Archive for May, 2012

May 29, 2012

Unorthodox Sex Advice: May 2012

by Derek Osedach

Sarah H.: Hey, thanks for taking my email question. So, check it out. Me and my husband have been married for 23 years now and everything has been going very well. We get along very well when he’s home (sometimes he stays out extra late at night to catch up on work). Everything was great. Until last month. Last month, out of nowhere, my husband started a trend where he wears a condom every time we have sex. I mean, I’ve had my tubes tied 15 years ago. All that time: no condoms. I mean, what’s the purpose of a condom if you can’t get pregnant anyway, right? But now, after 15 years, all of a sudden he’s Mr. Safe Sex?

And it gets worse. After we do the deed, he sometimes goes into the bathroom to take a wiz and I hear him stomp his feet and howl in pain. He just screams and howls and one time I even heard him groan/scream, “What the hell was I thinking?”

Then he comes back to bed and goes to sleep, sort of shivering and rubbing himself.

What is going on here?

Practicallyserious.com: Ooh. Only one explanation to this one and I don’t think you’re going to like it. I suppose I’d better tell it to you anyway. Sarah, your husband is almost surely a Lycan (werewolf). Maybe full-blown, maybe only half-blood, I can’t quite tell. He wears the condom during sex so he doesn’t infect you with Lycan semen, which may or may not infect you with his curse. He’s new, he probably doesn’t know all of the rules yet, so he’s just trying to be safe. I’d let him keep wearing the condom if I were you.

And I got news for you: when he goes to the bathroom it’s not to pee, although he might pretend it is. Really, it’s because he feels a transformation coming on and he needs a private place in the house where he can summon all of his concentration to try to fight it back into submission. You said it yourself: he howls in pain, stomps around. Did you ever see that famous transformation scene in “An American Werewolf in London”? With your husband it’s almost exactly like that.

Sarah H. (follow-up email): Hey, I don’t think you were right about him being a werewolf, because I just shot him with regular bullets and he died. Wouldn’t he still be alive if he was a werewolf?

Practicallyserious.com: No. The whole silver bullet thing was made up for the movies, to make it harder for the werewolf hunters to kill the werewolves. Builds suspense, and it’s a good dramatic device: a nice shiny silver bullet forged out of melted family heirlooms. No, regular bullets work fine.

Sarah H.: Okay, cool.

________________

Check out this post if you want more unorthodox sex advice.

May 26, 2012

Friday Flash Fiction: “Crazy Moths”

by Derek Osedach

Crazy Moths

Richard thumpscraped the Buick station wagon over the curb for McDonald’s. Both the kids in the back seat hovered weightless then bashed up against the roof— the sound of one fist then another on the bottom of a rusty baking pan. They flopped down limp, out; Rich thought this was a good thing because now they wouldn’t make any mistakes about looking outside.

He bounced the car blindly, crashed it along the curve, around the building, always keeping his gaze anchored down beneath the windshield. A smell of sparks and rubber tainted the cabin.

The car screeched and squealed, stopped at the drive-through window. Rumor had it there were people inside, of sound mind, distributing stale chicken patties to those who braved the streets. He couldn’t know unless he took a real peek out the car.

Deep breath. Stomach gurgle. Looked at his rag doll kids first. Then he turned to take a real peek outside the car.

But there were two of them there on the bricks. Of colors and shapes bold and busy: Crazy moths.

No time to look away. In less than a second the weirdness of their wings screwed Richard’s brain like spaghetti. He laughed as his mind cracked and his foot fell numbly from the brake.

__________________

To find out what happens next, follow this link!

This story was written as part of “100-word Flash Fiction Friday.” But I had to cheat this week and give myself an extra hundred words or else the story would make even less sense than it does now.

For more practicallyserious flash fiction, check out this story!

May 25, 2012

The Seven Habits of Highly Successful Men

by Derek Osedach

(inspired by Stephen R. Covey’s popular self-help book “The Seven Habits of Highly Successful People,” which has sold more than 25 million copies in 38 languages since its first publication!)

The Seven Habits of Highly Successful Men

1. Lying.

2. Whoring/adultery.

3. Steak.

4. Masquerade orgies.

5. “Perfect” murder.

