Hiding in the Corner


Just a quick note for those wondering about the silence of the blogs. It’s not truly quiet, it’s just been hiding behind a microphone for a while.

All my normal snark and sassiness, my opinions and epiphanies, still happen—they’re just shared on the podcast rather than written out on the blog like the old days.

But here’s the thing. The decision has been made to stop doing the podcast. My time needs to be focused elsewhere. I will be doing one final episode this summer, after I get all caught up on the other demands on my list, and then it will be gone. Finished. Over.

You can still listen to all of the aforementioned snark and sassiness, as the episodes will remain online for a while. Check out the Buttercup of Doom on the podcast page of the menu here, and listen while you can…

I may or may not snark on the blog as I have in the past. I will most likely post mini writing101 podcasts on my patreon page. And of course, I’ll be writing. Which is what I should have been doing the whole time. But things are shiny and sometimes we have to investigate them for a while and see what happens. I did. But now this writer, is returning to her regularly scheduled pipedream.


twitterdudesThe internet is a strange strange thing. Social media makes it even stranger. You can plan and plot how to expose something new and get no buzz. You can ask a question you really want to know the answer to and get nothing. And then you can say something completely random and your feed explodes. Makes. No. Sense.

So welcome to No Sense Thursday.

Today’s question: what makes your feed trend? What bizarre thing can you discuss, question, or otherwise mention that gets the most feedback, responses and attention? Because it isn’t what you want it to be. I’ve been watching everyone’s feed and have learned, it rarely is. Examples you say? Why certainly… (and yes, please, feel free to follow anyone I may mention in this particular blog)

My personal favorite for the week — saw this the other day, and it sums this up perfectly.  @steveniles (Steve Niles) summed it up well with “I say ‘good morning’ and lose three followers. I’ll try ‘fuck you’ tomorrow and see what happens.”

@marysangiovanni (Mary SanGiovanni) twittered a cthulu emoticon /\(;,,;)/\ and it was the number one most re-tweeted thing she’s ever posted. Also popular are her tweets regarding cannibalism and NJ traffic… she writes books she’d like you care about too =)

@natesouthard (Nate Southard) has random squawks of pointless rage get the most response. He’s declared this is either a terrible commentary on the population or the golden secret of working in the horror small press—take your pick.

@Nukegumby (Michael Huyck) has a wide range of popular tweets, from funny to sarcastic to accidentally motivational. Yes, accidentally motivational. No rhyme. No reason.

@bobford (Robert Ford) can say something truly horrific about midgets and gains followers—if I said the same thing I would not only lose followers, I would get hate mail (justifiably so). He proclaims hatred of all things Michigan while driving through there and gains followers. I say it’s cold and lose 10.

@DaveThomas76 (Dave Thomas) past a lot of things, but if it’s about booze (aka: “Is it too early to drink scotch?” or “Martinis: so much more than a breakfast drink”), people always seem to chime right in. He wonders if his followers are functioning alkies too =)

me @kelli_owen ? Yeah… I post comments about the dayjob, my books, crazy news tidbits… mostly to my following of loyal crickets. But the moment I say anything remotely lesbian or sexual in general, especially to one of my female friends, I’ve got everyone’s attention.

It’s strange. What will grab someone’s attention is so bizarre. Anger, humor, cruelty — very popular. So, the question is… What strange non-important topic do YOU twitter about that makes your feed explode? As an experiment, feel free to answer here, but also and more importantly, answer in twitter by posting a link to this (or just retweet the tweet that got you here) and hashtag your answer in the tweet if possible. It will be like a meme and a hashtag had an illegitimate lovechild…  (feel free to copy and paste this and fill in the blank)

RT: @kelli_owen Fun Blog: #trending  answer: #_______



Broken Promises

borrowed from woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
and miles to go before I sleep.
~ Robert Frost

What is New Year’s Eve? Easy. We drink, we laugh, we tell stories while we reminisce about the year (whether good or bad), and we make promises to do this or change that in the coming year.

Ahhh, the New Year’s Resolution.

We often make these promises out loud and in front of friends, but they’re really supposed to be promises to ourselves. Whether or not we mean them. Whether or not we are only playing along with the social experiment that is nothing more than a grand gesture of superficial self-evaluation. Whether or not it’s peer pressure, or some other misguided reason to change for some benefit that is less than pure and far from true. We make promises on New Year’s Eve… by the millions. Some make one. Some make lists worth.

