BronxWench

Several Tentative Authors Texting Urgently To Organize Rampant Yaoi.
B R O C C O L I

Seriously Urbane Role Player Requires Intelligent Sexy Enemy
M A S T I C A T E

Hi all!!
Not sure if there's another thread about this but I was just wondering if anyone else is participating in NaNoWriMo this month? It's my first year attempting it and with a full time job, 4 month old son, and 0 inspiration I probably won't make it but I'm going to give it a shot! Who's with me?

Yay nano! It's my first time attempting it too. Good luck!

Good luck ladies! And congrats on finishing two years in a row BronxWench! As for me it's the 8th already and I have 0 words so far

Did you finish BronxWench? I didn't this year.... not even close. But oh well, it got me back into writing regularly again after a loooooooong break so it was worth it!

I missed this thread, all because I didn't check anywhere during NaNo.
I managed to get 50k on the 17th, very silly early too - 1:10am GMT time.
I have the bad habit of not leaving much in the way of plot holes, I don't keep my inner editor shut up in a cupboard or she gets VERY shouty and derails my plots more than what my muse does!

::dryly:: We're hardly a short-lived fanfiction website. We've managed to stick around for over ten years because our owner actually understands what's needed to run a site and keep it vital.

While I'm remembering it.... I don't remember where this one was, but when I found it.... *dies laughing*
"What are you talking about? He's obliviously a girl."

::dryly:: We're hardly a short-lived fanfiction website. We've managed to stick around for over ten years because our owner actually understands what's needed to run a site and keep it vital.

Overview: I had to take my son's lizard to the vet.
Here's what happened:
Just after dinner one night, my son came up to tell me there was "something wrong" with one of the two lizards he holds prisoner in his room. "He's just lying there looking sick," he told me. "I'm serious, Dad. Can you help?"
I put my best lizard-healer statement on my face and followed him into his bedroom. One of the little lizards was indeed lying on his back, looking stressed. I immediately knew what to do. "Honey," I called, "come look at the lizard!"
Oh my gosh," my wife diagnosed after a minute. "She's having babies."
"What?" my son demanded. "But their names are Bert and Ernie, Mom!" I was equally outraged.
"Hey, how can that be? I thought we said we didn't want them to reproduce," I accused my wife.
"Well, what do you want me to do, post a sign in their cage?" she inquired. (I actually think she said this sarcastically!)
"No, but you were supposed to get two boys!" I reminded her, (in my most loving, calm, sweet voice, while gritting my teeth together).
"Yeah, Bert and Ernie!" my son agreed.
"Well, it's just a little hard to tell on some guys, you know," she informed me. (Again with the sarcasm, you think?)
By now the rest of the family had gathered to see what was going on. I shrugged, deciding to make the best of it. "Kids, this is going to be a wondrous experience, I announced. "We're about to witness the miracle of birth."
"OH, gross!", they shrieked.
"Well, isn't THAT just great! What are we going to do with a litter of tiny little lizard babies?" my wife wanted to know. (I really do think she was being snotty here, too. don't you?)
We peered at the patient. After much struggling, what looked like a tiny foot would appear briefly, vanishing a scant second later. "We don't appear to be making much progress," I noted.
"It's breech," my wife whispered, horrified.
"Do something, Dad!" my son urged.
"Okay, okay." Squeamishly, I reached in and grabbed the foot when it next appeared, giving it a gingerly tug. It disappeared. I tried several more times with the same results.
"Should I call 911?" my eldest daughter wanted to know. "Maybe they could talk us through the trauma." (You see a pattern here with the females in my house?)
"Let's get Ernie to the vet," I said grimly.
We drove to the vet with my son holding the cage in his lap. "Breathe, Ernie, breathe," he urged.
"I don't think lizards do Lamaze," his mother noted to him. (Women can be so cruel to their own young. I mean what she does to me is one thing, but this boy is of her womb, for God's sake.)
The vet took Ernie back to the examining room and peered at the little animal through a magnifying glass.
"What do you think, Doc, a C-section?" I suggested scientifically.
"Oh, very interesting," he murmured. "Mr. and Mrs. Cameron, may I speak to you privately for a moment?"
I gulped, nodding for my son to step outside. "Is Ernie going to be okay?" my wife asked.
"Oh, perfectly," the vet assured us. "This lizard is not in labor. In fact, that isn't EVER going to happen... Ernie is a boy. You see, Ernie is a young male. And occasionally, as they come into maturity, like most male species, they um....um....masturbate. Just the way he did, lying on his back." He blushed, glancing at my wife. "Well, you know what I'm saying, Mr.Cameron."
We were silent, absorbing this. "So Ernie's just...just...excited," my wife offered.
"Exactly," the vet replied, relieved that we understood.
More silence.
Then my vicious, cruel wife started to giggle. And giggle. And then even laugh loudly.
"What's so funny?" I demanded, knowing, but not believing that the woman I married would commit the upcoming affront to my flawless manliness.
Tears were now running down her face. "It's just...that... I'm picturing you pulling on its...its...teeny little..." She gasped for more air to bellow in laughter once more.
"That's enough," I warned. We thanked the veterinarian and hurriedly bundled the lizards and our son back into the car. He was glad everything was going to be okay.
"I know Ernie's really thankful for what you've done, Dad," he told me.
"Oh, you have NO idea," my wife agreed, collapsing with laughter.
2 - lizards - $140...
1 - Cage - $50...
Trip to the Vet - $30...
Memory of your husband pulling on a lizard's wacker -.....Priceless...

