Saturday, September 22, 2007

Fiction Friday --


This Week’s Theme: Pick an unusual phobia and explain why a character has it.

Oh boy, this was fun.

First, I went to Wikipedia for a list of phobias. There are some good ones. The theme called for UNUSUAL phobias.

So, that ruled out characters like the school teacher who is afraid of the color red, an Erytophobe, who therefore can't ever fail a student because that means using a red pen.

Or the surgeon who is afraid of blood or of performing surgery; either Hemophobia, or Ergasiophobia or Tomophobia.

Or the chef who is afraid of food or heat: Cibophobia or Thermophobia.

The Blogger who is afraid of computers: Cyberphobia

Barber afraid of chins: Geniophobia

Barber afraid of bald people: Peladophobia

The cat afraid of mice: Murophobia

And the new bride who is afraid of her mother-in-law: Pentheraphobia

The comedian afraid of laughter: Geliophobia

These are all just ironic phobias. Not unusual ones. (Though I had not heard of being afraid of chins or bald people before.)

So, what qualifies as a truly unusual phobia??

FINALLY, here is one in the list that I consider quite unusual:

"Peanut butter sticking to the roof of the mouth- Arachibutyrophobia."
and
"Phobic prefering fearful situations- Counterphobia."
and
"Words, long- Hippopotomonstrosesquippedaliophobia or Sesquipedalophobia."

And then a couple really unusual phobias popped up:
Luposlipaphobia — the fear of being pursued by timber wolves around a kitchen table while wearing socks on a newly-waxed floor (fictional, also from Gary Larson in the cartoon series The Far Side).

and

Anatidaephobia — fear that somewhere, somehow, a duck is watching you (fictional, from a Gary Larson cartoon published in The Far Side Gallery, 4).

and

Anoraknophobia- fear of spiders wearing anoraks: it is a portmanteau of "anorak" and "arachnophobia. Used in the Wallace and Gromit comic book Anoraknophobia

or

Aibohphobia — a joke term for the fear of palindromes, which is a palindrome itself.

Okay, now for the character with the unusual phobia and the explanation of why this character has this phobia.

His name is Jonathan Livingston; he's a seagull. He lives along the coast of southern New Jersey and he has heard the stories over and over. For generations the story has been passed down about Uncle Poop-Plop and the Sticky Peanut Butter Stuck tot he Roof of His Mouth.

Uncle Poop-Plop was the best mussel hunter along the coast. One day he and a few of his cronies decided to check out the Gull Ladies on Gull Island. That meant leaving the ocean beach and flying north along the bay beach of the island. Usually it was a very uneventful flight. Boring even.

This day, however, was different. There were two young turks, thinking quite highly of themselves, in a small sailboat down below. Uncle Poop-Plop, never one to miss a chance to live up to his name, decided to fly in closer.

Eh, regular, run of the mill teenagers. Not even the type to try to draw attention to themselves to get the girls on shore to watch them. Geeks, for sure.

Just as he was about to take aim, Uncle Poop-Plop saw something flying through the air toward him. Other gulls were making mad dashes to try to catch it. One of the geeks had thrown it.

UPP caught it. A saltine cracker! People food was gross (hotdogs, for example), not so bad (UPP remembered stealing that cheeseburger off the picnic table at Mc'y D's -- getting that kid in trouble for its disappearance --a doubly good steal), and fair-to-middling . This cracker fit into that category. Human food was never as good as seafood, but often was much easier to get hold of.

More crackers came flying through the air. UPP and his cronies forgot about the gull ladies and joined in the fracas for the goodies being thrown away by such silly geeks. Who would believe him if he told them about FUNNY GEEKS? It was an oxymoron, for sure.

There was a short lull when no more crackers were thrown. UPP watched, waiting for a good opportunity to do "his thing" now. Most of the other gulls had gone off to do other things. Even his cronies had headed up to Gull Island. It was just him and old Sma' Beak left. Sma' Beak was sure the geeks were going to throw something else. UPP just wanted to make a plop and hit his mark: the geek with the glasses.

