Dr Yes: Making Every Day Awesome
This blog is going to go through some changes in the next few months.
First, I’ll be launching a “proper” author page, with interactive stuff and links to stories and so on (that’ll take a while).
Second, I read such a brilliant post here: http://steffmetal.com/101-ways-to-cheer-yourself-up/ that I’ve decided to do every single thing on the list (with the possible exception of a hot air balloon ride) and blog about it. I’ll fill it out with a list of my own (which I already have), with other online lists of similar bent (most of which are sappy, so I’ll leave out anything that annoys me), and with suggestions from you at home. I’ll still sometimes link to amazing things online, or write other interesting blog posts, but that’ll be the main focus of the blog for at least. . . probably 6-12 months. It’ll probably start in May, since there are a lot of cool links for the next twitter tale (April’s tale is about a jilted bride who becomes a con artist).
Have a fun and foolish suggestion you’d like to make me do?
Write it in the comments, and I’ll probably embrace it.
Writing
It’s the 22nd today, which means it’s been exactly seven months since I sent “Farting my ABCs” to the publisher I wrote it for. It’s for a specific series which I wrote for (rather unsuccessfully) once before. The first book I wrote for this series was rejected after three months (too fantastical, I think – it later became “The Monster Apprentice”, and a great deal longer). On another occasion, this publisher took eight months to reply to just the first three chapters of a normal book. But usually they take six months for each phase.
I originally predicted they’d take seven months for “Farting my ABCs”.
The other book I’m waiting for has taken just under eleven months so far – very much a new record (different publisher). But at least I know for certain it’s progressed.
My NaNo novel (which I wrote in two weeks) is beginning to shape up under my fingers. I really like the prologue and first chapter, and I think they’re of publishable quality (which in practical terms means they’re ready to be read by people other than me). So THIS draft is the “quasi-publishable” draft, which is very exciting. After this I’ll have at least two people read it all the way through and give comments, then I’ll find a professional editor to do the same thing. And THEN I’ll make the final edits and send it out into the world. Probably about four months from now, assuming people reply promptly. Then there’ll be another six to twelve month wait until the first reply comes in.
Writing is dumb. Don’t do it.
Dr Yes: This is Not Steampunk Art
. . . apparently. I certainly thought it was steampunk, but the link says it’s not. It’s still beautiful, and there’s more here: http://coilhouse.net/2010/03/ron-pippins-biomechanical-menagerie/
Dr Yes: Spy Suits for Women
Nuff said.
For a funny discussion on what spies inevitably wear, go to tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/SpyCatSuit
. . . but be advised that
(a) TV tropes is highly addictive.
(b) Not every section is suitable for young or tasteful minds.
SkyFire
SkyFire is a word familiar to every Canberran.
Every March, the radio station FM 104.7 hosts a massive free fireworks event that can be viewed from all around our main central lake (acting like a huge natural amphitheatre). Cars fill roundabouts, traffic islands, and every scrap of dirt for kilometres in every direction. The shores of the lake sparkle with glow-sticks in blue, pink, yellow and orange. People gather throughout the day, and picnic in one giant mass as the sun sets.
Fireworks start at 8pm, and traffic is deadlocked for an hour before and afterwards.
Skyfire is a scary thing for a mental such as myself – even going to church is scary (because there are “lots” of people – perhaps one or two hundred). I spent a large chunk of yesterday with a stress-headache, lying in bed wishing I could calm down enough to read the excellent book sitting beside me. I thought about giving it a miss this year – but I think that every year.
We left around 6:30, surprised and pleased that a friend visiting town was able to come with us (that helped me considerably – she is someone I consider “safe” along with perhaps ten others on earth). We’d already stocked up on a ridiculous pile of lollies (Maltesers, Mars pods, natural confectionary party mix, and Lindt intense orange – plus our friend brought Starburst fruits and red frogs), which is always good for calming me down, especially when the thing that’s scaring me is that I’m meant to be happy.
The sunset last night was beautiful – one of those ones that fills the sky. There’s been a lot of smoke around Canberra lately because of backburning (burning fire-prone areas so if a fire happens it dies out for lack of fuel), but that just made the sky prettier.
