My darling blog, New Media Martini, amazes me and countless others, mostly me, with its many fantastic features and its general coolness.  Look no further than the instant post, the very one which you are now reading, with or without your self-encouragement to read it, somewhat unnecessary, because let’s face it, you read reflexively; you would read a cereal box.  That being  beside the point, which is the only sort of point this blog ever makes, this post places my darling blog at the forefront of a very important virtual book tour.  The very best sort of virtual book tour.  The sort of book tour that celebrates both a book and a friend.

The book is Code Walker and the friend is its author G.L Drummond, the prolific author of a lot of books, who as an author, may notice that this sentence contains a redundancy.  G. L. is about to take her new book on a virtual book tour–as I mentioned, the very best sort of book tour.  No time spent in airports since the only flying that is involved is flying digits.

So, wanting to be a part of it all, I interviewed G. L. about her book. I asked her questions, and to no one’s surprise, I received answers to my questions. That is how these things are supposed to work. Please read along.

Me: You amaze me! You have written so many books and stories! Why is that?

G. L. Drummond: I wrote them to amaze you! So now my life is complete. Wait…I have to keep you amazed now. Crap. [heads back to the desk to write MORE]

Me: Your new book is Code Walker. The title is strong, and somehow somewhat menacing. What is it about?

G. L. Drummond: Assassins! Ninja assassins! Ninja assassins doing their thing in cyberspace! Okay, not exactly. But it is about assassins, and there is at least one assassination – in cyberspace. Well, a holo room. Okay, two deaths occur in holo rooms.

There is also a dash of romance, a self-aware AI named TJ, and some fun moments to lighten it all up. Here’s The Blurb:

In the fickle worlds created when cyberspace and reality overlap, it’s all too easy to blur and shift lines…moral lines, lawful lines, lines of code and destiny, until the surreal becomes real. Walking those lines back to the source, and rebooting the system, isn’t exactly a job for a girl who plays nice – but it does pay extremely well.

As Riley Cabot never qualified as a ‘nice girl’, life as the Code Walker is sweet.

Only thing about codes is that they break.

Me: You say it’s futuristic sci-fi; that it might also be considered Cyberpunk. Does the fact that I know absolutely nothing about that genre make you think less of me? Does it make you more sophisticated than me?

G. L. Drummond: Of course not. Nothing could make me think less of you! I don’t know that it makes me more sophisticated than anyone, considering that once upon time, I decided the only genres around were: Historical, Western, Kids Books, Science Fiction, Fantasy, and Scary Books. Though I suppose if I’m tossing around ‘futuristic sci-fi’ and ‘Cyberpunk’, I’ve gained a layer or two of sophistication since then? You’re the expert, Kay, so you tell me.

Me: You are quite prolific. Is there the possibility that you will end up writing all of the books and not leave any books for anyone else to write?

G. L. Drummond: The possibility does loom in my swollen, bruised brain from time to time. But no matter how the Voices push for me to do so, there is only this one frail body with an oversized head to do their bidding. However, if you know anyone who may be testing the cloning of humans, I’d be interested. [wink, wink] The Voices made me say that.

Me: In addition to meeting me, what have been the highlights of your literary career?

G. L. Drummond: Meeting you is the highlight of anyone’s life, and nothing else can compare. Well, okay, being asked to participate in the Other Sides web fiction anthology was pretty awesome. There have been some wonderful people who’ve let me guest post too.

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I adore G. L. Drummond; I even adore her slightly androgynous pen name.  I think I shall read Code Walker.  Join me.  And once we have read it, we shall be as cool as Cyberpunk.
Chinese symbol for "end"Thank you for coming by.  Speaking of cool, there is always a lot of coolness going on here.  That’s why you should consider subscribing–by RSS feed, email or Amazon Kindle.

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Dear Melissa,

Let me begin, because how could you not, by thanking you for failing to be named Michelle which in my opinion, never queried, is overused by my friends with that name who blame their mothers for the excess and never consider me and the sufficient confusion it causes me to know so many.

