Blog Filler (or not having a subject to blog about, but blogging regardless).

I'm feeling fairly chuffed at the moment because this is blog number seventeen for this month. Not bad going, I reckon, as that means I have blogged for around half of the month. When I consider that January through April was pretty abysmal on the blogging front, I can definitely live with this month's blog count. I have a way to go before I am back to my previous form of blogging practically every day, but I'm on the right track. *grins happily*

Only.... (there had to be an 'only' here), tomorrow is June 1st, and that means BuNoWriMo. Erk. Something tells me that I may regress on my blogging progress this month. I solemnly swear that I'll try not to, but given my recent history on the whole writing front, I'd hazard a guess that June will be a quiet month for the Princess of Procrastination (well, for the blog page, not the person).

I am already doomed for tomorrow. Aside from the normal busy-ness that Tuesdays bring to my life, I also have the kids home from school because of the half term break (commiserations will be gratefully accepted). I also have a job interview tomorrow afternoon. While this is good news for me personally, it's not so good for BuNoWriMo. The job, if I get it, is only sixteen hours a week, but it is spread over three days, which will inevitably interfere with my BuNo progress. You would think that a four hour shift wouldn't interfere a lot with your entire day, but it does, and incredibly so. You still have to fit in your usual daily chores, and although the shift may only be four hours, you need to add an extra hour or so for travelling there and back. By the time you've done everything that needs to be done, the day is surprisingly over. And as for the day with the eight hour shift, you can forget it. Nothing's getting done that day, no sirree.

However, I am still confident that I can complete the target of 50,000 words by the end of June. Last November threw me huge curve balls with one thing and another, but I still managed to complete my NaNo novel. And I have two big advantages this time around. One, I KNOW I can do it, and if I did it once, I can do it again. Two, because this will be a sequel, writing the novel isn't as as scary a process as last time around. This time I already have most of my characters in place, and I know exactly what I want to do. Cardiffella was nuts to write as I really had no clue what I was doing, and yet here I am, editing like mad and hoping to sell the darn thing by the end of the year. Goes to show that you don't always have to have a plan when it comes to novel writing for it to work. It helps, yes, but it's not strictly required.

Or maybe that's just me.

The thing is, I woke up this morning with another idea in my head, so my BuNoWriMo novel may just end up being a journey into the unknown again. I won't know until I start it tomorrow. *shifty* I'm a nutter, obviously. I mean, I have a sequel pretty much worked out in my head, and BuNoWriMo is the perfect opportunity to write it, yet because I am me, I may end up doing something completely different.

Still, it's all part of the fun, right?

The Fairy Godmother's Handbook

Yes, all Fairy Godmothers have to follow rules, and they have a trusty handbook to refer to in times of need. There is also the Godmother Council, of which the Chief Fairy holds supreme authority over, and has the power to strip a Fairy Godmother of her abilities. 
No, I'm not going mad (mostly because that would suggest I was sane to begin with), I've just been working on my prologue for Cardiffella in the last week or so, and during the process I came up with the idea of a handbook for Fairy Godmothers. You see, my Fairy Godmother is a cat - a talking tabby cat to be more specific - and there had to be a reason why I had a talking cat in my novel. I've always known her back story, I just never figured out how I would explain it in the novel. As I began to type last week, the idea for a handbook popped into my head, and before I knew it I had a Chief Godmother, a whole court system, and a complete godmother history champing at the bit to come out of my brain. Mad, eh?

Anywho, seeing as I am writing the sequel next month for BuNoWriMo (Lordy, that sounds really scary now *snort*), it's probably just as well that I had the idea for the handbook right at this moment. My talking cat is set to appear in not only the sequel to Cardiffella, but several more books too. Suddenly my Fairy Godmother is not a peripheral character, she's the main character. Suddenly my interfering pussy is taking over the world (or my stories, at any rate).

Anywho, I thought I'd post up the first five rules from The Fairy Godmother's Handbook, but before I did that I needed to explain a little bit about what it was all about. Hence the ramble posted above. *snort* I'm toying with the idea of having a different 'rule'  included at the beginning of every chapter (not necessarily in any particular order). I'm not one for creating chapter titles anyway (I usually stick to the boring 'Chapter One' etc format) and I thought that using a rule to kick off each chapter might be a nice little gimmick. Thus I now present you with the provisional first five rules as printed in the official Fairy Godmother's Handbook, and endorsed by none other than the Chief Fairy Godmother herself.

