Fine, whatever. Soon, after ten minutes of this she tells me I can leave and then exits the partition. I hop up, put my pants back on and stroll out of the little area, thanking her for the wonderful experience.

I head to the table with the shoes arrayed on them. Sneakers, loafers, stuff like that, but no patent leather dress shoes. That's fine. I wanted the rugged looking boots in eleven and a half. The guys shakes his head. "Sorry, we're out of those." Give me a fucking break here. I've been prodded and fondled and I can't have the shoe of my choice? I am pissed, but I have to go on to find another pair. A pair of black loafers next in my size. I take them back to my room with me and stash them under the bed for special occasions. That's my thing in life now. Special Occasions. I don't have many, or any for that matter, but I am one to dream.

One day, my nightmare will be over and guess what?

How will I feel?

Hobobob

Regan Hastings, Author of VISIONS OF MAGIC - Giveaway!

Although VISIONS OF MAGIC is the first book by Regan Hastings, it’s far from the author’s first book. Under another name, her contemporary romance novels number in the double digits, and she has been nominated six times for the prestigious RITA award from the Romance Writers of America. Her romance novels have appeared many times on the USA TODAY bestsellers list. She’s holding a contest for readers to guess her true identity for a chance to win a Federal Bureau of Witchcraft fleece jacket. Enter at http://www.reganhastings.com/. The contest ends February 1, the release date of VISIONS OF MAGIC, so enter immediately!



Kate: I know who Regan is, but I'm not telling! I'll give you a hint, though. She's fabulous, and I love her and her books. Welcome to the lair, Regan Hastings!

Thank you for hosting me, Kate!

Modern Day Witches

Ten years before the start of my book, VISIONS OF MAGIC, the world discovered that witches are real. Reaction was volatile and violent. Women were imprisoned without trial if they were even suspected of witchcraft. Some – including the heroine’s aunt – were burned at a stake erected on a high-tech, gas-powered grid.

The truth is, I believe that magic is real, and witches do exist. But there’s no reason for paranoia because, like humans, witches can be good or bad.

I’ll give you a few examples.

Bad witch: Martha Stewart. Magical power: Making perfectly competent women feel like failures. Not only can Martha fashion the julienned strips of a butternut squash into an amazing centerpiece, she can win the public’s admiration by going to prison.

Good witch: Pink. Magical power: Levitation. Did you see this chick at the Grammy’s last year? First of all, only a witch would feel comfortable in an outfit made of masking tape. Then she rose above the crowd, belting out a song with her powerful voice, and performing Cirque d’Soleil acrobatics all the while.

Bad witch: Lindsay Lohan. Magical power: Destroying her own career (aka, wasting her talent). I keep pulling for Lindsay. Beneath all the addictions, she’s a very talented actress, and I truly want her to get clean and move us again to some emotion other than distaste.

Good witch: Ellen DeGeneres. Magical power: Opening minds, and making even the least coordinated of us get up and dance. Who can resist her joy for life? Portia is a very lucky woman.

Bad witch: Kathy Griffin. Magical power: I don’t know, but she is just plain mean. Wicked… and not in a good way.

Want to play? Name a modern day witch and her magical power. I'll give away a copy of VISIONS OF MAGIC to a random commenter.

Kate: Thanks for visiting with us today, Regan! What a fun post! Except ... Kathy Griffin makes me laugh. Does that mean I'm a bad witch, too? Or am I just under her power?