Excerpt from Chasing God's River. http://ping.fm/aDt80
Katie Jones shook her head, ever so slightly, coming out of the bruises of a crystal clear dream. Next to her, Wade was sound asleep, his head buried face down in a pillow. She looked at the quartz bedside clock. Three a.m.
Another angel dream.
A messenger this time. She laid her head back on the pillow, savoring the dream, hoping to find meaning. The angelic messenger was a young man, handsome and strong. His skin was a pale white marble. He had a sad innocent smile on his lips. She was standing by his side on a riverbank near the bottom of a tall waterfall facing up together.
“Here he comes,” the angel said.
The bow of a long kayak made of whalebone, driftwood, and sea lion skins appeared at the top of the waterfall and hung there.
Katie couldn't see who was in it.
The angel extended his left arm, palm up and open, as if holding the kayak in place.
“What is your wish for the passenger?”
“To find his way,” Katie responded.
“Then he must fall,” the angel said. The angel dropped his hand.
Katie watched as the kayak shot out from the waterfall, nose down in free fall. Wade was in the boat, dressed in animal skins, his eyes alert that real death was at hand. A powerful arm of evil water reached out from the base of the waterfall, grabbed the boat like a child's toy and sucked the kayak into a deep pool of wet death.
And Wade was gone.
Startled, Katie sat up in bed. “Why?”
In the darkened room, she heard the messenger's whisper. “Men are supposed to die.”
She felt the angel leave the room, like the soft evaporated whist of a breath withdrawn. Katie laid next to her sleeping husband, smothering him with the spooning warmth of her frenzied body, her hands reaching out, clutching his.
“Be safe, my love.” She kissed him on his cheek and he smiled in his sleep.
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
Sunday, May 29, 2011
Barry James Hickey – Chasing God’s River Interview
by Cathy B Stucker
SellingBooks.com
q: Tell us a bit about the book.
A: The bond of marriage is tested when a husband in mid-life crisis returns to Colorado for the summer to kayak and find his virility again. He doesn’t expect to meet his former coach, an old college sweetheart and a mysterious teenager. Each wants something from him he can’t provide. And then there is the whitewater of the Arkansas river. It wants something from him, too. Maybe his life.
q: Tell us something about yourself.
a: My life’s journey is fodder for my books. I started writing when I was twenty. As a kid, I hitchhiked across America many times. I was a singer in three bands, acted in a dozen plays. A handful of commercials. I started in Chicago, then Colorado, a Los Angeles film career and back to Colorado. I have had a long list of odd jobs in-between: steelworker, elevator operator, desk clerk, canoe guide, movie studios, realtor, school teacher, car salesman, publisher to name a few… Four colleges… I did the Hollywood thing for 15 years as an actor, writer and producer. I’ve traveled to odd places – Greenland, India, Thailand, Greece, the Philippines to name a few.
q: What inspired you to write this book?
a: I’m in my mid-fifties. Everyday I’m confronted by broken people. Some by their own hand, others by the world they live in. I write stories about common people overcoming the sometimes-extraordinary obstacles of everyday life.
q: How did you choose the title?
a; The river is a metaphor. How many of us chase what isn’t there anymore or long for what will never be in our short lives? Our time on earth is limited. We have to accept that.
q: What obstacles did you encounter in getting this book published? How did you overcome them?
a: I’m still learning about the publishing world. I spent a few thousand dollars in postage and paper pursuing agents for my first three books. Since I’m not in the big leagues, there is no financial benefit to having a publisher besides the validation that comes with someone accepting my work. If I win a lottery, I will probably hire a publicist, marketers, and a management team. I’ve learned that the marketing is all on me. My publisher, TumbleBrush Press likes the spiritual offerings in my books.
q: How did you know you wanted to be a writer? How did you get started?
a: I was twenty, operating an old-fashioned Otis elevator at night in downtown Chicago. Lots of free time. I started with poetry. “Cold thoughts spring from the winter fountain.” I have two boxes of index cards from those days – outlines for two books; The Sons of Marco Polo and Voyageur. I sent queries to thirty agents and realized my first rejection letters. That was 35 years ago.
q: Do you have any writing rituals?
a: I have to work other jobs to survive so I write early in the morning and late at night. I like to meander on weekends with a notepad for new inspirations. I visit the library, a bookstore, a coffee shop.
q: How do you come up with the names for your characters?
