Monday, August 25, 2014

injaynesworld "Shop Early!"

It’s almost September, and even before the candle melts in your jack-o’-lantern, retail shops everywhere will be shoving Christmas in our faces and screwing Thanksgiving out of its rightful due.  I rail against this every year, but it’s like pissing into the wind.  So this year, I’m saying screw it.  If you can’t beat ‘em… well, you know the rest.

Merry Christmas, everyone!  

Does your gift list seem to grow every year while your wallet stays the same?   I've got the answer.  

It’s called “Suitable for Giving” for a reason.  

Making the Christmas party rounds and need a hostess gift?   Book clubs, garden clubs, office parties!  Be the most popular “Secret Santa” at your AA meeting! 

Best of all, at only $8.99, my little book is cheap and funny.  A gift doesn’t get any better than that.   

Check out the 19 5-Star and one 4-Star (you know who you are) reviews on Amazon!

“Hilariously brilliant book.”

“I want more!”

“Witty and bright!”

“Love this book!”

And I didn’t even sleep with any of these people!

“Suitable for Giving: A Collection of Wit with a Side of Wry” is the fail-safe gift for absolutely everyone.  You can’t possibly fuck up.  Even those people who are impossible to buy for will compliment you on finally getting it right. 

Buy now!  Buy extras!  Don’t be caught again this year by some asshole who buys you something and makes you feel like a douche because you’ve got nothing for them. 

Seriously.  Buy now.  I’ve got rent to make.   

 Ho! Ho! Ho! 

Tuesday, August 19, 2014

injaynesworld "Good Fences..."

Mr. Conroy lined up another redwood plank; little soldiers straight and tall.   He raised his hammer, pounding steel against steel, driving the nail deep into the cross rail. 

No more screaming kids running through his azaleas; no more dog droppings on his lawn…

He’d been at it since dawn.  The metallic taste from the nails he held between his teeth had begun to make him queasy, but he would wash away its bitterness later.

No more neighbors trying to sell him some damn thing for some damn cause or another that he didn’t give a whit about; no more bible thumpers come to tell him that their God was better than his…

He tugged on the freshly-secured board.  It didn’t budge.  He reached for another.  Damn, it was hot and he ached all over but, determined to finish today, he pushed through the discomfort. 

No more pesty campaign workers banging on his door.  How he’d come to hate elections.  Wasn’t nobody’s business who he was gonna vote for…

When he had finally nailed the last nail into the last plank of the last side of the six-foot fence that now encased his yard he took a rag from his overalls pocket and wiped the sweat from his neck and face.  Stepping back to view his work, he nodded with satisfaction.

Yep.  That would do it. 

His thirst was mighty.  The boys ought to be filling the bar stools at Arnie’s right about now.  He’d earned himself a cold one.  Couple of them, in fact.  He turned to walk out of his yard and head down the block. 

It was then that he discovered the one major flaw in his efforts.  

Saturday, August 9, 2014

injaynesworld "It's A Woody!"

Today is the five-year anniversary of injaynesworld, traditionally themed the “Wood Anniversary,” and no one is more surprised than I am that, after five years, I can still get it up.

When I started IJW on August 9th, 2009, I had no expectations.  I had written my last TV-movie script in 2004.  Reality television was kicking script writers to the curb like used condoms and creating a feeding frenzy for the few TV-Movie assignments that still existed, so I took an early pension (God bless the Writer’s Guild) and figured my writing days were over.   

It wasn’t until the summer of 2009 that I felt the urge to write again creeping over me like prickly heat.  I’d had never even heard of a blog, but the Universe is interesting.  It always presents an opportunity at exactly the time when we are most open to receive it.   And so injaynesworld was born.

From the beginning it felt like home; a place where I could experiment with words, ideas and forms in ways I’d never attempted before; a place I could just be me.  What started out as mostly humor essays and political commentary has morphed more and more into fiction – something I never foresaw or even thought myself capable of doing.  While I made the big bucks writing for television, I have never experienced the kind of satisfaction from writing that I do now in this little corner of the blogosphere. 