But my thankfulness, better known as gratitude since it’s slightly less awkward usage, doesn’t end there, because today in my mailbox, yesterday rather, your lovely gift arrived.

A lovely love gift of sorts.  Born of a woman’s passion.  Yours.

A rare and beautiful special edition DVD.  A “director’s cut” of your film, “Life in Perpetual Beta.”

Inscribed.  To me.  Autographed if you prefer.  Because word choice is important to some and you alone are occasionally forgiven for occasionally saying “mediator” when you mean “moderator” which is an odd mistake for someone who is so intelligent and who can at a moment’s notice (trite) or drop of a hat (trite) be either.  Frequently, occasionally, or often enough.

Your film is a remarkable achievement.  Many have said so, including me, just now, and our reasons for saying so are various and include honesty.

I spoke with you today by telephone because technology permitted it.  And it was fun to congratulate you on your accomplishment and hear the sound of your satisfaction that your three year journey as the director and producer of this visionary documentary is complete although its very premise is that nothing in life is or should be.  Because, so cleverly stated, life IS in perpetual beta.  Permitting us the opportunity, if we are aware, to just live the damn thing.

One reason you sent me this lovely gift is that a couple of years ago, early in the project, I sent you a Benjamin, which is strange slang for digital money that never took physical form and was sent to you along with bossy advice so cheerfully and frequently unsolicited to not give away T-shirts and to seek bigger contributions than thirty bucks.

It was easy to believe in you.

It was fun to watch you become “Filmmaker Melissa Pierce.”

Now, it is fun to watch your movie.

Thank you, Darling.

Love,

Your adorable and modest friend,

Kay

P.S.  Melissa, since this is an open letter, it is highly possible that another shall read it and that person, or more, should know that your “Life in Perpetual Beta” is fabulous–thought provoking and highly entertaining and highly available for viewing, here, free for two weeks.

Chinese symbol for "end"Thank you for reading over Melissa’s shoulder.  Come by here often, or better yet, subscribe by email, RSS feed or Amazon Kindle.

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With so much horror in real life, such as hair dressers who momentarily lose all pretense of having good sense and, unbidden, layer your bangs, who needs horror movies?  Certainly not me.  I confess I have never been a horror movie fan.

Horror movies are scary, Darling!

But maybe, just maybe, I will take what is generally referred to as a second look, but in my case is probably more like a first look, at horror movies.  Oh my!

That is because I admit to being somewhat intrigued by them now after my interview of indie horror film director, Sarah MacDonald, who was recently our featured guest on Women Are Not Funny Radio.  She gave me some insight about why the horror genre has always been popular and now is even more so.  In fact, it is possible that horror films are becoming the new chick flick.

You can listen here.  It is funny.

Are women enticed by terror?  Are they hot for hawt vampires? Are they becoming adrenalin junkies?  Who is to say?  Certainly not me since I don’t have the slightest idea about the answer.  But I am ready to take a timid first look into the possibility that I would find horror movies entertaining, in kind of strange, scary, adrenalin boosting way.

To help that happen, here is something cool.  My company, New Media International, through its publishing imprint, Drummer Hill Press, has published a Tip Sheet, called How to Become a Horror Film Aficionado in Ten Easy and Scary Steps: Indie Film Director Sarah J. MacDonald’s List of Must See Horror Movies. It is fabulous!  It is a one-page annotated list of movies that Sarah believes will indoctrinate horror newbies like me and delight those who are already horror movie fans.

Yes, the Tip Sheet is very cool.  And it is great looking!  And it is free.  But there is a catch.  (Isn’t there always?)  To receive it you must join the Awesome Pretties, the Women Are Not Funny Radio email list of listeners.  This free Awesome Pretties Tip Sheet is the first in a series that is being produced and published exclusively for the awesome and pretty listeners–of both genders–who are on our email list.  Ongoing, we will be publishing Awesome Pretties Tip Sheets–great looking one-pagers with fun ideas from each of our Women Are Not Funny Radio featured guests.

