The Eagle Has Landed, I Repeat The Eagle Has Landed

Hello everyone! I hope your weeks were more fabulous than the thought of Star Wars' Princess Leia as a "Disney Princess." (It's a thought that makes me chuckle every time.)

Well, I did it! After 1,400 miles, 26 hours on the road and an unfathomable amount of terrible gas station coffee, I made it to Arizona!

Of course, I was the genius who decided that the day after I competed all day in the Spokane Highland Games should be the day I pack all of my stuff into the back of a rental truck and move. So one day after doing this:

And this:

I was loading everything I own on this planet (shout out to the folks who came and helped) into the back of a truck and setting off for Arizona. To answer your question, no my muscles have still not forgiven me.

My View for 99% of the Trip

Then there came the three-day journey to my new home in Glendale, Arizona. My mother and grandmother were in charge of the moving van, I was in charge of the car containing the cats.

For those of you who have never had the pleasure of trying to drive with two cats in the car, let me tell you, if you want the true horror movie experience without the chainsaws or ghosts then nothing will get you closer.

Not an Accurate Representation of This Trip

I had made a small area in the back of my car with the kitties' litter box, some towels for them to lay on and attached them to little harnesses and leashes so that they couldn't come to the front where I was driving... or so I thought.

What immediately happened was Santeria, who is agoraphobic beyond even Detective Monk levels, curled up in her litter box and screamed for two hours straight. She then moved to the comfort of her kitty crate, which was also in the back, and continued to scream from there.
 
Now when I say "screaming," I literally mean screaming. It sounded like I was murdering a woman in a Hitchcock-esque fashion as I was driving.

The few times she left the litter box or the crate to explore the car she would peer out the windows for just as long as it took for me to find the slightest curve or bump in the road and then she would skitter back to safety and start screaming again.

Voodoo, as it turns out, I named incorrectly. I should have named her Houdini as she figured out multiple ways to escape her little kitty harness and the leash. I would be driving along and suddenly Voodoo would be underneath my seat playing with my ankles or attempting to climb on the dashboard.

Adorable but Untrustworthy

Finally, after getting her back in her harness for the 27th time, Voodoo settled for creeping over my shoulder for a majority of the trip. It was from this position that she spent the rest of the drive hissing at anything that she deemed inappropriate and sometimes smacking me in the face because whatever it was was obviously my fault.

So basically my trip down to Phoenix wrangling cats could probably have been used as training for special operatives who are about to be sent in the field to disarm landmines. They would have nerves of steel after three days trapped in a car with the constant screaming, random bats to the head and ankles and playing the "where did that cat get to now!?" game while driving 70 miles an hour.

Well I'm here, I'm exhausted but I'm alive and excited to see what adventures Arizona will bring!

As always, I can be found on Facebook and Twitter (@AllisonHawn) and my books can be found here!

Just Call Me Sherlock

Hello everyone! I hope everyone had a week that was more fantastic than the thought of the Mutant Ninja Turtles performing Prince's "Kiss!"

Well this week I ended up with a bit of a mystery on my hands. Oh if only I had had a group of teen super-sleuths in a psychedelically painted van to help me! 

Sadly, I was Scooby and Shaggy-less.

It all started when I was pinned to my bed over the weekend by a migraine. I was lying there, attempting not to hate life quite as much, when I heard a crash from my kitchen. The sound was quickly followed by a series of frantic sounding thuds and a couple of thumps to boot.

Now, at this point, I have two suspects for you all: Voodoo and Santeria.

Sinister looking, aren't they?

Voodoo and Santeria are the three and seven pound, respectively, balls of fur and claws that currently reside in my apartment. Out of the two of them, Santeria is usually my trouble maker. If you need proof check below:

That is a basket of clean laundry that she is rolling around in making sure that she gets as much of her kitty hair on it as possible. Her other hobbies include: diving head first into bowls of cereal, stealing and hiding my glasses and toilet papering me while I'm asleep.

Therefore, it was my conclusion that whatever had just occurred in my kitchen, probably had something to do with the cat with the serious rap sheet.