Rule Number One - Only accept true damsels as clients; fake damsels, wicked widows, evil step-mothers and witches-in-disguise need not apply.

Rule Number Two - When performing one's duties, a Fairy Godmother must at all times remain ladylike and polite. Profanity, vulgar language and displays of temper are not encouraged lest they set a poor example to the client.

Rule Number Three - Always remember that the client is never right, and doesn't know what is good for them.

Rule Number Four - Never allow a client to expose themselves publicly. Remember, a true damsel remains covered from the neck down at all times.

Rule Number Five - Exercise is important. All clients should be encouraged to partake in some exercise on a regular basis. This will not only benefit the general health of your client, but also will also facilitate 'accidental' meetings with their prospective partners.

Of course, these rules are in the draft stage and are subject to change, but I couldn't resist sharing my latest spurt of insanity, not least because I couldn't think of anything else to blog about. I am being overtaken by BuNoWriMo at the moment, and can think of nothing else but my talking cat. I sense that I may be blogging about her quite Alot * in the weeks to come....

*Not a typo, I intended to type 'Alot'. For you to understand the inside joke, then I am afraid that you'll have to become a member of BuNoWriMo and read their page on Facebook. Not that I'm bribing you or anything, honest.

Dear Writing Mojo

Dear Writing Mojo,

I realise that it has been quite some time since I required your services, but I am currently gearing up to participate in BuNoWriMo, which is, as I'm sure you know, a rip off borrowed concept of the more widely known NaNoWriMo. In just a few short days I shall find myself invisibly glued to my laptop in order to write around 1800 words a day for the duration of the month of June.

Now, as I'm sure you'll remember, you serviced me greatly last November when I took part in the previously mentioned NaNoWriMo. You weren't always obvious with your mentoring - indeed, some days I suspect you escaped to the local pub for a bevvy or two - but for the most part you did your job well. By the skin of my teeth, I finished my novel with a final word count of 50,091. Yay!

This time around, I wanted to make sure that you knew what your actual requirements were, for when you are employed as a Writing Mojo, there are certain things that you must be able to do. For instance, you must be able to be around as and when you are required, preferably during daylight hours, and most especially when I am without my children.

That means no more trips to the local pub.*glares*

Next, I would require you to maintain full cheerleader skills for the entire month. An aspiring author needs a little pom-pom waving and verbal encouragement on a daily basis if she wishes to achieve her goal. For that purpose, I am providing you with full outfit and accessories in order for you to fulfil your cheerleader requirements.

Now, seeing as 'Mojo' is part of your title, I am also demanding that you take the form of one of my mojos whenever you are in residence. I am not going to be overly picky here and demand a particular persona for you, but if you would be so good as to take the form of Jensen Ackles, Viggo Mortensen, Gerard Butler, Ian Somerhalder, or that bloke from Spartacus: Blood and Sand, I would be suitably grateful. And if you combine both mojo and cheer leading elements at the same time, I assure you that I would be most demonstrative with my gratitude.

Next up is something that is crucial to achieving my BuNoWriMo Winner status. You must - I repeat must - be sure to punish me when I am slacking. If you were to find me playing Bejeweled Blitz, for example, a thorough spanking would definitely be in order. Indeed, nothing else would do.

And if you catch me procrastinating in any way on Facebook or HPANA, then you have my full permission to put me in chains and punish me in which ever way you deem fit (I would suggest whips, and maybe a little ice cream, but the choice would be yours, of course).

When it comes to the actual writing of my BuNoWriMo novel, I have a couple of other demands requests. Obviously I will have to include several pussy jokes in the manuscript - one can't have a talking cat in a story and not have pussy jokes after all - but I would humbly ask that you keep an eye on me in case I go overboard. It's never a good idea to overuse a pussy, as I'm sure you'll agree.

Another thing is is innuendo. Once again, there has to be a certain amount of innuendo in this type of novel, but in order for me not to go crazy and include innuendo in every other sentence, I shall require you to nibble my earlobes at frequent intervals. The pleasure pain from these timely reminders should hopefully be enough to override any innuendo impulses that I may experience. *shifty*

Lastly, in order for me to truly succeed, my fingers will need to be in prime condition in order for me to type properly. As I'm sure you are aware, fingers that aren't in prime condition are liable to produce copious typos and spelling errors when one is writing a novel on one's laptop. After last year's NaNoWriMo effort - which I suspect had larger numbers of incorrectly spelled words than correctly spelled words - you really must make more of an effort this year. Suitable treatments for producing perfectly pliable fingers include massage and manicures, though my personal preference would be for you to suck on them occasionally. I really find that this type of treatment can work wonders on poor, overworked, and aching extremities.

