Warning - Some posts may cause choking, spitting of beverage and /or a severe giggle fit. This advice brought to you by regular reader Louisa.

Saturday, 26 June 2010

*is a failure*

Yup, a great big fat failure, that's me. Now don't panic, I'm not about to depress everyone with tales of woe, I'm actually talking about a specific failure, not failure in general. In actual fact, despite personal blips here and there, I feel pretty good on the whole, and not a failure at all, so perhaps I shouldn't really call today's blog *is a failure* because that might be a tad misleading....

Anywho, when I say a specific failure (which I'm quite sure I did somewhere in the above rambling paragraph), I'm talking about BuNoWriMo. You see, I was supposed to have written a 50,000 word novel in the month of June, but it's the 26th and I still haven't passed 10k. Tomorrow is a no-no for writing, it being a Sunday anallat (cooking, cleaning, general Sunday busy-ness etc), which leaves only three days of the month left in which I would have to write just over 40k words. Im. Poss. I. Ble. Thus *is a failure*

I don't quite know how and where I went wrong. Or perhaps I do, I just don't know why. Now, being a procrastinator of the highest order would usually mean that there should be no surprise that I have failed the challenge. I'm an 'avoider' by nature, and constantly put things off until the last possible moment. Why I do this, I don't know, but there we are. I know that I shouldn't do it, but can't seem to help myself. It's like when you are dieting and there is a cream cake in the bakers which appears to be glowing at you and labelled with a flashing arrow accompanied with a sign saying 'Eat Me, You Know You Want To.'

Anyway, like the glorious cream cake that beckons, I can't seem to resist procrastinating. Sometimes I shock myself and keep control over my avoiding tendencies - last year's NaNoWriMo is a perfect (and probably unique) example of this - but mostly I find myself slipping back into those horrible habits. These include copious amounts of cleaning (both horrible because it stops me from writing, and because cleaning is not exactly the nicest of jobs in the world), scandalous amounts of games of Bejeweled Blitz, reading fluff (which is a fairly new habit, but one which serves two purposes - one, it keeps me from writing *coughs*, and two, I can pretend that one day Mr Darcy will sweep me off my feet and pay homage to my boobage), and even more cleaning. I have no idea why I clean so much, because I absolutely loathe housework, but I still find myself endlessly polishing, sweeping, mopping and vacuuming on a daily basis.

The strange thing is, I was absolutely determined to write my novel this month, and was far more prepared than I was for NaNoWriMo. I wasn't at all concerned about the challenge. After all, I'd done it before, so I could do it again, right? Not to mention that this time around I had a core base of both characters and setting, and even a rough plot already worked out in my head. I should have breezed through it.

Rather than get all down in the mouth about it, I am going to shrug my shoulders and accept the fact that even the Best Laid Plans Sometimes Go Awry. *winks at Tami* There's no point beating myself up about it, and I still have almost ten thousand words written  and saved on my computer. That's pretty good when you consider that I haven't had the best of years so far, and is in actual fact the only real writing that I have done so far in 2010.

So maybe I shouldn't name today's ramble *is a failure*, even though technically I have failed BuNoWriMo. I prefer to see it as a step in the right direction, and as my friend often says (another nod to Tami), baby steps, baby steps.... or just keep swimming.

Though maybe I'll leave it at baby steps. Being a scaredy cat when it comes to water, I can't actually swim. *snort*

Wednesday, 9 June 2010

*is repeating herself*

When I say I'm repeating myself, I'm half right and half wrong. I'm going to do exactly what I did yesterday (when I Taff-Told the story of the Lord of the Rings), only today I'm going to give you Pride & Prejudice in the style of a Taff. This is because one, I had a pester yesterday via Facebook messaging system that urged me to get back to my fanfic - Pride & Prejudice: Hogwarts Style - and this seemed the next best thing, and two, because I don't seem to be able to come up with any blogging ideas lately. So I therefore present you with....

