Hey folks. Now, before I begin today’s topic, I would like to bring your attention to this sure-to-be Emmy-winning, ground-breaking, reality-based masterpiece of “FAT COPS” on CMT. Really, I am not making this up. I wish I were making this up but I am not making this up. Oh, what I would give to tell you I am just making this up. I discovered this show surfing the channels late at night when I couldn’t sleep, still thinking about a misplaced flash drive. I’m still hoping it will just show up at home or at the office as I do have some Book 2 and Book 3 stories on there that I wouldn’t want anyone to steal and … yeah, you’re right — I have nothing to worry about. But anyway, about this show — there is this Chief Jones and he is late for a date with his wife because he has to search for a peacock. Yes, a peacock like in the bird, peacock. Again, I am not making this up. I wish I were making this up but I am not making this up. Oh, what I would give to tell you I am just making this up. He finally finds the bird chained up by an old shack and returns it to the rightful owner. He then says, “Well, somefin’s fishy down dere with that bird bein’ chained up like that but I’m forty-five minutes late so I ain’t delvin’ into dat now.” Fair enough. Who am I to judge his approach to Texan justice? I am sure that Walker would make the same call if he was running late for a dinner with Cahill. Cut to the restaurant, an elegant establishment which makes your local Denny’s look like Auden at the Ritz Carlton in New York, where his wife is so swept away by his heroic rescue of the innocent, defenseless bird that she says, “Well, I ate alone so now you’re gonna be eatin’ alone.” just before she storms off. Chief Jones spends the next day lamenting to his officers that he is in the doghouse. One of them suggests that he read the book written by my arch rival (i.e., Fifty Shades of Grey by EL James). Personally, I didn’t think Fifty Shades, Casanova, Dean Martin, or a deep, dark, sexy Russian former spy who does deep, dark, sexy Russian stuff would help him out of this one but what did I know? He ends up getting help from his Deputy known as Big Sexy who as his name implies, is big and is sexy. Big Sexy prepares Chief Jones for another date by doing a lot of manly man stuff with him like getting massages, pedicures, and salsa lessons. And … now this ending was a total surprise to me … he does win back the affection of his wife!! And there you have it — I hope that you too check out this groundbreaking, suspense-filled, not-at-all-scripted reality-based successor to this 1990s law enforcement centered program. Anyway, the next program which came on was Party Down South, basically a redneck version of Jersey Shore, but I turned it off after five minutes, as I guess I’m not genetically predisposed enough to watch that mess.
But anyway … on to today’s topic. The typo. My one hindrance to achieving success from Order of The Dimensions. (You: ONE??? Me: Oh, just shut up, please, and let me continue). Whether I’m submitting a paper, an abstract, or sending an email, I always end up with this expression on my face after I press the send button. No matter how many times I re-read and thought I corrected every mistake, something of the like appears magically after the fact. Ironically, I believe that it is a product of my OCD — I just become so tired at looking at the damn thing for the zillionth time that I just want to get it out of my hands before I give in to looking it over the zillion and once time. And why the hell did I not notice it during one of those zillion times? I don’t know but I think it’s just because my life … yeah, you know it. And yet I know it is something else I have to work on. It even cost me in the book review department, as some bloggers did point out that a few typos made the story less than stellar. I was also reading over some old facebook messages the other day and noticed a typo I included in the message to Trickster Guy which perhaps led him to believe that I’m just a Nigerian prince or Taiwanese banker for a quick minute there. Well actually, with that one, there was another language barrier. It was only later when I went to Google Translate that I discovered that “Let me know if you want me to read it and I’ll give you an email address to send it to.” actually means “No. Not interested. Now, kill yourself, loser.” when you translate from Tricksterese to Chicagoanese. I am even guilty of making typos here on WordPress, but then I found this thing called the ‘Edit’ button. By the way, this was me upon discovering this thing called the ‘Edit’ button. Well, anyway, that’s all for now. Ciao, bambinos … and remember to check out the riveting, groundbreaking, seriously-if-this-is-a-hit-why-isn’t-my-book? series, FAT COPS on CMT.
Now, if only I can find my flash before anyone else gets their hands on Books … yeah, you’re right. I still have nothing to worry about.