Weblog Archives

As much as I wanted to turn this page into "The WWdN Dance" for April Fools, complete with annoying song and stupid animated gifs, I just didn't have time. Fark, Homestarrunner, and Think Geek all had great things up, though.

Instead of making hilarious pranks, I was working like crazy to finish up the current draft of Just A Geek so I can get it turned in on time. I'm 99% done, but I have to leave now to go be Aqualad (\m/), so I won't finish it until tonight. I could have been done this morning, if I hadn't taken some time off from Just A Geek yesterday, so I could write the foreword to the Knights Of The Dinner Table Tales From The Vault Volume One.

Er, but it turns out that, due to a ripple in the very fabric of space-time itself, the Vault issue was already shipped to the printer . . . so a with a little reworking here and there, and I transformed my foreword into an article!

I've been given permission to share a sneak peak with you, dear monkeys. Enjoy it . . . if you dare!

I checked the clock when I heard my wife pull into the driveway: 2:OOPM.

What the hell? She's not supposed to be back for another two hours! Crap!

A minute later, she called from the front door, "Wil? Are you home?"

"Uh, yeah," I called back, as I scrambled to straighten up my desk. "I'm working in my office."

I heard her footsteps on the stairs, and I knew that I was boned. There were about forty polyhedral dice on my desk, scattered around piles of graph paper, rule books, and partially-painted lead miniatures when she walked into the room.

"Honey, I know this looks bad . . . but it's not what it seems."

"Not what it seems?" She picked up a handful of dice, "What's this?!"

"That's . . . " I looked in her fist. "That's 3d6, 1d12, and 2d20."

She made this strange growling noise, and rolled -- okay, threw -- the dice onto the table. The d6's landed close to my hand, and showed the Number of the Beast.

"Hey! You rolled a critical success!"

She was not amused. "When I left this morning, all I asked you to do was wash the dishes, and they're exactly where I left them! I only asked you to do one thing and . . ." She gestured wildly around my office, which, despite its name, is really not a place where much work gets done. Where most offices would have a bookshelf with reference material, I have a bookshelf covered with Simpsons figures, Star Wars toys, and an Enterprise D that lights up.

". . . and you're in here playing GAMES?!" She was going to blow. I saw a week, maybe two, of uncomfortable nights on the couch. I spoke quickly, before she could explode.

"I'm not playing games, I swear! I'm working on and article for a book."

"Is it called 10 Quick Steps to Blowing Off All Your Responsibilities So You Can Spend the Day Goofing Off With HackMaster?"

"No, it's called Knights of the Dinner Table." I said.

"What is that, some sort of cookbook for nerds?"

"No! It's a comic strip about guys who play Role Playing Games." I said.

"Yeah, nerds."

I few weeks ago, I was asked to write something about Kurt Cobain for Black Table.com, because today is the ten year anniversary of his suicide.

I am always flattered and grateful when someone asks me to contribute to something, because it makes me feel like a "real" writer, but I often have to decline, because writing takes time, and time is something I just don't have right now.

This was different, though, because I thought I had an interesting take on Kurt Cobain's death, so I accepted. I wrote it up, re-wrote it, and then got buried in the Star Trek convention and forgot to send it in until one day after the deadline.

So it didn't make the article, which is a drag, because the other writers are all respected and they all wrote great things. It would have been cool to be alongside them. They tell me it was cut for space . . . but I just read the other contributions, and it's pretty clear to me that I'm not yet in their league.

I'm thrilled that I've had this realization while I'm suffering a crisis of confidence at the tail end of a rewrite, and I'm terrified about the "sophomore slump."

But since I already put the work into it, it seems stupid to just file it off in the "never got published" directory.

Here it is:

The first time I heard "Nevermind," I wasn't impressed. As far as I was concerned, it was just a poor rip off of The Pixies' "Doolittle." When "Smells Like Teen Spirit" took over eMpTyVee and every radio station in the country, I got burned out pretty damn fast.

Then I read an interview with Kurt Cobain in . . . I think it was
Rolling Stone. Maybe it was Spin. But he said that there wouldn't be Nevermind without Doolittle. Kurt Cobain was influenced by The Pixies? Okay, I'll give it another try.