We would LOVE to have you on our list, given that you are both Awesome and Pretty.  And you will love receiving the Awesome Pretties Tip Sheets.  You can sign up by clicking on the Awesome Pretties badge on the upper left side on the Women Are Not Funny Radio website or by going here.

Please sign up.  We would love to send you the Awesome Pretties Tip Sheet with indie horror film director Sarah MacDonald’s cool and scary horror movie tips.

Chinese symbol for "end"Okay, maybe today’s post was a tiny bit scary, but don’t for a moment let that stop you from coming here again–and subscribing via RSS feed, email or even on the Amazon Kindle.  And consider doing the thing the post invites you to do.  Join the Awesome Pretties and join me in watching the movies on Sarah’s list.


 

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The truth is complicated, but I assure you that the title for this post, this long overdue post, in my darling neglected blog, New Media Martini,  is full of truth-y goodness.  Because this post, is about love, fervent and less so.  It is also about entertainment, or claims of entertainment.  Or entertainment that is, at the least, intertainment.  Should that be Inter(net)(Enter)tainment?

Stop!  That was totally tortured!  Torturing the English language with great authority and disregard is one of the purposes of this purposeless, yet darling blog.  At the same time there are limits, are there not?  Or parameters.  Or limits and parameters?  And if so, do they rise to the level of a blog feature?  Blog management wishes to know.

Let’s leave the instant one-way discussion behind, shall we?  And focus on the two-part aspect of this particular post.

Wait!  Wait!  Oh my!  I think that also might qualify as a new blog feature:  Two-part Aspect Blog Post.

Oops! More distraction.

I must persevere.  I must forge on boldly.  Or, boldly forge on.

And invite you to listen to the Valentine’s Day edition of Women Are Not Funny Radio.  We cleverly and purposely posted it late–today–so we could title it Valentine’s Day 2011:  Too Little; Too Late.  And since we  refuse to put the day behind us, it is, is it not, never ending love.  Of a sort.

This episode is actually funny, if you are kind and not extremely demanding.  It features my friends Michele Woodward, Sher Bailey, Paula Kelley and Michelle Miller.  They were funny.  Even more so.  Even very.  Without the aid of a laugh track.

And it features the interview of a lovely Thai–American hair salon owner, Nee Pipratana, who as my mother’s hairdresser, has made her beautiful, weekly for the last fifteen years.  Nee is in a twenty-five year old happy arranged marriage.  In the show, I talk with her about that.  And forgive her for being earnest and in love.  Never Ending Love.

Also in the show I talk with my friends, mentioned and linked to above, about arranged marriages, Dick Cheney and romance.  And guess what.  I love this edition of the show.  I think it works.  I think you will agree.  But only if you listen.

That was aspect one.

Aspect two is a blog I love.  Never Ending Love.  For the blog Junk Culture.  Its posts arrive in my inbox late, late at night, and many times,  reading Junk Culture and looking at the art it features, brings me the greatest pleasure that I have all day.

Earlier in the week, Junk Culture featured the video below.  So terrific.

A heart machine.  I call it a love machine. For Never Ending Love.

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Thank you for coming by. For being enticed by my Never Ending Love. Even if you weren’t. Before you vanish to listen to Women Are Not Funny Radio, like the good little invitee you are, please subscribe to this darling blog, via RSS, email or Amazon Kindle.

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As you my darling readers know, and I so happily confirm, I am something of an expert on the subject of adorable, being so adorable myself.  For proof we need look no further than the fact that my adorableness is so frequently mentioned by me.  Not to mention my charmingly excessive modesty which is also frequently mentioned by me here and everywhere whenever I remember to do so which is always.

So with that credential (the ability to detect adorableness and extol it) firmly ensconced, I offer you an adorable photograph, certified as adorable by none other than me, of a Remarkable Spelling Baby!  An adorable baby that that I hired to help us promote my net radio show Women Are Not Funny.

There are probably rules and laws and regulations, as well as conventions of etiquette and good taste, that prohibit the random hiring of babies for promotional efforts–even if the baby is a Remarkable Spelling Baby.  As an accidental lawyer, I should probably know the applicable law.  I don’t.  But does that stop me from my well-intended, random, ill-advised and totally wacky attempts to gain more listeners?  Or in the alternative characterization, my desperate and transparent efforts to call attention to myself?

No.  Not at all!  Because I am unstoppable.

Not really, but one can dream.  Right?

In fact, one must!

So check out this Remarkable Spelling Baby!  And join us on February 4 for the Third Season of Women Are Not Funny!   We have a line-up of awesome and fabulously interesting and irrepressible featured guests who are determined to help us prove or disprove the show’s premise.  Weekly, live or in replay.

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Thank you for reading this highly self-promotional post.  But it was worth it, wasn’t it, to see a photograph of a Remarkable Spelling Baby?  If you think so–and even if you don’t, consider subscribing to this darling blog by email, RSS feed, or in the Amazon Kindle where you can actually pay for something that is free.

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There is no denying it nor avoiding it, and yet I have. Unsuccessfully or successfully depending on how one judges such things. There is a persistent days’ old rumor that a new year, cleverly named Twenty Eleven, has begun. I failed to celebrate.

Perhaps that is a good thing. Perhaps it means that there is a celebration yet to come.

There are other possibilities but they shall go unmentioned.

New Year’s Day, also known as January 1, was the birthday, also known as the one year anniversary, of this darling blog, New Media Martini, and yet, it has been ruefully ignored and neglected. There is no excuse for me to have violated and ignored the venerated blogging custom of writing an anniversary post.

Many among you, or possibly one or two among you, in my imagination, are moved and inspired by my perfection and unconvinced that I have any flaws. Continue in that vein. I insist.

But know to our mutual sorrow that my thoughts have been scattered as of late.

And my thinking, if it can be called that goes like this: “I think I will tell them about my engagement ring. I will write a post about my engagement ring. It was so lovely and so unusual.” (It was a flawless two-carat ruby in an antique eighteen-carat gold Tiffany setting.) “They would want to know that.” And then I think, “No. That is stupid. It is only interesting to you because you are deliciously self-absorbed. And if they were slightly interested, they would want you to write the entire story.” “And you are divorced.” (It is true.)

And then I thought, “I must write about my custom Twitter spam bot. They would want to know.” But then, “Should I write about it Martini style? Can I write it Martini style? Or should I take it to Kay Ballard Speaks?”

And next I thought, and this thought won the day, (or a lot of days) “Maybe there is no need to write anything at all.”

Happy Birthday, belated, to my darling neglected blog, New Media Martini.

Chinese symbol for "end"Thank you for coming by.  If you will come by more often, so will I.  And give some thought to subscribing via email, RSS or Amazon Kindle.

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Starbucks Stipulation

December 30, 2010 · 0 comments

in Clarity

You are aware, of course, that I am a lawyer.  I know that it is true because I remind myself of that very fact from time to time—whenever it seems necessary to disregard the self-loathing that such a self-reminder might evoke.  Or, perhaps, self revelation is a better description of those reminders on the frequent occasions when somehow I have completely forgotten that I am a member of the lawyerly persuasion.

Regardless, and I use that word here with all of its several meanings, today I am forced to cloak myself in the cloak of a lawyer, which is navy blue, itchy, unfashionable and ill-fitting.

You see, in the law we have a concept known as “stipulation” which was created, in part, to save innocent ears and jaded ears, and actually, every sort of ears, from deadly annoying yammering on.  Stipulation refers to a situation when (or should it be where?) there is a statement or an assertion and all parties have agreed that it is a fact.  And the fact, is therefore, to be treated as undisputed and proved.

So here is my request, be it ever so reasonable, can we consider “You can’t even buy a latte at Starbucks for less than three dollars.” a settled fact?  Does it have to be offered up incessantly to somehow educate well educated adults about the actual value of money in their twenty-first century existence?  Are we supposed to respond to this like we are hearing it for the first time–instead of the thousandth plus (pick a number) time?

So here is what I propose:  a Starbucks Stipulation.

“Buying coffee or coffee related beverages at Starbucks is likely to cost several dollars per day.”