A large blob of something came his way. It was easy to outfly Sma' Beak because Sma' Beak was also a runt and scrawny, couldn't fly so fast. UPP caught the blob. Peanut butter! No cracker, just peanut butter.

The wad was too big for his mouth. He couldn't get his tongue to move, to try to dislodge the wad stuck to the roof of his mouth, stuck to his tongue, plastering his beak lips together. He tried to dive into the bay water in attempt to loosen the wad.

He was stung by three jellyfish. Ironic, peanut butter and jelly fish! Up out of the bay he flew, trying to open his mouth, trying to dislodge the wad. Trying to get his tongue to push it out of the way.

He crashed into the bay again, still hoping the impact would loosen the sticky wad. The impact pushed the wad further into his beak and almost clogged his esophagus.

One more crash into the bay below and four more jelly fish stung him. His head felt numb. He could barely breathe and was beginning to feel dizzy. He took to the air again, flapping toward Gull Island. Maybe one of the Gull Ladies there could help him.

Well, Jonathan Livingston was never ever going to have peanut butter stuck to the roof of his mouth! No way! Uncle Poop-Plop had found help and being as addle brained as he was form the lack of oxygen and the jelly fish stings, he asked the Gull Lady who rescued him to become his wife. There has never been such a hen-pecked gull in all of gull history and Jonathan was not going to let peanut butter do THAT to him!

get the Fiction Friday codeabout Fiction Friday
Technorati tags: ,

(c)2007 Susan D Berg ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Wednesday, September 19, 2007

Celebrate the release of SUSHI FOR ONE with Camy Tang's Contest -- you could win an iPod and a basket of books!



Camy Tang's first book, Sushi for One, just came out. To celebrate (and to generate interest in the book) she is hostessing an awesome contest. The grand prize, first place winner, will receive an 8 GB iPod! Plus a lot of books (I didn't count them all ...)

For more information, and to enter, go here:
http://www.camytang.com/contest.html

You will need two things
- you'll need my email address to put in the contest entry form -- SuseADoodle at gmail.com. Please be sure to use that, okay?
- a Yahoo ID so you can join her Yahoo Group, Camy's Loft. And you will WANT to join her Yahoo group because every week she gives away books!

An author who whole-heartedly believes writers are readers too!

The contest runs till October 31, 2007.


The book sounds like a wonderful read. It is on my list of "GET THIS SOON!" Books and I've scheduled an afternoon to read it cover-to-cover. Want to know a little more about it? Check out:
http://christianfictionblogalliance.blogspot.com/2007/09/sushi-for-one-by-camy-tang.html
or
http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/0310273986
or
http://www.christianbook.com/Christian/Books/product?item_no=273981&netp_id=479128&event=ESRCN&item_code=WW

Saturday, September 15, 2007

FAIR-TRADE CHOCOLATE EVENT

Who doesn't like chocolate? There are very few people who don't. (They were probably given chocolate as a kid but were told it was calves' liver or something like that.)

Did you know that about half of the world's chocolate is produced with slave labor? For more information, visit
http://www.stopthetraffik.org/.

If you like to cook and would like to win a goodie bag of Traffik-Free Chocolate, stop over here: http://rkhooks.net/2007/09/03/stop-the-traffik-chocolate-event/

If you participate, stop back here.
In the comments section leave your name and the url to your blog post that you use to enter r k hooks' event, using Traffik-Free Chocolate.

I'll be posting this info about the event at each of my blogs. Feel free to leave your comment and link at each one. (One comment entry per blog please, though.) From all of the comments posted, there will be a random drawing and I'll send out a chocolate-related thank you to three winners.

Friday, September 14, 2007

The Refrigerator EXAGGERATES!