I listened to the whole album three or four times and I was hooked. The only other album that has completely pulled me in like that was Radiohead's OK Computer. I bought "Bleach" within a week, and stood in line to pick up "In Utero" when it was released. I still think that Kurt's version of "The Man Who Sold The World" is one of the most beautiful and haunting things I've ever heard.

For as much as I loved the music, I completely hated Kurt Cobain's antics. The destruction of vintage guitars enraged me, the dresses and outrageous behavior in interviews just annoyed me, and over time it became difficult for me to appreciate the music on its own. By the time Kurt ended his life, I'd lost interest in Nirvana, and I told my friend Dave, "Well, what do you expect? Poor Kurt had all his dreams come true, and he just couldn't handle it. Maybe he ran out of vintage Strats to destroy."

Dave did his best to convince me that rock had lost a pioneer. Without Kurt's music, he said, there wouldn't be Perl Jam, or Soundgarden, or Alice In Chains. Without Nirvana, he suggested, Guns N Roses may still be sitting atop Rock's Mount Olympus.

"Meh. There's one less Junkie in the world," I said. The truth was, I'd recently lost a dear friend to suicide, and Kurt's death brought back a lot of unresolved sorrow over my own loss.

Almost a year later, I was listening to Chet Baker, an influential Jazz musician who was also a heroin addict when he fell (some say jumped) out of an Amsterdam hotel window in 1988. Baker was a trumpet player, with a soulful voice. There was always a touch of sadness and longing in his lyrical style -- be it musical or vocal. I'd been reading a lot of Burroughs at the time, and I called up my friend Dave to rave about Chet Baker's "How Deep is the Ocean?"

I told him how I could feel Chet Baker's sadness, and I wondered if his addiction played a part in his music, the way Burrough's addiction clearly informed his writing.

"Oh, you mean like Kurt Cobain." Dave said. A statement, not a question.

I thought for a second. "Yes. Exactly like Kurt Cobain. I never thought of it that way."

"So you maybe have a different opinion of him now?"

"Yes. Yes, I do." I surprised myself with my answer. "But I'll never
forgive him for destroying all those vintage guitars."

Dave laughed, "You're such a dick."

"Yes I am. But I'm a dick who can listen to Nirvana again."

Here's the part where I eulogize Kurt Cobain.

I didn't know Kurt, and his death didn't greatly impact my life. But I knew his music, and when I came to understand his addiction, and his frustrations with the music industry's efforts to turn him into just another commodity, I felt sad for him, and mourned his loss.

I don't think Kurt Cobain was that great a musician, and I can speak from experience, because even I was able to play along with most of Nevermind, without learning any new chords. But he was an amazing writer, and his real legacy can be seen in garage bands and on record store shelves all over the world. Dave was right: without Kurt Cobain and Nirvana, there would be no Perl Jam, no Soundgarden, no Alice in Chains, and Seattle would just be this mysterious city where it rains a lot.

I can't believe it's been ten years -- a decade! -- since Kurt Cobain died. Wherever he is, I hope he's sipping Pennyroyal Tea.

Question for the Brain Trust:

In 1989, I was on this thing called SeaTrek, that sailed out of Florida.

I really need to know what city we sailed from, and I can't find a damn thing about it on Google, other than the SeaTrek hompage. (The only thing I found there was this photographic evidence of what a complete tool I was.)

I'm hoping that someone who reads this will know someone who knows someone who remembers where and when we set sail.

Can anybody give me a little help?

Update: In the comments, Joe pointed me to an old UseNet post, identifying the port as Miami. Thanks, Joe!

My brother just opened up his very first CafePress store! His current design is a parody of the 24Hr Fitness design, called 24Hr Fatness. I have one of his shirts, and let me tell you something, Curly, it gets quite a response from the ladies.

I asked Jeremy to tell WWdN readers why he made the shirts, and here's what he had to say:

I did it because I was tired of seeing the 24Hr Fitness employees walking around who were more out of shape than me trying to be all like "hey, you should join 24Hr Fitness so you can get into shape". Yeah, whatever tiny, you have cheese on your lip.

I just hope that Cafepress leaves it up there, they have a thingy about not selling things that resemble other products. So we'll see. If they sell and it gets taken down then I'll do it my damn self! Jenn [his wife] and I are going to be working on a bunch more stuff too. Jenn has the "Party Monkey" and "Drag Monkey" line she's been doing for fun for years.

