Friday, July 20, 2012

If you're good at something, never do it for free.

Since I [still] suck at catching up on everyone's blogs (I know, I'm a bad friend T.T Pray forgive me; you fine people deserve much better), I thought I'd try to give a little something back to all y'all. In honor of both the upcoming Book 2 (A Tale of Fairies), which is currently being illustrated by the supremely talented Elk
sneak peak of chapter 6....
and in honor of the 2nd-ish edition (and lower priced!!) Underwood, which recently went up on Amazon, I'm doing a GIVEAWAY.


....which means FREE STUFF. I am giving away TEN copies of Underwood, and each one will come with a Goblin Market goodie bag. To make this giveaway a bit more fun, I'm making it a kind of scavenger hunt contest. 


To enter to win a free book, simply send me a picture of something magical. It can be anything, and "magical" in the sense that it makes you happy (your pet, a sunrise, the ocean, your favourite band, your favourite artist, etc etc.). You can email it to masterandcommander@amhenry.com, or if you're friends with me on Facebook you can message me or post it on my wall. The first ten responders get a book and a goodie bag. 




I hope you all have a fabulous weekend! I'm headed down the shore tomorrow, for a sort-of-long weekend. (Boss would only give me Friday and half of Monday off, and since I can't possibly go down the shore with dark roots, I have to get my hair done tomorrow [Friday], which means I won't get to Long Beach Island until like 2 or 3.00 in the afternoon.) Looking forward to relaxing by the sea! 


Love you all. You're all brilliant shining stars in my internet sky. ♥

Saturday, July 14, 2012

BEHOLD

the glorious army of Mich's children:

I feel like whoever made this website has sucked a year (or more) of my life away....
These are apparently what my children will look like if I whore myself out to (in no particular order) Norman Reedus, Brian Molko, David Eugene Edwards, Tilda Swinton, Cillian Murphy, and Viggo Mortenson.

...I can't decide which one I like best. DEE and I seem to make a gorgeous baby, but I think I like Tilda Swinton's most. :D

OMG I'm bored. And possibly a few too many vodkas over my limit. ....

Friday, July 6, 2012

They're all mistakes, children. Filthy, nasty things. Glad I never was one.


There was a really adorable child in the office the other day. His dad--one of our old clients--came to install Boss's new flat screen tv in the conference room, and brought his seven-year-old son with him. Naturally, Aidan got bored of "helping" his Dad within the first two minutes, so he came in to talk to me instead.

He had fun trying to play with Boss's dog (BrianSlade doesn't really like any kind of playing that involves getting up), playing with my desk toys, stealing the explosives I had hidden in my desk drawer, and then stealing my staple remover in order to use it to assault everyone else in the office.

And then I came to the conclusion that the child was being severely underfed, because while he was checking out the coffee maker:



Three packets of sugar later, he came running over to me while I was nibbling the last of the Cadbury dairy milk bars Bipolar Auntie brought over from Ireland.


After that he bounced from room to room like a pinball, generally making himself a nuisance by barging in when Boss was trying to meet with clients, and stealing his father's drill and running around with it turned on. 

He came back out to visit me and took some of the gum out of my desk and ate three pieces. Then Aidan proceeded to completely win me over with shameless flattery.


He bounced around a bit more, and then came running back over to me when he heard the rustle of the packet of Fruit Roll-Up as I took it out of my purse. Obviously I gave him most of that as well, since he was such a charming little boy.

A while later, after the child detonated one of the explosives he had previously taken from my desk drawer, the father packed up his stuff as fast as humanly possible and tried to hurry the child out to the car. Aidan stopped over at my desk first and--as I suspected--wanted more food.



Woops.

-___________________-

Tuesday, July 3, 2012

I want into him of my flesh I want out


A real post! ...sort of. Since I'm trying to check in on everyone's blogs, I thought I would offer a proper post/update with pictures...

So apparently, I am ‟not coping well."

I have dealt with loss before. I'm pretty sure everyone has dealt with some kind of loss by the time they're into their late 20s (and if you haven't, consider yourself exceedingly lucky). We lost a cousin  to cancer when I was 7. Granddad died when I was 10. Other Granddad died when I was 13. One of my best friends committed suicide when I was 13. Uncle died when I was 18 (that one hit me the hardest, before now). My ex-boyfriend committed suicide a few years ago, right when we had started to get close again. Granny died two years ago.

None of those compare even remotely to how painful the loss of my cat is. Callisto was like my best friend/child/dæmon/other half. Personally I think that warrants the current ruination that is my mental state.

But according to the *experts*, I am Not Coping Well.

In fairness, I suppose that is somewhat accurate. I've kind of unraveled past the point of even caring whether or not I'm going loopy. The evidence:

- I cannot go more than 8 hours without breaking down into a soggy sobbing incoherent mess, which sort of disturbs my normal everyday activities.


- If I want to sleep at all, I need at least 150mg of diphenhydramine + alcohol, so instead I've been doing the alternate and just not sleeping more than 3 hours a night (the maximum I can manage without substances).

- I have had a total and complete epic relapse when it comes to the abuse of certain substances.

- Since Daisy, the other cat also appears to be very depressed, I lay on the basement floor with her for up to an hour at a time, just staring at the wall.

- I haven't decided what I want to do with Callisto's ashes yet.*
*I cannot part with the last piece of Callisto that I have left.

- I have taken to sleeping with this pillow:
My stepgrandmother gave it to me years ago, because it looks just like Callisto.

- I don't eat unless other people give me food (i.e., getting dragged out to eat by family and/or friends).

- I have emotional breakdowns when cleaning only Daisy's messes from the cat litter, or when I find Callisto-hairs in the house or on my person, or when in the supermarket buying cat food only for Daisy.


- I'm approaching hysterics right now, just from writing this.

- At night when I'm reaching the very limits of my sanity, I crawl into a corner in my room and watch videos of Callisto that are on my phone, or on youtube, and then cry until I can't breathe.

ugh

This seriously makes the incident formerly known as the Worst Thing That Ever Happened to Mich look like an over-cliched over-generalized and poorly scripted episode of Law & order SVU. (And trust me: I watch far too much SVU, so I know what I'm talking about.) I would very gladly spend a month locked in a small room with that pervert who still haunts my nightmares if it would magically bring my cat back.

But he's dead, so I can't even try.

On top of all that, this loss has apparently made me into an even worse person. Stepdad (also known as the walking dead) is still alive, and I hate him for it. I can't even be in the same room as him anymore, because I resent him for every rattling breath he continues to take. Because Callisto deserved to live, and he--the lying, thieving, spineless scumbag that he is--continues to live, to the utter befuddlement of all his doctors.

I'm a grumbling little ball of rage and despair and I feel like I'm going to cave in on myself.

Sunday, July 1, 2012

it's gilded all over with purple and pall

So I know that I totally suck at blogger right now. I'm barely commenting on anyone's blogs, and I'm not reading nearly as many of your blogs as I'd like. I just...... don't have the energy for anything anymore. Like seriously it takes absolutely everything I have just to get out of bed in the morning.

...I don't know where this is going.

Or where it was meant to go        ?

I guess I'm just popping in to say to you my lovely readers that I'm not dead; I adore you all; and I sincerely hope that I can get back to something resembling myself.