Megan Hart

I didn’t know you when you started.

Oh, I saw the articles in Entertainment Weekly, heard the buzz. But you came on in a time when I didn’t watch television, had no Tivo to help me. I didn’t care much about you, in the beginning.

And then…Netflix came into my life. That saucy whore. Teasing me, tempting me with unlimited rentals of programs I’d heard about but had never watched.

Like you.

So…yeah, I rented you at first. Just one disc. I said, “hey, if I don’t like you, I don’t ask you out again.” I didn’t know when I slipped you into the DVD player, slowly, carefully, that you’d turn out to be so. Damn. Beautiful. That first season murdered me. Tore me up, slit me open and sewed me up again. I screamed, I cried, I writhed.

I fell. Hard. Fast and deep. All the way.

Dr. Troy? Yes, please. Over and over again, and then one more time? Break my heart, please, because it yearns to be broken by the likes of you.

That first season was some of the most balls-to-the-wall, over-the-top, outrageous, horrifying, tantalizing, scintillating and sometimes disgusting television I’d ever seen. Oh, sure, you were too much to believe. Sure, you took everything that was good in anyone and turned it bad. I knew I could count on your characters to always make the wrong choices, no matter what.

You have no redeemeable qualities, Nip/Tuck. You know that? You know you’re filthy and unrepentant, don’t you? Just like you know you have me begging for more every single time you’re on.

Season two was next, and I ate that season. Oh, I didn’t rent any more. I had to OWN YOU. Yes, Nip/Tuck, you’re my filthy, nasty habit. I could watch you over again…and here’s a secret…oh, yes. Yes, I did. Snuck peeks at you during the day when I was supposed to be writing. “Research,” I called it. But we both know I lied. That’s what you do to me, Nip/Tuck, you turn me into your dirty, lying whore, and I LOVE IT.

Got caught up just in time for Season Three on broadcast, and with the help of some strange gadget called a DVD recorder (NOT A DVR, no, baby, this thing actually used RECORDABLE DISCS) I was able to keep up with you every week. Oh, sure, the dvds never recorded right and the timer was always off. Sure, I had to scream myself hoarse with frustration when I missed you. Thank God FX played you so many times I could always catch up.

This is it, Nip/Tuck. I wasn’t with you from the start, but I’ve been with you a damn long time. I’ve cried. I’ve laughed. I’ve cringed. I’ve stayed with you through every single unbelievable, repulsive story twist and plot line. I kept up with you even when Sean and Christian moved to L.A. because…how fucking ridic was that? But I was there with you. Loving you. Yearning for you. Aching to be filled with your weekly dose of OMG WTF.

And now…

Now, we say goodbye.

There’s only one episode left. And I can’t watch it. I can’t. I cannot bear to watch you end.

Christian, Sean, Liz, Julia, Matt, Connor, Annie, Kimber…none of you could ever get your heads out of your asses, and with one more episode to go, I don’t see as how you possibly CAN. But I guess that’s okay, because it would be unfair to expect any of you to get it straight after so long.

And after all, isn’t it what I so loved about you? Your constant flaws? Your never-changing lack of common sense?

Oh, Nip/Tuck, my dear Nip/Tuck…my beloved Nip/Tuck. I weep in advance at the thought of losing you. You were the one show I cheated on Supernatural with. The one I have to watch. Must see. Can’t be without.

I’m going to miss you.

<3,

M

Well, I cleaned off my desk today, and let me tell you something. It always takes a really long time. I also did laundry, and that takes a long time, too! Which makes my eyes all squinty, the laundry and the cleaning.

I also edited a Spice Brief called The Experiment and sent that off to my editor; so that’s what I do instead of watching The Super Bowl. I work. Oh, I did play some Sims 3 earlier today, but I don’t really count it since I was actually editing while I just let my Sim lady go about her business.

She discovered a star.

I know, right? Who knew they even could? Left to her business, she will play her guitar a lot and flirt with people. She also apparently likes to discover stars. And she found some seeds, but I don’t think she’ll plant them. Well, maybe she will, I don’t know.