a: When I see a character fully, I recognize the name. Some names are allegorical.
q: Did you learn anything from writing and publishing this book? What?
a: If I didn’t write I could afford vacations and increase my income in other ventures. I seem to have stepped away from the pleasures of local culture since my mind is always on my work. I also realize that it is very difficult being a stand-up guy with so much temptation.
q: If you were doing it all over again, what would you do differently?
a: I would have enjoyed singing in big auditoriums with a big band. But there is no do-over in life.
q: What types of books do you like to read? Who are your favorite authors? Why?
a: I read all sorts of books. This year it’s been John Irving, Larry McMurty, Robert Parker, John Grisham, Somerset Maugham, John Steinbeck, Norman Mailer, Mario Puzo, Carson McCullers. James Michener's Alaska this week. I started several other books by various writers but put them down halfway. I just couldn’t punish myself to finish them. I discovered a small gem in Neither Wolf nor Dog by Kent Nerburn. My favorite authors are Mark Twain, Jack London, Carson McCullers and Leo Tolstoy.
q; Are you working on your next book? What can you tell us about it?
a: The Glass Fence was released last week. Next is Waking Paul Bunyan. A modern day family resuscitates their giant uncle and Babe the blue ox. If I don’t get too misanthropic, it should be a humorous and poignant story about how American values have been suffocated by big government and materialism. Poor Paul has to face age discrimination, his disabilities as a giant, the utter loneliness of being a freak of nature and social outcast. And have you seen the cost of tomatoes at the local grocery?
q: What is the best advice you could give other writers about writing or publishing?
a: Publishing is a crapshoot. Write well and follow your moral compass.
q: Who is the perfect reader for your book?
a: Chasing God’s River is a modern love story with action and adventure. I think it appeals mostly to women over thirty. All of my books do. Maybe I’m a sensitive guy.
q: Where can readers learn more about you and your book?
a: I have a website. www.barryhickey.com. I’m on Facebook, Twitter, and Myspace with interviews on Youtube. My books are available at www.tumblebrushpress.com or on Amazon.com and Smashwords in print or as a download.
by Cathy B Stucker
SellingBooks.com
q: Tell us a bit about the book.
A: The bond of marriage is tested when a husband in mid-life crisis returns to Colorado for the summer to kayak and find his virility again. He doesn’t expect to meet his former coach, an old college sweetheart and a mysterious teenager. Each wants something from him he can’t provide. And then there is the whitewater of the Arkansas river. It wants something from him, too. Maybe his life.
q: Tell us something about yourself.
a: My life’s journey is fodder for my books. I started writing when I was twenty. As a kid, I hitchhiked across America many times. I was a singer in three bands, acted in a dozen plays. A handful of commercials. I started in Chicago, then Colorado, a Los Angeles film career and back to Colorado. I have had a long list of odd jobs in-between: steelworker, elevator operator, desk clerk, canoe guide, movie studios, realtor, school teacher, car salesman, publisher to name a few… Four colleges… I did the Hollywood thing for 15 years as an actor, writer and producer. I’ve traveled to odd places – Greenland, India, Thailand, Greece, the Philippines to name a few.
q: What inspired you to write this book?
a: I’m in my mid-fifties. Everyday I’m confronted by broken people. Some by their own hand, others by the world they live in. I write stories about common people overcoming the sometimes-extraordinary obstacles of everyday life.
q: How did you choose the title?
a; The river is a metaphor. How many of us chase what isn’t there anymore or long for what will never be in our short lives? Our time on earth is limited. We have to accept that.
q: What obstacles did you encounter in getting this book published? How did you overcome them?
a: I’m still learning about the publishing world. I spent a few thousand dollars in postage and paper pursuing agents for my first three books. Since I’m not in the big leagues, there is no financial benefit to having a publisher besides the validation that comes with someone accepting my work. If I win a lottery, I will probably hire a publicist, marketers, and a management team. I’ve learned that the marketing is all on me. My publisher, TumbleBrush Press likes the spiritual offerings in my books.
q: How did you know you wanted to be a writer? How did you get started?
a: I was twenty, operating an old-fashioned Otis elevator at night in downtown Chicago. Lots of free time. I started with poetry. “Cold thoughts spring from the winter fountain.” I have two boxes of index cards from those days – outlines for two books; The Sons of Marco Polo and Voyageur. I sent queries to thirty agents and realized my first rejection letters. That was 35 years ago.