Overview: I had to take my son's lizard to the vet.
Here's what happened:
Just after dinner one night, my son came up to tell me there was "something wrong" with one of the two lizards he holds prisoner in his room. "He's just lying there looking sick," he told me. "I'm serious, Dad. Can you help?"
I put my best lizard-healer statement on my face and followed him into his bedroom. One of the little lizards was indeed lying on his back, looking stressed. I immediately knew what to do. "Honey," I called, "come look at the lizard!"
Oh my gosh," my wife diagnosed after a minute. "She's having babies."
"What?" my son demanded. "But their names are Bert and Ernie, Mom!" I was equally outraged.
"Hey, how can that be? I thought we said we didn't want them to reproduce," I accused my wife.
"Well, what do you want me to do, post a sign in their cage?" she inquired. (I actually think she said this sarcastically!)
"No, but you were supposed to get two boys!" I reminded her, (in my most loving, calm, sweet voice, while gritting my teeth together).
"Yeah, Bert and Ernie!" my son agreed.
"Well, it's just a little hard to tell on some guys, you know," she informed me. (Again with the sarcasm, you think?)
By now the rest of the family had gathered to see what was going on. I shrugged, deciding to make the best of it. "Kids, this is going to be a wondrous experience, I announced. "We're about to witness the miracle of birth."
"OH, gross!", they shrieked.
"Well, isn't THAT just great! What are we going to do with a litter of tiny little lizard babies?" my wife wanted to know. (I really do think she was being snotty here, too. don't you?)
We peered at the patient. After much struggling, what looked like a tiny foot would appear briefly, vanishing a scant second later. "We don't appear to be making much progress," I noted.
"It's breech," my wife whispered, horrified.
"Do something, Dad!" my son urged.
"Okay, okay." Squeamishly, I reached in and grabbed the foot when it next appeared, giving it a gingerly tug. It disappeared. I tried several more times with the same results.
"Should I call 911?" my eldest daughter wanted to know. "Maybe they could talk us through the trauma." (You see a pattern here with the females in my house?)
"Let's get Ernie to the vet," I said grimly.
We drove to the vet with my son holding the cage in his lap. "Breathe, Ernie, breathe," he urged.
"I don't think lizards do Lamaze," his mother noted to him. (Women can be so cruel to their own young. I mean what she does to me is one thing, but this boy is of her womb, for God's sake.)
The vet took Ernie back to the examining room and peered at the little animal through a magnifying glass.
"What do you think, Doc, a C-section?" I suggested scientifically.
"Oh, very interesting," he murmured. "Mr. and Mrs. Cameron, may I speak to you privately for a moment?"
I gulped, nodding for my son to step outside. "Is Ernie going to be okay?" my wife asked.
"Oh, perfectly," the vet assured us. "This lizard is not in labor. In fact, that isn't EVER going to happen... Ernie is a boy. You see, Ernie is a young male. And occasionally, as they come into maturity, like most male species, they um....um....masturbate. Just the way he did, lying on his back." He blushed, glancing at my wife. "Well, you know what I'm saying, Mr.Cameron."
We were silent, absorbing this. "So Ernie's just...just...excited," my wife offered.
"Exactly," the vet replied, relieved that we understood.
More silence.
Then my vicious, cruel wife started to giggle. And giggle. And then even laugh loudly.
"What's so funny?" I demanded, knowing, but not believing that the woman I married would commit the upcoming affront to my flawless manliness.
Tears were now running down her face. "It's just...that... I'm picturing you pulling on its...its...teeny little..." She gasped for more air to bellow in laughter once more.
"That's enough," I warned. We thanked the veterinarian and hurriedly bundled the lizards and our son back into the car. He was glad everything was going to be okay.
"I know Ernie's really thankful for what you've done, Dad," he told me.
"Oh, you have NO idea," my wife agreed, collapsing with laughter.
2 - lizards - $140...
1 - Cage - $50...
Trip to the Vet - $30...
Memory of your husband pulling on a lizard's wacker -.....Priceless...