But then, plot twist, Voodoo sauntered in and hopped up on my bed dressed like this:

With a Safeway bag flowing behind her like a cape and a look on her little face that said, "Whatever, I'm fabulous!" I began to suspect that Voodoo may have been involved.

In trying to remove the bag (which she was most insistent on wearing) I also found that she smelled like various things I had thrown away in my trash can earlier that day. With my powers of deduction fully employed, I believe I caught my culprit.

Her sentence for her crime? The loss of her cape and the dreaded bath.

This is a cautionary tale for all you young readers. Remember, crime doesn't pay. At the very least, you will lose your cape and have to take a bath.

As always, feel free to follow my adventures on Facebook and Twitter (@AllisonHawn) and don't forget to check out my books on Amazon!

Utterly Useless Utterances

Hello all! I hope you have all had supercalifragilisticexpialidocious weeks!

Quick reminder: I will be in Boise June 13th for a book signing at Hyde Park Books! 

So one of the top trends on Twitter (which you can find me at @AllisonHawn) this past week was #50FactsAboutMe. I saw this particular hashtag as a challenge and I conquered it by posting 50 facts about myself on Twitter.

Granted, most people wrote things like, "I don't like chocolate," or, "I think puppies are cute," which were all fine and dandy (except how can you not like chocolate!?). My facts were a little, shall we say, less orthodox?

After a some requests from those who caught snippets of my facts throughout the day, I am posting the entire list here (with a few expanded explanations beyond my 140 character limit).

So here they are in all their... glory?

1. I've never understood why there could only be one Highlander, didn't their mothers teach them to share?

2. I am only a couple of cats and one sweatervest away from becoming a crazy cat lady.

3. I am missing one of my vital organs, and am still alive. This makes me either a medical miracle or a zombie, you pick.

4. When I don't sleep, everything starts to taste like Cheetos. So Cheetos taste like "lack of sleep" to me.

5. I am incapable of digesting anything with hooves (see fact #3). Sorry chickens and fish, you're still fair game.

6. I have never thought pugs were cute. (It's that breathing sound they make. Nightmares).

7. I do not believe that Wheaties are the breakfast of champions.

8. I could eat sushi and Pad Thai every day for rest of my life, which would be short due to nutritional deficits from eating only sushi and Pad Thai.

9. I like to talk to hipsters about bands I made up to see if they will claim to have heard them.

10. I have eaten chicken's feet. They taste like rubber bands.

11. I once started a mosh pit a Christian rock concert out of sheer boredom.

12. I have often wondered if I replace all the blood in my body with caffeine if I could become immortal.

13. I once taught myself to twiddle my toes. (It was pretty much the only thing I truly learned in that class too.)

14. I can't juggle. I am really good at throwing things on the floor, though.

15. I titled my first published book "Life is a Circus Run by a Platypus" on mistake.

16. I've always wanted to learn how to be a fire eater.

17. I believe that kale, in all of its forms, is disgusting.

18. I attribute my strong immune system to my childhood penchant for attempting to eat pennies.

19. I have a slight addiction to pomegranate juice. I may have once tackled someone for some.

20. I judge people who believe that the "Star Wars" prequels were better than the original trilogy.

21. I've always wanted Batman's utility belt. Do you know how useful that would be?

22. At 25 years old, I still get carded to see rated R movies.

23. I once ate a full baby octopus. Slimiest food ever.

24. I hate polka with a fiery burning passion.

25. I just sang, "We're halfway there, oooOooooh livin' on a prayer!"

26. I am writing these facts to procrastinate cleaning my bathroom.

27. I have worn a kilt to work on multiple occasions.

28. I'm not a huge fan of sugar, but I will kill for red velvet cake.

29. I have all the lyrics to Smash Mouth's "All Star" completely memorized.

30. I can sunburn in less than ten minutes. I'm so pale I'm practically translucent.

31. When I run I look less like a graceful gazelle and more like a drunk baby deer.

32. I've never understood why the popularity of the phrase YOLO (for those of you not exposed to obnoxious people "You Only Live Once") didn't make people more paranoid and cautious.

33. I honestly want to know how much wood a woodchuck could chuck. I need numbers people!

34. I get much of my news from The Daily Show because it's the only way I can watch current events without hating humanity.

35. I never liked the T.V. show Lost. There were so many plot holes and lame dialogue moments.

36. I don't own a television. In fact, I have never owned my own television.

37. I still own a dumb phone. That's right, I am a technological dinosaur.

 38. I solve Rubik's Cubes... with a screwdriver.

39. Some people have a favorite singer, artist or celebrity. I have a favorite philosopher.

40. I am extremely suspicious of cattle.

41. I hate the play Hamlet, but still manage to love "The Lion King."

42. I have multiple music playlists that feature both heavy metal and Disney music on them.

43. As a kid, I wanted to be a velociraptor when I grew up.

44. My coworkers have gotten used to me bringing coloring books and colored pencils to meetings.

45. I procrastinate doing useful things by doing other less hated useful things.

46. I am a herbicidal maniac, I kill plants.

47. My foot fell asleep, I'm jealous.

48. I am not a giant fan of holding babies. There is just so much noise/goo/smell that can happen.

49. I've read "The Hobbit" nine times now... because I am that much of a nerd.

50. I have a scar from making Scottish shortbread.

Want to know more? You can always find me on Facebook, Twitter (@AllisonHawn), and Goodreads!

Bad Kitty

Hello all! I hope you are all having a fabulous week!

My boss and coworkers left our entire department in the hands of myself and one other person this week. The good news is that we managed to not burn down the building. The bad news is we may have a new spot on the carpet that may never come out (we might just put a couch over it... in the middle of the hallway).

Because it's Spokane, not Spocan't!

During the chaos of this past week, however, I got the awesome opportunity to be on Spokast! Blake, Russell and I talked about dinosaurs, football, homelessness, PEZ Dispensers and of course "Life is a Circus Run by a Platypus!" It was downright magical. If you want to hear it for yourself just click here.

Speaking of "Life is a Circus Run by a Platypus," the book received another five star review on Amazon this week, "I learned quickly not to read this book in a quiet area. I laughed so much, and as I held it in, I started shaking and tearing up. I ended up leaving the office, where I was waiting for my son's test to be over. I hope Allison Hawn writes another book!"

Thank you! I love reading reviews like these, they make my little writer's heart do cartwheels, which is impressive since the rest of me can't do a cartwheel to save my soul.

This week I would like to introduce my readers to my two roommates. They tend to be a bit reclusive, are very concerned with their appearance and poop in a box. That's right, I have cats. Meet Voodoo (the black one) and Santeria (the every color one).

For the most part we cohabitate pretty peacefully. Voodoo spends most of her time being immobile, oftentimes to the point where I have to check to make sure she is still breathing. Santeria vacillates between peacefully staring out of the windows to running from room to room for no apparent reason and meowing at blank walls.

Lately, however, I've noticed that my fuzzy little companions have picked up some less than savory habits.

I have tried talking to them about it, but as of yet, I have not noticed any change in their behavior. They seem to hear me, but do not care.

It is out of desperation that I have instead decided to publicize their offenses in the hopes that this will get their attention and maybe they will stop their negative behaviors:

Now that their crimes have been brought to light, maybe we will see a change in their behavior... Who am I kidding? They're cats, they do what they want.

As always, feel free to follow my exploits on Facebook, Twitter and Goodreads!

Can it be Called a Death Bed if You're on the Floor?

Hello everyone! (Yes, even those who dare to say that Batman is not a superhero.)

I hope your weeks have been supercalifragilisticexpialidocious. Mine was... somewhat... less than that?

I discovered a fact about myself a long time ago: If I am going to get sick, it will never be "a case of the sniffles" or "a low grade fever and some body aches."

No, if I get sick it will start quietly and progress until I look like, and have all the functioning capabilities of, this:

This week I managed to catch something that, like a terrible romance novel, swept me off my feet, and unlike said cheesy book, then pile drove me into the floor.

I was totally fine, until I really, really wasn't. One minute I was sitting in my apartment after work prepping for the next day, the next I found myself on the bathroom floor in this position:

Except, I was far less adorable, I promise. This is where I spent most of Monday night.

At one point during the night I was joined by my cat, Voodoo, who preceded to give me a very inspirational pep talk. I was so sick at that point that it took me a full five minutes to remember that cats can't talk, and this was probably not a good sign.  She had some excellent points though.

I spent the next several days unable to consume much of anything. My biggest triumph in three days was being able to digest water.

Of course, as with all experiences, I learned some important lessons from my little week of sub-human existence.

First off, if you repeatedly try to turn off a light and it refuses to get darker in your room, then the conclusion you must reach is that it is daylight outside and the light is, in fact, the sun. You really should stop fiddling with the light switch and go back to bed.

Don't watch Batman cartoons, cheesy crime shows (such as "Murder, She Wrote," don't judge, Angela Lansbury is awesome) and then a short documentary on medieval armor in tandem. You will have some weird dreams (apparently Angela Lansbury is really good at driving the Batmobile in chain mail, though).

 I also learned that the most dangerous thing for a sick person is to have in her or his apartment at the same time is a fly and two very active kitties.

On day two of my quarantine from civilization, I awoke to find a giant fly doing little circles above my head. I also quickly realized that on either side of my head were my cats, who were staring at the fly with murderous intent.

It took me a couple seconds to realize the predicament that I was in, and by then it was too late.

I now have the little kitty scratches to prove that they did indeed kill that fly.

Thankfully I am back in the world of the living and able to digest food at this point. We shall see what kind of craziness this next week brings as I return to work.

One positive of being sick is that it gave me some time to think of some new contest ideas (which, of course, means free stuff for people). Details will be soon to follow, I promise.

I hope everyone has a flu/cold/death-illness free week! Remember if you wish to follow my exploits on a more consistently posted basis you can follow me on Twitter, Goodreads and Facebook!

A Whole Bunch of Nope

Hello everyone, I hope your weeks have all been more fantastic than the thought of Captain America riding an American flag colored unicorn!

Well it's been a bit of a fascinating week for me. Due to several conferences and trainings all being in one week, a vast majority of the staff at the place I work were missing.

This means that for three days it was left to one other staff member and I to keep our well-oiled (fine, WD-40-ed) machine running. I do rather wonder if this is what my boss pictured as she left us on our ownsies:

Actually, that would probably be relatively accurate.

Of course, because there were only two of us, it meant that every crazy, attention seeking, person with serious disorders (with "A doctor's note and everything!") decided to pay us a visit.

I had people in my office demanding counseling sessions (something that is not really in my certification wheelhouse), telling me about their alien abductions and trying to show me various rashes/cysts/skin issues and asking for my medical opinion.

The person who took the cake, which was probably made from sugar, spite and the movie "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest," actually caught me on my way in to work.

I was already running late that morning, thanks to a small furry somebody that decided to vomit directly on my work clothes.

As I was hurrying down the sidewalk at a pace that could only be matched by those speed-walking mall-grannies, a guy approached me from one of the parking lots and asked for some change.

I gave him an apologetic smile and said, "Sorry, I don't carry any change on me."

He looked bummed for about half a second before asking, "Well, can I give you a hug?"

I shook my head, "No, thanks, really I have to get to work."

"Well, umm... I'm just gonna give you a kiss then," and he went for it.

I dove to the side, "What!? No! Do not try that again!"

That day I was wearing a v-neck shirt and my angel tattoo was showing just a little bit. He looked at my tattoo and said, "Well, can I at least kiss her then?"

I blinked, "Only if you want me to break every last bone in your body."

"You wouldn't..." he gave me his best attempt at puppy dog eyes, which really just made him look more like the bad guy in a "Criminal Minds" episode.

"Oh, believe me, they would be collecting you in a bucket if you tried," I then dipped around my random, creepy, attempted paramour and continued on my way to work.

Coming in at 8:05 instead of 8:00, I definitely had the best, "I was late to work because..." story of the week. 

Did anyone else have a bizarre experience or two this week? I'd love to hear about them!

As always, my daily adventures can be found on Facebook, Twitter and Goodreads!

The Writing Proce-- HEY A BUNNY!

Hello all of you who have somehow managed to scrape past another week in the real world! I hope you are all alive and well.

So a question that I have been asked more times than William Shatner has over-acted in regards to "Life is a Circus Run by a Platypus" is, "What does your writing process look like?"

The last person who asked me this I decided to answer in the Socratic method with another question, "What do you think it looks like?"

This is pretty much what they described:

I think I laughed for a solid 5 minutes, because in reality this is what my writing process looks like:

Because I have been asked multiple times, I decided I might as well just post the "secrets" of my writing process here:

Everything starts out well. I select some motivational music, don my writing Batman boxers (alternatively, I also have my writing basketball shorts) and open up my most recent project, all the while contemplating the things I wish to add.

Then I stare blankly at the screen for a couple of minutes as I suddenly realize that I have no idea what I wish to title my story. I throw around ideas for a minute or two, before titling it something like, "That One Time I Dropped a Carrot," resolving to come back and think up a witty title later.

Now I can dive into my story, except I have to come up with a first line, and those are always difficult. I spend another two minutes singing along with MC Hammer's "U Can't Touch This," and may or may not get up to do the corresponding dance.

Can I just say, that no matter how ridiculous MC Hammer's pants are, you can't deny that they look super duper comfy. It's like the Snuggie of pants. Anyways, I digress, which is pretty much where my writing process is at this juncture.

Of course, after singing along to a classic hit you have to look up the lyrics to make sure you got the second verse right. Then you look up the music video just to make sure you did the dance right too.

After 3 or 4 more nostalgic music videos, I finally return to writing and get a couple of solid paragraphs down. Suddenly, my mental thesaurus fails me and I return to the internet to find a synonym for "ostentatious."

When you go online, you can't help but check your Facebook, which somehow ends with you watching a video on how to peel garlic in less than ten seconds (no really, it's mesmerizing). Ten minutes later I find myself watching a video about how gerbils digest their food.

I return to writing, and get a few more paragraphs done when this happens:

 After I have extricated the cat, and erased the resulting page long line of random kitty-butt-gibberish, I get down a few more sentences.

I'm just getting into the groove when I remember that my laundry has been in the washer for approximately the same amount of time it takes to boil an ostrich egg, and I dash off to fix that conundrum.

I return, swearing that I will not lose track of time and the laundry will not be neglected. As I'm about to sit down and resume writing, I realize that I my coffee cup is empty. While in the kitchen replacing my writers' fuel I discover that one of my little fuzzy bandits has decided to open a drawer and eviscerate its contents. Cleaning commences.

Then on my way back to my computer, I look out my window to see two rednecks attempting to push a refrigerator out of a second story window, and there is just no way I am going to miss this first rate fiasco.

After the crash and half of the rednecks' porch subsequently vanishing, I finally get back to writing. At this point I finally can refocus a bit as the caffeine kicks in and I get a ton of writing done (most of which I will look at later and say, "What was that!? No, bad plan," before shuddering and deleting it).

There are days when I am a good little focused writer and I get mass amounts written. But for the most part, what you just read is pretty much how my "writing process" works.

So let this be a lesson to all aspiring writers, if your writing process involves being able to sit for long periods of time and pounding out thousands of words, then good for you.

However, if you're like me, and your writing process often times takes you down the rabbit hole to Wonderland, through Narnia and then possibly takes bribing yourself with ice cream just to get something down, don't worry. I got a book published via my method, you can too!

Remember if you ever need to be provided with a distraction of your own you can follow me on Facebook, Twitter, Goodreads! 

Oh, and just in case you were wondering, I did forget the laundry again.