q: Do you have any writing rituals?
a: I have to work other jobs to survive so I write early in the morning and late at night. I like to meander on weekends with a notepad for new inspirations. I visit the library, a bookstore, a coffee shop.
q: How do you come up with the names for your characters?
a: When I see a character fully, I recognize the name. Some names are allegorical.
q: Did you learn anything from writing and publishing this book? What?
a: If I didn’t write I could afford vacations and increase my income in other ventures. I seem to have stepped away from the pleasures of local culture since my mind is always on my work. I also realize that it is very difficult being a stand-up guy with so much temptation.
q: If you were doing it all over again, what would you do differently?
a: I would have enjoyed singing in big auditoriums with a big band. But there is no do-over in life.
q: What types of books do you like to read? Who are your favorite authors? Why?
a: I read all sorts of books. This year it’s been John Irving, Larry McMurty, Robert Parker, John Grisham, Somerset Maugham, John Steinbeck, Norman Mailer, Mario Puzo, Carson McCullers. James Michener's Alaska this week. I started several other books by various writers but put them down halfway. I just couldn’t punish myself to finish them. I discovered a small gem in Neither Wolf nor Dog by Kent Nerburn. My favorite authors are Mark Twain, Jack London, Carson McCullers and Leo Tolstoy.
q; Are you working on your next book? What can you tell us about it?
a: The Glass Fence was released last week. Next is Waking Paul Bunyan. A modern day family resuscitates their giant uncle and Babe the blue ox. If I don’t get too misanthropic, it should be a humorous and poignant story about how American values have been suffocated by big government and materialism. Poor Paul has to face age discrimination, his disabilities as a giant, the utter loneliness of being a freak of nature and social outcast. And have you seen the cost of tomatoes at the local grocery?
q: What is the best advice you could give other writers about writing or publishing?
a: Publishing is a crapshoot. Write well and follow your moral compass.
q: Who is the perfect reader for your book?
a: Chasing God’s River is a modern love story with action and adventure. I think it appeals mostly to women over thirty. All of my books do. Maybe I’m a sensitive guy.
q: Where can readers learn more about you and your book?
a: I have a website. www.barryhickey.com. I’m on Facebook, Twitter, and Myspace with interviews on Youtube. My books are available at www.tumblebrushpress.com or on Amazon.com and Smashwords in print or as a download.
Barry James Hickey's The Five Pearls captivates and inspires, lures and hooks you. John Battles' struggle to atone for his past resonates with readers young and old. Amber and her loose gang of tadpoles touch on issues that all teenagers face and you find yourself rooting for all of them as they struggle towards adulthood. Hickey has written a novel seeped in today's most compelling issues and written a story to inspire us all - Tonya Norton.
The Five Pearls: http://ping.fm/GrK2q
The Five Pearls: http://ping.fm/GrK2q
Friday, May 27, 2011
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
Sunday, May 22, 2011
I Missed Doomsday Again
Some kid showed up at my door selling Mayan calendars and chocolate bars for a buck. I bought one of each. After he left I glanced at the calendar and realized the Doomsday prophecy was right around the corner. I barely had enough time to prepare for my end of days.
I washed my car, did all the laundry and even folded it, watered the houseplants, and emptied the trash. I set the thermostat at a comfortable 68 degrees. I paid my cable and utility bills and wrote a post-dated check to the landlord. Just in case.
My dilemma in all this was the underlying fact that only good people would be disappearing from the face of the earth and all the bad people would still be left behind.
I judged myself. Was I a good person or a bad person? I lose my temper sometimes, but it's usually for a good reason. Am I bad? If only bad people were left to rule the earth, how chaotic would it get? I realized that if I were left behind for reasons unknown it would still be business as usual.
The day before Armageddon, I called my boss, reminded him that Doomsday was at hand and that there was a good possibility I wouldn't be at work on Monday. My boss said he'd take his chances.
My car dealer would still be in business. There are bad people there, especially in the service department. They charge $90 an hour. That's more than my good dentist and doctor get from me on a visit after my co-pay.
The people at the dry cleaners would be left behind. They burned two shirts and lost a pair of my slacks.
If all the churchgoers disappeared what would happen to Sunday? Should we cancel it? Who would ring the bell and pass the basket?
People who work in liquor stores would be left behind. They sell demon spirits. I bought a bottle of Merlot last week. Did this make me a bad person?