Tomorrow I aim to get up at a good time (instead of letting the alarm just go off, then again, then again later…) which means I intend to get to bed very shortly. Which is also what I’m doing instead of watching the Super Bowl. Going to be early. I believe I shall read. Now, I just finished Under the Dome which was a doorstop of a book, my God, over 1000 pages, really? REALLY?! And I think I’m going to read The Lightning Thief or possibly The Dead and Gone next. Because I feel like it.

On the other hand, if I’m going to dive back into Collide tomorrow, I really should read through it to refresh my memory. So maybe I’ll take that to bed with me instead, and go over it.

See, that’s what I do instead of watching football.

I work!

M

There are days I really just want to Bale Out on someone. I mean, not just a random person, not just like, in the middle of the grocery store or something. But there are days when people make me so crazy I want to totally go off.

There are people in particular who elicit this reaction more frequently in me than others. Ebook pirates, for example? Fuck you. And if you think downloading a book from a file sharing site doesn’t make you an ebook pirate, again, fuck you.

And then there are…individuals. Wouldn’t it be nice if we could simply erase people from our lives who consistently and without fail find a way to squirt a huge, messy pile of fecal matter onto our days? You probably have someone or more than one, if you’re unlucky, like that. I do. I am blessed with a few forons I just can’t get rid of, and to them, I usually say nothing in the interest of taking the higher road, etc.

I don’t feel like that high road today. Today I feel like pointing a finger and saying “fuck you, you suppurating anal fissure, you pus-encrusted cyst, you infected, gangrenous, oozing, fecal-infested, maggot-ridden piece of offal.” That’s what I feel like saying today.

Not to you. Or you. Or not to you over there in the corner, and certainly not to YOU, either, I mean, really, you’re fabulous.

But to those unnamed pustules, those bile-filled blisters, I say:

what don’t you fucking understand?

Some months ago, I went to a concert, where I bought the performer’s CD and had him sign it, yadda yadda. I do zat because I like to support people who are playing music and I like to have them signed because, well, why not, right? I have a nice little collection and it makes me happy.

It makes me happier when I can actually listen to the music I buy on the CD, which is not what happened this time. Sadly, the CD had something wrong with it, and unlike buying something from a retail store, there’s no way to return it, right? So what did I do? I emailed via Facebook to say hey, I know you’re probably not the specific person to tell, but I bought your CD, it doesn’t work, I’m out ten bucks, can you send a replacement? I’d gladly return the defective one on my own dime (because you know what, guys without record deals are making their own CDs somehow and probably footing the bill, and they’re playing gigs to spread their music, I get it! That’s why I buy the CDs!)

So I get a reply, oh, so sorry, this is [name redacted]’s “people”, that’s happened before, and we’ll send you another CD right away, and btw, also send you a tshirt for your trouble.

Well, that’s great, right? Very cool. I replied that I don’t need a t-shirt, though I won’t turn it down, here’s my address, thank you so much, I appreciate it!

That was, I kid you not, JULY 27.

Yeah, so I emailed a few times after that, politely, to say, hey, it never arrived.

“Oh, so sorry, we’ll send you another right away.”

August 28th, I followed up.
And on December 3.

You know what? Don’t promise me a new disc and a tshirt and then not send one. Three times. I don’t like being lied to, I don’t like being jerked around. I spent ten bucks for a CD that doesn’t WORK. I didn’t blast them with emails saying they sucked, I just let them know of the problem and was told it would be taken care of. Multiple times. And it hasn’t.

And, this, my doves, is how to NOT MAKE FANS.

It is, in fact, a good way to lose fans. I didn’t go to that show to hear that guy sing, I was there to hear someone else, but I bought that guys’ CD because I was there and liked his sound and thought I’d support him. Now all I have is a CD that doesn’t work and a bad taste in my mouth about the whole thing.

Now, it’s not really my practice to call people out on the internet, so I’m not going to say his name, but the people who were with me know who he is, and anyone who cares could probably figure it out, since the only concerts I’ve been to recently were documented on this blog. And it wasn’t someone that I’ve talked about on here, other than very briefly, because as I said, I didn’t go to the show to hear him sing; he was just there.