Am I buggin' you? I don't mean to bug ya...

Okay Edge, play the blues...

This will probably be my last weblog entry this week, because I'm in the final few miles of the Just A Geek rewrite marathon.

I was hoping to have it turned in by April 2, but I lost days while I was at the Grand Slam convention, and when I worked on Teen Titans. My mom, dad, and sister gave me a bouquet of flowers last week that included some lillies (my favorite, for those of you scoring at home, are stargazer lillies), and my plan was to have it all done by the time they opened . . . but now I will finish it before the last petal falls to the table, like in Beauty And The Beast.

My rocking editor at O'Reilly was kind enough to give me a few extra days to work on it, and the last 36 hours have been some of the most productive in my short literary life. I was really stuck on a few sections, like there was a dam across the little river of creativity in my brain, but it exploded sometime on Sunday, and the ensuing flood has been amazing. A few days ago, I was seriously worried about Just A Geek. I was happy with the second and third acts, but I thought the first act was total shite . . . well, all that shite was washed away by the flood, and I'm so happy with what I have, it's taking all my strength (and respect for my contract) to not share big chunks of it right now.

We'll all have to wait until June, I guess. I promise that it will be worth it.

The last two weeks have been incredible trip back across the last three years (and in some places, the last fifteen years) as I've worked on my Just A Geek rewrite . . . and I'm down to the final scene in the book, which I will finish today.

I sent the 99% completed manuscript to my editor two days ago, and after reading it, he sent back a note, that he asked I share with WWdN readers.

Hello there, friends, fans, and freaks. This is Wil's O'Reilly editor, piping in to let you know where Wil has been lately. As he mentioned a few days ago, I've been cracking the proverbial whip (well, let's just say it's proverbial, to protect the innocent), and figured I'd write something about "Just a Geek" while I've got him slaving over a keyboard. First, let me say a "Thank you" to all of you guys, who made "Dancing Barefoot" nothing short of a phenomenon--I can honestly say that signing Wil as an author was made easier by every one of you who plunked down your cash to pick up a copy. It got my attention, and eventually got Tim O'Reilly's attention, which is why you're going to be able to buy "Just a Geek" at every store in the nation, rather than having to order it direct. Wil's quite happy, I hear, as he and his wife were prone to squabbling over exactly how many stamps 100 pages of nostalgia cost to ship in today's economy.

In any case, all prelude aside, I wanted to say just a word about "Just A Geek", as I just finished reading the 99% complete manuscript.

It's incredible.

You want this book.

You need this book.

All brevity aside, you're all going to be very, very pleased. Without denigrating (yes, I paid a lot of college tuition to use big words like that, thank you very much) "Dancing Barefoot" at all, "Just a Geek" is a highly polished, well-written, wonderfully crafted novel that goes so much further than any of you can imagine. It's a lot of fun, and that's after way too many readings. I'm not trying to get you drooling too much (well, maybe a bit), but suffice it to say that the few days you've lost Wil on WWdN have paid off in spades. In fact, it's as if Wil picked up a Queen of Spades on the river to make a gutshot royal straight flush, which is a pretty big deal where I come from.

I'm confident that you'll start to see bits and pieces of JAG show up here, on oreilly.com, and of course at Wil's appearances, but I just thought you all deserved to know that this is going to be a killer book. I'm not a flatterer, so take that as high praise. Wil has literally busted his tail to get this done, respond to hundreds of comments, add lots of new material, and generally become a terrific author. I can honestly and happily say that while JAG is great, I expect it to be only the first full-length book; only the initial offering in a long line. We're excited here at O'Reilly to help you guys get as much of Wil as we can... to squeeze the very life out of him while his family laments what life used to be like before writing contracts... to ensure his mother knows his voice only by memory...

Oh... sorry... I got a little caught up in being an editor again. In any case, we all love Wil here, and expect to see a lot more from him in the months to come. We've also got some great surprises coming along, like a potentially mind-blowing foreword to "Just a Geek", some opportunities for collectible copies, and much more... so stay tuned, right here.

I'll go let Wil out of his cage ... er ... office ... in a day or two, and you'll get to read it all here.

Wow.