I made a list of friends and assigned them to one of two columns - GOING or STAYING. Chuck buys lottery tickets. He's staying. Mary is a waitress and doesn't declare her tips. Staying. Mark lies about his golf score. He's staying. Cliff and Barb owe the IRS back taxes. They have to stay. On and on the list went and I couldn't put anyone but me in the GOING column.
Up and down my block, neighbors were busy packing boxes in their garages. It's a good neighborhood filled with responsible working people. I assumed everyone had bought a Mayan calendar from that kid. Only one neighbor seemed oblivious to the exodus. Old Bert. He lives two doors down.
"Aren't you getting ready?" I asked.
"For what?" he said.
"Doomsday. Armageddon. The End of Days."
"Shucks," he laughed. "I ain't going nowhere. Even if I was elected I wouldn't go."
"Why not?"
Bert watered his flowerbed. "That scientist Stephen Hawking, he says heaven is a fairy tale."
"But he isn't God!" I reminded him.
"Look at my place," he smiled. "I got flowers coming in and tomato vines budding. It's as close to heaven as I can get. Besides, I don't wanna run into my three ex-wives in heaven. They'll just pick up their arguments where we left off."
"Are they good women?"
"Good enough for me."
"Bert, what is the difference between a good person and a bad person?"
"Something to do with kindness. Doing what's right by people."
I mulled this over. "Bert, let's make a pact. If I go, will you take care of my house? Feed my dogs? Cut the lawn?"
"I suppose I can," he said.
"And if you go, I'll keep up your garden."
We shook on it, then drove to Henley's key shop. We had spare house keys made for each other.
On the way back, Bert said, "I'll be wanting my key back come Monday."
"What makes you so sure I'll be here on Monday?"
Bert scratched his whiskers. "The way I figure it, they raised the bar so high about being good that nobody's goin'.
When we arrived at his house he clipped me a rose from his bush and handed it to me.
"What's this for?" I asked.
"Just a little heaven on earth."
I smiled and took the rose home. After an hour I called my boss and said I'd probably be in on Monday. My boss told me I was a good person.
Doomsday came and went and nobody from my block left. I took the defective Mayan calendar off the wall and threw it away. A neighbor stopped by and I signed her petition to ban kids from soliciting on our block.
http://ping.fm/5TzJl
Some kid showed up at my door selling Mayan calendars and chocolate bars for a buck. I bought one of each. After he left I glanced at the calendar and realized the Doomsday prophecy was right around the corner. I barely had enough time to prepare for my end of days.
I washed my car, did all the laundry and even folded it, watered the houseplants, and emptied the trash. I set the thermostat at a comfortable 68 degrees. I paid my cable and utility bills and wrote a post-dated check to the landlord. Just in case.
My dilemma in all this was the underlying fact that only good people would be disappearing from the face of the earth and all the bad people would still be left behind.
I judged myself. Was I a good person or a bad person? I lose my temper sometimes, but it's usually for a good reason. Am I bad? If only bad people were left to rule the earth, how chaotic would it get? I realized that if I were left behind for reasons unknown it would still be business as usual.
The day before Armageddon, I called my boss, reminded him that Doomsday was at hand and that there was a good possibility I wouldn't be at work on Monday. My boss said he'd take his chances.
My car dealer would still be in business. There are bad people there, especially in the service department. They charge $90 an hour. That's more than my good dentist and doctor get from me on a visit after my co-pay.
The people at the dry cleaners would be left behind. They burned two shirts and lost a pair of my slacks.
If all the churchgoers disappeared what would happen to Sunday? Should we cancel it? Who would ring the bell and pass the basket?
People who work in liquor stores would be left behind. They sell demon spirits. I bought a bottle of Merlot last week. Did this make me a bad person?
I made a list of friends and assigned them to one of two columns - GOING or STAYING. Chuck buys lottery tickets. He's staying. Mary is a waitress and doesn't declare her tips. Staying. Mark lies about his golf score. He's staying. Cliff and Barb owe the IRS back taxes. They have to stay. On and on the list went and I couldn't put anyone but me in the GOING column.
Up and down my block, neighbors were busy packing boxes in their garages. It's a good neighborhood filled with responsible working people. I assumed everyone had bought a Mayan calendar from that kid. Only one neighbor seemed oblivious to the exodus. Old Bert. He lives two doors down.
"Aren't you getting ready?" I asked.
"For what?" he said.
"Doomsday. Armageddon. The End of Days."