And I know it’s not *him* — it’s his *people* but he really should get new people because frankly, they suck at their jobs. And he’s the one affected. Because I didn’t buy their CD, I bought his, and I won’t buy another.

I know stuff gets lost, I know I’ve mailed things that take a long time to arrive, but I do my best that if I say something went out, it goes out. If I promise a fan to send something, I try hard to send it — and if they tell me it didn’t get there, I do my best to make sure I find out where it DID go if they didn’t get it. I try hard to make sure I live up to the expectations made of me. If something’s wrong with one of my books, that’s my publisher’s job to replace it (in essence, my “people”) but if I found out a reader had contacted them and been pushed aside over and over, well…I’d be pretty upset, because it’s *MY* name that’s getting smeared.

So that’s that. I don’t expect a replacement CD and at this point, even if it arrives, I don’t really want it.

M

Yeah, so it’s snowing here. A lot. We have about four inches (so I’m told by the spawn with the ruler) and it’s still coming down. Hooray! I feel like watching Equilibrium or something equally delicious and playing the Sims 3 and generally being lazy. Yes, lazy. But I also feel like I should do some work. Which you know, isn’t lazy.

But I would like to say a couple things that I was thinking about…

A “book” is not a short story or even a novella. It has to deal with word count. I’m all for short stories, and I love novellas. But they are not books. And it sort of grates on my when writers call every piece they write a “book” when in fact, it’s a short story or a novella. A book to me is at least 50,000 words. Maybe there’s an official word count, I don’t know, but a “book” is NOT a short story, that’s all I can say. I have published a number of short stories and also novellas, and also novels, and while normally I’m the first to admit that I don’t know what the hell I’m doing and therefore can not tell you how to do it, too, I will say with utter confidence:

A book is not a short story.

M

If you have a coupla grand to drop on getting your book “published” — in other words, if you have a few thou to lay out for someone to “publish” your book, provide a cover, provide ISBN’s, etc….if you have that much cash to spend in getting your book “Published” then you don’t need to be a writer.

You obviously already have a decent job. Keep that one.

M

Read this. As in click the link to an article I’m linking to, right here.

Look, I have downloaded music from Limewire, a long time ago. I didn’t know better. I was a douchebag. I’ve since deleted those songs AND nine times out of ten, purchased them again from legitimate sources because I want to support the artist. I don’t do it any more. It’s beyond wrong and illegal, it’s douchebaggery of the highest type of fuckery.

I have never downloaded a free movie or a book, and I never will. That’s wrong, too.

And if you’re doing it — what you’re doing is wrong. It’s stealing. And if you keep doing it, eventually (and not so eventually, but soon) the artists and authors you “love” so much won’t be able to afford to create the content you love so much you have to steal.

I don’t come into your house and take your laptop just because I like it and can’t afford it. Don’t steal my books. Or music. Or movies. Don’t steal.

You’re not entitled to it just because you love it.

M

ETA: I just lied. I have downloaded free movies and music and books recently — from legitimate sources giving them away with the permission of the copyright holder. Christopher Dallman’s giving away free songs right now. Amazon.com has free reads for the Kindle. iTunes has several free selections every Tuesday. You can find free stuff. Just don’t steal it.

I am at a baseball game. I am cold. I am hungry. I am editing. So far I am not overcome with feelings of overwhelming suck. So far it’s ok.

I went shopping today. I did not buy cornflakes with kirk and Spock on them. My madness does know boundries.

I do love an icon I saw that said ” live long and suck it.” hahahahaha

M

Buckling down means I’m doing something else: I culled my online crap. I removed a bunch of blogs from my Google Reader, deleted some communities and friends from my LiveJournal (which only mirrors this blog, I don’t actually post there, but I do read my Flist.) I’m considering not doing LJ at all for the duration of this month. I also culled my online groups — a biggie in particular. Not that it gets a ton of action unless there’s a kerfluffle, but because something happened on it recently that so offended me it just hit home, once again, how much I actively dislike being on that list.

There are good people in that group. There really are. And overall, it’s a good organization. But sweet baby hay-zus, there is just TOO MUCH CRAP that flares up — too many people with there “one true ways” and too many arguing over stuff that to me is so inconsequential…

LOOK. I know not everyone has to have the same opinion on stuff. That would make the world a boring place. And if I think you’re a d-bag for having a different opinion than mine, that’s on ME, okay? I can think what I want. I can express that, even, but that doesn’t give me the right to slam you for it. And generally speaking, I don’t. But what really puts grit in my eyelids is the neverending, constant REPETITION of the same fucking back-and-forth crap. Some people are so freaking affronted by what they don’t agree with, some people are so uncomfortable or perhaps uneasy with DIFFERENT…and yet it’s okay for them to express an offensive opinion, it’s fine for them to be wittingly or unwittingly repulsive in their reactions…but if you express the opinion that what that person said, how they said it, could POSSIBLY be offensive…

Meh. I don’t have time for it.

You do not have to LIKE everything in this world, and you don’t have to approve of it. But there are ways to express your disapproval or distaste without being a d-bag. OR, how about this? How about you just leave your curled lip at home when you’re in a public forum, where it doesn’t have a place?

Or how about this? It’s easy enough to say, “Well, I don’t personally agree with such and so, but I recognize that it’s not hurting me, so while I can’t condone it, I’m not going to condemn it.”

Is that so hard?

WHAT.EVER. I have no time for online crap. People annoy me.

M

Well, well, well, Amazon.com, how does it feel when the mighty hammer of smut readers and queers and kinksters comes down to smite you?

I don’t need to reprint the email that people are receiving after complaining to Amazon.com about the whole ratings stripping debacle, but I do like that they admitted it was “embarrassing and “ham-fisted.” (You can read the whole reply in Melissa’s comment in my previous entry. Thanks, Melissa!)

You know, saying “sorry” goes a long, long way. It would be nice if more people realized this. I’m not entirely mollified — I’m not convinced Amazon.com had an evil plan to segregate or censor based on sexual preferences, but I’m not unconvinced there was something puritanical afoot. But I *am* pleased that they at least acknowledged there was some fuckery, and that there seems to be an attempt to fix it, and while I’m not trumpeting Amazon’s horn, I’m reserving my eternal condemnation until I see how this plays out.

In other news, anyone seen Adventureland? Wow. It wasn’t what I expected AT ALL, but it was sweet and poignant and evocative, and it reminded me so much of college summers working in a theme park,and just youth in general, and a lot of things — including 1987. I loved it. I have to go buy the soundtrack now! You know how hearing music in a movie makes you remember it and say “awwww!” and then you want it? Yeah.

Appointments today. Should get some writing in, too, somewheres along the way. My mousing hand hurts, though.I need a massage. I also need something to wear for Thursday…! Don’t forget, I’ll be doing this:

IN THE FLESH EROTIC READING SERIES
VIRGIN NIGHT
April 16th at 8 PM
AT HAPPY ENDING LOUNGE, 302 BROOME STREET, NYC
(B/D to Grand, J/M/Z to Bowery, F to Delancey or F/V to 2nd Avenue, http://www.happyendinglounge.com)
Admission: Free
Happy Ending Lounge: 212-334-9676

http://inthefleshreadingseries.blogspot.com

In The Flesh is proud to present its second annual Virgin Night, featuring new authors and first-time readers. Texan Jenny Block reads from Open: Love, Sex, and Life in an Open Marriage, Smart Bitches, Trashy Books blogger and co-author of Beyond Heaving Bosoms Sarah Wendell shares the sexy side of romance, memoirist (I’m Perfect, You’re Doomed) and ex-Jehovah’s Witness Kyria Abrahams talks about losing her virginity, Jehovah’s Witness style, while Nerve.com Scanner blogger Emily Farris delivers a sex story and erotic romance novelist (Stranger, Dirty) Megan Hart reads her steamy prose, along with Gideon Levy of Kinky Jews and Sugarbutch Chronicles blogger Sinclair Sexsmith, and first-time reader Nicolette Dixon. Books will be available for sale by Mobile Libris. Hosted and curated by Rachel Kramer Bussel (The Mile High Club, Do Not Disturb, Spanked). Free candy and cupcakes will be served.

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEK!!!!!!!

M