Thanks, Brett. I . . . don't know what to say. I'm really happy with the way this book has turned out . . . but I don't think I can take credit for the entire thing. A lot of people have given me valuable feedback along the way, including you.

I'm really not supposed to do this, but I'm going to share a tiny glimpse of what I'm finishing up today. Don't tell anyone, okay?

I had my final costume fitting the next day, and the day after that, I found myself at the Melrose Avenue guard shack, half-an-hour early for my 8:30 am call time.

"ID, please." The guard said.

I pulled my driver's license out of my wallet, and gave it to him.

"And where are you going today . . . " he looked at my license. "Wil?"

"I'm working on Star Trek." I said.

"Enterprise or Nemesis?"

The Next Generation.

"Nemesis," I said. "I play Wesley Crusher."

He looked up at me. "Oh my god. You are Wesley Crusher. You look so . . . "

Washed up?

". . . grown up."

"Yeah," I said. "It's been a long time."

"Do you know where to park?"

"Yeah. But I don't know where our dressing rooms are."

But I do! I do know where our dressing rooms are! They're trailers on the street in front of stages 8 and 9. Mine is filled with Warhammer 40K figures and GURPS books. It's right next to Brent's trailer. It's 1989, and I'm back. I'm back home.

"Okay," he said, and gave me directions to an area on the lot where I'd never been before.

I parked my car, and picked up my backpack. Inside was my script, a notepad, and a few tapes: Only A Lad, Music For The Masses, and Squeeze: Singles 45 and Under . . . all of them music I listened to when I was working on the series. I remember, when I put them in my backpack, that I thought to myself, "Maybe I can sit in my trailer, listen to 'Never Let Me Down,' and imagine that I never left."

I locked up my car, and walked toward the dressing rooms. Other than the addition of a back lot, Paramount hadn't changed in any substantial way since I was on the show, and my thoughts drifted as I walked down those familiar streets on auto-pilot.

That's where I met Eddie Murphy when I was sixteen . . . Hey! I crashed a golf cart there when I was fifteen . . . There's the mail room . . . There's stage six, where the bridge set started out . . . I almost got up the courage to kiss that girl at the Christmas party on that stage in . . . there's the stage where Shatner told me, "I'd never let a kid come onto my bridge" . . . this street feels exactly the way it did when I worked here . . . here's where my trailer used to be . . .

I stopped, and tears filled my eyes -- tears of joy: It's so good to be here, mingled with tears of sadness and regret: Why didn't this happen years ago?

Because I wasn't ready for it to happen. I walked a few more steps, and looked into the foyer that led into stages 8 and 9. Enterprise lives there now. At least they kept the stage in the family.

Okay. Back to work.

Last week, I sent what I thought was the completed draft off to my editor. He sent back notes, and asked me, "Why don't you ever talk about the actual experience of working on Nemesis?"

"Because I never wrote about it on my website," I said.

"Well, as a reader, I really miss it not being in the book. You lead up to it, then you reflect upon it, but you left out the actual doing it. I think it needs to be there."

"Okay," I said, "it's going to take a couple of days, though. My memory is a little fuzzy on it, and I'll have to double-check everything."

"Great. I look forward to reading it."

When I worked on the movie, I kept some notes; little one line things like, "security," and "The Mill," and "Planet Hell." They would have jarred my memory had I used them within a few days or even weeks of filming . . . but it's been almost two years, and they just looked like disconnected words to me. So I got out my script, and my call sheets, and talked with Anne, and read my archived weblog entries . . . and most of my memories came back to me. Some of them were just impressions, (good for talking about, but not writing down,) and others were clear enough to be recollected in the book.

There's a huge difference between telling my friends, "Patrick was cool," and recreating for a reader exactly what he did that made him so cool, you know? It's the difference, Cory Doctorow told me, between showing and telling. "Always show if you have a choice," he said. (And I'm not name-dropping. Cory gave me great advice which made a huge difference to me as a writer, and I want to give him credit for it. So there.)

So, to get to the point of this story: On Wednesday night, I finally finished Just A Geek. On Thursday morning, I got notes from Brett, and on Thursday afternoon, we sent the manuscript off to O'Reilly's production department.