Pride & Prejudice : Taffing Style

Many yers ago, Britain was not really like it is today on the outside, but if you looked carefully, like, you'd find that the clarts and clits ov 19th century Britain was no diffrent to the clarts and clits ov the Kair of Diff today. Basiclee, everyone wanted to be bangin each ovver, they just was a little bit more polite, like.

Take Lissabuff (no really, take her - she's beggin for it). Lissabuff is clit number two ov five, and she's like so frustrated - obviously - cos there's no decent clarts to be found anywhere in 'er nayberood. She goes to plenty of raves, like, but she's definitely not gerring any action. Her sisters are in the same boat, but nobody is really intrested in them, so we'll skip over 'em, right?

Anywayz, Lissabuff has gorra mad clit for a mum like, and her dad's abirrova nutter too. Not only that, but 'er parents sort of hate each ovver - well, that's what yer supposed to fink, like, but seeing as how they 'ad five doorters so close togevver, they obviously liked each ovver enough to bonk like bunnies earlier in their relayshunship, didn't they? Youknowzitmakezsense. *nods*

Back to Lissabuff, though. One day a new clart movez into the area and creates a birrovva buzz. Now, this is the bit where most people would have fort that the new clart would have bin destined for the main female characta, but don't be a ducking idiot, coz that's not what 'appens! The new clart ends up with Lissabuff's elder sister - I iz not gonna go inta that part ov the tale though coz to be 'onest itz not very intresting. No, the intresting bits are to do wiv Lissabuff and the new clart in the nayberood's best mucker - Mr. Darcee.

Mr. Darcee is a birrovva knob at first. I mean, he's all 'oity and toity and evryfink, so we can sorta see why Lissabuff - even though she's frustrated anallat - don't really take to 'im right away. But seeing as this is a romance novel, it's pretty obvious that they're gonna end up bangin at sum point, so I was never worried, ifyouknowzwhatImean.

Anywayz, they first meet propa like at a rave. Now, back in them days the clits couldn't wear what slags wear today, they 'ad to cover their legs and evryfink. What a ducking nightmare! But, they used their Taff cunning like and made sure that their dresses showed a birrov boobage, coz after all, evryone knowz that all clarts likes a birrov boobage, right?

Lissabuff had more boobage than most, so Mr. Darcee was obviously gonna be trapped fasta than a fly in a spider's web. *nods*

But although it's like way obvious that Darcee loves Lissabuff's boobs, he still acts like a knob and pretends he don't like 'er. It's a clart fing, mostly, you understand. Of course, Lissabuff would have been right ducked off that her boobage didn't entice Darcee to the nearest alley, so she takes offence, like, and decides that she don't like 'im neever. Once a knob, always a knob, innit?

They goez their seprut wayz for a bit, and some boring stuff 'appens wiv her older clit and the clart what's new to the nayberood. Her younger clits also 'aves a birrov scene time too, but they is also a bit boring, like, (apart from Lydia, who is obviously a true Kairdiff Slag who was born yers before her time) so we won't gerrinto too much detail.

Anywayz, ventually the clart what's new to the nayberood moves away coz Darcee tells 'im that Lissabuff's older sista is no good. So off they pop, and that's that. 'Cept Lissabuff also goes away to her newly married friend Charlotte (who actually married one of Lissabuff's sooters - one Mr. Collins, who was the biggest brickhead to ever roam the urf) and ends up meeting with Darcee again.

Now Darcee, who is still acting like a total tit, decides that he can't do wivout Lissabuff's boobage, so he asks her to marry 'im. Only, being a typical bloke, he completely ducks up the proposal like. I mean, he never menshuns Lissabuff's boobage at all, he just witters onabout stupid stuff like 'against 'is better judgement' and stuff. What a knobhead! *rolls eyes* Obviously Lissabuff refuses, speshally when she finds out that it was Darcee's fault that her older clit got her 'eart broken.

