I Swear, I Haven't Died... Which Is Kind of a Surprise.

Hello everyone! I realize, as evidenced by the dust swirling around my blog's header, that it has been a bit since I have been on here. (Yes, yes, I know. Bad author! No author cookies for you!)

First, thank you to everyone who read Life is a Roller Derby Run by a Sphinx, the feedback I have gotten has been rad!

One Amazon customer wrote, "This is the first book I've read by Hawn, and I loved it. Her wit, sense of imagery, and use of irony carried through each story. While I typically don't read short story compilations, I enjoyed her most recent installment from cover to cover. Whether I was looking for a quick break between studying, or comedic relief during a long work day, or to snuggle up with a good read before bed, "Life is a Roller Derby..." hit the mark story after story."

Thanks!

So why has it taken me so long to post on this blog again? To be truthful, life over the past few months kind of hit me like a tsunami comprised of hornets and terrible European club music. 

What have I been up to? Well, here a few bits and pieces.

1. I've been kidnapped by a project known as a thesis. 

I'm not sure when it happened, I don't exactly remember it happening. But somewhere in the midst of trying to complete this Master's Degree I was knocked over the head and awoke to find myself writing a 220 page monster of research and academic integrity. 

Just One Draft of the Monster

The thesis itself, which is on portrayals of women in domestic roles in American advertising, has taken a majority of my free time in the past few months. Not only because to get a decent data set I ended up watching over 2,000 American TV commercials (I will never get some of those jingles out of my head), but then I had to write about them. 

It got to the point where I had done so much research and writing that Word popped up with one of those "helpful hints" while I was editing one day suggesting I "Justify the Text," and I lost it, ranting at my computer screen about my 9 pages of sources and the research I had done, before it dawned on me what it was actually asking for. Thank heavens I defend next week.

2. I've been working 4 jobs. 

Education isn't cheap. And in a bid not to be in debt for the rest of my natural life (and maybe even after I've died), I have been working on average 50 to 60 hours a week on top of my Master's Program work to both pay tuition, and, you know, eat. 

The picture, by the way, is from a security gig that I worked out in Arizona's heat. Your eyes are not deceiving you, my shoes melted, like the Wicked Witch of the West, to the pavement.

3. I've been competing as a sponsored athlete. 

As I have written about previously, I am a Highland Games athlete. For those who don't know what that is, I put on a kilt and throw heavy things. Sometimes I throw them far, sometimes I throw them high, sometimes they get stuck on my shirt and I throw myself with them, but I make heavy things move. 

This past year I was picked up for sponsorship by D.W.A. Lifestyle (D.W.A. standing for Determination, Willpower, Attitude). Over the past year I have competed in Highland Games competitions throughout Arizona and several other states. It has been a fun and wild ride thus far, but a lot of work. 

4. I got into a PhD Program!

I have spent the last several months pouring my efforts into applying for PhD programs, and it paid off. I will be starting a PhD program in Communication at the end of this summer!

5. I have been volunteering at a community garden that provides food to homeless shelters. 

This past year I discovered that I'm actually not terrible at gardening (this is surprising since I come from a long line of herbicidal maniacs).  

But hey! I managed to actually grow zucchini, cucumbers, carrots, tomatoes, peppers and a variety of other veggies and herbs and no one (including myself) died! It's like a sign of the Apocalypse.  

This of course is not an exhaustive list of my activities over this past year, but I think provides at least a snapshot of why, maybe, just maybe, I may have let this blog slide. 

Going forward, I promise to try to post more regularly, however, I cannot promise it will be with the weekly regularity it once was. However, if you are wanting to still follow my adventures (of which I have many) follow me on Instagram (@Atillathehawn), Twitter (@AllisonHawn) and Facebook! My books can also be found on Amazon!

How is a Raven Like a Writing Desk?

Welcome one and all to yet another week spent in this circus we call life! I hope your weeks were all more like that of the ringmaster and less like that of the lion tamer!

Part of being an author is that I often have people send me their own books, manuscripts or ideas. I love it! I get to read a plethora works in so many different genres. However, there have been several that have been sent to me that I have had to send back and honestly say, "This could use a little more (or a dump truck load's worth) work."

I've now had a couple of different writers ask that I put together a list of overarching writing tips for those wanting to produce good material. So here you are, your very own list of how to be a better writer.

Excitement! Excitement! Excitement! Nothing.

1. The climax should not be the end of your book.

Yes, I realize that there is such a thing as a cliffhanger ending. However, if you read a book series that does cliffhanger endings you will notice that the end of the book has at least some sort of wind-down.

