Random writers

I am clueless why I've become so lax about newsroom blogging. It's not like there's not enough material to fill a small novella. I guess we've all just been so busy during the Christmas season.

Kirby just made a Sonic run and the manager came out and chewed her out and asked her what she was doing there. Kirby worked at Sonic one day and quit. Apparently the manager doesn't like ex-employees to patronize his establishment.

Ryan just walked into the newsroom and declared "assorted chocolates!" in his best British accent. Then he said he was going to punch Jeff right in the face. Then he turned to Kirby and casually asked "do you ever watch Family Guy?" Newsroom people are random people.

My coat smells like dog pee and I have no idea why. Now I'm going to be known as "the smelly writer."

I'm just glad it's Friday. It's been an exhausting week.

Electronic voices

It's official. My britches barely fit anymore and I have to wear leggings and tunics until I decide to stop stuffing all this holiday food into my mouth. But hey...

So, we're all a little tired today from the holiday party last night. Not that it went late into the night or anything...it's just...well, you know.

And on top of all that, a guy named Doug just came on our speaker phones here in the office. His voice just came out of nowhere, asking for help. Kinda creepy, really.

Thank you...thank you. I'll be here all week. Be sure to tip your waitress.

Sugar Plum Enchiladas

It is a beautiful day because Kirby is performing the entire Dance of the Sugarplum Fairy in the middle of the newsroom.

Well, that and it's Friday.

We have our annual WDN Christmas party this Sunday. Here is what the newsroom has to say about THAT:

Patti: "Wooooohooooo, free food! In the words of an old outlaw I once knew - "never turn down a free meal." He was also just released from the big house."

Ryan: "Tacos or enchiladas?"

Kirby: "You can't just put me on the spot like this. This isn't Miss America, you know."

Southern Fried Sexy already went home for the day. Too bad for him.

Yelling!

Today Patti and Jeff were screaming at each other so loudly and so much that I had to run to the farthest part of the newspaper offices (and then I could STILL hear them) just to get a break. They have settled down a little bit this afternoon. I don't even remember what they were yelling about. They weren't mad...just yelling and arguing.

Jeff enjoys arguing more than sex, I'll bet.

Ryan is trying to figure out what to wear to the inaugural dinner tonight (SWOSU Prez Randy Beutler) and I'm fixing to go home and get cleaned up for the festivities.

That's about it for today in the newsroom. Signing off, this is Julie Harding, reporter. Over and out.

A Nice Piece of Apple Pie

It's the holiday season in the newsroom. It's loud in here. We have a lime green Dr. Seuss Christmas tree in the corner which pretty much suits us. It looks like a bottom-heavy topiary one might find smack in the middle of Who-ville.

The Supreme Commander (Patti) is about to throttle Southern Fried Sexy (Jeff) because he verbally pokes at her pretty much non-stop (in a good natured way, of course) all day now. Ryan eggs him on. I hurl insults at both of them. Jeff hurls them back and Ryan just laughs.

Safina (from advertising) is walking around with a white Kleenex hanging from her nostril. Brenda is wearing red reindeer antlers.

Today I got busted talking like Julia Child (I do it because it amuses Brenda) by a hapless delivery guy who happened to come in the back door through the press room and no one saw him coming. Ryan has been obsessed with Harry Potter and he was talking about the villain Voldomort and I said in my Julia Child voice (at full volume) "He needs a nice piece of apple pie"...right at the time the delivery guy walked in. (I was facing Ryan with my back to the door and didn't see him coming). The newsroom busted up and Ryan said the delivery guy was trying really hard not to laugh because he probably thought something was really wrong with me.

Actually, there probably is.

What's it all about, anyway?

Today we are only working til noon here in the newsroom. I had to write a story about a cultural phenomenon that grates on my nerves like rolling through broken glass naked: Black Friday.

I mean seriously...a holiday celebrating buying lots of stuff for an already too commercialized holiday??? People getting up before the sun and biting and clawing and elbowing their way through mega-chain stores to greedily snatch up bazillions of dollars of STUFF to give as gifts to an already STUFF-saturated society in the name of a holiday called CHRISTMAS - which is SUPPOSED to celebrate the birth of Jesus who once told us that STUFF isn't what He's all about.

