Spring Chickens

If you read my recent Flying Monkeys post, then you know I had a phone consultation with David Henry Sterry. He's on call over at The Book Doctors  He and his agent wife wrote the book, The Essential Guide to Getting Your Book Published. Now, they also do webinars, clever pitchapoolza contests and anything and everything to help aspiring writers. I won a free consultation with David. What a character! Afterwards, David asked if I would read his book Chicken. I took it on as an intriguing writing assignment. What an innocent barnyard title his book possessed. I told him I'd read it and cluck all about it on Amazon. Gasp. Here's my review of his experience in the poultry industry...

In writing, it all comes down to a clever positioning of words. And David Henry Sterry arranges his like a mad scientist, cleverly peppering his scenes with naughty spice. Asphyxiation by Vagina? It's in there bubbling with the rest of the chicken soup. It turns out, that in the Hollywood farmyard, chickens, are not merely egg producers or corn guzzlers. To put it bluntly, they're male prostitutes. David entered a seedy world and lived to tell the tale. We know that, from his moving acknowledgment of his wife Arielle Eckstut at the end of the book. We're glad, as readers, that we are only voyeurs of Hollywood's sexy beasts, colorful pimps and the wanted and unwanted of the streets. He tells his tale with a sympathetic slant for some of his clients, a reflective eye on his past and an unflinching perspective of himself. Chicken soup. Slurp it down and enjoy.

Ha! 

I bet you didn't expect that. Neither did I. But it was a good book.

Now, head over to Springtime in Magnolia for my harrowing book review of Behind the Beautiful Forevers...

The Book of Crow

Ha!

The crow really does look like he is stalking the cat, ready to deliver an unsolicited sermon. Meanwhile, the cat looks ready to snarl, "Beat it crow. And yes, I mean literally. Beat your winged ass outta here." And don't get me started on Edgar Allen Poe being the crow's savior. Who thought of that? Good one mystery internet person. That actually makes complete sense. Even with the misspelling shown above, I still love it!

Sometimes, I wonder what I'm going to write about here on The Chorus of the Crows every week. But, usually, inspiration strikes in timely ways. Like last week when I ran across this image on facebook. Hopefully, I won't get in trouble for re-posting it here. I just couldn't resist.  As some of you know, my blog title is more than just a name, it's the top candidate for my future book title. And no, my book isn't about an avian choir group. 

We've all been there. You are slouching on your sofa, eating a bowl of cookie crisp cereal and out of the corner of your eye you catch a glimpse of seer sucker. You try to use your cloaking device, but Scotty just screamed at you in a disarming dialect, that it's not working! Ga! It's too late. A few feverish seconds later, the door bell rings and you feel compelled to answer. The guy in the suit probably saw you through the window, you rationalize with a growl. Casually, and irritably, you go to the door. You already know that whatever they're selling, you're not buying. And then you slowly open the door...

Ugh!

 I've been thinking a lot about religions that send out door to door solicitors lately. Mormons do it. And, our beloved Prince did it too. RIP Prince. He was a Jehovah's Witness. Although I am indeed religious, I don't go to church. Sorry Mom. But, I do remember how missionaries were revered in the Methodist church of my youth. I always thought though, how unwelcome most of their honorable efforts must be. It's weird to try and foist your religion on someone else. 

Especially if you're a crow!

Miss Nina Johnson

I bet we all have a dear friend like Nina. She sent me an urgent message last week. She needed assistance. Poor thing. Nina is in a jam. Or, is it scam? 

I just had a thought bubble. Wouldn't it be funny if I could actually send Nina a can of spam? (a glutenous ham product) I could tell her the check is on the way, arousing thoughts of vacation homes on the French Rivera in her duplicitous mind, and then... send spam. Just a can of spam. To a scammer that ends up in the virtual spammer. Or spam folder. I'll let Nina do most of the writing this week... 


Dearest One,
 
Good day to you, I hope my mail meets you in good health. Please do not be surprise to receive this letter. I am coming to you in good faith with believe that you will not let me down in this unpleasant situation. I will be thankful to you if you could understand my plight and touch your heart to help me out. 
 