If you could just confirm that the above suggestions are agreeable, I would be most grateful. I humbly ask that you reply as soon as you possibly could as I am anxious to get matters settled before the end of the month.

Sincerely,

Tara Smith

Writing Challenges

Hello all! A quick(ish) blog from me today, mostly because I have a ton of things that need doing, but also because I'm recovering from my trip to the dentist this morning (and the six injections I had to suffer through). *shudders*

The next few months look like they're going to be pretty busy ones. First off, there's the BuNoWriMo, which I briefly mentioned before. Like NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month), BuNoWriMo promises to be manic. My writer's group (The Burrow) are hosting their own mini version of NaNoWriMo (hence the 'Bu' rather than the 'Na' at the start), and it starts in less than a week. The month of June should hopefully see lots of lovely new novels written by everyone who participates. These novels will be written at top speed, whether by hand or by typing, and they all promise to have many typos and plot gaps, but that's part of the fun. *grins*

"Fun?" you say. Yes, fun! Because although I'm betting more than a few of us will be stressing like mad during the process, the beauty of the challenge is that the completed novel isn't meant to be perfect. You are supposed to write, write, write - and that's it. No reading over what you have done, no spellchecking, no going back to tweak something that bothers you. Just write. It's quite liberating, actually, because you don't really have time to doubt yourself.

So I'm asking anyone and everyone who reads this to think about taking part in BuNoWriMo. Yes, I'm talking about YOU! All you need is a slight leaning towards insanity, plenty of pens/pencils and notebooks (or a working computer), and the will power to let go of those annoying I Must Write This Perfectly habits. Oh, and a Facebook account, because that's where we're hosting the official group.

Moving on quickly, I wanted to let you all know about a short story competition that I'm also writing for. It's only open to UK residents unfortunately, but the prizes are fabulous, and include online help from a published author, book vouchers, signed books, and, most impressive of all, a meeting with an agent from a publishing house! How awesome is that? The host of the competition is the author Rowan Coleman, and you can find full details of the competition and the prizes right here. Incidentally, Rowan also hosts a fabulous mini competition on her Facebook page every Friday. You have to write a short story in 420 characters or less and post it as your status. It's fun to do, and it doesn't take long to write. I've participated for the last three weeks and had a ball writing for it. It's open to everyone, and I highly recommend having a go!

And while I write for BuNoWriMo and the above competition, I shall also be continuing with the editing of Cardiffella, and possibly working too, depending if any of my job applications are successful. I'm also going to try and teach myself how to build a website, because I have an idea that's been fermenting for some time now, and I'm about ready to give it a shot (I'm not saying anything more until I have it ready. Which could be never, seeing as I'm so technically challenged.*snort*). Summer's going to be crazy this year! *faints*

Anywho, that's it for today,  I'll catch you all soon!

Image is courtesy of our lovely honorary Burrow member, Joris, who produces beautiful images for both our writing group, and for individual projects. You can contact Joris at jorisammerlaan@gmail.com

You couldn't make it up....

So it's still absolutely sweltering here in Cardiff, and I'm sat on my sofa with my laptop warming my thighs and a big fan cooling my brow. I plan on sitting here all day; I have my blog to write, some finishing touches to my prologue for 'Cardiffella' to add, one more drabble to compose for next month's Burrow feature, and some notes to write up ready for next week's BuNoWriMo . Happy days!

I thought I'd ramble a bit today about my weekend, because it was one of those weekends where nothing seemed to go right. I don't know whether any of you are like me, but if you are I feel sorry for you. I'm one of those people that has things happen to them that would never happen to anyone else. You know, the stupid things that are so bizarre that they couldn't possibly be made up because nobody is crazy enough to think of those scenarios.

Take my Saturday - no seriously, take it. I had been looking forward to Saturday 22nd May for the last three weeks. Nothing spectacular was happening, you understand, just an arranged night out with the hubby at the local pub, but still, it's a night out, right? I rarely get an evening out with the hubby because trying to find babysitters for my kids is a bit of a nightmare. My son is easy enough to make arrangements for - he's almost fourteen so doesn't need looking after as such, and is happy enough to be left to his on devices. As for my daughter, though, that's where I hit the snags. Ellie's a bit, well, I don't know that there's an actual word for it, she's just Ellie.