Ok...that was my soapbox.

Happy Thanksgiving everyone.

Turkey pardon

Jeff-Rob the Heart Throb is getting chewed out by Patti-the-Supreme-Commander. Ryan and I are laughing. Actually, Patti never chews anyone out. She's either too nice or we're just an awesome newsroom. My bet is on too nice.

We're all getting ready for our day off Thursday, and I guess we just have lots of ants in our pants to have an extra day off.

We're trying to figure out how to get the story about North Korea attacking South Korea in today's edition. Kind of a big story. But we probably have to move a church bazaar or a school program story in order to accommodate the news which means we're going to make a few local folks mad.

I wrote a little story about the Presidential Turkey Pardon. Hysterical stuff, really.

Ugly slug

The sun's death rays are kicking me in the eyeballs again. That means it's about time to go home.

Today was another boring day in the newsroom. Except that Ryan just now jumped up and started randomly hitting keys on my keyboard and telling me I should let HIM write the blog.

I just had to backspace a lot to correct his attack.

Patti is yelling because Lauren-in-distribution strung all her paper clips into a chain.

I have realized I have become a shell of my former self. I look back on posts I wrote early in the year and I had so many projects and I was so busy and I was ACTUALLY INTERESTING. Now I've become a slug. A big, fat slug with an attitude problem.

Trippin'

Ryan has big dreams. Today he informed the newsroom that it is his ultimate goal to become the dictator of the world. He said here at the newspaper he gets to learn a little bit about everything.

Jeff has been leaving early every day. He does that a lot in winter months. That's because he's the sports editor and he goes to games at night so he doesn't have to work during the day.

I just located my bio-father's side of the family today, so I am trippin. I talked to a first cousin (named Josh) who lives in Tokyo this morning. He was really nice.

I don't really feel like blogging today.

Rain boot dreams

I'm sitting at my desk with a large distended belly. Today was the Kiwanis Annual Chili Cook-off and Patti and I went because I entered the cooking fray (and won a 3rd place trophy). I wrote a story about it that made Kirby laugh out loud. She said it made her day. I like that.

Ryan has been sick so he isn't nearly as much fun as usual. He sits over there, pathetically, in his coat with his sunglasses on the back of his head. Poor kid.

Kirby is now daydreaming about rain boots.

Jeff has disappeared for the day, and Patti is laughing manically for no apparent reason over at her desk.

Another day in the newsroom.

En Francais

Ok...Ryan is pestering me to teach him to speak French, so we had a basic lesson today. Now he knows how to say "good day," "goodbye" "please," "thank you," and "go f*** yourself" en francais.

I wrote two Veteran's Day stories today...and I am out of words. We found out today we get to take tomorrow off, because the paper cannot be delivered Thursday and if there is no paper delivery there can be no paper. No Thursday paper means no Wednesday work.

I am beside myself with joy.

Death Rays

Holy Toledo it has been a Monday. Running all the livelong day. And now, since Standard Time is in effect, death rays from the sun shine right through the front door of the Weatherford Daily news and straight into my eyes...and will continue this way every day in the late afternoon until the end of winter.

I sit in the worst place. Seriously. Not only are the death rays highly unpleasant, but here in the newsroom we have calculated that if a shooter comes in the front door to take out the writers (we make a lot of people very angry, especially when we report on their evil deeds) - I will be the first to go down. Jeff and Patty can simply scramble under their desks while the first bullets fly, or they can make a quick exit up the stairs to the attic. Ryan is second in line for the mayhem, but he said he would throw his big camera at the assailant then dive through the plate glass window to take him out. Ryan promises he'll chuck the camera and break the glass before the bad guy can get a shot off. I feel better.

Currently, however, the dear boy is spitting out quotes from "The Family Guy." We are both finished writing for the day - but now poor Patty has to slap all those words on the pages while we entertain ourselves with various means until it's time to do the proofing.

Not the prettiest time of day in the newsroom.

A variety of erections.

We're all stupid today. We had to be here 'til midnight last night to cover the elections - so we are a sleep deprived newsroom. Jeff, however, has just provided us with chocolate, so things may be looking up.