We already know that things are expensive.  The same thing holds true of stuff.   Expensive.   And this is true of nearly everything.   Toothpaste.   A handbag.   Harboring your yacht at La Rochelle.

So what if you try selling your product, your coaching, your membership, etc. based solely on its merits?  With the stipulation, unstated, that a daily fix at Starbucks will set us back three bucks.

Chinese symbol for "end"Okay, I apologize for being cranky.  But I am glad you came by.  You are always welcome here and welcome to subscribe via RSS feed, email, or Amazon Kindle.

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This is one of those posts.  You know:  “Kitchen Sink Posts.”   Posts meant to cover lots of things that are related solely by being unrelated.

OMG!  Actually, (sorry @LilPecan) Oh My God!  This darling feature-filled blog has actually spawned yet another fabulous feature:  The Kitchen Sink Post.

The only thing left to do is to decide whether to use decorative bullets.  And, well, write the damn thing.  And whether to curse while doing so, although some might point out that whether to curse, given that I have just done so, so convincingly, is now pretty much a settled issue.

OMG!  Yet another feature!  Cursing!  Cursing in stingy abundance and done in a manner that will not offend readers more delicate than someone as lovely and delicate as me, as if such a creature exists.  Not a lot of cursing.  Just an occasional “damn” and a scattershot “hell,” whether called for or not, uttered, unfettered, and offered on the possible occasion they might seem to appear here.  Because at New Media Martini, Blog Management actually favors true abundance in all things that are good and stingy abundance in all things that are less so.  Like cursing and creamy peanut butter.

But enough of that.  Let us begin.  With the post.  The Kitchen Sink Post.  With bullets.

  • Failed Movie Star:  According to my mother, the mother of my youth, the one and only mother I have ever been the monument of, I “could have been a beautiful actress.”  She sprang this on me only last night, after dinner, at the moment, which could have been any of several, that I least expected it.  Okay, I admit it, she didn’t mention the movies.  She said nothing about movies.  Perhaps in her dementia and haze she was imagining me not doing or not having done television or legitimate theater or dinner theater.  But I choose to think she meant that I could have had a career in the movies which is actually true of anyone, after all, if you want to analyze the words and give them their plain meaning due.  Still.  Movie Star Fail.
  • Guru Guarantee Revisited.  Again.  Recently I have written two posts about my Guru Guarantee.  In each I claimed to have written the definitive Guru Guarantee and installed it/them as my own in the interest of usefulness and degradation.  Imagine my surprise, chagrin or another word yet unselected, to realize that my Guru Guarantee was/is strangely lacking.  Lacking in terms of time or time term–lacking the most romantic time term of all.  Lifetime.  Mine?  Yours?  Theirs?  Regardless of whose lifetime, it remains a concept so sad and glamorous and uncertain.   I must add someone’s lifetime to my Guru Guarantee.
  • Dogs of the Internet.  Please don’t be intimidated by the brilliance of this observation which is really not an observation but a question of note.  As you may be aware there are a number of internet marketing geniuses who claim to have made millions–perhaps trillions– selling dog training manuals disguised as ebooks, carefully niched out by breed for optimized keywords and longtailed search engine searches.  Think about it—but only if you have a spare brain cell or three to devote to the cause.  If thousands of people laid out their $47, or better said, their forty-seven dollars, to buy dog training ebooks, isn’t it possible that we, as a people, have a produced an entire generation of well behaved internet dogs?

Chinese symbol for "end"Now is the part where I thank you for coming by and remind you that you would be a welcome subscriber to this darling blog, by email, RSS feed, or Amazon Kindle.

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Of course you do!  Of course you know about tough and what is tough and what isn’t.  You are an adult, after all, and even if you are not, we are totally PG–13 here at New Media Martini, even when we attempt to be sexually provocative barely not frequently enough.

Obviously, this post will not live up to its promise.  Could that be a blog feature?  Of course!  My feature-filled blog has Posts That Do Not Live up to Their Promise.  This is not a new feature, but one that is belatedly named and touted.

