The Taxman Cometh: Nothing ruins a perfectly good April 15th like the U.S. deadline for income tax filing, but I’m happy to say I managed to file our returns safely in advance of the cutoff and had sufficient withholdings to satisfy our obligation for the past year. Another bullet dodged—on to the next challenge. For some random reason, I almost always put off this onerous, oppressive, tedious, humiliating, bloated, incomprehensible process until the last minute. Go figure.
Spindizzy: Also known as the Dillon-Wagoner Graviton Polarity Generator. Man, I wish I had one of these. Random, and awesome.
“We are Sex Bob-Omb, and we’re here to make lots of money and sell out and stuff!” – Until this weekend, I thought Scott Pilgrim vs. the World, in which the hero must face each of his true love’s seven Evil Exes in single combat to win her heart, was an amusing, random little fantasy based on a bestselling graphic novel series, awash in witty pop culture metaphor, but nothing at all like reality.
No longer. Bryan Lee O’Malley spoke truth, my friends. There are Evil Exes in this world, and they must be defeated in single combat if you wish to move on with your life.
Moving right along…
Razzmatazz: “A flashy action or display intended to bewilder, confuse, or deceive.” An indispensable element of any Broadway musical…and all that jazz. Broadway deserves a entry in the Hall of Randomness all its own.
Rumors of My Authorial Demise Have Been Greatly Exaggerated: I have not one, but two new writing projects in the works. Unfortunately, I am not at liberty to divulge the details of either. Yet. In the meantime, keep an eye on Lisa M. Collins‘ blog for an interview about my novels, The Muse and The Seer.
Higgledy-Piggledy: Not one of the fine products you can purchase at your local Piggly Wiggly, but rather an expression meaning “utter disorder and confusion.” Random-random.
Random 21st Century Problems: Last week, our dog Sooner became the third member of our family to blow out an ACL. If you need to ask, count yourself fortunate. Anyhow, he’s a tough old geezer—he rubbed some dirt on it and is loading up on Ibuprofen. We’re trying to get him to lay off the perimeter security for awhile, but he’ll have none of it:
“I tell ya, pups these days are too dern soft. It’s all Dog Whisperin’ and Nylabones. Now, my generation, we never had it easy. We had to play through the pain. Hey! Kid! Yeah, I’m barkin’ at you! Get off my lawn!”