The Supreme Commander isn't even helping. She just sits there and laughs. "I don't know what to tell you," she said with a chuckle. "I'm tired today, and want to get the hell outta here."

Last year, when I was covering the elections with our Japanese intern Takamitsu (I call him Taka-San) he made me crack up when he was explaining elections in Japan. He kept saying "Japanese erections are much different than erections in the United States." I miss Taka-San.

Wrap it up.

Ok. So we're working on the health quarterly. We're coming up with a headline for a story about safe sex. Ryan said "Don't be silly, wrap yer willy." I thought maybe "Wrap it before you tap it." Jeff is sitting silently, and Patti said she's got nothing. Wusses.

Ryan said he can sing like "Jesus and Fergie" by the way.

Oh, Jeff just came up with his: "Don't be a punk, wrap yer junk."

Today is my birthday.

Look Ma! No Net!

It's definitely a Monday.

It was a strange weekend...and the newsroom is pretty quiet today. I think I'll go home and make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and call it good.

I'm walking the tightrope again.

Octobery

Today is torture. Will it never end?

I'm sporting a pretty good whiskey hangover from the "girl's night in" at Candise's house last night. It was a good time - but I'm not 25 anymore and I shouldn't drink Crown and Coke like I am.

We're all kind of quiet in the newsroom today. Maybe it's the weather. It's dark and rainy - very Octobery.

He feels pretty...oh so pretty.

Ryan feels pretty today. He's singing the song from "West Side Story". He sings it almost as good as Maria, but he is especially annoying today. That's what makes him so endearing.

Neither of us are in the mood to write this afternoon, but we're still pumping out the stories. Brain prostitution. He just called me "Sukka". He even spelled it out for me. Very helpful.

Neither of us know where the rest of the newsroom is today. They were all gone when we came back from lunch. Maybe they got some mysterious plague and Ryan and I just happened to miss it so now we're left in the Armageddon of what was once a thriving newsroom.

And maybe I just need to get back to work.

Sanctuary

Well, everyone is gone from the newsroom except me and Kirby. The Supreme Commander left early for the day and put me in charge...so I think everyone just bailed. That's ok - I wrote like a maniac today. I wrote enough to fill the paper all on my own.

Anyway, it's been a rough week. Mom is living with me for the time being - and the newsroom has sort of become my Sanctuary. It's where life ISN'T spinning out of control and the crazy going on here is a good kind of crazy...not the bad insanity that life can throw in your face like a big poo pie when you least expect it.

Sticks and Stones.

Ryan just looked at me all wild-eyed and said "When you come to work Monday, you will find a brick wall built right here!!!" To show me where the brick wall would be, he furiously waved his hand back and forth between our desks.

Ryan is upset because I always win when it comes to name-calling. Maybe it's because he's too nice to call me really bad names, or maybe he is simply inexperienced at hurling epithets with the same finesse as me - but at any rate he never comes out in the winner's circle at the contest's end.

I am not proud.

Sad like a black balloon.

I didn't blog while I was at work today.
I was told Scotch couldn't come to work anymore because it isn't professional to have a dog in the newsroom. Everyone was very disappointed, including me.
And that's all I have to say about that.

Dirty Harriet.

I'm being hostile to Jeff today. Maybe it's because he's wearing a button-down shirt for the first time...or maybe it's because the Clinton nemesis has been poking me with a big, psychological stick recently and I feel like Dirty Harry and just want someone to make my day...if you get my drift.

Patti said, as our Supreme Commander, that she is just going to stay out of it today. In other words, as I like to see it, she is turning a blind eye to my abuse of our beloved Sports Editor. Mwah Haa Haaaa.

I have no idea where Ryan and Kirby went. Today is Ryan's Rotary Club day...maybe they caught on to his under-cover work and put him on the rack. I told him he was too young for Rotary. He doesn't blend in.

Perhaps I'm just frustrated from lack of sleep today - and the fact nobody is calling me back on several stories I'm working on. Therefore I'm left to my own devices. And this afternoon it means the torturing of Jeff.

Squeaky Chair.