Anywayz, they goes their seprut ways again, and nuffink much 'appens for a while. Then Lissabuff goes travelling again (bluddy 'ell, she donalf travel alot, duntshe?) and ends up accidently meeting Darcee again. Now, if I use the movie and not the novel scene for this bit, it's much berra, coz in the movie Lissabuff bumps into Darcee when he is sowking wet after swimmin in his personal lake. Nuffin like a see threw shirt and tight breeches to make a slag change her mind abourra knob, like, innit?

So, wiv her mind now fixed on bangin Darcee, Lissabuff is well chuffed that it looks like Darcee still fancies her. But true to the romance genre, sumfing else 'appens and splits 'em up again. This time itz her younger clit, Lydia, who 'as been a total slag and eloped with the true knob of the story, Mr. Wickham (he waz anovver one of Lissabuff's sooters too, by the way). Bluddy 'ell, I bet that Lissabuff was well ducked off, and probably wished that she didn't have any clits at all!

Anywayz, ventually Darcee acts in a non-knoblike way and saves the day. He like totally forces the clart called Wickham to marry the dopey clit called Lydia, so nobodeez famlees are ruined. Lissabuff finds out allabourit - coz she's a nosy slag at 'eart - and decides that she definitely wants to bang Darcee, and will stop at nuffing to achieve her goal.

Mindful of her plan, as soon as she knowz Darcee is calling at her 'ouse (which she knowz coz her older clit is now affianced to the clart who was new-then-left-then-came-back-to-the-nayberood) she puts on her best boobage-showing dress and takes 'im for a walk.  Obviously, fings work out aroundabou here, mostly becoz it's the last few scenes ov the movie. Basiclee, Darcee and Lissabuff both witter away about stuff for a few minits, Darcee eyes Lissabuff's boobage whilst drooling allova 'is breeches, and Lissabuff gets all 'ot and bovvered coz she's thinking about when they can get to the bangin stage of the relayshunship.

They gets married, like, along wiv her older clit and the clart-who.... sod it, 'is name's Binlee.... and they rides off in carriages to live 'appily ever afta. Course, they 'as a good snoggin first, like, innit?


Tuesday, 8 June 2010

*is re-telling LotR in Taff-speak*

A lon time ago like, there was this place called Middle Urf, and in this Middle Urf there was like, lots and lots ov bangin fings 'appening. Well, mostly they was only bangin if you was called Sow-Ron and 'ad a big freaky eye, but that's besides the point like, innit?

Anywayz, this dude Sow-Ron was a bit of a brick, ifyouknowzwhatImean, coz he, like, wanted to rule the whole ov Middle Urf. To be 'onest, I'm not shore how he planned to do this becoz, well, at the end of the day, he was only this great big freaky eye. I mean, he had, like, no body or nuffink! He did have a clart who spoke for him (he was called the Mouf ov Sow-Ron), but 'onestly, he wasn't anyfink speshal - and sorta fugly ifyouknowswhatImean.

Luckily, there was this wizard called Gandalf who, like, gottogevver a fellowship ov clarts and led them on a quest to save Middle Urf. These clarts were a bit strange like, though. I mean, there was this really hunky dude wiv a beard (all the women wanted to be his slag), another notsohunky dude wiv a beard, a ginger dworf, an elf bloke (who fort he was bangin, but was mostly mistaken), and four little clarts wiv 'airy feet.

If you fink this is weird so far, then fink again. Get this, like - apparently, to gerrid of the dude with the freaky eye, you 'ad to destroy his rin. The fing is, without his rin, Sow-Ron was pretty ducked, so the fellowship's plan was to melt the rin in the cracks of Mount Doom. Coz obviously there was no uvver way to destroy this rin like, or there wouldn't be this need for a quest, like, innit?

The fellowship ran into trouble all overthaplace;  first the wizard got his butt whipped by this balrog fing, and then the notsohunky dude got himself skewered by some orcs ('onestly, it was the best fing for 'im in my pinion). The rest ov the clarts got separated into free clart cliques after that, which I fink was mostly to stretch the story out so it could become a trilogy. Youknowzitmakezsense!