The tomatoes are only all over the counter, in boxes in front of the kitchen sink, and filling all the pots I can fit on the stove at one time. There are no tomatoes in the cupboards. None are in the bathtub or the dishwasher or the clothes washer. None are in the teacups or the saucers.

YET!

If the ones still in the garden survive the possible frost tonight, there will be about 38,917 "Sweet 100" Cherry Tomatoes invading my kitchen tomorrow ...

HELP!!!!

Fiction Friday - 09-14-07

get the Fiction Friday code

This Week’s Theme: Write from the Point of View of an Inanimate Object

Tomatoes! Tomatoes! Tomatoes!

Tomatoes are everywhere! All over the counters, the kitchen table, the colanders and strainers are full of them. The dishwasher is full of freezer containers with their lids and canning jars -- all for the tomatoes!

You'd think there was nothing else in the world right now, except T O M A T O E S ! Argh!

Tomatoes in the cupboards. Tomatoes in the saucers. Tomatoes in the dishwasher. Tomatoes in the bathtub.

Will it never end? Will they ever go away?

Will I ever see bread again? Ever since those horrid red (and some of them are yellow too) things started coming in here, I haven't seen a loaf of bread! Almost as soon as it comes through the door, the bread gets used for tomato sandwiches.

Oh, the Miracle Whip comes and goes; the salt, I see it being used and put back where it belongs. But the bread? It doesn't last long enough for me to see it -- well, I "see" it on the counter or on the cutting board or on a plate. But do I get any of it? NO!

Those horrid red tomatoes!

With glee, however, I anticipate the agony the freezer, in the garage, will experience once all those tomatoes end up in there. HA HA HA. Mua HA HA HA! If they try to make me hold any of those nasty things, I'll just shut right down and turn the ice cream to milk and the eggs to sulpher bombs. MUA HA HA HA.

I'll make a racket when my motor and compressor turn on, I'll shake so hard the magnets all fall off my door and the eggs scramble in their shells. I'll freeze the lettuce in the crisper and warm the milk on the door; I'll spit ice cubes all over the floor in the middle of the night out the ice dispenser, and piddle on the floor by making the water dispenser leak or the self-defrost line out could just happen to clog up ...

Oh, I am so wicked. But those horrid red things just bring out the beets -- oops, beast -- in me!

-- (c) 2007 The Fridge ALL RIGHTS RESERVED (including the right to make those horrid red things toxic if I can just figure out how to do it)


about Fiction Friday
Technorati tags: ,

Thursday, September 06, 2007

FOLLOW Your Dreams ... You don't know where they'll take you!

You NEED to click on this link and go watch the video here. Even pause a while to listen to Kay's playlist of awesome affirming songs while you are there. (I just bookmarked this blog post in my "radio" favorites -- I like the playlist that much ...) After you've listened to her playlist (Jimmy, at least) pause that and then click on the video:

http://loopdeloops.blogspot.com/2007/09/dreams-can-come-true.html


Go on! Go! Now! I'll still be here when you get back. (Did I hear you say "drats!"? That's okay ... LOL)


































You went, right? You watched the video?

Okay, now read on ...


Last night, my husband asked if I had heard the news. About Pavarotti. I had not heard but figured that meant only one thing: the world had lost a great voice.

I had heard about this guy from Wales. The opera snobs are not too happy that opera was "cheapened" by being performed in such a popular venue. However, the masses who appreciate a good voice are thrilled. I'm with them.

Never ever underestimate your gifts, your dreams, your talents. They are given to you and they are yours to treasure, nurture, and share.

Go Dream, Live, Share.

Wednesday, September 05, 2007

A Three-Word Wednesday entry (#2 for me)


From: http://littlenibbler.blogspot.com/

Welcome to Three Word Wednesday. Each week, I will post three (or more) words. Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to write something using all of those words. It can be a few lines, a story, a poem, anything. I'll also attempt to write something using the same words.