Ryan is feeling even more mature than normal this afternoon. He has discovered if he moves a certain way in his chair, it makes a noise that strongly resembles the release of gas (a fart) from the nether-regions of the human body. So he proceeded to make the noise over and over again, accompanied by groans of relief.

Kirby just hit him in the back of the head with a stack of papers to get him to quit.

Now he's quoting Orbit Gum commercials.

Jeff has received the bird twice today, and demands to be paid $40K for each finger tossed at him. I sent him one bird, Ryan sent him the other.

Patti has sworn to become a raging bitch by the time she's 40 if she continues to work here. We know she doesn't mean it, and we love her.

Another day in the newsroom.

Ryan is NOT stoned.

Ryan was quoting Leeroy Jenkins in his infamous YouTube video and said, quite loudly, "I'm sorry - I'm so stoned"...because that's what Leeroy said to his gaming buddies during a Halo battle online.

So Brenda heard him and asked him if he was stoned...because she thought he was being plain old Ryan talking to the rest of the newsroom. That's how rumors get started.

The newsroom is being slightly re-arranged today to accommodate our new intern, Kirby. Kirby is pretty cool. She doesn't know I blog about the newsroom yet and will likely be writing about her from now on. I believe she will give me some interesting material to work with. She has plenty of attitude. Typical writer.

Concealed cure for bad guys.

I tried to make my escape back to the PNW...but it didn't last too long. So here I am, back in the newsroom. I missed my people, though...I really did. They haven't changed a bit.

We're talking about the creepy, scary, dangerous people that have been coming into the newsroom lately because we've been writing stories about their crimes and charges. They get all mad and threatening - waving their arms and just acting generally ugly.

So we've decided we're all going to to get our concealed carry and keep big guns in our desks. Ryan is stoked about that idea. I said I would worry that he would be pointing his gun and every little old lady that comes in to give us club notes. He said "Everyone else in Weatherford has a gat - why can't we?"

Choose your Dictator Day

Today is "choose your dictator" day in the newsroom. You can tell a lot about a person by their choice in dictator. Here's what we came up with. Our supreme commander, Patti, chose Ted Nugent. Ryan chose Danny McBride, and Jeff chose Charlie Daniels. Our receptionist, Brenda, chose Oprah and our publisher chose Bill Gates. My dictator of choice is Bob Marley.

Doing SQUAT

I've done squat today. Wrote one story about 2nd graders and their school project (which was fun, by the way) but other than that I have done SQUAT. Ryan can't remember what he did today. I just asked him. I asked Patti what SHE did today, too. Here's what she said: "Nothing. Absolutely nothing."

I imagine there will not be a paper tomorrow.

C'est la vie.

We're all porn stars!

OK...we're discussing our porn star names here in the newsroom. Our editor Patti makes naughty movies under the name of "Doobie Wolfley". Our City Editor, Ryan, is billed as "Blazer Highland". I myself appear on X-rated movie posters as "Tippy Fifth". Our Sports Editor, Jeff, is otherwise known as "Kermit Hillcrest" when making smut, and Brenda (the Goddess of Phone Sex - aka our receptionist) is "King Broadway". Our photographer, Josh, does the nasty on camera under the moniker "Goldie Baker". Our accountant, Teresa, has the best name: "Frisky Arapaho".

In case you're wondering how we got our porn star names, we took the name of our first pet and the street we grew up on and combined them. In case you're wondering how we are all employed in professional careers given the level of maturity on which we operate.....well...you got me on that one.

Haunted, spidery newsroom.

It's quiet here at the Weatherford Daily News. The only people here, in the whole building, are the writers. Well, and Josh-the-photographer. Basically - the newsroom people are the only poor buggers working the Labor Day holiday. We get out of here at noon, tho.

But still, it's dark and creepy here today. I think we should build a campfire in the middle of the lobby, make s'mores and tell ghost stories. This place is already haunted by Larry - the editor here before Emily and Patti. He was the editor when I first started working here. He had a heart attack here in the newsroom. Once in awhile it smells of garlic and roast beef, and we know he's around. Also, the door to the upstairs will occasionally close on its own.