To have a book that is moving along and then suddenly jerks to a halt oftentimes leaves your readers feeling like a dog that decided to run off without realizing the length of its own leash.

2. Plese spell chalk,, and make sure your grammer is gooder! 

Was that sentence hard to read? You may laugh, but I cannot count the number of times I have received a "final manuscript," or even a book (oftentimes self-published), that I could barely make it through the first page due to all the errors.

I would also like to point out that just running the in-program spell-check is only good to a point. A fellow writer friend, Charissa Dufour, loves to talk about the danger of Commonly Confused Words (CCW's). Your spell-check program really cannot tell which witch is which, that's your responsibility.

You are not being sneaky stealing plot devices!

3. Do not steal major plot devices (or entire plots) from already published bestselling works.

Huh, you have an Australian wizard named "Barry Totter" who goes to a magical boarding school where he will inevitably face off against an evil, undead, wizard named "Voltebart."

No, I'm sure no one will ever try to compare your story to the most famous fictional wizard since Gandalf or Merlin. As long as your readers have literally been living in a shack in the middle of the woods somewhere for the last decade and a half, then I'm sure they will find your material new and exciting.

4. Dialogue should sound like actual people talking. 
 

It's the only explanation.

Have you ever watched one of those commercials where there are two women talking about dish-detergent like it is their life's greatest accomplishment that they found a brand that doesn't leave residue on their dishes? Do you wonder whether they had a frontal lobotomy or are just from a different planet as they gush about soap? I do.

Read your dialogue out loud to yourself. If it sounds like a scene from a 1980's action movie or a 1950's sitcom, rewrite it. If your characters sound stilted and stagey then no one will buy into your story, no matter how amazing your dish-detergent is.

5. Readers should be able to tell your characters apart.

No one was sad when they blew up.

In the same vein as making your dialogue sound like actual people, remember that no two people are exactly alike.  Readers need to believe that your characters could be real people with emotions, unique backgrounds and their own life experience.

If they all read like they could be part of the Borg, thinking alike, acting alike, all going for the same goal for the same reasons, then readers won't care when they die in a fiery explosion. Make your readers give a crap about your characters, don't make them all linguistic clones.

6. Do not marry yourself to your first draft.

Part of being a writer is having the humility to know that you're not going to get it right the first, second or maybe even the thirtieth time.  I do not care how brilliant you think a manuscript, chapter or line is at the time you write it. I have written tons of things that when I first penned them I thought, "I am going to be the next Tina Fey!" only to later read it and go, "Okay, so actually I'm more like Elmer Fudd."

Always be willing to edit, rewrite, get a second opinion or even scrap something.

7. Covers should not be designed using Clip-Art.

DO NOT USE THIS STUFF

 I really have nothing against people who decide to self-publish books. However, if you are going to self-publish a book, remember that your cover should not look like a Powerpoint slide that I made when I was fourth grade.

I know I am not a talented designer or an artist, which is why I will never attempt to design a book cover for myself. I cannot count the number of covers that I have seen (that I will not post here because I'm not that mean) that look like a terrible Word-Art and Photoshop mash-up. If your cover is unprofessional and could be replicated by a four year old with access to Paint, no one is going to take your book seriously, so just stop.

I'm sure that there are tons of other things I could talk about, but that's all she wrote for now. There will probably be a part two at some juncture.

If you have any writing questions or your own writing tips, please feel free to post them in the comments below!
 
I just wanted to say a quick thank you to the Amazon reader of "Life is a Circus Run by a Platypus" who posted this five-star review:

"Miss Hawn's book is one of the best works I've ever had the privilege of reading. It is truly a testament to one of the most interesting people I've met and what life looks like through her eyes. I've recommended this book to some English teachers I know as it is engaging and written in a way that makes it difficult to put down or to smother one's laughter."

As always, feel free to find me on Facebook, Twitter and Goodreads! 

Minding the Single Minded

Hello ladies, gentlemen and very conscious cheese.

I fully realize that the government is currently in power-save mode (I don't want to call it "shut down" because somehow politicians are still getting paid), and I realize that every other blogger in America is probably talking about it.

I am not going to give a long political rant. Why?

Because honestly if I wanted to write about selfish, pouting people, who have no regard for how their actions affect others and who could create more logical arguments by shaking up a Boggle game, then I would work with and write about toddlers.

Grow up politicians, share your toys and stop throwing things around indiscriminately, because they are hitting and hurting people.

If you need something to lift your spirits remember "Life is a Circus Run by a Platypus" is totally there for you!

I am about to admit something that is apparently very difficult for most people my age in our culture to admit. I am single. This is a fact that I am ok with.