We settled down on a grassy slope at the lake end of Anzac Parade, looking across to the many 104.7 barges, and Parliament House (and more crowds) on the other side. This is a particularly good area for families, with a festival atmosphere, some extremely sought-after public toilets, shops selling greasy deliciousness, and very few drunkards (they tend to gather near the exclusive VIP area, making the most of free performances – Vanessa Amorosi performed this year).
The family in front of us was playing cricket, and the family behind us was attempting to join glow-sticks together to make hula hoops. Both overlapped onto us frequently, but that only added to the feeling of being part of one giant picnic.
It’s both extremely expensive (for the organisers) and free (for everyone else, except the VIPs) and it’s just a brilliant and expertly-designed event.
The concept behind the event is that the fireworks are programmed to be in sync with a soundtrack designed during the previous year (including lots of recent hits, very heavily leaning toward the happy and party-like). We didn’t need to bring a radio, because very powerful speakers were set up everywhere.
The first song was “Feeling Good” and the fireworks built slowly to crescendo at the chorus.
Later on they had a “Lady Gaga” medly (fairly short, since they left out all the rude bits) and they used shaped fireworks that exploded in cubes (no reason but freakish to see), sunnies (for the lady herself), and faces for “Poker Face”. When she was singing, “Let’s Dance” they used fireworks that move in random directions after the initial explosion – like dancing fireflies.
On another song (the “End of the World” I think) it has a line about, “Look up and see the stars exploding” and they used all yellow and white fireworks for that bit. Later it had fireworks that fell in hundreds of tiny comets – all with their own flaming tail.
It’s a freakin’ brilliant night, and I love three things:
1. Poor people (including poor families) get a seriously good night out.
2. Everything is done well (it’s planned for over a year).
3. Once, in the distant past, someone sat in a room and had an idea. . . and SkyFire was born from that small moment.
Driving away took a while, but everyone was very understanding (stopping for pedestrians and ignoring normal road rules to let cars in who would otherwise have been stuck for hours). We did see two accidents on the way home, but no-one was hurt.
Dr Yes: Spy Food
I always thought nougat was a food that dropped whole from heaven (neatly wrapped). So imagine my surprise when my calendar (a food one – diabolical indeed) informed me that nougat was made up of ingredients, whipping, and heat.
Three things make it worthy of being part of the Jimmy Bind blog.
1. Liquid Glucose. It is the slowest-moving substance known to man. For this reason, putting the first ingredient into a saucepan takes three hours (six, if you measure it properly). If you’re ever about to be killed by a supervillain, ask to be drowned in liquid glucose. Then you’ll probably either die of old age, or walk away over the top.
2. Humidity changes how it turns out. Another reason to cook it deep inside your multi-level cave lair.
3. General sugary stickiness. Once you’ve made nougat, it’s with you for life – in the mixing bowl, saucepan, jug – on the floor, walls and benches – in your clothes and in your hair. If you want to torture someone, tell them to clean up after you. (Side note: My husband is in the kitchen, washing up, RIGHT NOW. At least now I know he’ll never leave. PS Thanks, sweetheart.)
4. I myself (technically) failed – clearly because of sabotage. (No, I don’t have a sugar thermometer. Why do you ask?) I say technically, because ending up with a sugary, vanilla-y mass is never truly a bad result.
Nutty Vanilla Nougat
1. 1 c liquid glucose. aka sweet flowing DOOM
2. 2.75 c white sugar (not caster)
3. 0.5 c honey
4. .75 c water
5. 2 large egg whites, at room temperature.
6. A pinch of salt.
7. 3 tsp vanilla essence.
8. 100g butter, at room temperature.
9. Stuff to put in (in my case, pistachios and chopped glace cherries. You may prefer to eat the souls of children, fingers of enemies, etc).
A. Grease and line a slice pan. Mix the first four ingedients in a saucepan over low heat until sugar dissolves. Simmer until it’s 121 degrees Celsius on a sugar thermometer. (Also handy for boiling unwelcome visitors.)
B. Pour one-quarter of the syrup into a jug. Set jug and saucepan aside.
C. Put egg whites and salt in a ceramic bowl. Mix on high and gradually add the contents of the jug until mixture is thick and holds its shape.