We have a saying in my family about Ellie, and I seriously believe several people are actually scared of her. Not that she's an Insane Regan From The Exorcist type of child, it's just that she's demanding. Very demanding. Anyone calling at my house runs the risk of being Ellied, which can include anything from playing Monopoly for five or six hours, to listening to Justin Bieber's 'Baby' about a gazillion times. Me, I'm mostly immune to it. I can have a conversation with my daughter with half an ear (which is just as well because until I pluck up the courage to get my ears syringed again, I'm mostly deaf anyway), but other people aren't so well prepared.

To be fair, she's a well-loved child, and nobody holds the fact that they will probably have a headache after spending longer than half an hour with her against her, but it's pretty difficult to get anybody to voluntarily look after her without me being there as a buffer.

Anyway, I'd arranged babysitters for both of my kids a couple of weeks ago. Overnight babysitters, no less. Excellent! The weather turned crazy hot at the end of last week, and I thought 'Great, this is working out brilliantly!' Saturday night, child free, sunny weather, beer garden, the works!

See. this is where I went wrong, because nothing ever works out great for me, so I should never have jinxed myself by thinking otherwise. *rolls eyes*

Anywho, Saturday did indeed dawn very bright and sunny, so I took my kids to their auntie's house (only a two minute walk from me) and spent the afternoon relaxing in the back garden while the kids tired themselves out on the trampoline and what-not. I left just after 3pm, my son staying behind as he was sleeping over until Sunday. My plan was to walk home, grab a sandwich (in order to have some carbohydrates to soak up the planned alcohol consumption of later in the day), then take my daughter to my mum's house before coming back home to shower and stuff.

Now so far, I have to admit, this is not sounding in any way like it was a bad day, but trust me, I'm getting there.

So, 4pm arrives. I grab my daughter's overnight bag and my purse and leave the house , banging the front door shut behind me. Then I bang the front door shut again. And again. Several 'agains' later, I realise that my front door is never going to shut owing to fact that the lock is completely knackered. Of course, I sort of figured this out after the third or fourth 'bang', but you know what it's like, you keep on checking just in case it will miraculously work if you give it an extra hard bang. Well, you probably don't know what it's like, but you know what I mean. It's like when you lose something and you keep checking the same drawer over and over because, dammit, you know you put it there. Like it's really going to appear when you've already checked a thousand times already. It's madness, but you keep checking.

Anyway (Lordy, I love that word), Ellie is now seriously pouting because it looks like she won't be sleeping at nanny's house after all, and I'm 'f-ing' all over the place because I'm so wound up. I mean, seriously, the lock had to break now? It couldn't happen on a day when I didn't need to go anywhere? Grr!

Now, when it comes to DIY, I'm hopeless. Honestly, I can't even wire a plug - it's pathetic how inept I am. But I wiped my brow, cursed a bit more under my breath, and dug out the screwdrivers (and phoned the hubby for back up. I mean, come on, I'll get a screwdriver out and have a go, but lets not pretend I'll manage to fix it. *snort*). I took the lock off the door, prodded it a few times, took the back off the casing, prodded a little bit more, scratched my head, put the lock back together and screwed it back onto the door, called the lock a few choice names because it (of course) still didn't work, and kicked the door for good measure.

And then the plinth on the bottom of the door fell off.

Seriously, I kid you not.

Hubby arrived and basically did exactly the same as me with regards to cursing, taking the lock off and fiddling a bit with it, and putting it back on the door again. When it still wouldn't lock, he gave his professional opinon; "I guess it's f****ed then.".

No kidding.

Then  a little light bulb went off in my head. I phoned my sister-in-law and asked her to house sit for me for the night. I mean, I have deadlocks and bolts on the door as well as the normal lock, so it's perfectly safe and lockable from the inside, but I couldn't leave the house empty unless I wanted to invite half of Ely to help themselves to my stuff (and to be honest, you don't have to invite half of Ely to take your stuff, they just do it anyway). Thankfully, my sister-in-law, being the star that she is, agreed. Disaster was avoided, yay!