I can't believe that it's done! There's this conflicted feeling of relief and sadness that I get when I finish working on a movie or doing a run of a play. The feeling never the same for two projects, but it's the same . . . wait. It's like this: It's never the same flavor, but it's always the same texture. Does that make sense? I think it does, and I'm actually quite happy with that metaphor. :)

See, for the last month, I've had a pretty set routine: I get up, I make coffee, I read some e-mail and check up on news, then I write for several hours. I go out of hte house for lunch, then come home and write until I'm out of creative steam. I spend the evenings trying to unwind, but I can't, because I know that the book has to be finished, so I usually find myself back at the computer working on stuff that I know I'm going to end up rewriting in the morning. Futurama, Family Guy, then sleep for about 7 or 8 hours, and the whole thing starts all over again.

Oh, and this great schedule has resulted in me seriously porking out. I've been on a steady diet of fast food and beer for about a month, and I think I've gained close to ten pounds. I'm a small guy, so that's a lot. Watch Screen Savers on Wednesday, and marvel at how fat my double chin is. I think they may give it its own show.

When that schedule was over, I found myself really not knowing what to do . . . so I spent most of yesterday on the couch, watching the second season of Futurama. Normally, I don't waste an entire day like that, but I think I earned it. I think the intensity of the rewriting process (it was more emotional than I had expected, to recall all the ups and downs of the last few years) finally caught up with me, and I needed to let my brain rest. It was like sitting down after being on my feet for most of a day, and realizing just how tired I was.

So now the weekend is here. Anne's out of town, the kids are with their dad, and I was supposed to be in Michigan for the awesome Penguicon. Of course, the one weekend in the entire freaking year that I want to be out of town, I get a call that I may be working on a movie, so I had to stay home . . . and I'm not working on the movie. This is why I don't talk about potential projects any more. It's a little embarrassing when they don't pan out. Furstrating as all hell for me, and people who were looking forward to meeting me, too.

Luckily I have found some things to do to keep me occupied this weekend: I went to a They Might Be Giants show with my brother last night (that was awesome and worthy of its own post. I'll get to that RSN), and I'm going to an art show today. Tomorrow, I'm helping my friend Darin paint at his house, so his baby has a nice room to sleep in when she arrives in a couple of weeks.

That's it. My coffee is done, and I'm all out of things to talk about for today.

Oh, except for it's raining right now, and it feels like the rain in Hawai'i, but colder. I've written this entire entry with the doors and windows open, so I can hear and smell the rain, and Ferris just shook herself off all over my bathrobe. Yuck. Now I smell like a wet dog.

My Los Angeles Dodgers currently have the best record in baseball.

And I'm not talking about some worthless half-game lead over the jints . . . oh no. They're 9 and 3, baby.

\m/

I'm all about the higher education, and I'm also all about the helping people out.

So check it:

A graduate student at the University of Florida is doing a research study on you – the readers of this blog. There is a survey she would like you to complete & it takes less than 10 minutes. The survey asks basic questions about you & your reading of this blog. You can take the survey here until April 30. Please do not trackback to this post or survey since the point of her study is to actually understand you as a reader of my blog rather than people who find the survey through other links. Thanks!

Hey, we all waste spend time taking those silly "Which Fark Cliche Are You? and What Ice Cream Flavor Are Your Boots? surveys, right? (I'm Domo Kun and Mint Chocolate Chip, if you were wondering) so if you've got a few minutes to kill today, why not help this grad student out? I hear you can cash the karma in for one green light when you're running late.

Hey you guys!

(Was it Sloth, or Electric Company? I quote, you decide.)

I'm going to San Francisco tomorrow morning to tape an episode of Call For Help, and also to appear on The Screen Savers. TSS will be live, CFH will air at some undisclosed time in the Mysterious Future.

So if you're interested in seeing my double chin in all its glory, check your local listings and do your thing.

I will probably take lots of cameraphone pictures, and maybe an audioblog or two while I'm up there, too.

Greetings from the set of The Screen Savers!!

After five hours of restless and very disturbed sleep, I went to the airport this morning to come up to San Francisco. My favorite moment of the flight was when we climbed through the low-level clouds over Burbank and I watched the shadow of the plane climb up their sides.

One cab ride later I was at the TechTV Studios, and one bagel later I was rehearsing my first episode of Call For Help. One rehearsal later, I taped it. Goodtimes.