And on an even creepier note, Jeff just sprung up from his desk and raced across the newsroom - right about the time I saw an ENORMOUS brown spider running across the floor toward my desk. Jeff stomped the crap out of it. We all stood around and examined the squished arachnid, and agreed it looked like a brown recluse. Now I'm even MORE creeped out. Heebie Jeebies!!!!

Blue Friday

I did a story on Suicide Prevention Week today. Poured a lot into it because it's a subject I know all too well. Consequently it put me in a bad, sad, blue mood today. I miss my little brother - especially lately since there's been a lot of trauma in my parent's lives and I've had to deal with it alone. Or at least with no siblings.

Sometimes the news just hits too close to home.

TGIF. I need a drink.

Flipping the Bird

The middle finger is getting a lot of airtime in the newsroom lately. Jeff got it twice from me for his remarks about my old age, and Ryan got one from me for a reason I can't even remember. I got one from Ryan for a reason he can't remember, either. He said "It must have really warranted a finger, though, because I wouldn't have done it without a good reason." He has not yet learned newsroom protocol about flipping the bird. There doesn't need to be a reason.

I told my editor I will now only communicate with her by using a series of tongue clucks and lip squeaks. So far it's working out well. Every time I say something to her she busts up laughing. Even when I'm trying to tell her something serious. Go figure.

Pants full of Ants

I have ants in my pants. Fall always does this to me. Granted, it's not officially Fall yet, but it's September, which is close enough. I'm done being summer-lazy and ready to get back to my projects. I think it's residual "back to school" mentality. You know how for at least a dozen years of your life (in my case, 21) you knew that when September rolled around it was time to get your new pencils and Big Chief notebook and get back to work? It's like that. Programmed ambition.

The newsroom has been pretty sedate today. Patti made a story - so she's been pretty quiet. I wrote stories about mushrooms and a gallery opening. Ryan has a huge headache and he's craving Braum's hamburgers. Jeff gave me an update on Dancing with the Stars participants and otherwise gave me a hard time all day long. He's proud of that. Scotch took the afternoon off.

The Meanest Woman on the North American Continent

It's been a good day in the newsroom. Even Scotch was feeling all happycrazy and bouncing around between desks. I wrote about robots and and an organization for the developmentally disabled. Great lunch at Kiwanis where we talked about this woman we met at a dinner the other night...The Meanest Woman on the North American Continent. Seriously, she was MEAN. Not only that, she was ugly. Bad combination. She was so mean even Brenda, the Kiwanis president described her from the podium as the meanest woman she's ever met. At the dinner, when Mean Lady first sat down my friend Bobby and I looked at each other in horror and then got the giggles. It was like having the giggles in church. But we were scared she would bite our heads off, chew them up, then regurgitate them on our friend James' plate. So we giggled in silence. MAN that was a MEAN woman!!!

These boots are made for walkin'.

Ryan has earplugs in his ears and he's pretending he can't hear me when I ask him why he's throwing my proofed pages on the floor. Brenda took a terrified Scotch for a short walk (I'm trying to get him used to other people in case I die or something). Patti is working on the final pages of the weekender and Jeff already left for the day. He leaves early a lot because he has to work games in the evening. Josh is running around with a camera slung around his neck.

Thank Heavens it's Friday. I'm going over to my aunt's house for "bubbly on the back patio" tonight. I typed too many birth announcements today.

We had a pretty good wreck on Main Street this morning. It's that stupid diagonal parking and people are backing out blind and getting hit all the time. The city won't change to parallel parking because A) people here are afraid of parallel parking and B) it would eliminate half the parking on Main Street and people might actually have to park more than 100 ft. away from their intended shopping destination and WALK (heaven forbid)! More than a third of the people in Oklahoma are obese. I think there is a direct correlation between this attitude toward walking and the fact that so many people here are overweight. Just like I think there's a direct correlation between a generally healthy and slim population and the amount their culture is willing to walk from point A to point B - which is generally a lot more walking than people do here. My two cents.

Sugar is a drug.

Not a lot of anything new today. We're all a little restless, I think. I'm eating Pop Rocks and Scotch is freaking out. He can't figure out why my mouth is making noise.

I wrote about the SWOSU Homecoming parade and vision screening for kids in the elementary schools. It's sort of been a dry story day. Guess I should get a head start typing the school menus.