I was running late by now, though, and my plans were seriously scuppered. I'd had everything worked out - drop the daughter to my mum's house, go home, blast some music, have a vodka or two, shower, change, titivate etc etc. Instead, as it was now 6pm, I had to make do with changing my top, slapping some lippy on, sticking my head upside down, and spraying half a can of hairspray onto it (CFC free, of course).

The bus was, of course, late, but it eventually arrived and I dropped off my daughter. All I had to do was jump on the next bus - any bus! - and make my way to the pub (hubby was already there, smart man that he is). Of course, despite Cardiff Bus advertising 'a bus every five minutes!', I waited twenty minutes before one actually turned up. And another of course, the bus was full of people who were already tipsy after drowning their sorrows because of the disappointing results of Cardiff City's big game at Wembley. As if that wasn't bad enough, two stops after I got on (you know where this is going, right), one of Cardiff's resident nuts came aboard and decided that of the ten or so available seats, he'd pick the one next to me to sit down on.

I spent the next ten minutes getting to know the window extremely well, while Nutter 's sweaty thigh tried to get acquainted with my twitchy leg. Ugh. *shudders*

And what do you know, the guy got off at the same time as me, and I soon realised he was heading for the same place too (it wasn't that hard to figure out, because the stop I got off at only really has three options for your destination; the doctor's surgery (which was closed), the cemetery, or the pub. Okay, the Nutter's a , well, nutter, but even I knew that it was unlikely he wanted to spend Saturday night with a bunch of dead people).

Anyway, I hung back a bit a waited until the guy was a few minutes' ahead, then started walking again, and finally - finally! - I got to the Promised Land (er, the Culverhouse Cross pub). And it was only 7.30pm!

So I did manage to have my night out (which was fab, by the way), but it sure took a long time getting there (or felt like it). Oh, and to cap it all, my daughter ended up back at my house anyway. About half an hour after I left her she decided she didn't want to sleep at nanny's house after all, so Bampy brought her back home and my sister-in-law ended up babysitting as well as house sitting. So, in a funny way, I was sort of lucky that my door wouldn't shut.

It's a funny old world.

Oh, and hubby put a new lock on the door yesterday. It only took three hours too! *snort* It's not that hubby is inept, because he's not, it's just that my house is really awkward. Nothing is as it should be, from wonky walls, to strange-sized doorframes and lop-sided wall sockets. I swear it was custom built just to annoy me....*mutters*

I iz Taffin' again....

Whassup, peeps? I is 'aving a bangin' day today! First ov all, itz bluddy BOILing yer in the Kair of Diff, itz unfriggin'believable how 'ot itz got in the last two dayz like, innit? I mean, it was bluddy rain, rain, and MORE rain a coupla dayz ago, but now itz like, I dunno, a bluddy foreign country or sumfink.

At the moment I iz sat on the sowfa and typing this yer blog like, with sum moozic blastin' in the background. Me doorter is bopping around like the Mini Disco Diva that she iz, and I iz tappin' me foot along to Lady Gaga. Issallgood, innt?

P-P-P-Poker face, p-p-poker face....

Anywayz, while Lady Gaga (digitally) warbles in me lugholes, I thought I'd squeeze a blog in. I've bin busy all day today, spending lotsa time and 'avin' lotsa fun wiv me very amoozing pussy. Now, if you've bin paying attenshun - and I 'ope you 'ave -  you'll know that me amoozing pussy is not anyfink rood like, itz just me furry little friend. *reads last sentence* That's still a bit innuendo-y, ain't it? What I ment is me pussy is me furry little literary friend, cos my pussy is called Muse and she is like a characta in me novel. 'onestly, you is all filfy-minded peeps, ain't ya?

Anyways, coz I 'ave to add, like, anuvver ten fousand words to me novel if I wants to submit it fer publishin', I needs to like add quite a bit to it. There's a coupla new charactas to squeeze in, and some scenes need a bit of lengthenin' like, but a good free fousand words is gunna come from the prologue. And this is where I've bin having fun wiv me pussy. See, Muse is a fairy godmother, and she's like a recurrin' characta. Okay, she's not a recurrin' characta as of yet, coz me novel is the only book she's in like, but me novel is book one of a planned series, so eventually she'll be a recurrin' characta, see? *nods*

So, today I've bin puttin' me pussy threw her paces. She's been reminiscin' on her previous cases, see, and itz in order to flesh out her characta. You see, there's nothin' better than a fleshed out pussy.