Then lunch, then second episode, and now I'm waiting to do my segment, which starts in about fifteen minutes.

You know what? I love being here for these shows. Everyone who works here always treats me well, they're very professional, and I always have a really good time.

My Call For Help shows air on Friday and Monday, and of course I'll be on Screen Savers just a few minutes.

Uh-oh. Time to get ready for the show.

I just saw my interview on The Screen Savers, and I have some thoughts.

Okay, wasn't it cool that they took a screen shot of my site almost immediately after I wrote the "backstage . . ." entry?

Stuff I like: I'm generally happy with the way I carried myself. It's always a strange balance of just wanting to talk about whatever comes to mind, while knowing that I'm there for a purpose (in this case, Barefoot). Anyone who has ever seen me speak knows that I tend to go on and on and off on tangents and stuff, and while that's fine in a 60 minute talk, it's not so good on a 6 minute TV segment. (By the way, anything more than 3 minutes is an eternity in TV time, and I'm incredibly lucky that I got as much time as I did today. I didn't feel rushed at all.)

Now. On to the stuff I hate: Red shirt? Bad idea. Washed me out, and the angle I was sitting at really accentuated the Body By Guinness, with bonus double chin. Oh, and how pale I look! It must be the end of Winter. Also, the way I did my hair at 5 this morning ended up making me look all pointy-headed by the time I did TSS. I hope I didn't look so . . . weird . . . on CFH.

I wish I'd mentioned TotalFark, Billmon and Talking Points Memo when I was asked about blogs I read every day . . . I'm not sure if TF is a "blog," but it's become one of my favorite places to spend time online over the past few months.

I also wish I hadn't frozen up on the question about my favorite Open Source project . . . I mean, Konqueror? Quanta? PostNuke? PhpBB2? Nethack? OpenOffice.org? I don't know . . . I answered honestly: there are just too many to pick one. But I still wish I'd had some sort of definitive answer. I feel like I pulled a Bush in the press conference moment and just rambled until I found some talking point to hit.

Overall? Very happy with the show I did today, and also very happy with the Call For Helps that I did (on Friday and Monday). Yeah, it was a good day. I didn't even have to use my AK.

This is hilarious. From BBSpot: Paramount Releases Highly Anticipated Service Pack for Star Trek.

Hollywood, CA - Paramount announced that it had released the long awaited service pack for the original Star Trek series. Entitled Star Trek: SP1, the patch includes fixes for technical goofs and other errors, which have nagged fans for decades.

Upgrading ShatnerParamount used the latest in digital editing technology to correct the errors and scoured newsgroups and interviewed fans to find all the problems they needed to correct. The service pack is available in DVD, VHS or in digital format from the Paramount website.

Paramount President Franz Pike said, "We fixed everything, from obvious errors like the glaring differences between Shatner and his stunt double to more obscure fixes like removing Spock's 'third ear' in 'The Immunity Syndrome.' We think fans will be pleased."

The full story is at BBSpot. Be sure to finsish any drinks before reading, to prevent monitor or keyboard damage.

About a month ago, I started reading The Biggest Game in Town. After a few pages, a trip to Vegas started looking really good to me. After a few chapters, a trip to Vegas started looking like something I had to do. After about half the book, I was deep in a full-on, hardcore, undeniable Vega$ Lust. It was powerful, man. I'd look at my watch and think, "You know what? If I left right now, I could be in Vegas in four hours!"

I'd often randomly shout out, "Vegas, baby! Vegas!" While puzzled strangers looked on in . . . strange puzzlement, I guess.

Since I was in the middle of the Just A Geek rewrite, It would have been rather irresponsible to go, and the best I could do was watch Swingers, read accounts of other bloggers' trips to vegas, and play iPoker. Then, when I couldn't play any more, I read the great poker blogs. Hell, I was even wistfully checking the Vegas moblog at Buzznet several times a day.

Yeah. Lust. Hardcore lust. (Heh. That ought to bring in some interesting google results.)

About two weeks ago, in the midst of The Lust, a WWdN reader sent me a link to this amazing Vegas story written by ESPN.com columnist Bill Simmons.