The first clique was a pair ov the clarts with 'airy feet - I fink this was mostly becoz alot of peeps couldn't tell 'em apart, so it was best to keep them togevver. The second group was the hunky dude wiv a beard, the ginger dworf, and the elfy bloke. The last group was a second pair of clarts wiv 'airy feet, only this pair contained the lame clart wiv the massiv eyes and the clart who liked powtatoes (and they was also carrying the rin, like).

Round about 'ere, anovver characta joins the story, and his name was Gollum, like. He was a little bit strange too like, coz he used to be one ov those clarts wiv the 'airy feet, but after spending alot of yers wiv Sow-Ron's rin, he gorra little bit ducked up in the 'ed, anallat. Anywayz, this Gollum turns up and joins the clarts who 'as the rin wiv them. Gollum wants the rin back, you see, so he don't want the clarts wiv the 'airy feet to chuck the rin into Mount Doom. To be 'onest, he's pretty ducked off wiv the clarts wiv the 'airy feet and is mostly there just to duck up their plans. Issallgood though coz it, like, adds to the story, dunnit?

Anywayz, the middle part of the story is just basiclee allabout the free separate groups goin their diffrent ways and doin all sorts of bangin hero-type fings on their way to the climax of the story. Ventually, like, they all ends up in this place called Gondor and they, like, 'as this big battle wiv lots of massiv elefants and fings. Ov course, the good side wins the battle (coz ovverwize the fans might have, like, gone ducking ape wiv the orfur what wrote the story), and the hunky dude wiv the beard - who, it turns out, is like the rightful kin ov Gondor, what a ducking coincidence! - leads his army to the Black Gate. Now, the Black Gate is like this massiv entrance to Sow-Ron's lair, and the hunky dude wiv the beard has plans to elp the clarts wiv the 'airy feet by givin them extra time so that they can frow the rin into Mount Doom. Youstillwivme?

The hunky dude wiv a beard faces the Mouf ov Sow-Ron and like, chops 'is 'ed off (which was a duckin awesum way to kill 'im in my pinion). Now, this sorta pisses Sow-Ron off like, coz now he aint gorra clart who can be 'is spokesperson. So the Black Gates open up and, like, millions of orcs start marching towards the army of the good side. At this point, I gerra little bit confoosed with the Braveheart movie, coz the hunky dude gives this big rousing speech which is alot like the speech that William Wallace says in Braveheart, and I always expect the good people of Middle Urf to like, lift their cloves and shake their doo-dahs at the fugly orcs. Sadly, they don't, which is a right ducking shame in my pinion.

Anywayz, round about yer, the lame clart wiv the rin 'as this fight wiv Gollum, and the clart who likes powtatoes manages to split 'em up. Gollum sorta disappears foralittlebit, and the two clarts make their way into Mount Doom, which is bangin coz their timin is like, perfect, coz the hunky dude 'as by now killed that Mouf ov Sow-Ron, but is strugglin wiv this Narzgul (which is kinda like a massiv bird, but way uglier and very ducking nasty, ifyouknowzwhatImean).

The lame clart wiv the rin stumbles to the end ov a path and looks at the fires of Mount Doom, all ready to, like, frow the rin into it. It's, like, WAY dramatic, like, innit! But then Gollum comes back and starts doin this strange dancy-fight fing wiv the lame clart, and ends up bitin his finger off. Obviously the lame clart is a bit ducked off by this turn ov events, like, so he does like this ballet dancing fing and tackles Gollum so he can get the rin back. Duh, duh DUHHHH!

Anywayz, in the middle of fightin, Gollum - who still 'as the rin - sorta slips off the path and starts to fall into the fire, and the lame clart goes over the edge too. At this point, the ovver clart comes back into the scene and manages to pull the lame clart to safety, but only after havin a 'moment', ifyouknowzwhatImean. I fink these two particular clarts was a couple, to be 'onest, but maybe that's just me. *shrugs*

And that's where the story ends, basiclee. I mean, Iknowz I sorta missed alot of stuff out, like, including the elf slags and the torking trees and stuff, but 'onestly, it's not like I 'ad all day to write this yer blog, and to be 'onest, there's only so much you can type in Taff speak before it gets alittlebit, well, alot really, ov a ducking nightmare. So at the end of the day (or story, if you like, like), the rin gets melted down, and apart from those charatas that were killed anallat, they mostly lives 'appily ever afta. Youknowzitmakezsense!