And that's anuvver fing; today's bin bangin' becoz I've bin innuendo-in' all day long, coz innuendo is like the best fing since sliced bred, innit? You could be 'aving the worst day evah, but as long as you get a bit of innuendo in, everyfing just seems a little bit betta, don't it? Youknowzitmakezsense!

In ovver Itz Bin A Bangin' Day So Far news, I'm chuffed to beans becoz me networkin' is definitely paying off. I've now got almost two hundred more Facebook friendz than I 'ad three weeks ago - thatz like, more than double what I 'ad before! Sweet! And everyone is like, so nice! I 'ave to admit, this adding and accepting new friends fingy is so addictive, itz like, I dunno, choclut or sumfink. I loves it, I do, I loves it!

Lastly, there is one more reason I is 'aving a bangin' day, and that's BuNoWriMo. Now, I know that reading 'BuNoWriMo' might make you fink "what the 'ell is that?", and 'onestly, I wouldn't blame you becoz, well, unless you is psychic, you won't have a bluddy clue what I is talkin' about. See, BuNoWriMo is basically NaNoWriMo, only wivout the 'Na' bit at the start (and wiv 'Bu' there instead). Now, NaNoWriMo is short for National Novel Writing Month, which is like a worldwide fing that 'appens in November, and 'as peeps from all ovah the planet attemptin' to write a 50,000 word novel in firty dayz. Itz bluddy manic, I can tell you, but lotsa fun too. The only reason I had a pussy to play with today is because of NaNoWriMo, so I loves it, I do, I loves it.

Anywayz, my writers group is doin' itz own version of NaNoWriMo, and coz we is called The Burrow, we like altered the name like, innit? We iz gonna attempt a 50,000 word novel in June. Now, this is where me recurrin' pussy comes into play, coz I is gonna write the sequel to my original NaNo novel for BuNoWriMo, and the provisional title is gunna be Beauty has the Beast (nuffink like an innuendo-y type title, is there?), and will once again be set in me home town, the Kair of Diff (that's 'Cardiff' to anyone who ain't familiar wiv Taff speak). I like, can't wait to get crackin' on it, so I iz like totally buzzin'!

If anyone would like to participate in BuNoWriMo, I'll be like posting details and stuff when I knowz more, and we will like advertise and stuff on our Burrow Facebook page. It's gunna be crazy, but fun, and the more peeps who take part, the betta!

I'll keep you posted on BuNoWriMo, but in the meantime I needz to go back and have sum more fun wiv me furry little friend, so I'll catch you all later! Byez fer now!

Dear Word....

Dear Word,

I have already had experience in doing battle with you, and have rambled extensively about your many annoying quirks, but today I am laughing at you. Ha! Ha ha ha! See, I'm laughing, and it's no mere chuckle, oh Irritating Adversary Of Mine, oh no indeed. It's a full on, laugh out loud, stomach-aching, almost-choke-to-death, big old belly laugh.

You first tried to defeat me with your army of red and green squiggles, but I found ways to avoid conflict. Ignoring is a good defence tactic, after all. Then you sent me copious Fragment; Consider Revising Missiles, but once again, I was able to deflect having mastered the intricate avoiding manoeuvres that are Ignoring, Sticking Up The Middle Finger, and Poking Out Tongue.

You'd have thought you'd have learned your lesson by now, but you had to keep trying, didn't you? For the last six weeks we have been engaged in a sporadic battle of headers and page numbers. Each time I thought I'd made a breakthrough, you'd sneak up and steal the advantage from me. Oh, you're a clever adversary, I'll give you that.

But not as clever as me.

Well, not as clever as my friend at any rate. *shifty*

You see, Oh Wily Word, I decided that our skirmishes needed to come to an end one way or another, and so I enlisted the help of the Facebook Fusiliers. All I had to do was request help, and help arrived. In the form of innuendo, no less (which is the best kind of help, don't you agree?).

And so, my defeated adversary, I have you licked. The Battle for Headers and Page Numbers is at an end, and it was little old me that was the victor.  So there.

And if you don't want to see me doing the victory dance (which includes shouting 'Yes!' repeatedly in an orgasmic manner, and hula-ing with the invisible hula hoop), then I suggest employing one of my favorite war tactics - that of ignoring. It works a treat.

Not that I'm gloating or anything....

Actually I am.

Nuh nuh nuh nuh nuuuuuh!

Sincerely,

Tara (I beat you, you sucker!) Smith