"Shucks," he laughed. "I ain't going nowhere. Even if I was elected I wouldn't go."
"Why not?"
Bert watered his flowerbed. "That scientist Stephen Hawking, he says heaven is a fairy tale."
"But he isn't God!" I reminded him.
"Look at my place," he smiled. "I got flowers coming in and tomato vines budding. It's as close to heaven as I can get. Besides, I don't wanna run into my three ex-wives in heaven. They'll just pick up their arguments where we left off."
"Are they good women?"
"Good enough for me."
"Bert, what is the difference between a good person and a bad person?"
"Something to do with kindness. Doing what's right by people."
I mulled this over. "Bert, let's make a pact. If I go, will you take care of my house? Feed my dogs? Cut the lawn?"
"I suppose I can," he said.
"And if you go, I'll keep up your garden."
We shook on it, then drove to Henley's key shop. We had spare house keys made for each other.
On the way back, Bert said, "I'll be wanting my key back come Monday."
"What makes you so sure I'll be here on Monday?"
Bert scratched his whiskers. "The way I figure it, they raised the bar so high about being good that nobody's goin'.
When we arrived at his house he clipped me a rose from his bush and handed it to me.
"What's this for?" I asked.
"Just a little heaven on earth."
I smiled and took the rose home. After an hour I called my boss and said I'd probably be in on Monday. My boss told me I was a good person.
Doomsday came and went and nobody from my block left. I took the defective Mayan calendar off the wall and threw it away. A neighbor stopped by and I signed her petition to ban kids from soliciting on our block.
http://ping.fm/5TzJl
Friends - My new novel The Glass Fence is finally available for guilty summer reading pleasures. A bouncing cultural mystery set at a luxury hotel with troubled romances, cracking friendships, my twisted humor, the spirit of life and plenty of subplots . It is available at Amazon in print or ebook and Smashwords. Please take a peek. Links below...
Glass Fence Amazon print:
http://ping.fm/4lXwg
Amazon Kindle:
http://ping.fm/3jZk3
Smashwords (all other ebook platforms)
http://ping.fm/wrssa
Glass Fence Amazon print:
http://ping.fm/4lXwg
Amazon Kindle:
http://ping.fm/3jZk3
Smashwords (all other ebook platforms)
http://ping.fm/wrssa
Listen to The Spirit Connection - Inspirations - Honoring Soul with Barry James Hickey.
Listen to internet radio with SpiritConnection on Blog Talk Radio
Thursday, May 19, 2011
Barry Hickey hosts The Spirit Connection tonight at 7pm mountain time on blogtalkradio. Tune in!http://ping.fm/yONac
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
Join Barry Hickey, Christine Blackburn and David Torres on The Spirit Connection thursdays at 7pm (Mountain Time)
http://ping.fm/6YWKA
http://ping.fm/6YWKA
Friday, May 6, 2011
My Dogs Are On Facebook
Barry James Hickey
Georgie Girl and her accomplice Portia are rascal mutts. I know they take me for granted. I used to wonder what they do around the house all day while they send me to fetch money to keep them living in doggy heaven. Then I stumbled across something very disturbing this week.
My dogs are on Facebook.
Are dogs intelligent? I suppose. I know dumber people. But dogs are also cunning master manipulators. My girls always wake me before sunrise to feed them. They force me to walk them at least once a day. They eat dinner before I am allowed. I had to give up Sunday church services for the dog park. And why do I have to chill their water bowls?
Sure, they let me sit on the couch sometimes. After all, I paid for it. That king-sized bed has my name on it, not theirs. But they don't care. They think they have me trained. But this Facebook business… I feel like I lost my best friends.
I should have seen it coming. There were early signs, dire warnings. But I can't smell or see or hear like a dog.
The hole I found dug under the fence last week? It turns out Georgie Girl and her live-in girlfriend Portia were dragging coaxial cable from the empty house next door, stealing the land line signal for their secret lair tucked in a corner of the garage behind stacks of old boxes.
Last week several UPS boxes arrived c/o "Ladies of the House" from Dogs-R-Us. It wasn't Christmas or their birthdays. Dogs don't celebrate Easter or Mother's Day (at least I don't think so). Inside were behavioral toys, peanut butter biscuits and a yard clean up tonic "for a sweet smelling yard".
