BookaBurgerSporkaMania!

Aww, yeah, my psychiatrist just diagnosed me with an acute case of Bookmania! Another one put to bed, a long-ass thirteen hour day. The store smells of poo-gas and this time it wasn't me, it was some kind of sewage problem. Camillio treated me to an ass-kicking cheeseburger at Longhorn Steakhouse. I'm still on the search for Shorthorn Vealhouse. I went in there, sat down and went totally fucking cookie monster on that burger. When it was all said and well-done I think I had some ketchup on my forehead.

The boy called me on the way home and wanted the new Angry Whopper from Burger King. I was talking to the former wife on the cellphone when I ordered the Angry Whopper. The guy said it was $4.57. I said, "It better be pissed for $4.57!" (For my foreign friends, in America, pissed means really angry, not really drunk).
So the guy at the counter said, "What?"
And I said, "I said it better be pissed for $4.57!"
And then the former wife said, "What? It better be what?"
And I said, "Pissed."
And she said, "Why?"
And I said, "Because it's the Angry Whopper," and by this time I was just wishing that the joke would finally be over so I could go home and think about my regrets.
The boy said it was the best Whopper he's ever had, possibly because he didn't have to hear that joke four times. (For my foreign friends, in America, we really do eat nothing but burgers.)

New Stuff! My latest story, "A Spork in the Road," is available for your optic digestion in issue #128 of Antipodean SF. Check it out. Now, for some reason every instance of a hyphen in the story was replaced by a question mark, which makes the story seem even more confusing and surreal than it was meant to be. You'll notice the divorce and my shitty life was on my mind when I wrote it. Click on my name for a special bio. Enjoy!

Bookmania!

Doing Bookmania at the Blake Library in Stuart, Florida this weekend. That's a deal where about thirty different authors all converge on the library, talk about their books, we sell their books and they sign their books and everyone is happy. Tonight my boss told James Swain that when she started in the book biz a couple years back, an author came into the store and my boss sat her down to sign some books, then brought her two stacks of another author's book. Swain seemed to enjoy the story and had a couple of his own. Then my boss hands Swain a book and asks him to sign it for her. It was someone else's book. Apparently she thought she'd been talking to James Reese the whole time. Later, she almost walked up a third guy to apologize, who, to the best of my knowledge, had not written anything at all.

My boss reads this blog, so I don't want to mention her name (Camille), because she's probably plenty embarrassed as it is (Delgado), but it was a fun story, so I thought I'd relate it.

Also, Debbie Macomber gave me some lovely recipe cards.