Does this mean I never want to be in a relationship? No, if the right person came along then sure, why not?

Does it mean that I live in a quagmire of lonely depression because I have no one to call annoying pet-names? Absolutely not.

Please don't take this post as "I am complaining about being single." I actually am a content and functional human being single or in a relationship. Weird, I know.

However, when one is single there are some stock things that people in relationships tend to say, that are often annoying, hurtful and/or downright rude. These are all things that I have not only heard multiple times, but all of them I heard in the last month alone. What this post is about is things people should really not say to people who are single. 

1. "Your standards are/must be too high."

This statement would make sense if I had just spent an hour regaling you with a list of what I look for in a potential date that started with, "Well let's see, they have to be a billionaire, philanthropist, model, physicist, who owns the original set pieces of the Millennium Falcon and also happens to ride a tiger to work..."

I can guarantee that I have never uttered that phrase or any such list to be honest, so how can you assume that my "standards are too high?"

You want to know my standards? Ok, let me break some of the top things off of the "list" down for you:  

1. Not a psycho.
2. Has a sense of humor.
3. Likes Batman.
4. Has above a 10th grade reading level.
5. Understands basic hygiene.
6. Respects me and my tendency to read comic books while drinking pomegranate juice.

Tell me, are my standards too high? 

 
2. "You're just not looking hard enough."

I tend to view relationships less as a Sherlock Holmes mystery than the average person it seems. Exactly where should I be looking for the clues that are going to lead me to what you picture as relationship bliss?

The bar scene is full of creeps, I don't foresee dating anyone at work anytime soon and the time of the morning that I go to the gym is pretty much reserved for those in their 70's. 


3. "God has someone extra special out there for you."

Of all the "attempting to make the single person feel better" statements that people say, this one is like a Medieval gauntlet on a chalkboard to me.

What you said: "God has someone extra special out there for you."

What I hear: "It's going to take a miracle for you to find someone."

Thanks. Glad that an act of God is what you think it will take for me to find a date. Also, I really don't need any more "extra special" people in my life. I'm not taking enough medication to deal with the "special" people I'm already dealing with.


4. "You should put yourself out there more."

Where exactly is this "there" of which you speak.

You also should be a bit more specific about what you mean by "putting myself out there." What do you expect me to do, wear a dinosaur costume with the word "single" written on it? Do you expect me to run around with a sandwich board that reads, "Single, has a job, owns own vehicle, showers regularly, doesn't smoke and remembers to wear socks most days?"

This advice is as useless as an inflatable dart board.


5.  "You should try online dating, it worked really well for my uncle/acquaintance/person I read about."

Look, I'm glad that your second-cousin was able to find a date through that website that matches people based on their phobias, but that's not really my deal.

Why isn't it my deal? I had a friend who once set up a profile for me on a website because she was bound and determined to show me that it "really worked." All of my matches ended up looking like this:

The first five messages I got were from 40-something year old people looking to cheat on their spouses, the sixth was from a guy who said that he enjoyed watching women cook, naked, in the kitchen for him and the final one was from a guy who sent a message detailing the medications he was on.

My friend shut down the account she made for me and her own account that day.


6. "There are plenty of fish in the sea."

Fair, but, to stick with the cliche metaphor, the sea happens to have a lot of carnivorous anglerfish, poisonous puffer fish and other fishies that are about as cuddly as this:

7. "Your biological clock is ticking."

This is all:

8. "If you just...you'd have a date in no time."

Let me complete that sentence for you with things that people have actually said "... wore more makeup/wore less makeup/lost weight/wore heels/talked about less nerdy things/watched more episodes of "The Bachelor"/talked more/talked less/didn't have such strange hobbies/weren't so opinionated/had more of an opinion/weight-lifted less/didn't work out as hard when you went to the gym/didn't like Star Wars/went to <Insert Hipster Nonsense Name> Club/wore your hair down more..."

I'm sorry, you can't use my being single as an excuse to tell me something that you don't like about me. You want to provide constructive criticism? Fine, I'm all ears. But don't provide me with thinly veiled insults under the guise of trying to find me a potential date.

Also, I am not going to hide who I am just so I can ensnare some poor person, only for them to realize later on that I do wander around my apartment in Batman boxers singing Disney songs. I am who I am, and if I am going to give up my single status, it isn't going to be to someone who is infatuated with a fake version of me.

I know there are probably a billion more similar statements that could be added to this list. Do you have one that makes you want to stick your head in a microwave? Tell me about it.

As always feel free to follow my adventures 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.

Back to the Smorgasbord! (And an Interview Too!)

Hello all you lovely people (or any other lovely that thing happens to be reading this page)! I hope everyone has had a wonderful week in whatever land they are in!

Today's post is a bit of a smattering of randomness. This is what happens when an already devious woman with too much coffee in her system is given the power to write her own blog. Mwahahahahahahahahahaha! (That is the closest to an evil laugh I can get via typing, so here's an additional visual for you.) 

We have a winner in the Facebook based contest to win a signed copy of "Life is a Circus Run by a Platypus!" Jill JP Palmquist was chosen by the mystic Safeway bag! (I realize it's not exactly the Hogwarts Sorting Hat, but it was the only thing I really had nearby that I could pull slips of paper out of... without getting out of my chair that is.) 

Thank you to everyone who entered. If you wanted to win but the mystic Safeway bag did not oblige, don't worry, more contests are on the way! Just stay tuned to the same Bat-station (Bat-time may vary)!

Well I happened upon another independent author whose work deserves some mention; Darrin Mason's e-book "The Wicked Witch of the West Rides Again." 

If that isn't the most Trick-or-Treat oriented cover you've ever seen, then I challenge you to find one that fits the bill better.  This short work is a mix of "Who's on First," "The Jabberwocky" and the random pop culture references of "Whose Line is it Anyway?" 

What's even cooler is that Darrin Mason actually let me interview him, and all I had to do was threaten his garden gnome collection with a sledgehammer to get him to agree to answer my questions! (No actual garden gnomes were hurt in the making of this blog post.) So now, without further ado, I present an interview with author Darrin Mason! 


In writing “The Wicked Witch of the West Rides Again” what was your biggest source of inspiration? 

"The Wicked Witch of the West Rides Again" is the sequel to "The Wicked Witch of the West: Munchkin Killer" which was inspired by the title, "Hansel and Gretel: Witch Hunters." I am also a huge fan of Stephen King and Gary Larson (The Far Side). I guess I just put two and two hundred thousand, eight hundred and sixty nine together and came up with something that will rock your socks off. 
 

What first interested you in writing? 

It wasn't writing to begin with as much as it was creating. I just did what I did and looking back on it I guess it was my way of escaping a pretty crappy childhood. Come to think of it, most people who escape are sent back to jail with time added on, so I guess my way out is not only a pretty cool one in its own right, but it is also something I can say nee-ner nee-ner about to all those escaped prisoners who are back in jail having been caught while on the run.

If you could have tea with one of your characters, which one would you invite and why?

My version of the Wicked Witch of the West because she don't take no sh*t from no one. She's also a very pretty thing.

Who is your biggest comedic idol? 

Undoubtedly Chevy Chase in front of the camera and Mel Brooks behind it. As a group, Monty Python.

What music do you listen to when you write?

Metallica babeee. Yeah.

Who would win in a fight; a grizzly bear or a unicorn? Why? 

They already did and the bear won. That's how the unicorn became extinct. I mean, duh.

Thank you Darrin for answering my questions, the sledgehammer is going back in my closet and Jimithy the Garden Gnome is safe... for now.

On a final note, specifically C-sharp I think, Life is a Circus Run by a Platypus, has been getting some pretty sweet reviews.

Joybelle60 on Amazon writes:  "What a fun read. Allison is funny, in an off beat way, which meets my needs for a fun read, in its entirety. If you want to read a book that will just entertain you, this is the perfect book. Congrats, Allison on book 1........looking forward to your next endeavor."

As a first-time author I truly appreciate the kind words of my readers more than I, or probably an auctioneer on speed, can say!

As always, if you wish to catch up on the latest of my misadventures I can be found on Facebook, Twitter and Goodreads!

Weighing In

Well greetings ya'll, I hope you are all enjoying the long weekend and that no one has lit themselves on fire with a barbecue yet (I only say these things because I care... and because if you did light yourself on fire I want pictures).

I want to remind all of you who will be in Spokane that I will be having a book signing for Life is a Circus Run by a Platypus at Monkeyboy Books from 1 to 3 pm on June 8th. So, if you are anywhere in the near vicinity, feel free to stop by and say hello!

I had someone recently ask me about my opinion on the comment that Abercrombie and Fitch's CEO, Mike Jeffries, made to the media. I decided that instead of going into a red-faced rant of little Scottish woman rage in their presence, I would alternatively sit down, have a cup of tea and put my thoughts here.

If you haven't heard the inflammatory remark made by Mike Jeffries that has lit up the internet like a 10,000 watt string of Christmas lights in the past couple of weeks, here it is again for you, “In every school there are the cool and popular kids, and then there are the not-so-cool kids. Candidly, we go after the cool kids…. A lot of people don’t belong in our clothes, and they can’t belong. Are we exclusionary? Absolutely."

However, if you look at Abercrombie and Fail's advertising it's apparent even the "cool kids" don't belong in their clothing either, because none of their models ever appear to be wearing any of it.

I mean, for a clothing and fashion store you'd think that you'd want at least one full article of clothing in the ad. If I were to guess, purely off of their advertisements, what Abercrombie and Fitch is selling, I would assume depression or constipated models (I'm pretty sure this guy's expression is, "What I wouldn't give for a pizza right now.").

The fact is, I am definitely not Abercrombie and Fitch material. I'm a weightlifter, boxer and cardio enthusiast, and I'm pretty sure that there is no way on this carbon laden planet that I could ever squeeze my shoulders into any of their women's shirts. I'm not entirely sure I'd even fit into their guys shirts without having this effect:

In a single weight lifting session I lift a combined weight of anywhere from a half to a full ton of weight, and because of that this man believes I am too ugly and unpopular to shop in his stores.

I'm going to let that sink in for a second, the living California Cabbage Patch Doll thinks I am too ugly to shop in his stores.

It greatly saddens me that we live in a time where "beauty" is not equatable to "health," and I'm not just talking about women. In our society there is such an expectation for both men and women to look like a certain kind of person. The fact is that aside for the .01% that do, most of us are incapable of looking like the models we so aspire to be.

The average female American model is over 5'8" tall and weighs somewhere between 108 and 125 pounds. I, personally, bench press more than that as a warm-up weight. Now, some women are naturally that thin and that is their version of healthy. The average American woman over 20 years of age, however, is between 5'4" and 5'6" and weighs around 165 pounds, and that doesn't take into account differences in genetic background whatsoever.

The average male American model is made entirely of steak, sunless tanner and hair gel (o.k. that might not be scientific, but I got tired of looking up statistics).

Do you want to know the trick to being permanently model thin? Have two equally thin parents, and don't eat your Wheaties (or any carbs, sugar or dense air for that matter).

The point I want to make is that allowing the fashion industry to railroad us into what we consider beautiful not only destroys our views of healthy body image, but it also limits us in who we find attractive.

I may not have long legs, perfect nails or the ability to squeeze myself into a dress that looks like it was made for a pipe-cleaner doll, but I have fantastic skin, dramatic curves and usable muscle that I have worked my butt off to get. I'm certain there are those who do not find me attractive, and that is fine by me, but I don't want to be limited by someone simply because they are comparing me to a A&F model.

Every person on this planet has things that make them uniquely attractive to someone else, and by setting the "gold and tan" standard we limit those we can find attractive and dull our abilities to find people we genuinely can build a relationship with.

Guys, really, it's ok if your abs don't look like you're smuggling pythons under your shirt.

Girls, really, you can be beautiful without living off of a diet of celery and water.

Healthy is far more attractive than steroid enhanced or skeletal any day of the week. Thin, big, short, tall, pale, dark, muscular, tattooed, freckled, scarred... doesn't matter, they are all beautiful and appealing to someone in some way. And if Ambercrombie and Flop can't see the beauty of each and every potential customer that walks through their doors, then they don't deserve even the "exclusive" clientele they wish to reach.

As always feel free to follow me on my daily adventures on Twitter, Goodreads, Facebook!!!

Tweakers and Thank Ya'll!

Hello everyone (including, but not limited to, humans, animals, aliens, ghosts and/or extremely cognitive spaghetti)! I hope you are all having a lovely week!

"Life is a Circus Run by a Platypus" has been out on Amazon for five days now! Nab your copy today! Also, for more frequent updates, feel free to check out my Facebook Page (Facebook Me!), my Twitter (Tweet Me!), my Goodreads (Erm... Goodreads me?) and my Amazon author page (Look Shiny! )!

Before I get into today's topic of tweakers, which is near and dear to my heart, I have a few words of thanks that I feel are forthcoming.

First, thank you to editor Craig Hart and Sweatshoppe Publications for letting my book see the light of day. To Paul Brand and Anthony Carpenter as well for putting this fantastic piece of design and artwork together for the cover, thank you.

A big thank you to Robin Harmon, who sat down with me for a few hours and said, "No, honey, don't do that. This is how you publicize something," before hijacking my pages for a bit and showing me how to make things work as I sat there staring like a monkey stares at a math problem. And thanks also to Mary W. for editing the first manuscript for me, as I simultaneously edited her work by drawing little dinosaurs eating misplaced words.

I'd like to say thank you to all the friends and family who have supported me throughout the years. My book wouldn't exist without you (and some of your actions)!

Finally, a hearty, haggis-consuming, kilt-sporting Scottish thank you to all of my readers, reviewers, constructive criticizers and people who have popped in to say hello and who have shown interest in my book! You guys are the bee's knees (or maybe the elk's ankles if that's any better?)!

Now for something completely different.

So, before I dive into the topic of tweakers, I should probably explain why they are a big enough facet of my life to garner a mention in the title.

My day job, when I'm not battling crime or causing mischief involving kittens and espresso, is that I work as a mobile outreach worker with homeless and at-risk youth. Basically, I do everything a social worker would do in an office, but I do my job on the streets, in shelters, under bridges, in the mall... etc. Basically, I get to help kiddos and throw fruit snacks at gang bangers!

In my job you often have to choose between laughing and slamming your head in the microwave door. I choose to laugh. I have probably lost too many brain-cells already, so I had better reserve the microwave door option for more drastic times.

One area that I derive some enjoyment from is the conversations I have with tweakers. For those who don't know, tweakers are those on drugs that tend to "twitch" or "tweak" and often have some of the most fascinating theories/advice/philosophies on life. This week, has been full of fun little tweaker-isms, so I thought I would share a few here today.

However, before I start, I feel that this is totally apt and germane to the conversation.

This has been a special week for tweakers all over Spokane, Washington. I'm not sure what holiday they are all celebrating, but they have been coming out of the woodwork to provide me with everything from advice to theories of how my brain is going to be eaten by tiny gnomes. Also, one tried to present me with a balloon animal made from condoms. I declined, it wasn't a platypus.

For instance, I had one very high individual approach me two days ago and inform me that, "Tiny alligators are messing up my life."

I blinked a couple times and replied, "Well, I'm not sure if we can get an exterminator for that or not."

He looked really bummed out before saying, "Damn, oh well, at least they have some good jokes."

Then, as I was walking around trying to find some of my clients, I passed by a dumpster and looked over to see two eyes poking above the edge. "Hiya!" the dumpster said to me.

I did a little finger-wave hello, and moved on. When I came back ten minutes later the dumpster with eyes was musing to itself out loud, "Yes, well that other one looks much more comfortable."

I looked over, and right across the alley was another dumpster. I walked down to the end of the alleyway and waited.  Sure enough, a few minutes later the dumpster-dweller hopped out and scurried over to the other dumpster and began examining it like prime real-estate. He popped open the lid, looked inside before saying, "Nope!" and scuttling back to his original spot.

I'm not entirely sure what made that dumpster less desirable than the other one, but he rejected it like someone fed him burned kale on top of a can of expired sardines.

Probably my favorite tweaker moment of the week however, was this woman who I passed by on Monday. She was having a very animated conversation with herself. As I wandered her direction she made eye contact with me, so I said a simple, "Hello."

She turned, pointed, and in the voice of someone scolding a small child yelled, "Don't interrupt peoples' conversations! It's rude!"

I just smiled, "You're right, I should have read Miss Manners more growing up," and I made a hasty departure.

At least my life is never boring?

So what about all of you? Have you had any fun conversations with someone lately? I'd love to hear about them!

Well, that is all I have for now. Continue to check in because the clairvoyant part of my brain tells me there will be a contest coming up soon! Toodles!

Sneak Peek (And You Don't Even Need Binoculars)

Why hello ladies and gentlemen and any random hallucinations that might be accompanying you today! I hope everyone has had an absolutely smashing Wednesday (as opposed to one that makes you want to smash things)!

All of you have been so lovely providing me with comments of support and interest in "Life is a Circus Run by a Platypus," so my publisher and I agreed that we should indulge anyone who might be curious about its content.

What follows is a chapter plucked from the book itself, like the frosting flower on a child's birthday cake (though with less confectionery gore). 

As always, please let me know what you think and feel free to follow my exploits on Facebook (https://www.facebook.com/platypusringmaster) and Twitter (https://twitter.com/AllisonHawn).

34. DANCE LIKE EVERYONE IS WATCHING

Uma Thurman has been credited with saying, “Boredom is the mother of invention.” 

We should not only listen to her because she is an incredible actress and can pull off a white, stretchy, dress phenomenally, but because she is right. However, I would like to add that not only
does boredom breed innovation, it can also be the harbinger of disaster.

I don’t sit still well. I’m kind of a ball of muscle bound energy, and even as I type this I am using my foot to tease a kitten. So putting me in one spot for long periods of time works about as
well as trying to contain a wolverine on Red Bull inside a cardboard box.

At one time, a job I had involved traveling around and giving short presentations on a service the group I worked for had to offer. These were presentations aimed at local businesses in the
hopes of getting them to jump on the bandwagon and support the community initiative my employers were putting forth.

This meant I got dressed up in a suit, did my little Vanna White shtick and then high-tailed it to the next place all the while praying that everyone was running on time.

The day in question had been a long day. I had given 6 or 7 of these presentations, and the last group I was supposed to speak to was a counseling firm with a staff of more than 30 people. The
head counselor there had requested I come in and speak during their staff meeting so that everyone could be present.

I showed up at my allotted time, and was told by the receptionist that things were running a little behind and that if I wanted to sit in the room right outside the conference room,
they’d call me in in a few minutes. I stood in the lobby, staring into nothing, because that was what this room was: A white little box of nothing.

An overhead speaker blared out some salsa music, and I started to tap my foot to the beat. The room literally had no decorations and one, very uncomfortable looking, chair. The minutes dragged by.

After 5 minutes, my foot tap turned into a hip wiggle.

After 10 minutes, the hip wiggle turned into some small dance steps.

After 20 minutes, I had given up at containing myself and was full-blown dancing in this tiny waiting area.

Now, I must explain, I don’t dance. I have a tendency to waltz like one of my legs is shorter than the other, turn a tango into a new sport that involves tackling and somehow make hip-hop look
like a full body dry heave.

I have had one salsa dancing lesson in which the instructor suggested, “I spend my time doing other things.” So, whatever I was doing in the waiting area, was probably not something graceful, rhythmic or even remotely artistic.

The door finally opened, and I immediately stopped, straightened my suit jacket and put on an air of sophistication and poise. I then stared confusedly at the man, who was red-faced with tears streaming down his cheeks as he half-said half-choked out, “We’re ready for you now.”

I entered the room to find the entire staff assembled, all looking quite a bit like the man who had come to retrieve me. The room had two TV’s mounted to the walls, and the content of the
screen looked very familiar.

Then it hit me, the tiny little waiting area had a security camera, and I had just done a one-man show for over 10 minutes set to crappy elevator salsa music. I looked at the screens for a beat, then looked back to the room full of strangers who had just gotten their own personal show, and bowed. The room erupted into applause.

So what slivers of knowledge can be tweezed from the finger of stupidity?

1. Never assume you’re alone. This may sound paranoid, but if paranoia saves you from utter embarrassment, then be as paranoid as you like. Wear a tin-foil hat if it helps.

2. If you’re going to fail, at least do so in a way that makes 30 other peoples’ meeting that much more entertaining.

Thou Shalt Not Sweat on Me!

Hello all you lovely, splendid people! Just a quick update, it appears that “Life is a Circus Run 

by a Platypus,” is on track to be released on May 20 on Amazon.com (followed closely by 

several other venues)! As soon as I have an official link I will post it here faster than a 

greased bunny can be slid across a linoleum floor!

In other news, I have an author Facebook page set up now. Feel free to look me up under 

"Allison Hawn" and keep up to date on news about the book. 

That aside, here is another scribbling from my “Ooooh Squirrel!” brain.

I am a bit of a gym rat, mostly by necessity. I have a genetic make-up that means that if I 

even stare longingly at a piece of cheesecake for too long, I will suddenly pack on some 

extra curves. For this reason, I spend, at the very least, an hour in the gym every day. 

This means over a several year span I have gotten to witness some of the most bizarre/useless 

behavior ever perpetrated around a set of weights. Frankly I'd be willing to leave most of these 

things alone, but when you see them day after day, sometimes you just feel compelled to 

smack certain individuals with a starfish. 

Since I do not have easy access to a starfish and would probably be arrested for assault with 

deadly brainless sea creature, I will instead just write some of the things I have noticed here.  

These are my 10 Gym Commandments. If I could etch them in stone I would (but I learned I 

really should not be given a chisel and a hammer a long time ago).  

Note: I am not a doctor, personal trainer or coordinated tango instructor. I am currently a fitness 

instructor, though, if that counts for anything? As always you should talk to your doctor, 

significant other, best friend, Oprah and a therapist before starting any new exercise plan.  

1. Thou shalt not believe that sitting on gym equipment will magically slim thee. 

I realize that this is a disappointment to many (including myself). The gym has an aura of 

fitness and health to it; however, to contribute and partake in the aura one actually does have to 

move. 

This means that if someone sits on the cable row machine for 20 minutes and does only one 

five-pound repetition, that person is not in fact working out. What that individual is doing 

instead is blocking everyone else in the gym from using the thing that he or she has converted 

into the gym version of a home recliner. The gym, sadly, is not magic.  

2. Thou must not only move, thou must sweat, push and exert thyself. 

Just because one is sitting and bouncing on a yoga ball does not mean one is working out. 

Sadly, I see a lot of females do this.  Doing crunches, dumbbell presses and weighted mermaids 

on a yoga ball are all legitimate exercises. Having a conversation about your nails while doing 

the same movement a 3 year old does in their bouncy chair is not getting you anywhere, 

cupcake.  

3. Thou shalt NEVER mock others in the gym based on their physical appearance.  

Yes, some of us are twigs, some of us are bulky, some of us are, dare I say this word, fat. It 

doesn't matter; everyone has a place in the gym. The fact is that no other person can ever know 

what someone else is capable of, and so verbally disparaging them is just plain dumb. 

I have seen tiny guys do sets of 30 weighted pull-ups, seen full-figured women run faster 

than I could ever imagine going, and I have seen a 300 pound man sustain yoga poses that 

make my limbs hurt just thinking about them. Don't judge, everyone has the right to 

work out just as much as everyone else does.  

4. Thou shalt not believe the weight area is only for males. 

More times than I can count at this point, I have had some hot-shot guy swagger up to me 

while I'm lifting and make some comment about how, "Women should not be in the weight 

area." 

I have no problem then, in front of each one of his friends and girlfriends, lifting twice as 

much as he does, turning and saying, "You're right, we should not be in the weight area, 

we might make you look bad." 

Women are tough, period.  

5. Thou shalt not be self-defeating at the gym. 

I bring up this example because, to my count, I have now seen it five times. I see a person 

on a treadmill (good), going at the slowest possible pace the machine can go (not as good), 

drinking a soda (*thunks head on desk* bad). 

If one consumes more calories while working out than one actually burns, then what purpose 

did going to the gym serve? 

These are the same people who talk on their cellphones, at decibels that could be felt in 

space, about how they are working out, but they never seem to lose any weight. Really, 

Sherlock, weight loss is being elusive?  Come on, let's examine the clues and maybe we can 

solve this mystery.  

6. Thou shalt be conscious of other gym patrons. 

This means one should not pick up weights and then just stand in front of the weight rack 

doing bicep curls. Believe it or not, other people would like to weight lift too, and standing 

there like one of the giant stone pillars of Stonehenge, creates a bit of a deterrent. 

This also means that one should not take eight sets of weights and claim that one is using them 

all.  The only one who can make that claim is an octopus. I realize that some people have things 

like ladder drills or circuits that they want to do and that is fine. But one really does not need to 

monopolize half the weight rack to accomplish one’s goal, I promise.  

7. Thou shalt put it back where thou found it. 

As much as I love scavenger hunts, spending 10 minutes hunting for the 40 pound dumbbells 

only to discover that someone has kindly hidden them behind the foam rollers is somewhat less 

charming than the childhood counterpart of that game. The gym staff are not mothers or 

magical weight fairies; everyone needs to pick up after himself or herself.  

8. Thou shalt wear clothing to the gym. 

I cannot describe the endless parade of things that I see at the gym that make me wonder, 

"Did your mommy forget to lay out your clothes for you this morning?" 

Sweatpants with holes in the crotch (sometimes with underwear underneath, sometimes 

without), shirts that have the sides cut out (so we can see the side of one's abs, as what is left 

of the shirt precariously slips towards getting caught in the machine), shorts that one has to 

stare at for a minute so one can verify they are not a belt and spandex that has been stretched 

so tight that it now has all the coverage ability of tinted saran wrap should probably only be 

worn in the privacy of one's own home. 

9. Thou shalt not hit on other gym patrons with dogged persistence. 

No, you can't buy me a drink. Why? Because this is a gym, not a bar, and I am working 

out, and this is not a date. 

It's fine to flirt, say hi or strike up a conversation with someone at the gym. However, I 

once had a guy sit and stare at me for 20 minutes on the rowing machine before asking 

if I, "Wanted to go out to see the back of his truck." 

Nope! Everyone, guys and girls, can agree, we like our gyms creeper free.  

10. Thou shalt not believe thou's sweat is magical. 

This means that if one leaves a giant puddle of sweat on the machine one just used, 

and then one decides not to use the handy-dandy free paper towels and sanitizer to wipe 

it up, I will look at that individual like she or he just barbequed a puppy. 

Do you want to sit in a puddle of a random stranger's sweat? No? Then why on the 

earth would anyone want to wade through a puddle of yours? No one’s sweat is exempt 

from the grossness factor, wipe it up! 

All that being said, what are the most ridiculous things all of you have seen at the gym?