Leave a comment if you participate. Many fun and interesting people might visit your blog.

This week's words are:
Pound
Sunglasses
Wild

-- -- -- -- --

Okay, here goes. Top-of-the-head, free association and all that jazz stuff happenin' here: (IOW - crap-perhaps)

A pound of hair. A full pound of it! Maybe more.

It littered the floor like so much spaghetti half boiled and thrown by handfuls to splat and smash on the terracotta tiles.

That, finally, was the end to my latest fiasco. 12 years of growing that mop of hair, destroyed by one crazy incident -- a dare from my sisterhood-circle. "Let's all go PLATINUM!"

I thought they meant hair color. They meant to get and abuse a platinum credit card. I think my personal translation of the dare, and implementation, was far superior to theirs.

They still had a mountain of debts. I had all this hair. Bright white hair. So bright, I needed to wear my sunglasses to gather it all and toss it in the trash.

Tomorrow I would go get the stubble of hair left on my head colored -- Copper Penny Red. Kind of ironic, though. That's about all my sisterhood-circle friends each have in their bank accounts after making their minimum payments each month on those platinum credit cards.


(c)2007 Susan Berg All Rights Reserved (but honestly, why would anyone in their right mind (or left mind, even) want to steal that malarky?!)

Saturday, September 01, 2007

Sunday Scribblings #75 -- "The End"

No, it's not the end of Sunday Scribblings. The prompt this week is "the end."

Well, I don't like this one. I wrote it, I posted it, but it is dumb (I think). LOL. Not quite sure why my recent writings of fiction for the net have headed into this sort of genre. Weird, if you ask me. Oh well. I told myself I would try to do these prompts and not self-edit (too much) ...


Her voice trailed off. Lucy shut the book quietly, blew out the candle and tiptoed toward the door. Anna had fallen asleep a long time ago, but Lucy had finished reading the bedtime book to the final page. "The end," it had said.

Lucy was almost out the door when the little voice said, "Mom, you know, I hate that."

Her daughter's comment startled her. "Hate what, honey?" she asked as she returned to her daughter.

"How all my favorite stories end. 'The End.' I don't think that is true, do you?"

Lucy waited for her six-year old to go on. After a short pause, Anna added, "I think the stories have to go on. You and daddy didn't end when you got married, did you?" Her child's eyes grew big as she studied at her mother in the darkness of the bedroom. "You're not a ghost mommy, are you?"

"No, honey," Lucy laughed, "I'm not a ghost. Good night dear. Sleep well."

"What was wrong with the little tyke?" Daniel asked as she returned to the sitting room.

"She asked if I was a ghost? She doesn't like how her favorite stories all finish off with 'The End'."

Daniel Gregg raised an eyebrow at that. Lucy continued, "I didn't tell her that her father is a ghost. And that my lover is a ghost, Captain." She reached up and tickled his chin, always amazed that she touched a warm solid beneath her finger tips and not a cold ethereal mist.

His arms around her were warm and strong. She raised her face to meet his lips. There was no breath upon her cheek, but there was a weight of flesh upon her own. She dared not try to analyze this, try to understand how a ghost could feel so solid, so real.

When her husband had died, Lucy Muir had begun to die in her heart too. Daily she had slipped further and further away into a cold, lonely place that seemed to be shrouded in mist. Her loneliness and despair, unrecognized, unseen by any around her, drove her to attempt suicide. But then a hand, unseen in the darkness, stopped her own. A kiss came from lips she could not see, but the taste was of sweet pipe tobacco and the feel of them was a passion, long in slumber, aroused.

This man, this sea captain long dead, came into her life. He brought sunshine that burned away the fog and mist of despair, warmth that melted the ice in her heart, and strength to face each day knowing he would be there in her arms each night -- if only in her fantasies.

In the end, it mattered not whether he was real or an figment. What mattered was he made her story go on when she had wanted to write "the end."