So I shall write about what is tough, or rather something that is tough, even though we have established that you already know and even though this post couldn’t possibly be long enough to be comprehensive on the subject.

Suddenly, I am somewhat inspired.  Lists are popular and a rare occasional feature of this darling feature-filled blog.  And, if I were clever, always and never, in styling the list, I could completely avoid the issue of avoiding being comprehensive, and being even more fiendishly clever, write a post that still does not live up to its promise regardless of being in the form of a list.

Yikes!  To do that I would need more inspiration.  Way.  More.  I am convinced that being somewhat inspired is not enough inspiration for me to come up with a list.  Of things.  That are tough.   The top five things that are tough.

So here is merely one thing that is tough.

It is tough to do an interview of a friend about that friend’s project–cool book, cool product, or cool website, without sounding like an infomercial.

So this week, when I had the occasion to pre-record, for Friday’s show, an interview of my friend, Martha Giffen, about her new website, Mommy Galaxy, I decided I was not tough enough to do the tough thing.  I decided intentionally to turn this non-hiatus episode of Women Are Not Funny Radio into a full-blown infomercial.

Admittedly, it may be lacking in standard infomercial delights like a “two for one” offer and a groaning studio audience, and no question about it, I failed to say, “Wait, wait!  There’s more!”  But throughout the interview, I was unabashedly an advocate of Martha’s new endeavor and, despite that, or because of that, the conversation infomercial is a whole lot of fun!   I want you to go there, now, and listen, as if you have nothing better to do.

Please forgive me, Darling Reader.  You have just read a commercial for an infomercial.

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The scientific among you are curious about whether my beseeching behavior after each post is effective in persuading readers to subscribe via email, RSS feed or on the Amazon Kindle.

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I hate being predictable.  Or maybe, what I hate is being told that I am predictable, except when I am told frequently in my dreams that predictably I am both adorable and modest.  But regardless of my predictable preferences for reverent referents and my predictable preferences for being unpredictable, some things are undeniably predictable.  One might even call them guaranteed.

As I sit here writing, laptop firmly on lap, I am struck by the layers of irony in this post, yet unwritten, and realize to my own delight and yours in advance, that this darling feature-filled blog, New Media Martini,  has a new feature on the way.  This blog now has ironic posts, or shall before daylight, and that future feature, I believe, is the mark of a truly sophisticated blog.  Admittedly, this blog has ever been lacking in sophistication.  Yet, I, its highly self-esteemed author, am thrilled to pile it on.  Sophistication, that is.  Additional sophistication.

The irony which I thus have been foreshadowing is this:

Several days ago, I published here my very own version of a Guru Guarantee.  It was meant to be comprehensive and to lead to commerce and other such desired occasions for esteemed prospective clients and customers to gleefully part with their cash.  Here is what I wrote:

“Simple, Iron Clad, Platinum, Bullet Proof, Triple Decker, No Holds Barred, No Questions Asked, 100 Per Cent Money Back Guarantee.”

Comprehensive.  My work was done!  Right?

Not really.  Because today, or tonight, in the brain that sits snugly and comfortably beneath my beautifully coiffed blonde  coiffure, came the suddenly realized realization that my Guru Guarantee, albeit quite comprehensive, might be slightly lacking in pizazz.  The kind of pizazz that can only and easily emanate from a guru guarantee that is “new and improved”—as one’s guru guarantee should always be.

At all times, for all of time.

So I decided to improve my Guru Guarantee and make it new by painstakingly adding the words “new and improved.”  Words that imply guarantee characteristics of high value—innovation and pre-existence.

So here is my New and Improved Guru Guarantee:

“New and Improved:  My Simple, Iron Clad, Platinum, Bullet Proof, Triple Decker, No Holds Barred, No Questions Asked, 100 Per Cent Money Back Guarantee.”

Chinese symbol for "end"Yes, this darling blog, New Media Martini, is incredibly sophisticated and YOU add to its sophistication by being a reader and a welcome subscriber by email, RSS feed or Amazon Kindle.

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