Long live the Fellowship ov the Clarts, thats what I reckon.... issallgood, innit?

Sunday, 6 June 2010

*is spamming*

Well, I'm not really spamming, because if I were then I wouldn't be using my own blog, as spamming generally means bombarding someone with a load of links to other websites. Or if I were being stricter with the term, spam is usually what we call all those junk emails. But still, if I want to say I am spamming, then I will.

Somebody does keep spamming my blog page though. Not frequently, but often enough. Back last year I had somebody post a huge comment on the subject of, erm, people who saw what G Hove A did (don't want to type the real words in case I get ranted at again). Now, it wasn't as if I'd insulted Mr G Hove A, but apparently just typing the words activated some sort of automatic response. Anywho, I definitely won't be making that mistake again.

My most frequent spammer appears to be Chinese though. At least, the person leaves a comment in Chinese characters and has a Chinese name (also in Chinese characters). As far as I can tell, the actual characters aren't actual spamming for the most part, but there usually appears a series of '.........' at the end of each comment, and when you run the mouse over them you see several website links on the bottom of the computer screen. Most are illegible - you don't really know what they are - but sometimes you see a word and you just know it is something smutty.

The thing with spam, is that most of the time it is porn. Or if not porn, then something associated with sex. For example, around 90% of the junk mail that I get are usually emails that are asking me if I want to buy either Viagra (or something similar), or something magical that will enhance the size of my penis (which, lets be honest, would have to be magical, since the last time I checked, I don't have a penis.*snort*). The other 10% is usually about the latest watch on the market. (No, I don't get it, either).

Getting back to the porn thing though, I just really find it funny, and you'll need to bear with me here because what I find funny doesn't always correspond with what others find funny. *shifty* You see, to me 'spam' will always be a tin of what I loosely call meat (check out the selection they have below - it's porktastic! *snort*).Or, to be more specific, chopped ham and pork. Now, to understand why I think this is funny, you need to know that I always get 'pork' and 'porn' muddled up. Well, not always - I mean, I don't go to the butchers and ask for a bit of porn for my tea or anything (because if I did, I think I might scare the poor man) - but when I see either of these words written down (or on a computer screen), I always have to double check. I see 'pork' as 'porn', and 'porn' as 'pork'.

To make matters more confusing, around here a slang term for, ahem, sexual relations, is porking. As in, 'ooh, fancy coming back to mine for a good porking?' (Youknowzitmakezsense!)

Perhaps you can see my dilemma.....

Another thing that makes me laugh is that spam (the chopped ham and pork stuff) is universally reviled as far as I know. I mean, there are some people who actually like the stuff, but mostly we tend to avoid buying it if we can. There are people who are trying to make spam more popular (check out the official Spam website *snort*), but I think they're fighting a losing battle.  Spam is just something that makes people roll their eyes and snigger. Honestly, just saying the word makes me laugh (I told you I was weird).

I believe that spam first came into existence somewhere in the 1940's (but I could be wrong). It certainly became popular around about then at any rate. Spam was advertised as the must-have food product, mostly because it was cheap and plentiful during a time when all decent food was rationed. What strikes me as funny in today's world is that Spam is actually quite expensive now. I mean, to feed a family of four to six people, you would need a few tins, and honestly, you can get a fresh chicken for around the same amount of money (or less money, even, if you shop around).

