Happy HalloweenFlog! They're baaaaaack
Oct. 31st, 2006 05:21 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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lkh_lashoutsMonday, October 30, 2006 - Back From New Orleans
http://blog.laurellkhamilton.org/2006/10/back-from-new-orleans.html
LKH: Emphasis
Me:street clothes Regular
Back from New Orleans. So much happened I don't know where to start.
Let's start at the very beginning. It's a very good place to start. When you sing you begin with Do Rey Me... When you whine you begin with It's All About Me! All About Me! It's always, All About Me!
I was sort of dreaded going though, just another duty, another responsibility.
Dear LKH, there are people who work too hard and for so little they can't have vacation. They're people with chronic illness who can't be too far from home. And oh yeah, they're people who'd do pagan rites (they have no clue how to perform) just to have a pinch of your success and you're calling the chance to meet and encourage thosepoor, dimwitted still enthusiastic few who buy your books and then buy more to accost give to their friends 'just another duty, another responsibility' ? Have you seen a doctor about your chronic depression? Because really, this 'fashionable black' is several years of over.
But somewhere on this trip something inside me that was hurt healed.
Blah blah blah. A couple of days away from the ginormous bed gave the punanai time to heal from enormous wangs of... Oh wait no. You're not Anita.
Or maybe it was earlier when Hungry Lucy took the stage and Jon and I danced (okay, we sort of swayed and got embarrassingly close in public, but in his boots and my dress real dancing could have been dangerous).
Oh sorry, my mistake Ms. Blake. You andJon, Micha, Jon, Micha Jon were overcome by the ardeur in public yet again. Oh noes! And you weren't prepared for dancing at a Vampire Ball. What were they thinking?! His boots, your dress. It could have ripped right off. And the condoms weren't taped to your body!
Jon took me to my first concert back when we were just friends.
You mean? "Back when he was fawning at me to get into my pants and I was still trying to convince my husband a little blood play wasn't really dangerous and would spice things up so much and inspire my writing. And didn't he understand that I'm an artiste!"
Maybe it was trying to eat Beignet's late at night while most of us were wearing black.
And Nike's with white swooshes.
By the signing I'd seen some of you enough to feel like you were familiar faces...
Sure you did, cause it was the same ten or fifteen fans who follow you everywhere. Y'know, your own personal Circus of the Damned.
Maybe it was the breakfast where Jon and I watched Charles loose the fight with the flaky goodness of the crossiant.
Did you just say that watching your dog release bowel fluids cause you fed him butter was a picker upper ?
Damn you, Crossiant, damn your flaky goodness.
And your hot, moist tightness!
Maybe it was late night talks about everything and nothing with friends.
There's nothing like a couple of days of outright worship to makea goddess, writer, woman of short stature? you feel better. Oh the temple offerings were lovely and the priests were particularly hot all oiled up and ready.
There is something about New Orleans that makes you relax.
In your case it was probably the absinthe.
Maybe not if you're living there and still trying to repair all the damage from Katrina.
*Choke. Gasp* You actually thought about someone else? Really? Seriously? Seriously for real?
But for those of us who are just visiting, it worked it's magic. The magic that is New Orleans.
Oh for fuck's sake. New Orleans didn't pool together its meager resources just to heal you. It pooled together to take your money. Because those people actually have a life. And your whiny ass is what'll have helped a few families be able to buy a turkey dinner in November.
http://blog.laurellkhamilton.org/2006/10/back-from-new-orleans.html
LKH: Emphasis
Me:
Back from New Orleans. So much happened I don't know where to start.
Let's start at the very beginning. It's a very good place to start. When you sing you begin with Do Rey Me... When you whine you begin with It's All About Me! All About Me! It's always, All About Me!
I was sort of dreaded going though, just another duty, another responsibility.
Dear LKH, there are people who work too hard and for so little they can't have vacation. They're people with chronic illness who can't be too far from home. And oh yeah, they're people who'd do pagan rites (they have no clue how to perform) just to have a pinch of your success and you're calling the chance to meet and encourage those
But somewhere on this trip something inside me that was hurt healed.
Blah blah blah. A couple of days away from the ginormous bed gave the punanai time to heal from enormous wangs of... Oh wait no. You're not Anita.
Or maybe it was earlier when Hungry Lucy took the stage and Jon and I danced (okay, we sort of swayed and got embarrassingly close in public, but in his boots and my dress real dancing could have been dangerous).
Oh sorry, my mistake Ms. Blake. You and
Jon took me to my first concert back when we were just friends.