Candy is my friend today. Candy and vegetables. I had a Butterfinger after my solely veggie lunch, and now I have some Pop Rocks and some Sugar Babies. I just started my "lose 10 pounds by my birthday" regimen, and I think I've blown it today. Guess I'll have to run about 16 miles tonight. Scotch will love that.

Blank slate.

I'm bugging the newsroom for something to blog about. Jeff just said "Too bad, nothing today."

I should make THEM write this blog once in awhile. Why do I have to do all the writing? Why is it always up to ME to do the newsroom blog?

Now Jeff is just being outright mean. He said "Why do WE care?"

Indeed.

Ryan pleads the fifth. Cluck Cluck.

Patti says she wants a new computer, or she's going to throw her old one at Jeff. Nothing personal.

Another day in the newsroom.

Poop Cookies.

Patti brought us some poop cookies today. For those who don't know what poop cookies are, they are those no-bake confections made of oats, peanut butter and chocolate. My kids nicknamed them poop cookies because they look like...well...POOP.

I just talked to the publisher about getting some sort of Scarecrow Extravaganza at the Weatherford Victory Garden for this fall. He had some great ideas. My favorite one was about the spiced wine. I have big plans. I am currently organizing three different "clubs". First, the Weatherford Victory Garden Society. Next, the Wine Sisterhood Literary Guild. Well, I guess I'm only needing to organize two groups, because Second Sundays is already up and running. First Second Sunday is September 12. Be there, or be square.

Monday percolation.

Ok...I've been arguing with Jeff all day. He proudly waves the "Newsroom Redneck" flag and I smugly sport the "Newsroom Hippie" banner - and we got into it over the fact that Oklahoma is 49th in the nation in per-student education funding. It turned into an argument over marijuana (I'm for legalization even though I don't use it) and whether or not it is a more dangerous substance than alcohol or cigarettes...(both of them legal AND infinitely more lethal drugs). We like to argue...mostly because we couldn't be MORE opposed in most of our viewpoints regarding politics.

Ryan is exhausted from the mile-long commissioner's meeting this morning, and Patti has been her usual perky and positive self all day. Josh started school last week and so he's in and out all day. He's matriculating. The rest of us are just percolating. (Which, according to the Urban Dictionary - means we're getting the party started).

Boys will be boys.

We have determined in the newsroom that Ryan and I likely have ADD, whereas Patti and Jeff probably do not. So far, no one can figure Josh out.

So I had to smack Jeff at least four times at lunch today. We (some of the WDN peoples) went to the mexican restaurant and he was making "old" jokes. I requested a soft taco and he asked me if hard ones hurt my dentures. He makes these references, I think, because of my tendency to date younger men. I sort of have to agree that dating younger men probably accentuates the fact that I'm old. Well, sort of old. I'm not "wicked old hag" old, like the mean old lady who eats children in Hansel and Gretel, though.

The boys (Ryan and Jeff) went on a meth raid this morning with area law enforcement and the Oklahoma Bureau of Narcotics. They got to take pics and do the story. They had to be at the meet-up place at 5:30 this morning. I woke up to helicopters blazing over my house - guess they were part of the raids. So the guys were all pumped up when they got to work...said it was all just like the movies - with lots of big guns and kicking down doors. Ryan even said "toward the end I just wanted to ask them if I could kick in a door." Haha! Boys will be boys.

Mo Fo Gat!

The day started with an early morning call from the county sheriff telling me about a shooting at a local bar - four people shot, none of them fatally. I really like our sheriff - he sort of reminds me of Wyatt Earp.

Anyway, Ryan does the hard news now so he did the story on the shooting. He has been talking all gangsta and waving his hands around in strange configurations. "Bring yo mo fo gat, son!" he shouted. More than once.

I wrote a story about Scotch. Phillip took a pic for it - Scotch sitting at my desk, working...with me next to him. I look old and fat in the pic. Scotch photographed well, however. It will be on the front page tomorrow. Yikes.

Jeff has been pestering me all day. He has an ongoing narration of what I'm doing on my computer. He's like a kid brother. I called him a tattletale today. Patti just laughed.