Anyway, before I look for some spammy pictures, I can't stop typing without mentioning Spamalot - not least because it contains the word 'spam' (which is funny) and 'alot' (which is genius *nods*). Mostly I'm bringing it up though because it is Python related (as in Monty Python, not 'snake' python). and I love Monty Python (alot!). I could ramble extensively about my love of all things Pythonesque, but one, if you are already a fan I don't need to, and two, if you don't know who Monty Python are then I strongly suspect you wouldn't get any of the references. I'll just say that if you don't know who Monty Python are, then you need to do some research and watch as many of their movies as possible. And if you can find any of their TV sketches on Youtube, watch those as well. You'll probably die laughing, but what a way to go, eh?

I'll end it there I think. Nothing like finishing off with a Python or two. *winks* But before I go, I'm asking for a wee favour. My next blog post will be my 100th - ! - and I have no idea what to blog about. I'd like to make it memorable, so I'm open to suggestions. Unlike when I ask for requests, I'm not going to use the first suggestion that I see, but wait until I see one that makes me laugh out loud and think 'Yes! I SO have to do that one!'. So, I need a really good suggestion - no pressure or anything - that will ignite my imagination. So hop to it!

Friday, 4 June 2010

*is alphabetting*

Or maybe that should be 'Twenty Six Ways To Waste Time When You Should Be Doing Other Things', but that doesn't fit very well between asterisks, and it is also far too long for a title, so *is alphabetting* it is (which I like anyway, because I am utilizing my penchant for making up words *nods*).

Recently, a few of my blogging buddies took up the challenge to blog from A - Z (which I thought was a brilliant idea) and I was disappointed that I couldn't join in. I mean, I could have, but my recent track record for blogging hasn't been too good, and I didn't want to commit to anything because I knew that I would most likely end up backing out of it. Anywho, just because I couldn't take part doesn't mean I can't have an A - Z on my blog, right? Especially if I cheat. *shifty* So coming up is an A - Z list of blogs that I have already written. This serves two purposes: one, I get to have fun trying to find old blog posts that correspond with each letter of the alphabet, and two, I get to do a a bit of shameless self-plugging. Issallgood, innit?

Here we go!

A is for asterisks, because I just love 'em.

B is for beer, because it is awesome.

C is for confuzzlegasted, because I love making up words.

D is for Dean Winchester. No explanation required.

E is for 'Ellied', a rather unfortunate circumstance that happens when you get cornered by my daughter.

F is for freaking out (which happens to us all).

G is for ghosts, whether real or imagined.

H is for halloween, my second favorite holiday of the year.

I is for innuendo. Obviously!

J is for jumping on the blogwagon (and fondly remembering my very first blog post).

K is for kinky, because I was desperate to find a blog with something to do with 'k', and couldn''t think of anything else, so I loosely connected. *shifty*

L is for Lamonized Limed Lemons. Because I am insane.

M is for Mojo Moments, because we all have 'em. *nods*

N is for NaNoWriMo, which seems to be a label I use quite often,

O is for openings, and not of the smutty kind.

P is for pointless rambles, which to be fair, could have been the majority of my blog posts. *snorts*

Q is for questionable questions, which as far as I'm concerned are extremely annoying.

R is for rhyming, which I attempt quite often, but don't pull off as well as I would like.

S is for saps, because I definitely fall into the cry-baby category.

T is for Taffing. Youknowzitmakezsense!

U is for Uh-Oh. Because that's what I think when I see the state of my typing.

V is for volcano, because I actually blogged about one. *faints*

W is for writing. Or in this case, a letter to my Writing Mojo.

X is for x-rated. Well, it's not really x-rated, but this was the second letter that I had trouble with when looking for a blog, so I am utilizing the very loose connection angle again. Not exactly x-rated, but something that should be banned. Maybe. I don't know. Ugh, 'x' is really hard!!.

Y is for y-fronts. Unfortunately. *snort* (I don't know if it's because I've gone over the limit of how many links you can fit into one post, or if it's because my laptop is playing up (or indeed blogger is playing up), but for some reason it won't let me shamelessly plug y-fronts. Imagine that! If you would like to read a pants post about pants, this is the link: http://procrastinatewithtundiel.blogspot.com/2009/12/its-all-pants-i-say-pants.html) Hmm, it will let me post a full link, but not a magic link which is hidden within the text.... vewy vewy stwange....