For me, it isn't even about Vegas as much anymore. When you hit your 30s, your friends settle in different cities, get hitched, pump out a kid, start working 50-to-60 hours a week ... you look up one day and realize you haven't seen three of your closest buddies in 15 months. Vegas becomes the great equalizer. There's always that first glorious stretch with everyone sitting at the same blackjack table, throwing down drinks, cracking worn-out jokes and busting chops, when you realize that nothing has changed. Thank God.

It's a fantastic column, and it could have been written about me and my friends . . . so I've totally fallen off the Vegas wagon.

I'm done with the rewrite now, so the big question for me becomes . . . "When can I get away from town for three days in a row, and am I taking my wife, or should I even try to get the guys together for the trip?"

You know what? I think I'm going to write a story about Vegas.

Vegas, baby.

Vegas.

A much needed update on Kris.

I haven't had a chance to write about Kris' progress in over a month (last entry was March 10th when she came home from the hospital).

I saw Kris at home the day after she left the hospital. She was very happy to be home but looked tired. She had lost most of her hair again and the blisters on her hands and feet from treatment were really hurting her. I didn't stay long because of the flood of phone calls and visitors stopping by. I hugged her goodbye, and told her I'd see her next week.

Kris came to visit me at my work about five days after coming home. She came in and I almost didn't recognize her. She lost her eyelashes, eyebrows and color in her skin. Her hands were peeling so badly I couldn't believe she could even hold anything. I was a little shocked. But as soon as she started talking, I was at ease. She's still her old self. Funny, energetic, sarcastic. It was great to see her out and about. She just has to avoid being around crowds or anyone with the sniffles so she doesn't get sick. Her immune system is really low so she could get anything and not be able to fight it off. We talked about regular stuff. The kids, vacations, husbands working too hard. It felt so wierd to me that she's been through so much yet it feels like nothing has changed. Well, except for all the side affects from her treatment. And even that we talked about like it was this thing separate from anyone we know. It's like the stuff that's happening to her body is so separate from who she is that it's almost like watching it on The Learning Channel.

I left last Thursday for a long weekend of birthday celebrations for some out of town friends. On my way home Monday, I was checking messages. I had one from Kris that she left that Sunday. She said she knew I was still gone, but just wanted to let me know she was back in the hospital and had been there since Thursday. I was worried sick so I immediately called her. She said she had gotten a staph infection in her Hickman catheter (a catheter that is surgically implanted into the chest that goes into the heart to receive chemo and other medications). She had a fever of 102.5. If she had waited any longer, it would have been fatal. She was trying to make light of the whole thing, saying she didn't think I'd want to come home to a dead friend. I was wiping tears off my face when she said that. It's really scary how something so simple to us could be so life threatening for her. But she was being taken care of and feeling better. She came home six days after being admitted.

We're still working hard training for the marathon. Kris wanted to be part of the fundraising, so I made her flyers a couple of weeks ago to send to her family and friends. She's already raised $1,000. I can't believe she did that while still going back and forth to the hospital every week for tests and medication. But then again, I can believe it. She's a very strong person. She asked me to thank everyone for donating and all the positive mojo. It has really helped keep her going.

Kris just passed her 50th day of treatment. She's half way there. She has to go back to City of Hope for a few days in May to give her something that will help boost her immune system. Then she'll wear a pump at home for an additional 10 days to continue to deliver this medication into her. This will help her body fight off any illness as well as any leukemia that might still be in her. She is also having a biopsy on April 28th to see if her transplant is preventing the leukemia from coming back. Keep your fingers crossed!

We have had several requests to set up a Paypal account to receive more donations. Of course, I have no idea how to do that (I'm sure it's something very simple and I'm just being a lame girl). Wil kept assuring me he would set it up as soon as he finished his book. He's FINALLY done so now we're all set. Of course this option does not allow for the tax deduction but if you aren't concerned with that, then this is for you! We're more than half way there but could really use your help reaching our $25,000 goal. We only have a couple of weeks left to get our donations in. Skip that Starbucks today and send a few bucks toward a wonderful cause. No matter what you donate, you can be part of helping Kris and so many others.

A note from Wil: I can't take any credit for the awesome PayPal donation page, because all I did was e-mail my friend Russ and beg him for his help. Thank you, Russ. I owe you one.

Do you ever have a day that's so good, you start to worry?

