Damn It

Where the hell are my keys?

Well?

49 Comments on “Damn It”

  1. angst, that was! I think my fingers need more coffee. Nope, couldn’t manage to edit it. I’m sure it’s just me.

  2. Your keys are on your desk by your keyboard, as the picture of the Bacon book from yesterday clearly shows.

    Any other problems, just ask.

  3. Justme:

    You know, once I found my keys and I looked one more place, just so I could say they weren’t in the last place I looked.

  4. amandageddon – She is a slacker of the highest order, a geek of not so much, went back to school to become an even bigger geek and possibly get paid for it. She loves it when a plan comes together.
    Amanda

    Sorry!

  5. Your keys are probably at the biweekly meeting for house, car, and boat keys. Did they forget to leave a note? Don’t worry, they’ll probably be back in a couple hours, unless someone brought bagels.

  6. changterhune – Before you hear lies from Chang Terhune himself, we thought we’d tell you the truth: without us, his old action figures, he’d be nowhere. He loved science fiction from way back and began reading it at an early age, but it was through us that he acted it all out. That’s what led to the writing. He watched a lot of science fiction shows like Star Trek, U.F.O, and movies, too. But we were always there to do his bidding. And it’s like they say: you always forget about the little people on your way up. Oh, the 70’s and early 80’s with him were good times! He’d use these blocks and make all the crazy buildings for us to be in his stories. I gotta say the kid’s imagination was pretty damn fertile. Oh, he had friends, but they just weren’t into it like him. He was like the Lance Armstrong of action figures. And of science fiction. At first, when he began writing in the eighth grade, we didn’t mind. He still made time for us. And we knew that when he was holding us in his sweaty little hands and he got that far off look in his eye, he’d come back to burying us in the back yard or - god forbid! – blowing us up with firecrackers. But it was worth it for a part in one of those stories. We loved him for it. He kept us around even when we were minus a leg or two - or even a head. In that mind of his, he found a use for all of us. Then he discovered girls. October, 1986. It was like the end of the world. One day we’re standing in the middle of this building block creation he’d pretended was some marble city on a planet near Alpha Centauri and the next we were stuck in a box in the closet. Not even a “See ya later!” Nope, it was into the closet, then we heard some high-pitched girly-giggles then silence. We didn’t see him for years. We got word about him once in a while. Heard he took up writing, but it was crap like “The Breakfast Club” only with better music. We couldn’t believe it. Not Charlie. What happened to those aliens with heads he’d sculpted out of wax? Spaceships? Those complex plots? All gone. For what? You guessed it: Girls. Emotions. “Serious fiction.” I tell you, it was like hearing Elvis had left the building. During our two decade exile in the closet, we heard other things about him. He went to college. He wrote a lot, but not much he really liked. We knew it even then. It was like he didn’t dare write science fiction. Some of us had lost hope and just lay there. Others kept vigil, hoping for a day we didn’t dare speak about. Then we heard he’d stopped writing in 1996. Did he come to reclaim us? No. He took up music for ten years or so. He took up yoga. Once in a while, he’d visit us in the closet. But it was half-hearted. His mind was elsewhere. Then one day, he really did come back for us. One second we’re in the dark and the next thing we know we’re in a car headed for Massachusetts. Suddenly we got a whole shelf to ourselves out in broad daylight! Then he bought a bunch of others form some planet called Ebay. He’d just sit and stare at us with that old look. But why were we suddenly back in the picture? He had a wife now, who didn’t mind that he played with us. So what had happened? Turns out he’d never forgotten about those stories. He’d been thinking about all of us and the stories he’d made up and then remembered he’d been a writer once. From the shelf we could see him typing away. Before long he’s got a whole novel together! Then he’s working on another one. Word is there are two more in the planning stages! Some short stories, too! It’s good to see him using his imagination again. Its good to know he never abandoned us. He returned to his true love of science fiction. We hear the stories are pretty good. Someday we’ll get one of the cats to score us a copy of the manuscript. Man, it’s good to be out of the damn closet! --- I'm smarter than you I'm harder than you I'm better than you I'm just raw I'm hotter than you More popular than you More clever than you And goshdarn it, people like me I'm smarter than you I'm harder than you I'm better than you I'm just raw I'm hotter than you More popular than you More clever than you And goshdarn it, people like me
    Chang O.C., da liberal gangsta

    Uh, yer butt?

  7. They’re in the *first* place you looked. You just didn’t look hard enough.

    No, really. Works damn near every time for me.

  8. Carol Elaine – Spend my days being creative with acting stuff & cleaning up after animals for money. Spend my evenings cleaning cat puke for free. 'Tis a glamorous life.
    Carol Elaine

    Under the plant stand. No, I don’t know how it got there. I just know that it’s there.

  9. Yesterday’s pants . . . yesterday’s bathrobe . . . yesterday’s flip-flops . . .

  10. Somewhere there is a very similar John Scalzi with two sets of keys, identical down to the nicks and thumbprints. And today on that very similar Whatever, there is a very different post.

  11. I recently lost my keys for about a week. When I found them, they were between the wall and the little bookshelf thing where the key bowl sits. I’d check there (or its equivalent in your home). And then check again.

  12. ZOMG, I bet they’re in the Creation Museum!

    Go there right now and find them!

    Oh, and while you’re there you might want to take some notes, so you could like write like a report, or whatever.

    -michael

    p.s. They might be in the same place you found them last time you lamented that they were lost. Wasn’t that about two months ago?

  13. You know those weird catalogs full of overpriced, ridiculous merchandise? They sell flashing, beeping keychains that activate by remote.

    Which would be all fun and games until someone misplaced the remote. Then it would be hilarious.

  14. I actually lost my keys this morning. They were in the bag I don’t remember packing for work. After I found the keys and admonished the little mysterious elves, I sent them your way with instructions consisting of the keywords, Cheese, litterbox and books.

    So sorry.

  15. In a recliner/couch/chair you have sat in. On table/floor beside same. Beside one of the toilets. Under the bed, beside the bed, in the hamper or wherever yesterday’s clothing with pockets is. Still in the door, where you unlocked it to come in the house.

  16. That “We’ve Got a Good Signal” sure looks weird from where I am sitting. It’s a veeeeeery long white page.

    Which is a pity as I wanted to whine about the fact that the RSS feed I’d subscribed to for ages went dead, and I only now discovered you’d actually started posting again. With a new feed. I felt so excluded.

    Anyway, before I become overly familiar on the blog of a complete stranger: you might want to set up a 301 redirect to handle that.

    Oh, yeah, off topic. I know.

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