Z is for zzzzzzzz. Because I blogged about sleeping. How convenient!

And here endeth the shameless plugging. Oh, wait, no it doesn't! I have one more plug for you, but this time it's for my writers group. June is our A - Z month, and our website - http://www.the-burrow.org/ - is currently showcasing drabbles inspired by the letters of the alphabet. Drop by every day for a new drabble! And in case you thought we couldn't count, yes, we know there are thirty days in June and only twenty-six letters in the alphabet. That's why we have drabbles inspired by Sundays every, erm, Sunday! *winks*

Wednesday, 2 June 2010


Ten Things To Do When Procrastinating Over Writing Your BuNo Novel....

Randomly decide that today will be the best day ever to sort out the cupboard under the kitchen sink. Of course, when cupboard under the kitchen sink is arranged in a more orderly manner, other cupboards in the kitchen will obviously need a little tidying too.

For research purposes, spend a little time observing the family cat in order to document feline daily behaviour. Forget that your family's puss is in fact an ordinary cat and not the talking puss from your novel, and waste further time by trying to engage said cat in an intellectual conversation. Nuff said.

Play Bejeweled Blitz.

Get extremely annoyed and vexed because your Writing Mojo didn't do his job properly and spank you when he caught you playing Bejeweled Blitz.

Get sucked into watching iCarly with your daughter, even though you usually plug your ears and ignore the TV at all other times.

Write pointless blogs which will probably only be read by the author, and which only serve the purpose of filling another space in order to be one step closer to that magical 100th blog post goal.

Log into Facebook, scroll down the homepage with your eyes closed and randomly left-click your mouse. Open your eyes and read the entire page of wherever the magic mouse click took you. Bonus points if you click on Bejeweled Blitz.

Go to the shop and buy a lottery ticket. Spend an hour daydreaming about how you would spend your millions, and fine tune the shortlist of publishing houses that you intend to 'donate' to in return for publishing your novel.

Forgo the usual exasperated "You are not watching THIS again!" speech when daughter puts on a movie, then spend 90-odd minutes guiltily being entertained by Johnny Depp's Cry Baby.

Waste half an hour thinking up a tenth thing for the Ten Things To Do When Procrastinating Over Writing Your BuNo Novel list.

Tuesday, 1 June 2010

*is doing it all over again*

Good morning/afternoon/evening everyone! Ima Nutcase here, your faithful reporter dutifully doing her thing and bringing you the latest news from around the world (or Cardiff, as the case may be). I have to apologise because I have been so scarce lately, but my boss made me cover some "important" stories over the last few months and I haven't been able to stick to what I know best. (Honestly, I kept telling Mr Editor that nobody was interested in British politics or Icelandic volcanoes, but he wouldn't have it, and forced me to report on them anyway. *rolls eyes*).

So here I am, back to my roots in the Kair of Diff, and about to meet up with one of my favorite victims clients. My faithful readers should be in no doubt of whom I speak of, for today's subject has been interviewed a few times before, and each time was very interesting. I am talking about, of course, young Cardiff housewife Tara Smith. Tara (who still insists she is 23) is, as I'm sure you'll remember, rather famous (or so she claims) for being a procrastinator of the first order, as well as a semi-regular blogger and part-time writer of innuendo-filled modern fairy tales. The last time we caught up with Tara, she was bemoaning the state of her NaNo novel because she had suffered some damage to her computer. You will be pleased to know that Tara (23), finally finished her novel, despite her setbacks, and even managed to get a decent laptop to replace her rather decrepit computer.

Now, six months later, we catch up with the young housewife and see what she has up her sleeves for the coming month.

Ima Nutcase: So Tara, what have you been up to since we last spoke to you?

Tara Smith: Oh you know, this and that. Well, mostly this if I'm honest, and not a lot of that at all, but you know what I mean.

IN: Quite. So you've not had a very eventful six months, then?