Never expected this to turn into a hot topic!
And was never suggesting a good proportion of authors on here were bloody thirsty socio-paths
Maybe a bit tapped in the head, but I think that goes for a good 99.9% of Authors anyway (I know I am)

When it comes to reviews, I used to be hurt to hardly get any when I first started on out FF.Net (at about age 12 or 13). But then, as I grew and got older I started noticing how when I did get reviews, they would influence my writing. Instead of writing for me, I was writing to please my readers which would change the entire plot/tone of my story in a direction I didn't like. So I quit.
Years later, I've come back with a different perspective: I don't care about reviews. Sure, they're great to get or know that someone is enjoying your writing, but I'm not going to let reviews or the number I get put me in a down place. I use writing to getting away from the real world, as hobby, a way to express myself during difficult times. My feelings, thoughts and emotions comes out in my characters when I write since I've experienced what they have.
Now, I'm writing for me; not my readers, not my reviewers. You get what I give you. It may sound a little harsh but it's honest.
When I do get reviews, I favor those that aren't afraid to speak their mind and point out errors. I love criticism and tips for improvement. That's why when I review, I tend to be the same way by helping the author improve if they'd like.

Come to the Dark Side... we have accessories...

Oh, I don't know... I view Recaptcha as a way to make sure that I can still curse fluently in seven languages....

Oh, I don't know... I view Recaptcha as a way to make sure that I can still curse fluently in seven languages....

I reported it as well, for what it's worth! But maybe if they get a few, they might actually notice.

Oh, I don't know... I view Recaptcha as a way to make sure that I can still curse fluently in seven languages....

Probably for the best. And a wonderful comment. I'm rather fond of the refresh button as well. Especially for the CAPTCHA things. I had quetzacoatl once, only it had an 'n' on the end of it. Was very strange. Almost as odd as having "normal," and "squl"-something or other. Because really, what is a normal, squl-thingie?

"esungnt rafh"
Mmm. Usually there is one of the two words that is English! This one is hard. I know I spelled it right because it worked. So, I think "rafh" is a noun, and it sounds like wrath but is written like raft. Oh! I just thought of something. ReCaptcha just bit its tongue and is saying rash. "esungnt" must be ... um ... describing it, yeaahh. lol. Shit, I don't have any ideas. I admit it, I just wanted to post again.

Hm.... Recaptcha was trying to say "esurient" ...then finally had a reaction to all the story data that's on the site?

Isn't the purpose of Recaptcha to prevent automated replies or something? The only thing capable of typing that one is an android or robot something, definitely not a human!

LOL from 9Gag today

from the archive: