I Become Random

by Stephanie Black

I kept testing and rejecting blog topics and nothing flowed. This means that it’s time to be random. Would that I could take the same approach with my current novel-in-progress.

After years of resistance, I went over to the dark side yesterday and signed up for a store credit card so I could get a discount on my sizable back-to-school purchase. My husband asked me how much I sold my soul for. I told him thirty-nine bucks. But this is an actual Visa I can use at any store, not one of those lame-o-rama department store cards good only at one measly place. Why the heck would I want a piece of plastic I can only use at one store? That concept escapes me.

The old Pop-Tarts box had a warning that said something like: “Caution: Product may be hot when heated.” You don’t say. I thought this warning was the pinnacle of silliness, at least until I burned myself. Now the warning says something like:“Product may be too hot to handle” which sounds much less dorky.

I wish that Get Smart would come out on DVD. That’s one of the greatest shows of all time.

I haven’t yet had a child graduate from college, but I’m certain that having a child attain the ability to manage his or her own stomach flu is a parental triumph more tingling, more glorious, more exhilarating than Harvard, summa cum laude. Anyone who doesn’t agree has obviously never had to rinse quilts and scrub children and carpets at three o’clock in the morning.

I haven’t seen a single summer blockbuster. I think the last movie I saw in the theater was Curse of the Were-Rabbit. The original Wallace and Gromit shows were better.

Netflix is awesome. What a brilliant idea.

Dolores Umbridge from Harry Potter 5 is one of the best villains of all time. She’s just perfectly, hideously evil with her bows and frills and her polite little hem-hem cough.

I recently read a nationally-published suspense novel where the author had some scenes from the unnamed villain’s point of view but clearly didn’t want you to know whether the villain was male or female lest she eliminate some of the suspects. Thus she sometimes resorted to passive tense to get around this problem. (“This was done” instead of “He (or she) did it.”) It bugged me. At least the scenes were brief. Okay, so I’m really picky.

I once got addicted to rice cakes. It was so bizarre. I’d eat like a pack and a half of rice cakes per day. Thank heavens it wasn’t Oreos.

And the last thought for the day: David Suchet is truly a marvelous Hercule Poirot.