During this whole journey, I’ve received nothing but kindness, support and generosity from my readers.  I’ve gotten to meet some of you in person and others have become treasured friends online, but all of you have enriched me in ways too numerous to count.  That, more than anything, is why I continue. 

Cheers!  And thank you. 

Monday, August 4, 2014

injaynesworld it's "The Luggage Birthday..."

The year was 1967.  The “Summer of Love” in my hometown of San Francisco.  I had just turned eighteen and graduated from high school.  For a gift, I received luggage.  Subtlety was not a strong suit in my family.  However, unlike so many young people today who cling to the nest like a tick on a hound’s butt, I could not wait to be on my own.  In the time it took to pack those bags, I found a job, a roommate, and an apartment and I was out of there.

The job was answering the request line for DJ Tom Campbell on what was Radio KYA at the time.  My on-air name was “Rabbit,” a nickname given to me by a high school boyfriend who said I had long toes.  It was kind of sweet coming from him.  Not so sweet when it was blasted over the airwaves to the entire San Francisco Bay Area but, despite my protests, it stuck and I became a pseudo-celebrity in my own right.  (For the record, my toe-length is well within the realm of normal and perfectly proportioned in size from big toe to pinky.)

While the job didn’t pay much, there was always enough money for the necessities.  My portion of the rent on the apartment I shared with my roommate, Sharon, was seventy-five dollars, gasoline was twenty-seven cents a gallon, Kraft Mac & Cheese was thirty-nine cents a box, and marijuana was only ten bucks an ounce.  Good times.

Our kitchen window overlooked a National Guard armory.  On weekends, groups of ordinary guys torn from family barbecues and now armed with rifles would prepare for clashes with anti-war protesters in neighboring Berkeley.  Because we were assholes, we would blast the iconic Vietnam protest song, “Feel like I’m Fixin’ to Die Rag” by Country Joe & the Fish, to taunt them.  It never occurred to us that they might not want to be there.

Inside the apartment, the air was thick with a bouquet of weed, incense and patchouli oil, and often filled with friends in various stages of hallucinogenic bliss listening to “The Moody Blues” and eating copious amounts of Sara Lee chocolate cake.  A long curtain of orange beads hung down over the doorway dividing the living room from the bedrooms.  Covering nearly every square inch of wall space were psychedelic posters from Fillmore concerts that, had I only the foresight to save, could be supporting me in my “golden years” today. 

Sharon was already sexually active while I was still a virgin and, though not quite the oddity it would be considered today, still it was a situation that I felt needed to be remedied as soon as possible.  Another DJ at the station ten years my senior and, as it turned out, married, was happy to oblige.  Aside from being a liar and a cheat, he was actually a pretty nice guy.  He was gentle and considerate, and he bought me a bottle of “Joy” perfume and a stuffed Snoopy dog.  Read into that what you will, but a girl could do a lot worse for her first time.  

Two years later, Sharon and I would part ways and eventually lose touch, but the memories I have of that first summer on my own still get me high to this day.  

Sadly though, some things never change.  Where's Country Joe when you really need him?

Tuesday, July 29, 2014

injaynesworld here are “10 Things I Can't Do Without…”

This week’s summer heat and humidity have my brain feeling like a tissue that’s been forgotten in the pocket of your favorite jeans after they’ve been put through the wash.  There are all kinds of things going on in the world that I could raise a ruckus about, but I can barely raise myself off the couch.     

So, in lieu of putting together a series of cohesive thoughts, here are ten things that (at this particular time and subject to change) I cannot do without.  For argument’s sake, let’s just agree that electricity, indoor plumbing and, at the moment, air-conditioning, are a given. 

1  Dark Chocolate:  There are few things in life that can’t be made better with dark chocolate.  If necessary, I could live on it. 

Alcohol (including, but not limited to):  Wine:  Preferably a Grenache/Syrah blend or a fruity Viognier served with, you guessed it, dark chocolate.   Cold beer:  Corona (cases of it).

3  Friends:  The ones who love me not only despite all my flaws, but because of them.

4  Coffee:  French roast, please, with a bit of half-and-half.

5  Books:  By writers who are much, much better than I am.  Fortunately, there is no shortage of these. 

6  Horses:  That a 1,000 pound creature will allow me to sit on its back and do what I ask when it could just as easily buck me off and stomp me into the ground never fails to humble me. 