D. Reheat remaining syrup until it’s 145 degrees, then slowly add it to the meringue. (This is the point at which you removed the bleached bones of your unwelcome visitors and feed any remains to your cat.)
E. Add butter and vanilla, and beat the whole thing for five minutes.
F. Stir in your extra bits with a metal spoon, and pour it all into the pan.
G. Refrigerate for three hours or until firm.
H. Eat the whole darn thing.
I. Throw up.
Dr Yes: Story So Far
1.
I unclipped Yen’s handcuffs and went down on one knee under the tropical sun of her prison-island home. “My darling, will you marry me?”
*
“’Kay,” she said.
I stood and kissed her tenderly, then ran for the chaplain. When he was ready to go, I decided to freshen up.
* (3 hour gap)
I emerged resplendent to find the priest knocked out, my ornithopter gone, and my fiancé. . . well, she was obviously still doing her hair.
2.
The love of my life, gone! She may still be cross that I killed her power-mad mum. But surely she doesn’t STILL want to destroy the world?
*
Time to be a super-handsome super-spy again. Thank goodness for plastic surgery. Yen was born in Beijing, so I got a flight there at once.
*
I was met at the airport by a strangely attractive nun who took me deep underground before telling me the horrible truth: “Yen’s my cousin.”
3.
In laws! They’re always so tetchy. I let the nun torture me a few hours and then knocked her out with a high-kick to the face. Then I fled.
4.
I searched for Yen in the shopping district. As I tried on an especially snazzy shirt in the back, I heard the nun’s nasal tones.
*
The evil nun was apparently in league with my shopkeeper! A deadly pair! I duct-taped shut the mouths of the other patrons and listened in.
*
“Yen’s in Beijing – and so’s that British superspy,” said the nun.
The shopkeeper said, “We’ll kill them both!”
“Perfect. Hey, nice shirts!”
5.
I bought hundreds of TV and streetside ads warning Yen of her mortal danger – and asking her to pretty please return my ornithopter.
*
As I returned to my hotel after another day of searching, I found a single long-stemmed black rose on my pillow. She still loved me!
6.
I spotted Yen trying on shoes and gave chase. She was too quick, but I taped my two high-tech matchbox cars to my feet for more speed.
*
Matchbox-car skating requires the perfect balance that only MI6 training can give. Unfortunately it’s been a while and I crashed into Yen.
*
I clicked my sleeping-gas pen in her face and carried her over the threshold into my – our – hotel room until she regained consciousness.
7.
Yen awoke, but didn’t seem to appreciate the scattered rose petals or the scented candles surrounding her. Then she peeled off her mask!
*
I gasped, “Mrs Fu!”
“In the flesh!”
“But. . . I threw you into a volcano. I think your daughter may still be miffed.”
“Mums are made tough.”
8.
After we’d caught up on the latest in international spy goss, Mrs Fu and I tested one another with tea. I gave her just a pinch of arsenic.
*
I tasted my own tea cautiously. Cyanide, yes. But only a token amount. Mrs Fu and I understood one another perfectly: no death – for now.
*
Mrs Fu said she knew exactly where Yen was hiding. We caught a train to the Great Wall. “Um, isn’t the Great Wall rather. . . long?” I said.
9.
We searched all night and day. Suddenly we found ourselves surrounded by Shaolin monks. “He’s with me,” said Mrs Fu.
They said, “We’re not.”
*
I grabbed my trusty blow-up gum but the monks wore titanium robes. No fair! They whipped out pens – strangely familiar pens. Noooo!!!
*
10.
Regained consciousness briefly while having a dream about killer mushrooms. One of the monks hit me on the head, and the mushrooms returned.
11.
I awoke strapped to the Great Wall with my own duct tape. Had intense déjà vu. Mrs Fu was taped beside me, and so was a black rose.
*
“It’s all right Mrs Fu – Yen must be safe if she’s given me a rose.”
“Great. End of story then. I’m afraid Yen no longer needs our help.”
*
I said, “But. . . it can’t be the end. I haven’t done anything heroic yet.”
“Why don’t you heroically help me down, then?” said Mrs Fu.
12.