TS: Well I wouldn't say that. There's been lots of stuff going on, but I'm sure it wouldn't interest your readers. I'd much prefer to keep things of a private nature, well, private, if you know what I mean. I'm not one to talk, you know that.

IN: I see. So you don't want to discuss the last few months with your favorite roving reporter?

TS: Nope.

IN: Not even a little bit?

TS: Sorry.

IN: *pouts*

TS: I thought you might want to discuss things that are happening right now, you know, current events, that sort of thing.

IN: Well, if that's all you've got for me, I suppose we might as well....

Yes, dear readers, it seems that our twenty-something friend is not willing to discuss her recent history with us. But never fear, I am sure we can still get some interesting details about forthcoming events from our young Cardiffian.

IN: So, moving swiftly on, what can you tell us about what is happening in your life right now?

TS: Well, I have two pieces of news for you.

IN: Excellent!

TS: I'll tell you the smaller piece first, because I know how you reporters like to keep the bigger stuff for the end of the article, yes?

IN: Indeed. Always best to keep the climax for the finale, don't you agree?

TS: Oh yes, I quite agree. Well, the first thing I'm going to tell you about is my blog. I've decided that I will be using asterisked titles for all of my June blogs.

IN: Didn't you do that before?

TS: Yes! I'm glad you remember! I'm starting a tradition!

IN: A tradition?

TS: Yes, a tradition!

At this point, dear reader, I have to admit that your faithful reporter is somewhat confused. A tradition would imply that something is occurring on a regular basis, but seeing as it has been six months since the last time our young friend blogged with asterisked titles, this poor Nutcase is a wee bit confuzzlegasted. Obviously we need to pump for more details.

TS: Honestly. *rolls eyes* I'm leading up to my big news here, isn't it obvious?

Well, not really, no.

TS: Well the last time I asterisked all over the place, I was writing my NaNo novel, yes? This time I am writing my BuNo novel, which although has a different name, is basically the same thing.

IN: You're writing the same book again?

TS: No! I meant that NaNo and BuNo are the same sort of thing. Only I have to admit, I like BuNo better.

IN: Ah! *penny drops* You are attempting to write a 50,000 word novel this month again, yes?

TS: Yes! Only this time, my fabulous writers group are hosting the event. I thought that asterisking my blog titles for the month of June would be a nice little connection with the whole write-a-novel-in-30-days- thingy. Youknowzitmakezsense!

IN: *takes a calming breath and counts to ten* So you are going to blog this month using asterisked titles?

TS: Yes!

IN: And you are also going to write a novel?

TS: Well duh, isn't that what I've been trying to explain to you?

Quite frankly, at this point, dear reader, your humble Nutcase is feeling a bit violent, but being the professional person that I am, I resist strangling the youngish housewife and paste a friendly smile to my face as she starts rambling about her current project. I suspect that the Cardiffian has been at the vodka again, but I refrain from probing this issue as that would mean extending the interview, and quite honestly, this Nutcase has had about enough for one day.

IN: In short, you are blogging with asterisks this month because you are writing a novel, and that is what you did the last time?

TS: That's right, Ima, I am. Ooh, Ima, I am - that's kinda funny, isn't it? Ima, I am, Ima, I am....

IN:  *gnashes teeth * And what is the subject of your latest novel? Perhaps a sequel to your last effort?

TS: Er, actually, I'm still not sure.

IN: But shouldn't you be writing already? It is the first day of June.

TS: Oh pish posh, that doesn't bother me. I'll start writing something by the end of the day, never you fear.

As the young housewife takes a sip of a suspiciously clear-looking 'cup of tea', this reporter feels that the interview has come to a natural conclusion. As we pack up our equipment, we leave the Kairdiff Slag sipping her 'tea' and humming somewhat manically, and we promise her that we will be back to follow up on her current project.

Though honestly, if another volcanic eruption happens, I'll be begging Mr Editor to let me cover that instead.

Ima Nutcase, The Daily Ramble.