6. Hunting Humans for sport.

7. Throwing midgets.

May 22, 2012

I Will Now Attempt a “Normal” Post

by Derek Osedach

Okay. Okay. It’s been a long time since I attempted a “normal” post. A regular old, humor-infused opinion piece. An editorial. Something that isn’t just a wacky list, or a flash of serious/abstract/insane prose. There was a brief time here in practicallyserious.com when I used to try and be a normal blogger with normal blogger opinions on things I normally don’t care about either way. I once wrote a fine piece about how going out to a pizza parlor all by yourself is very much like being George Clooney going out on a date. I think it was about that. See for yourself, I don’t know or care.

That was the old me.

That was the me of about one month ago. I was a younger blogger then, and my blogging-midichlorians have nudged me along in a different direction. Nowadays I look at many of those early posts like they’re the dead, half-formed mutant Ripley’s in the big tubes in the lab in Alien Resurrection, the first attempts at cloning an alien/Ripley hybrid.

That movie sucked.

So where am I now? What is the future of this blog? Is practicallyserious.com to continue along in its current direction, which is to say: the direction of a mildly upsetting, bi-polar extravaganza of wacky-lists and quick, desperate attempts at semi-serious prose?

Yes.

But before I officially jump off that bridge, I figure maybe I’ll give “normal” blogging one more shot. See how it feels wearing those old clothes. See how fat I got.

Okay, hmm. What would a normal person blog about on a normal blog?

Damn, I haven’t the faintest idea. President Obama? Hybrid cars? The Michael Imperioli commercials for “1800” tequila? What would a normal guy blog about?

Okay, there’s an iPod sitting here on my desk right in front of me, and so maybe I’ll just blog about how annoying it is to me how people get iPods and consider the act of “filling it up” some kind of accomplishment. As if they really need easy access to all that music. As if they’re not going to just listen to maybe 12% of what’s on their 80-gig iPod and just keep skipping over all the rest when they have it on shuffle mode. All the rest is just filler tracks, digital gluttony. Really, iPod storage abusers are really just a new kind of “hoarder” like* they have on that sad television program.

Wait a minute. Wait a minute. What the hell was that? Did you guys just read that? I saw something. It was maybe a word or two after I wrote the word “hoarder.”

Oh crap. I hope it wasn’t what I thought it was.

The blog ghost.

I mean, what the hell else could it have been? I never use asterisks and I don’t do typos either.

Could it be that that pesky disembodied spirit of somebody’s prematurely-abandoned blog never left practicallyserious.com? My blog is still haunted, even though I had those two paranormal blogging investigators, Bob Wickipy and Lawrence Tolchin, come by and try and make peace with it or free it or whatever? Those guys said they took care of it.

Oh great, now I’m all shaking and nervous and I can’t continue with my nice normal blog about iPods. I’m gonna place a call for the paranormal blogging investigators. Have them come back and take a look.

I think their regular response time is like within six or seven posts. I guess that’s not so bad, considering. Lot of haunted blogs out there after all. I’ll just have to try and keep the blog going until they get here.

But, if you don’t mind, please leave me some comments. I don’t want to be alone tonight.

___________________

If you have no idea what just happened, please make sure to read this post.

May 19, 2012

3 Smart Ways to Save Gas

by Derek Osedach

3 Smart Ways to Save Gas

With gas prices now hanging out above $4/gallon here in Los Angeles, everybody wants to save gas however they can. I’ve decided to put together a new set of gas-saving tips for my loyal readers. Hope this helps.

  1. Put your gasoline in a cereal bowl and then get your bible and start preaching to it for as long as it takes for the gas to acknowledge God.
  2. If you go to a haughty dinner party with your gas, and at some point in the night you notice that a pretentious college professor has cornered the gas and won’t stop talking to it about politics, subtly move over to where they are and clear your throat a few times until your gas sees you and eagerly uses you as an excuse to escape the chatty professor.
  3. If your gas falls down into a well and is unable to climb back out, hire a team of miners to dig an adjacent hole exactly as deep as the well. Then have them dig across with pickaxes until they get to the well. Then have them transfer the gas into the other hole and take it back up to the surface on their makeshift elevator.

These are all ways to save gas.

_____________________

For more practicallyserious tips to help you save at the pump, check out this post.

May 18, 2012

100-word Fiction Friday: “Bad Handle”

by Derek Osedach

Bad Handle

The rainbow had been a solid thing, bold and bright, shining like glossy candy stripes that hurt your teeth. The birds had swerved round it, the rain rumbled as it rolled down. The Earth swayed safely above the black.

They were in the clearing surrounded by wavering Rambletrees.