"Damn, man! Today is such a good day!" I will say to myself, "I wonder when a shark is going to drop out of the sky and cause a chain reaction accident that makes me late for dinner?"

This is one of those days.

Well, honestly, it started yesterday, when I shot the cover for Just A Geek.

Oh. My. Mother. Jesus. Balls! I am so excited! The photos all look amazing!

Here's a not-so-secret: I hate having my picture taken, and it's not just because each click of the shutter captures a little bit more of my ever-diminishing soul. The truth is, I just don't feel like I photograph well, and as someone who grew up constantly picked on, I want to look cool, you know? (Is it possible to look cool without being one of The Cool Kids? Because I know lots of people who are cool -- my wife, for example, is very cool -- but who aren't one of The Cool Kids.)

Well.

The I have found a photographer who makes me look cool (I know, I'm as shocked at you are) and who is fun to work with . . . and the photos are so good, it's made me want the book to come out even faster than I already did.

I've also gotten some incredibly exciting news about two very cool additions (being done by other people) for Just A Geek, but I won't blog about them until --

Wait. Did I just say "blog about them?" Did I just use the word "blog" as a verb?

Fuck. I did. Okay, so I am now officially a total hosebag.

*sigh*

Well, at least I look cool in some pictures, right?

Anyway, I won't WRITE about it until I have 100% confirmation from the über cool people who are responsible . . . but holy mother of crap, is it cool!

Okay. Where was I?

Oh. Yes. Today is a very good day:

• In the past 36 hours, WWdN readers have sent in close to $3,000 in sponsorship for our Rock N Roll Marathon in June. Added to what we already have, we're over $20,000, and we have three weeks to hit our goal of $25,000. We are overwhelmed with your generosity, and we are confident that we'll make it!


• A few weeks ago, two finches built a nest in our breezeway, and a few days ago four baby finches hatched. The only thing that makes me as happy as the chirping of those little guys when they're ready to eat is the songs their parents sing on the telephone wire over my back yard.


• Ryan and Nolan got their report cards yesterday. They both have GPA's over 3.3, which is HUGE, considering all the stress they've had to deal with for the bulk of this school year. As a matter of fact, these are the best report cards they've ever had, and I am so proud of them I want to cry a little bit.


• Over the past two months or so, I feel Ryan reaching out to me — closing the emotional distance — for the first time in the eight years we've been in each other's lives. I've always let our relationship be where he wants it to be, and I feel like he is ready for (and wants it to be) closer now . . . and that makes me want to cry even more than the great grades.


• Anne and I are finally able to do the work on our house that we've wanted to do since we moved in five years ago. First, we're doing new windows and doors, then A/C! Hooray!


• Anne is in charge of the inside of the house, and I get to be in charge of the landscaping of our backyard, which will finally include the meditation garden I've wanted all these years.

I could go on and on, but I've noticed that when things are good, and I celebrate how good they are, the "I hate you" e-mail increases exponentially . . . so I'll just stop right after this:

I'm so incredibly grateful that life is currently as good as it is, and I think that it's important to enjoy times like these when they come along.

I know it won't always be as good as it is right now, but times like this make the bad times more bearable . . . and as longtime readers know, I've had more than my fair share of the bad times over the last few years.

I have fallen in love with this bad ass ambient orb that goddess Jen from Think Geek sent me. I love it so much, I think I'm going to buy a few more and put them all over my house. I set my orb to reflect the weather (because, you know, walking outside to see how hot it is would be too much work), and it's currently bright red, because it's over 100 degrees here in Pasadena. Goodtimes.

Do any WWdN readers have one of these? If so, have you developed any special applications for it? I don't quite grok the developer info (I guess I "gr-" it).

OH MY GOD!

I just got off the phone with Anne. Kris got the results of her biopsy just now . . . and IT CAME BACK CANCER-FREE!! The chemo and radiation have done their thing, and she's safe for at least two years!

I feel like I'm going to cry. I saw Kris this morning at Anne's salon, and I thought she looked healthier and better than I expected. We talked about the support WWdN readers have given her, and how much your love, prayers, mojo, tantric healing waves, and crazy voodoo monkey magic have helped her at this time.

You guys . . .

I just don't know how to express how joyous and grateful I feel right now.

Anne will write more details later on.