7  My fur babies, Dixie and Mason:  Anyone who lives without an animal in their life is beyond my understanding and quite possibly a sociopath. 

8  Netflix Streaming:  I had no idea that I couldn’t live without this until I got it.  Currently, binge-watching “House of Cards.” 

9  Money:  I’m not greedy.  I’d be happy with enough to meet all my needs and some to spare and to share… And maybe influence a few elections.

10 E-mail:  Without which I would actually have to speak to people. 

Coming soon:  “10 Things I Don’t Give A Rat’s Ass About.”

Tuesday, July 22, 2014

injaynesworld it’s “A Plea to the Y Chromosome…”

What is it about human nature that drives us to enjoy killing each other so damn much?   We’ve been coming up with new and more efficient methods since man first walked upright, and our penchant for aggression and violence seems only to be growing. 

Recently, Utah Republican lawmaker Paul Ray announced that he wants to bring back the firing squad for the death penalty in that state and is planning to introduce a bill to do so come next January. 

Yes.  By all means.  Let’s finally confirm once and for all to the rest of the world that we are, indeed, a bunch of trigger-happy Neanderthals.   I’m sure it will come as no surprise to anyone.  I understand that our zoos are suffering a budget crunch.  How about just throwing them to the lions?  And I have no doubt that there are those who would pay to watch such a show, too.

In fairness, there are few countries that can claim the high ground when it comes to developing ways to wipe out our fellow man.  The guillotine was a particular favorite at one time.  Kudos to you, France.  But for sheer numbers, I believe we still hold the record with Hiroshima.  USA!

I have a theory.

It all goes back to that Saturday that God promised Mrs. God he would take the entire weekend off to rest, having just spent an exhausting five days creating the world.  Mrs. God’s back wasn’t turned ten minutes, when God got what he thought was a genius of an idea. 

“Just running to the store, honey.” 

Whereupon God spent the day working on what He was sure would be His greatest creation ever:  Mankind.

He could not wait to tell Mrs. God, bask in the glory of her praise and, who knows, maybe even get a little nookie that night.  However, much to His dismay, His wife’s eyes only widened in horror as He recounted the details of His creation.

“You did what?!” she shouted.  “Two testicles and only one brain?!  O.M.G!  What were you thinking?!”  

Yes.  It’s true.  God caught hell.  And, needless to say, went nookie-less for quite some time to come.

I tell this tale not to malign my sensitive, intelligent, peace-loving male readers.  Truly, there is not an asshole among you and I cherish you all.  But even you, I believe, will admit that it is most commonly the male of the species seeking dominance that is responsible for most conflicts and bloodshed in this world.  You will seldom find a woman suggesting the lobbing of missiles willy-nilly into an area that may contain one terrorist, but most surely contains a shitload of innocent civilians.

Men like to complain about how women yak, yak, yak all the damn time.  Yes.  We do. We like to Talk. Things. Out.  No one ever died because of a conversation, not even of boredom as is frequently suggested. 

When I look at the current state of the world:  Warfare in the Ukraine, continued massacres in Syria, drug lords killing children in Central America, the brutal kidnappings of young girls in Nigeria, and when I watch the rise of gun violence here at home (last weekend 40 people shot in Chicago, including one 11-year-old girl who died), and then look at those in charge of propagating all this savagery (exhale)… not a vagina among them do I find. 

It’s no longer enough to say “boys will be boys.”  Those among you who are the good guys – and I know there are a lot of you – have got to start taking a stronger stand against the ones who are besmirching your entire gender.  Do it with your voice.  Do it with your vote.  Do it with your donations.   Do it in how you raise your sons.   And if you’re doing all that, do more. 


If all this sounds unfair, I’m sorry.  But right now I have to agree with Mrs. God.  One testicle would have been enough. 

Disclaimer: There are women who can be just as aggressive, violent, and brutal as men.  Certainly, they can be just as stupid.  There is no accounting for Sarah Palin. 

Related Posts with Thumbnails