“It’s fading,” said Ernest. “Think the bird went through.”

Mi-More pulled a stroodler from his nose flap before it could lay eggs. “It was the handle that held the basket over the bugs.”

Ernest sniffed the wormy air and knew the picnic was about over.

___________

This story was written as part of “Flash Fiction Friday.” Great blog! Check it out and participate!

May 18, 2012

Flash Fiction: “The Pig”

by Derek Osedach

The Pig

Butcher Fry chased the pig through the dank sewer throat, his cleaver raised above his bald head and knifing through the moldy drips of air.

As the pig’s splashing, snorting body glistened past the sulky beams of light, Fry cursed to himself, thinking pigs were smart and quick.

He kept up while the pig galloped through dark waste water, splashing. Fry breathed a mist of coppery bricks. It dampened the cocaine globs in his mustache.

Dead end.

“But, but,” said the pig, cheeks blubbering, helpless (he’d lost his firearm in the wrestling), “I said just lower your music!”

_________________

For more practicallyserious flash fiction, check out this story!

May 14, 2012

Flash Fiction: “Rotterhalt”

by Derek Osedach

Rotterhalt

Judith went into the dark kitchen like a kickshocked cat and opened the grumbling Rotterhalt refrigerator. The door squeaked wide and a heap of cold air chilled her glowing face and neck. A bright, clean display of perfectly organized greenyuck and juices and vegetables, exactly everything the girls at Stairdore were allowed to eat and nothing more. The labels faced outward, always faced outwards or there was the peach fannywhack stick.

She looked over her shoulder once, then again. Her stomach rumbled like furniture sliding.

Careful not to dirty her swamp-green uniform skirt, she knelt to the tiles and looked under the refrigerator, into the gap of its broken grill, into its dusty guts. She fished her hand through the cobwebs, past the greasy fuzz pipes.

She found it and brought it out through the rumble. For a second forgot to breathe.

It was a brilliant slice of lemon meringue pie in a clean white dish, not a single dust bug, though her hand had streaks of black and smelled like tar.

She gobbled the pie quick and slid the dish back into Rotterhalt.  She wondered what it would be tomorrow. Shutting the heavy door, caressing the cool handle, she whispered, “Cheesecake.”

May 13, 2012

Flash Fiction: “The Horizon Dash”

by Derek Osedach

The Horizon Dash

Joe looked into the telescope to see across the plain of low yellow grass, to the horizon where Feet Speedman was a wavering brown dot on the brink of going away. Joe had a sweaty plastic stopwatch in his hand and he turned it up to his eye. “Three hours fifteen seconds,” he said. “Faster Feet!” A clipboard rested next to his light green flip-flops, and there was a paper there that had some numbers scribbled down in a slouching column. The smallest number on top, circled in blue ink: “3:21.34.”

Inside the telescope Feet rippled in and out, the heat rolling over the grass.

Joe screwed his eye in the viewfinder. Official games were in a week. Either they had it or not.

Then Feet disappeared at 3:20:56 and Joe clicked the stopwatch. Joe howled and stepped on the clipboard by mistake.

The Horizon Dash was theirs to lose.

________________

For more practicallyserious flash fiction, check out this story!

And for other flash ficiton options, check out Susie!

May 8, 2012

The Best Times to Publish Your Post

by Derek Osedach

Every true blogfreak knows: timing is everything. You can write the coolest post in the world, the cleverest 307 words of that day’s portion of the blogosphere, but if you publish this masterpiece at a “bad” time then what the hell’s the use?

Publish too early in the day and it could be buried alive under a pile of other peoples’ daily musings before anybody in your time zone ever knew it was there in the first place. Publish too late and nobody cares anymore; they’re all combing through the porn sites getting ready to call it a night. Publish it right smack in the middle of the day and most people are too busy pretending to be busy at work to give your precious “masterpost” their full, undivided attention, and so you get low/no “comments” and “likes.”

So what’s a blogger to do? When’s a good time to publish a post?

The Best Times to Publish Your Post

  1. After the post is written.
  2. When your computer is connected to the internet.
  3. When you are having an orgasm.
  4. When the house smells like pizza.
  5. Before a nuclear “goldeneye” device is detonated in the atmosphere just above your city, creating an electromagnetic pulse that fries anything with an electric circuit (including your computer’s motherboard).
  6. When you are a 16-year-old girl in love for the first time.

These are all great times to publish your post.

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