But, like all promises made for the wrong reasons, in the heat of the moment, under pressure, or uttered out loud to give it some sort of physicality, reality, or validity, we break them. Of course, promises get broken all the time. Every day. By strangers and loved ones alike. Some of them hurt others, some of them hurt ourselves, and some of them do no damage at all—as they were inconsequential or never believed to be real in the first place. Unfortunately, the risk of the cumulative effect of those broken promises over a lifetime is that eventually you believe nothing.

The most famous broken promises made through the fog of champagne and silly hats? Start exercising, stop smoking, etc. Quit this or start that. Blah blah. Think back, I imagine at some point in your life you’ve muttered the words yourself. I have.

This year, I promise something different. I promise nothing… and everything. Nothing, because I have had enough of broken promises. Because I’m about one step away from that jaded soul that believes nothing even when they can see it, taste it, and touch it. And I promise everything because I want to experience life, rather than just survive it. I want to absorb what I can from this crappy world and see if I can’t still find the happiness in the mud puddles of bullshit that seem to be scattered everywhere in the parking lot of my metaphorical life. 2013 started shitty and ended in the same exact place. Nothing changed. Not one damned thing. Time to BE the change…

Have a safe New Year’s Eve, everyone. See ya on the flip side!

*image borrowed from thinks books

Let’s Get Dad a Tank For Christmas

iwanttobelieveel4This post has nothing to do with my dad, Christmas, or a tank. And only a little to do with the X-files’ poster and UFOs.  Of course, it’s not about LOLcats either — which is good — so please, no throwing tomatoes at the screen.

It’s about conspiracies. Or rather, the theories that abound — even more so now that we have the internet to help propagate paranoia, supposition, and false information.

See, there’s been a lot of television programming in my house lately that leans toward the strange, the bizarre, the unspoken, hidden, or otherwise secretive. Ancient Aliens, America Unearthed, Mysteries at the Museum, etc.—from ancient alien theorists (drink!) to secret cults and strange NSA data centers. It was that last bit that inspired the title for the blog. After watching a piece on the information stored by the government, there was a discussion about how they decide what’s dangerous and what’s just a conversation. I’ve joked about getting my dad a tank for the front yard for years. I’ve told him a couple times that I’ve found one online but he wasn’t getting it because the shipping would cost a college fund. But does the NSA know that I’m actually talking about a real tank, for my actual dad, for the holiday known as Christmas? Or do they think it’s some bizarre code, like “dad” is really the president, and “tank” is really some weapon or plan or something. Who knows. I once checked out the wrong combination of books from the library and called the FBI in the same week and ended up with a dark sedan with tinted windows outside the house for a month or so. Anything is possible. But this particular show spurred a fun conversation and google search, which then led to Bob Ford being a trouble maker and suggesting I google certain things just to see how fast the NSA shows up at the door—I chose not to follow his suggestion.

Now, I watch all those shows. I’m intrigued by what they’re investigating more than I am what they’re proposing. I make fun of them on occasion for jumping the shark and have turned a couple of them into drinking games, but I enjoy them at the same time. I don’t necessarily believe the conclusions they come to, but I like that they open the topics up for debate, discussions, and insane theories of my own. I’m not what you would call a conspiracy theorist, I’m more a curious pain in the ass (just ask the priests back at catholic school… they “loved” my million and two questions they couldn’t answer).

Some of the top conspiracy theories on google are:

  1. New World Order – group of international elites controls and manipulates governments, industry & media worldwide
  2. Lee Harvey Oswald either didn’t act alone or didn’t do it at all
  3. Marilyn Monroe was killed by the Kennedys
  4. Cancer has been cured but costs less than treatment so they won’t release it
  5. 9/11 was either done by our own government or covered up by it
  6. Elvis (and Tupac for that matter) is not dead
  7. The moon landing was a hoax and all those pictures were taken right here on earth in a studio
  8. Area 51 – ’nuff said

So, since I still haven’t found an actual tank for dad at a reasonable price with shipping included, and it’s Monday rather than Thursday and therefore my strange behavior could be a conspiracy of its own, let’s toss out the question you knew I was going to ask way up at the first mention of the NSA… What’s your “favorite” conspiracy theory. Now, of course I use the word “favorite” with caution, much like “who’s your favorite serial killer?” No one really likes serial killers—when you say that you actually mean “which one intrigues you the most, or you study the most, or you find the most bizarre, etc.”.