The Homesick Blues.

I got homesick today...missing all my old familiar places in Seattle. When I moved here, it was like moving to a different planet. Gone is the diversity, Trader Joe's, my favorite middle eastern grocery store in Pike Place Market, bistros, wine and tapas bars, big festivals, greek and east indian restaurants, roller bladers, record stores, excellent coffee, laser light shows, the arboretum, gay friends and buildings more than four stories tall...to name just a few.

And also, since I'm thinking of going vegetarian, living in Oklahoma is about the LEAST conductive place to adopt that lifestyle. BEEF this and PORK that...and STEAKS and potatoes everywhere. Not that I wouldn't miss a big, juicy burger or other meat items that I love...I just think it would be a good choice health-wise and it is also in line with my beliefs about the meat industry in general.

But, on the up-side, there are a lot of things I like about living here. And I LOVE the simplicity. The people are awfully nice, despite the sometimes over-the-top conservatism. And I still love the land. Oh...and I love the newsroom people. They pretty much make it worthwhile to do the 8 to 5 everyday...something I didn't think I'd ever be able to enjoy. I kinda like the ad people too, by the way...and the layout people. And the press people and the delivery people. But the newsroom is the best - mostly because we're writers. And writers are a special breed.

ZIP ZIP!

Had to write a story faster than lightening this afternoon. Jet and Cord McCoy were in town to speak to the incoming SWOSU freshman and I got the story and Patti was going to hold the press til I got it written. Well haha! Finished with them by 3:30 and finished writing by 4:08 p.m. TA-DAA!

Don't know where Jeff is. He wasn't here when I got back. Ryan is sitting over there with his sunglasses on his head waiting to be finished. He gave me an air high-five for writing a story in under half an hour. Patti is building the front page. Josh? Who knows.

Southern Fried Sexy

Well it's Monday. The phrase for today has been "southern fried sexy." One of Jeff's gay friends (Jeff isn't gay, BTW) called him southern fried sexy over the weekend, apparently. We have been using interchangeable words with said phrase, calling people and things "southern fried stupid" and "southern fried psycho". It's been fun.

Lately I've been having those "uh-oh, spaghetti-o, the Clinton Crazyperson is lurking" feelings and sure enough! Texts Friday, Saturday and Sunday. I blew him off. He thinks I moved back to Seattle...which makes me laugh out loud. He can't run me off. But I don't mind if he thinks he did.

Elvis died 33 years ago today. I remember standing in Corbett's Drug Store in Burns, Oregon crying about it with an older woman (in her 50's at that time) named Audrey. She had the biggest beehive hairdo's I've ever seen. She used to smell of cigarettes and Chanel No. 5, and was one of the sweetest people I ever knew.

Long black veil.

I guess none of us in the newsroom should plan on a career in professional basketball. We can't seem to get a wad of paper into the garbage can on less than a dozen tries. You should see the floor.

Anyway, we've all been a little stressed out with personal issues...well, everyone except Ryan who is still blissfully in a newlywed fog. Patti is moving into her new place, Jeff is sick, Josh was on the phone having some sort of crazy all day and I am trying to live through the insanity of a family torn apart by terminal illness, money and busted up relationships. Life is grand. Someone call Lefty Frizzell and find me a long, black veil.

Cricket Superman

Ryan is crawling around the floor, trying to catch a cricket to take outside and turn loose. The girls back in layout saw the poor insect hopping around and called for male assistance - but screamed at Jeff when he wanted to "just step on it!"

I am writing a story about the Bad Girls of the Bible. I love bad girls. I would do a story about the Mata Hari if I thought I could get away with it.

Too darn hot, even for Ramadan.

It's been a fairly sedate day in the newsroom. I think we're all just really hot (temperature hot...everyone knows we're awesome hot) and too sluggish to be too out of control. Scotch and Ryan are going to get fat, however - they have been eating cookies since we got in this morning.

Ryan is making his second soda pop run of the day, and the Ginger Midget (Josh...who is actually quite tall) is surfing the net. Patti is running amok instead. Her ponytail band matches her bright turquoise coin purse today.

Jeff went home to watch whatever football-related stuff he can find on television...he's going through some bad football jonesing the closer to the actual season we get.

