Cherie Priest

Tiny Godzilla since 1975

Metrics. Such as they are.

2 years, 8 months ago, in the early evening

Here’s recent progress on my comic/sci-fi young adult project where a girl becomes a ninja and fights aliens with much ass-kicking and many LOLs but not a whole lot of kissing (or any kissing, to be frank) plus BONUS Bruce Lee’s ghost, a vintage Thunderbird, zenlightenment on the fly, and fat stacks of Cool Ranch Doritos.


    Project: Ninja Planet
    Deadline: Sooner or Later
    New words written: 1374 (boo.)
    Present total word count: 33,556 words



    Things accomplished in fiction: Bad things. Aliens grow bored with keeping their distance, and come in for a closer look. This doesn’t go well for anyone – particularly not anyone in or around the Bonneville salt flats.

    Things accomplished in real life: Went to the post office; went to Walgreens; scanned some contracts for reference’s sake and sent them off to my agent; conducted other assorted misc. bits of Writer Business; tided apartment and would’ve cleaned the bathroom but decided against it for now; also skipped laundry but that needs to happen this weekend; argh this is turning into a to-do list, not a did-list.

    Other: Logged onto Google+ to find it redesigned beyond recognition. Felt like an idiot because I couldn’t figure out how to post anymore. Did eventually figure it out. Still felt like an idiot. But you know, I never do anything but cross-post links to blog updates over there … so I might just scrap the account. I don’t know. We’ll see.

    Bride of Other: I do not always react very well to change.

Fun with out-of-towners

2 years, 8 months ago, in the late afternoon

It’s been a very social couple of weeks over here – which is partly (I admit, only partly) responsible for my dearth of posting. First we had ECCC and the lovely out-of-towners who showed up for it; and then we had Norwescon, and the subsequent fine non-locals; and now Stina Leicht has had the unmitigated GALL to hang around Seattle, having a wonderful time and luring us hermity residents out into the rain.*

In fact, just last night she and I (and Kat and Liz and Melissa-who-must-remain-unlinked-at-this-time.) took the Seattle Ghost Tour. The tour itself was actually a lot of fun; I was familiar with only a few of the stories, and I learned some nifty nuggets of story fodder which I have filed away for later.

After the tour we stopped at one of the places we’d actually visited while on the tour – an Irish pub/restaurant in an allegedly haunted building. Yes, well. We pressed our supernatural luck.

Didn’t encounter any ghosts. Did encounter some wholly unexpected hilarity.

Picture it: a table of five women, all married, tipsy, most of us old enough to have children of bar-visiting age. (Technically. Mind you.) Now picture an uncommonly attractive, terribly young body-builder in a very-tight shirt, sauntering up to our table to ask what we were drinking …

…whereupon we reached the 100 PERCENT REASONABLE conclusion that this must be our new waiter.

Reasonable conclusions are not always foolproof.
Oh no. Mr. BouncyPecs was trawling for sexytimes.

Now look – we all agreed that it took significant testicular volume to approach a table full of women in such a fashion. We didn’t intend to laugh at him or send him slinking away, a puddle of mortified man-ooze. Far from it! As we told him, we were flattered – very flattered – and we appreciated his interest. But I do confess, some measure of giggling might’ve occurred as we all displayed our wedding rings.

It was just … Jesus, you have to understand: By the time we realized he was trying to pick us up (individually or en masse – however it shaped up), it was entirely too late to pretend this wasn’t awkward. We’d already asked about the specials!

So we thought we’d made ourselves clear in a friendly but firm fashion – but we were wrong about that, too. Because then he asked in all seriousness: “You’re all like … married married? Not even, like, married … but with some gray area?” Repeatedly. While “leading with the wang,” if you ladies know what I mean.

Finally, Liz suggested that if he was that desperate to buy us something, he should mosey over to the bar and bring us a dessert menu. Hey, our spouses prefer a little junk in the trunk! Help a sister out, Captain Ticklepants!

He declined, and wandered off.
So we bought dessert ourowndamnselves.



* In all fairness, it’s actually been relatively nice the last few days. This is because Seattle lies to people. It rolls out the temperate, blue-sky bait for those who are just passing through – spreading the rumor that this is a beautiful place where the residents get plenty of Vitamin D.