I am Miss Nina Johnson the only child of Late Chief & Mrs Johnson Nado  of Cote d'Ivoire. My father was a wealthy businessman who deals on  Cocoa and Diamond. My father was killed last year November because he is not in support of our president
I am contacting you because of the sum of US$8.9M (Eight Million Nine Hundred Thousand United States Dollars) which my late father deposited in a bank here in my country with my name as the next of kin.


I will be glad to give you 20% of the money for your assistance after the transfer, and furthermore you will have share in the profit of the investments.
I am honorably seeking your assistance in the
following ways:
 
(1) I will use it for investment purpose such as Music industries or hotel management .
(2) To provide a bank account into which this money would be transferred to.
(3) To serve as a guardian of this fund since I am only 18 years.
(4) To make arrangement for me to come over to your country to further my education and to secure a resident permit in your country.
 
Please it is important you contact me immediately for more clarification on the next step on this transaction.


Awaiting your immediate response 
 
Yours Sincerely 


Nina didn't even sign off. Sniff. And her exotic lineage was my favorite part. If I was Nina, I would sign every thing...

Miss Nina Johnson the only child of Late Chief & Mrs Johnson Nado  of Cote d'Ivoire. 

Ooh la la. That sounds so official. Except for the familiar Nina Johnson part. 

Maybe mine could be...

Mrs Sharon Wagner the only child of the late family chief Sidney Gearing & Mrs Gearing Alma of the drift-less region of the Wisconsin wilderness

I guess she (or he) didn't want to put her John Henry on a curious and poorly written plea for help. I wouldn't either.

I do have a sense of deja vu upon reading it. Her foreign plight sounds all too familiar. Check your folders people. Nina might be your dearest one too!

The Crime of the Cat Food

Was it Hana?

Or, was it Akua. 

We had a little incident a couple weeks ago. Well, two incidents really. And then, finally, enlightenment. I've covered this topic before. So, after dragging my blogging audience through the mud with Funny Felines and The Colon of the Crows, do I dare ruffle more whiskers with another brown post? I guess so.

I'll start in the middle of the story. My husband retrieved his athletic bag from the basement and pulled out one of his inline skates to check out the status of its spin. That's when he noticed a smudge. A stinky smudge. A stinky smudge of poop on the skate. What in the world?

We proceeded to head to the lake for a roll and a walk. He rolls while I walk. As soon as we get there, my husband takes out his roller-athletic bag from the car, removes his shoes and attempts to put on his skates. Holy S$#&! There's a coil of poop inside the bag. And more smudges and smears. Gah! All I know is that it wasn't me. The writer.

Well, we laughed. Or, at least I laughed. And we just couldn't imagine why one of our beloved fur babies would leave us this... gift. My old cat baby left me a piece of poop in my kleenex box once. And of course there was the sink incident I mentioned in Funny Felines, but this was even weirder.

It just so happens that Akua wasn't eating all of his food at the same time as skate gate. We weren't sure if he was having tummy problems or was just sick of his dried up old pellets. So, of course, the first thing we did was rush out to buy an even more expensive bag of cat food. The priciest yet. Forty-five buckaroos. I told my husband, "My parents would turn over in their grave if they knew we just spent approximately 5 dollars a pound on cat food." Good grief!

Well, also at the same time, we had a little incident in the basement. The washer hose sprayed water all over the carpet. My husband put a fan underneath the carpet to dry it out. We left it on overnight and well into the next day. Then, our cat sized brains finally figured out the whole stinky mess. There was a fan monster blocking the way to the litter box! Akua wasn't being finicky. And he wasn't having tummy troubles either. He had to go number 2. Really bad. And there was a fan monster in-between him and the bathroom. Poor Akua. I guess the athletic bag was the only thing open and available. Hana seems to have traipsed the monster fan minefield without incident. She's one easy going kitty.

Poor us ($45 dollar cat food)

Poor Akua

So, just how many random poop incidents have there been? 5. For Random 5 Friday

1) Kleenex box gate. I figure baby was jumping from the headboard to the mantel of the fireplace, over an innocent box of Kleenex. If you're a cat owner, you know how they race if they have something sticky stuck back there. They don't have the luxury of T.P.

2) The corner of the studio by the window gate. (unsolved)

3) Bathtub gate (I think both cats were locked in there because we had men going in and out of the house)

4) Bathroom sink gate (Hana locked herself in there)

5) Roller bag gate

Hopefully that's...

The End!