I discovered that Georgie Girl hacked into my old laptop computer in the garage while Portia swiped my credit card from my wallet when I was sleeping. They bought $200 worth of junk. (That's my credit card limit - I'm not a rich man - two female dogs are expensive upkeep.) When I confronted them they smiled and barked, "It's a woman's prerogative." (Whatever that means.)
I threatened to seal up their doggy door but they know I won't go through with it. I'm not Alpha enough. Besides, when they poop in the house they always make me clean it up.
Now this Facebook business behind my back. They posted over 200 profile pictures and I'm not in any of them. They describe themselves as voluptuous, rather than pudgy. I discovered their interest in "men" and that Georgie Girl likes "romantic walks in the rain," while Portia enjoys "romantic dinners by candlelight." They're such liars. Georgie Girl whines when it drizzles and Portia's idea of a romantic dinner is gorging herself on sweat socks.
I sat them down and spent a fruitless afternoon talking to them about the pitfalls and dangers of social media between strangers. But they don't care. They want what they want when they want it.
I checked into other social sites. They opted out of MySpace. There are no videos of them on YouTube yet. (I returned the digital camera they ordered.) One of them saved Twitter as a favorite site. I'm sure they'll have something to bark about in 140 characters or less.
I went into my Facebook account and posted on their wall, telling their "male friends" that the two of them are just two fat lazy bitches in heat and that they don't look anything like their pictures in real life. The next day they had over thirty hits. Males looking to "hook up" with females on the plump side.
And just how did they get more friends than me on Facebook? It's a dog's life.
Barry James Hickey
Georgie Girl and her accomplice Portia are rascal mutts. I know they take me for granted. I used to wonder what they do around the house all day while they send me to fetch money to keep them living in doggy heaven. Then I stumbled across something very disturbing this week.
My dogs are on Facebook.
Are dogs intelligent? I suppose. I know dumber people. But dogs are also cunning master manipulators. My girls always wake me before sunrise to feed them. They force me to walk them at least once a day. They eat dinner before I am allowed. I had to give up Sunday church services for the dog park. And why do I have to chill their water bowls?
Sure, they let me sit on the couch sometimes. After all, I paid for it. That king-sized bed has my name on it, not theirs. But they don't care. They think they have me trained. But this Facebook business… I feel like I lost my best friends.
I should have seen it coming. There were early signs, dire warnings. But I can't smell or see or hear like a dog.
The hole I found dug under the fence last week? It turns out Georgie Girl and her live-in girlfriend Portia were dragging coaxial cable from the empty house next door, stealing the land line signal for their secret lair tucked in a corner of the garage behind stacks of old boxes.
Last week several UPS boxes arrived c/o "Ladies of the House" from Dogs-R-Us. It wasn't Christmas or their birthdays. Dogs don't celebrate Easter or Mother's Day (at least I don't think so). Inside were behavioral toys, peanut butter biscuits and a yard clean up tonic "for a sweet smelling yard".
I discovered that Georgie Girl hacked into my old laptop computer in the garage while Portia swiped my credit card from my wallet when I was sleeping. They bought $200 worth of junk. (That's my credit card limit - I'm not a rich man - two female dogs are expensive upkeep.) When I confronted them they smiled and barked, "It's a woman's prerogative." (Whatever that means.)
I threatened to seal up their doggy door but they know I won't go through with it. I'm not Alpha enough. Besides, when they poop in the house they always make me clean it up.
Now this Facebook business behind my back. They posted over 200 profile pictures and I'm not in any of them. They describe themselves as voluptuous, rather than pudgy. I discovered their interest in "men" and that Georgie Girl likes "romantic walks in the rain," while Portia enjoys "romantic dinners by candlelight." They're such liars. Georgie Girl whines when it drizzles and Portia's idea of a romantic dinner is gorging herself on sweat socks.
I sat them down and spent a fruitless afternoon talking to them about the pitfalls and dangers of social media between strangers. But they don't care. They want what they want when they want it.
I checked into other social sites. They opted out of MySpace. There are no videos of them on YouTube yet. (I returned the digital camera they ordered.) One of them saved Twitter as a favorite site. I'm sure they'll have something to bark about in 140 characters or less.
I went into my Facebook account and posted on their wall, telling their "male friends" that the two of them are just two fat lazy bitches in heat and that they don't look anything like their pictures in real life. The next day they had over thirty hits. Males looking to "hook up" with females on the plump side.
And just how did they get more friends than me on Facebook? It's a dog's life.
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