Mrs Fu and I walked back along the wall while she tried to explain something about my relationship with Yen. I’m sure it wasn’t important.
*
My shoe phone rang. I answered, “Bind. Jimmy Bind.”
“HQ here. We need you to track the fugitive Yen Fu. Naturally she’s been microchipped.”
*
Mrs Fu and I followed the beeps back to a cunningly disguised lair beneath the Great Wall. We hid ourselves outside and waited.
13.
A Shaolin monk came out, and Mrs Fu kicked him in his monk parts. I clicked him with sleeping gas, and we dragged him into the bushes.
*
Another monk! I barrelled out and hurled him to the ground. He punched me in the belly but I bashed his head against his titanium robe.
*
Yen emerged. “Mu-um! You couldn’t just knock?”
“They drugged us,” I said.
Yen shrugged: “Boys will be boys. Won’t you come in?”
14.
Mrs Fu said, “Jimmy here found out something useful.”
Yen’s jaw dropped (I’m not sure why): “What did you find out?”
I told her everything.
*
Yen said, “Hmm. Thanks for that, guys. What do you say we go kill my evil cousin?”
“Sounds good,” said Mrs Fu.
I said, “I’m in.”
15.
The monks were hurt we beat them up. Lucky monks are so forgiving. They helped us build a boat out of duct tape so we could travel quickly.
*
On our way to Beijing, we were hurled ashore by a massive waterfall. I could have sworn the monks didn’t mention it – or my ornithopter.
*
As we walked the last kilometres to Beijing, I picked flowers for Yen and said, “Thanks for the roses.”
“What roses?” she said.
16.
We searched the shopping district for hours without finding the nun or the shopkeeper. The two Fus were disheartened.
*
Success at last! Still no sign of the evil nun, but I found some pants that are simply divine.
17.
We were perfectly innocently walking along when the nun attacked! She tossed Yen away like a doll and blasted Mrs Fu with a shotgun.
*
Yen shouted, “You never mentioned she was a NUN!”
“Oops!” I said, and spat my blow-up gum.
My gum missed the nun and incinerated a hotel.
*
Twenty more nuns appeared and Yen backflipped away. I threw one of my cars at the first nun’s head and she dropped, but I was overwhelmed.
18.
It was nice to be back in the ol’ torture chamber. Yen’s cousin smirked, “Did you like my roses?”
I gasped, “That was YOU!?!”
Mrs Fu sighed.
*
I speak thirty-two languages, but Yen spoke one I didn’t know: “Ixnay on the osesray! Immyjay’s inemay!”
What could she possibly have said?
*
Yen never had a yen for me! She only became my fiancé to get off the isle of her imprisonment. What a fool I am! But I still love her.
19.
The nun tortured me alone, and suddenly switched to Barry White and more black roses. I recognise the signs of Jimmy fever when I see them!
*
I said, “You’re a very pretty. . . nun. . . but I’m engaged.”
She put me in the electric chair. We certainly had a spark, but I loved Yen.
Delicious Mutants
I love mutant lollies.
When natural confectionary jelly beans are left in the sun, some melt and some go hard, and they tend to stick together in clumps – excellent!
Even better, perhaps, are those moments when I bite into a Malteser only to discover it’s 90% hollow. Very cool.
Dr Yes: Lair
Unfortunately people with real-life lairs generally call them something sensible like, “my house”, “a castle” or, “the president’s top secret military installation”. The only place to find an honest lair is in computer games. But they’re still good and pretty.
Dr Yes: Personal Flying Machine
1- Gryphon Attack Glider
Formerly known as The ESG Gryphon Personal Flying Wing this has to be the ultimate in Spy Gear! It has a maximum glide speed of 135 mph and has a heads up display and even onboard oxygen for those high altitude launches. This baby can carry a payload of 100lbs of onboard gear and has hard mount points for hooking up tactical bombs or missiles! With a glide range of 125 miles and a radar cross section of a seagull (or Stealth Bomber) you can glide into North Korea take out The Great Leader and like Ace Rimmer be back in time for a smoked kipper for breakfast. Only thing is you’ll need an extraction team as landing is acheived by separation from the wing which will activate your parachute.