Explanations and examples aside… my answer? I’m a huge, will-watch-anything-at-all-to-do-with the Freemasons, Illuminati, and any other secret cult, group, or society even if only linked to the Masons on a the dust of the fringe of a robe they no longer wear. My grandfather was a Shriner/Mason and his ring had my attention from a very young age. The fact that I’m just a girl and am not allowed to join on any level may have something to do with it as well… I never have reacted well when told I can’t do something =)

What’s your poison? Your passion? Your go-to conspiracy of choice? Go ahead, you can answer… no one is watching, recording, or storing this conversation anywhere… no, really…




I love dandelions. I don’t care that they’re weeds. I love blowing their dirty rotten little seeds everywhere. Because it’s pretty. It’s neat to watch. And I’m twelve.

And I’d like to be able to blow them into the wind in another twenty years.

And I’d like see my children’s children and grow old with my best friend. So… in order to exhale properly, one must inhale. And that means the nicotine has got to go.

Yep. You read that right. Even though the world’s leading lung doctor told me they look great. Even though I’m the female version of Coop when it comes to chain-smoking. It’s time.

I promised myself I’d do this some time ago. Other things happened instead. Then I promised someone else I’d do this… and even though promises get broken all too often, it’s time to keep this one.

Please forgive any snark, attitude, anger, outbursts, lashing out, or strangely calm and quite frightening behavior you may see for the next few weeks. I know some people get cranky. I’m convincing myself that I will not be like that. I’m trying to be smart about it—electronic to get rid of the other 3999 chemicals first, then lower nicotine each time. Eventually, it’ll be zero and i’ll be nicotine free.

I’ve always said I was allowed one bad habit… time for a better option.

Vuja Duh

“Everything’s working out perfectly. The guys are at the swimming hole, and I’m home with a tooth ache. Nothing could possibly go wrong.”
~ Alfalfa “Little Rascals”

I’m a tooth grinder when I sleep. Always have been. Not that I always do, every night, but that I have, on occasion, since I was a child. I blame my mother, who also grinds her teeth. When I’m stressed or sick, I grind a little. When I’m really stressed, I grind like I’m digging for gold. And considering what those within hearing distance have said, I’m stunned I don’t wake myself up doing it.

The past several months have been a “touch” stressful, and therefore I’ve been a bit on the grinding side (not pun intended). But lately, oh joy, my body has found the nocturnal desire to up the stress-induced self-abuse. Yay #taxseason!

Since Saturday, I’ve been in excruciating pain. Not the normal “oh hey, my jaw is sore this morning I must have been grinding” crap that usually goes away by noon. No, this was a special kind of pain. The kind you wish on others. The kind that makes you compare it to childbirth, and childbirth is preferable. And I also noticed, I’m not just grinding, but clamping down so tightly that I’m waking myself up. Hmmm… cue the dentist.

So apparently—one appointment, one x-ray and one befuddled “hmmm” from the dentist later—I’ve done the equivalent of a herniated disc… to my jaw hinge! Not TMJ but just damage to the TM joint itself, with internal swelling on the nerves that run along my jaw and up to my ear. Awesome. Spectacular. Excuse me? Seriously? How do we fix that? Oh well, we don’t. Again, yay. Pain management and a sexy mouth guard while I’m sleeping and giving it time to heal. And before my “friends” start with the “you talk too much and broke your jaw” comments, no, talking actually helps it. It’s the clamping down and biting my tongue and not talking that has caused this. ohhhh I can blame mom, taxes AND my new-found edit button!

But I digress. It’s Thursday. We should turn this around to be all about YOU now, right? Yes! Soooo… in the realm of completely stupid self-injuries, what have you done? This isn’t even my normal 12-year-old habit of hurting myself in idiotic ways (i.e. tripping on grass, paper cuts with non-paper items, finding a way to hurt myself in a padded room). No, this is special. Now, that aside, you may not be a 12-year-old hiding in an adult body and hurt yourself on a regular basis like I do. Or you might. Regardless, you may choose one of those instances if it fits. What’s the lamest self-induced pain you’ve ever given yourself?

Come on… make me feel better about this while I wait for the pain meds to actually work. Tell me a story. Tell me a funny story that makes me giggle. Or a painful story that makes me wince. But tell me something. Join the stupid injury club—we have cookies!


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