You mean? "Back when he was fawning at me to get into my pants and I was still trying to convince my husband a little blood play wasn't really dangerous and would spice things up so much and inspire my writing. And didn't he understand that I'm an artiste!"
Maybe it was trying to eat Beignet's late at night while most of us were wearing black.
And Nike's with white swooshes.
By the signing I'd seen some of you enough to feel like you were familiar faces...
Sure you did, cause it was the same ten or fifteen fans who follow you everywhere. Y'know, your own personal Circus of the Damned.
Maybe it was the breakfast where Jon and I watched Charles loose the fight with the flaky goodness of the crossiant.
Did you just say that watching your dog release bowel fluids cause you fed him butter was a picker upper ?
Damn you, Crossiant, damn your flaky goodness.
And your hot, moist tightness!
Maybe it was late night talks about everything and nothing with friends.
There's nothing like a couple of days of outright worship to make
There is something about New Orleans that makes you relax.
In your case it was probably the absinthe.
Maybe not if you're living there and still trying to repair all the damage from Katrina.
*Choke. Gasp* You actually thought about someone else? Really? Seriously? Seriously for real?
But for those of us who are just visiting, it worked it's magic. The magic that is New Orleans.
Oh for fuck's sake. New Orleans didn't pool together its meager resources just to heal you. It pooled together to take your money. Because those people actually have a life. And your whiny ass is what'll have helped a few families be able to buy a turkey dinner in November.
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no subject
Date: 2006-10-31 07:00 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-10-31 07:41 pm (UTC)A part of me, was scared, at the thought of doing this. So much cheese. So much, foreign, moist, cheese. But, I struggled through and, something, inside me, was soothed by speaking the names, of the cheeses, aloud. Jon and I spent many, happy hours eating these cheeses, tasting them, learning their textures, their flavours, which ones went with which wine. So much wine. Do I have the strength to taste any more cheese this year? I just don't know. I guess I, like Anita, will have to dig deep and see what I have left, to give."
no subject
Date: 2006-10-31 07:45 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-10-31 06:33 pm (UTC)That bit cracked me right the hell up.
I mean, c'mon, you're at a Goth ball. That's the way you're supposed to dance. Also, if you get too energetic, you run the risk of getting stabbed on someone's accessories - ie. dog collar, wrist cuff, garter.
Though, I will boggle that Jon took her to her first ever concert.
Um. Antisocial, much?
Or is it a case of, "I have nobody to go with me, I AM A LOSAR!" thing? Because I don't get that. I'm fine with going to concerts by myself. Friends make it cooler, but alone is also awesome. Like last year. I met a bunch of people from my home town, and got hit on by a sexy Mexican. XD
no subject
Date: 2006-10-31 06:49 pm (UTC)I'd like to state for the record, it IS possible to eat beignets while wearing black and not get powdered sugar all over yourself.
I need to go make a boline for the youngest son's costume and drink some coffee while pretending that she didn't come across as a complete dork in NOLA.
(Not to mention eating barbecue. Maybe someone should have told her to watch Emeril before she went to visit, so she'd have known there are many other, better foods to eat there. Oh wait--that wouldn't have involved a calendar. Never mind.)
no subject
Date: 2006-10-31 07:38 pm (UTC)But then she might have spelled it as 'gumbeaux' instead. LOL
no subject
Date: 2006-10-31 07:44 pm (UTC)Or...jambalaya. What could she do to that?
no subject
Date: 2006-10-31 07:56 pm (UTC)Bad brain!
no subject
Date: 2006-10-31 08:26 pm (UTC)*looks at link*
Sexcraft.
*dies laughing*
no subject
Date: 2006-10-31 08:36 pm (UTC)(And no, I'm not referring to you. *g*)
no subject
Date: 2006-10-31 09:14 pm (UTC)That's a trip!
no subject
Date: 2006-10-31 10:39 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-11-01 01:55 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-10-31 07:03 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-10-31 07:06 pm (UTC)Ha! You know, I move that this is what we call them from now on.
no subject
Date: 2006-10-31 09:46 pm (UTC)Thanks for flogging this, I think my brain would have melted out of my ears if I tried to read it raw.
no subject
Date: 2006-10-31 11:02 pm (UTC)Because New Orleans, it is magic, full of that magical New orleans magic that is only, in magical new Orleans...
Re: IIIII IIIII I = The Eleven Maybe's.
Date: 2006-11-02 12:29 am (UTC)...though I tried to picture what Laurell might think was so scandalous about she and Jon getting too close while she was wearing a particular dress, and I ended up with this hideous image in which the idea of a short, tight dress crawling up her ass was almost more nauseating than the idea of what else Jon could slip up there while they were bumping and grinding.