wish i had an excuse...

lately i have been rubbish about updating this thing. my posts are shitty at best. weeks go by and i don't even have a small conciliatory paragraph to offer.

and i don't have a reason really. i have thoughts. funny things happen. it's not a proper writer's block, it is a simple case of unmotivation in the writing department.

and it doesn't matter as much as i might initially think. why? well, i would guess that the majority of my non-existent readers, my faithful few, my droogs and only friends, have wandered off to more verdant plains wherein they might find the kind of regular stimuli they crave. and in complete fairness, i have been a complete dick about keeping up regular with the blogs in my pals list. i do still read. just not regularly, and i don't comment as much as i should.

those of you that still toddle by this piece of sun-baked used chewing gum on the sidewalk of the world wide web, worry not. i have ebbs and flows when it comes to all my hobbies and habits, and i will again be prolific, if nothing else, about writing here.

i am still battling with the publishers for availability of my book. it has been a rather fun rollercoaster. if you have a credit card issued in the uk, you can purchase my book, The Unfinished Work (though it is in the list as simply Unfinished Work, so you have to scroll all the way down to the u's in the list). however, i myself, as well as the majority of my friends and family, are in the states, and are still unable to purchase the book. not only that (they are working on it, they tell me, and i believe them, but with a grain of salt), but recently the book disappeared completely from the list. when i pissed and moaned about that, they restored the book to the list, but now the author's name says "ron sardonic" instead of "darth sardonic." not that there is anything wrong with the name ron i spose, just not what i would've picked as a nom de plume. (and of course it goes without saying that when listed properly my name will neither be "darth" nor "sardonic." i often contemplate just outing myself in this blog, as anyone that buys the book will know my whole name, but then it is so much fun being "darth sardonic" that i am loath to lose the moniker. i will keep it up with the publishers, and keep you posted as new details emerge. (i am letting them have the new year to start bugging them about the "ron" bit, as i have been a near-perpetual thorn in their side since they made the magnum crappus available.)

the kids have been home from school for the holidays, which means lots of wii, and few breaks for myself. my oldest and my wife both have the same personality when it comes to playing video games, and they argue constantly and try to steal mushrooms from each other whilst playing games. it's fun to watch for the first say, 30 seconds? then promptly wears one thin.

while attempting to burn down our house wasn't on our to-do list for new year's day, we managed to squeeze it in anyhow. we were helping in a cove-wide dinner for last night, and had put the potatoes that b's daughter had prepared in our oven to bake. now, the daughter, being a bit lazy and not really knowing a whole lot of useful cooking tips had poured olive oil straight into the foil with the potatoes, which meant that we had quite a surplus of oil at the bottom of the oven.

comme ce, comme ca, o beloved non-existent readers the end result was that the tin foil we had put in the bottom of the oven to make clean up lazy (err, easy. freudian slip.) got soaked in oil and ignited.

in the time it took me to ask where the gas shut off valve might be, my wife had the extinguisher (that, quite frankly, i had no idea we had) out and had shot a quick burst of spray that immediately quelled the conflagration.

which, of course, launched a gray-green cloud of noxious fumes into the kitchen. "get your goddamn shoes on and run over to mr. b's house!" the wife and i yell simultaneously to the kids.

now, a tangent. if i had a dollar for every time the wife or myself have told no. 2 to do something and without missing a beat he asked "why?" followed by a lecture from myself about how in the time it takes a rascally kid to ask "why?" the truck is already mowing him down, or the rock already crushing his skull, or the fire already removing the top layers of his skin; i would be able to produce my own porn movies.

now back to our regularly scheduled program.

"get your goddamn shoes on and run over to mr. b's house!"

"why?"

the billowing cloud of evil is already spreading from the galley kitchen into the living room and dining room and adding sandpaper to the backs of my wife and i's throats as she turns the overhead fan on and opens windows and i drag our two standing fans to the back door to draw the foul gases straight outdoors.

so naturally, our next sentences were rife with inappropriate language:

"get your fucking shoes on and get out of the motherfucking house before you start choking like a goddamn beached fish, NOW!"

we were not far behind them, and strangely, despite all the chemicals raging around them, not only are the potatoes properly baked, but taste amazing.

an hour or so later, stuffed with jamaican jerk ribs, baked beans, and the wonderful baked taters, the wife and i wander back to our house and discover that her quick thinking and my johnny-on-the-spot with the fans have assured that absolutely no damage was done to anything; not the house, not the kitchen, not even the inside of the oven. oh, well, i mean the tinfoil suffered greatly.

but some dusting, some vacuuming, and a little oven cleaner, and we are currently baking no. 2's birthday cake.

and i am pretty sure he won't ask "why?" when we tell him to have a piece.

darth sardonic

i posted this and then realized i didn't even bother with a "happy holidays and a prosperous new year!" it's official, i really am a cunt lately.