I've been yelling "RAMADAN!" all day...I decided to do a story about it because this part of the world is so white and Christian and I think it's good to learn a little bit about other cultures. I will probably be stoned to death in the newspaper parking lot tomorrow.

Cluck cluck.

It's been a day. Wrote a story about the history of liquor in Oklahoma, met with an attorney, covered school board, bought cat food and deleted the plumber guy I was talking to from my Facebook friends. (Oh that Facebook!)

Waiting for the next bus. The last one was full of chickens.

Ten Pound Mary Jane

Today we're deciding whether or not a person could smoke ten pounds of marijuana in a day...a conversation which started in reference to a religious column about how music lyrics may or may not affect what people do. So Jeff said he would write to the columnist and say "I've been listening to 2 live crew, non-stop, for the last two decades...am I alright?" I said "Yah, and you could tell her you killed tons of people, raped at least 67 women and you smoke ten pounds of weed every day." Josh piped in "Ten pounds of weed?" We busted up...murder and rape - no problem. BUT TEN POUNDS OF WEED??? Haha.

Actors and Blood

Today we had a debate in the newsroom about the best thing that can happen to you AFTER you're dead. In other words, how we wanted our bodies deposed after we've breathed our last. Ryan insisted he MUST be cremated and his ashes scattered so he can "travel about" after he's dead. Jeff said it didn't matter to him - he said he will be beyond caring at that point.

Our editor, Patti, just wants to be buried...in a casket...next to her grandpa. I want them to just take me to one of the family farms, find a nice shady spot, dig a hole and drop me in. No yucky formaldehyde preservatives or expensive caskets. I just want to be part of the earth again.

Bad rollover accident at exit 80 just outside of town. Guy is still alive. He was going fast and lost control...Ryan went out and got the pics. I wrote about actors and blood today.

Kickbacks and tragedy.

Jeff kicked the back of my chair. Then Josh kicked the back of my chair. Ryan is still too shy, I think, to kick the back of my chair. Patti will probably never kick the back of my chair. She's too nice.

Scotch stayed home today...he was eating grass this morning and has a belly ache.

Other than that, it's a typical day in the newsroom. Except for just about all the news coming in has been sad.

Brenda just paged Patti's phone and made a fart noise into it. It sounded real, so we're giving her a hard time about "blaming the phone." I think Brenda is bored today.

We're all trying to stay in decent spirits because bad things seem to be happening all around. One of our co-workers suffered a grave hardship today, and the news in general has been grim. A 23-year-old burned to death near here when the truck he was driving had a blowout and he lost control. The truck went on its side and caught fire. I simply cannot imagine the heartache that surrounds tragedies like that. One minute your life is cruising along...you're thinking about something ordinary or doing something ordinary then in just a split second it all turns bad.

Prayers to his family...as well as to the families of the eight people killed in Connecticut. And the the family of the shooter. It can get pretty terrible.

That's why, here in the newsroom, we've learned to hone our crazy. That's why lots of newspaper journalists (as well as ER docs, EMTs, police officers, firemen and other people whose days are filled with someone else's grief in detail) seem a little hardened or have an inappropriate, twisted sense of humor. It's so we don't dwell on the facts or the stories that come at us every day. Including the ones you never read.

Ninth Level of Hell.

Bloggety Blog Blog Blog.

It's been awhile. My mom has been visiting and I took some time off. Ryan got married over the weekend. I gained about 23 pounds from eating out with mom and from eating leftover coconut wedding cake from my cousins wedding last weekend. All this marriage. It's an epidemic.

The In-design keeps crashing here in the newsroom. Yesterday Patti threw a little fit and I was so proud of her. She actually threw some papers around. Not a bona-fide fit, but she's getting there. We are good at throwing fits in the newsroom, in epidemic proportions.

I went to Hydro today to do a story about the new middle/high school. It was hot. It has been hotter than the 9th level of hell this last week. My central air isn't working like it should and my house gets about 85 degrees around 3 o'clock in the afternoon. Problem is, it seems to be an epidemic around town and my landlady hasn't been able to get a repairman to come out. I think it's time to buy a house. Seriously.