To Peanut or Not to Peanut

I need your help.

My character has a junk food fetish. Specifically, she loves French fries and some sort of candy. Because I don't eat candy or chocolate, I've been having a hard time deciding what kind she eats.

Before I go on, I'll address why this is important, because I know you're sitting there, scratching your head and wondering why it matters. It's in the details, dude. The kind of candy she loves shows facets of her character or can recall events that occurred in her past. It can show her emotional state or how much she likes someone (like if she shares it when she usually doesn't).

So I'm thinking she's an M&M kind of person. But does she like plain or peanut? She's into Kung Fu, so the peanut M&M's could be her idea of eating healthy. Or she could go for plain because it has more unmolested chocolate.

Suggestions? Other candy choices? Preferences? Reasons you eat chocolate? Educate me.

Lingerie

My friend Katie came over yesterday. "Let's go shopping," she said as she flopped onto the couch next to me.

I moaned and pulled my favorite blanket over my head. It's no secret that I hate shopping. Sometimes I think my friends threaten me with it just to see me squirm.

"I need some lingerie."

Unless it's shopping for lingerie—I have no problem mustering up enthusiasm for scraps of lace. I shoved the blanket aside. "Did you bring your passport?"

She shook her head. "What do I need my passport for?"

"To go to Paris." At her blank look, I tsked. She was going into this expedition all uninformed. Thank God she had me. "Paris is the only place to buy lingerie."

"I thought we could just go to Victoria's Secret."

"Ack." I grimaced. "We can do better than that, even if we stay in San Francisco. I know a couple boutiques that might work."

"Okay." Katie grinned and picked up her purse. "I'll leave that in your hands since you're the expert. I'll even let you blog about the whole experience."

"Thanks," I said as I followed her out the door. "There's been a lot of speculation about my underwear lately. It'll be refreshing if they can speculate about yours instead."

Writer Interrupted

A few days ago, I decided to go to a neighborhood pub to write. I was about five hundred words into my new chapter when I felt someone hovering to my right. I ignored it—I'm excellent at ignoring distractions.

Only then he sat down right next to me and pointed at Tucker, my Palm TX. "Excuse me. I don't mean to interrupt you but is that a Palm?"

People always say they don't mean to interrupt. It's such a lie, because if they really didn't want to interrupt, they wouldn't. I don't usually mind it—I like talking to people—but today I needed to get some work done. Still, I smiled like I always do and said "Yes."

He leaned closer. "And that keyboard folds up?"

I leaned away, worried I might get tipsy off the fumes from his breath. "Yeah."

"Cool." He nodded. "Sorry to interrupt."

Flashing another smile, I turned back to my document. It took me several minutes, but I finally picked up where I left off and started typing.

Five minutes later I felt him staring at me again. I ducked my head and pretended to be engrossed in my chapter.

It didn't work. "Excuse me," he said again.

My smile felt a little tighter this time. "Yes?"

"Are you a writer?"

"Yes."

He nodded. "I write too."

Next time, I was going to say I was a brain surgeon—I doubt anyone ever says I'm a brain surgeon too. I waited for the question that inevitably follows.

He didn't disappoint. "Are you published?"

"Yes."

"Cool." He nodded. "I'm going to Brazil tomorrow. You want to go with me?"

I started to laugh but I stifled it when I saw he was serious. "Um. Tempting. But, no. Thanks."

He shrugged and picked up his beer. "Maybe next time."

Wardrobe Dilemma

I need a tutu.

The realization hit me like a ton of bricks this morning. I was getting dressed, and it occurred to me that if I could wear anything in the world today, it would be a pink tutu with rosettes and paler pink leggings under it. And a baby tee, preferably something with a skull, so I can strike the right balance between cute and fierce.

But I don't have a tutu.

I'm not quite sure how I'm going to rectify this situation. I mean, can one buy an adult sized tutu with rosettes? If my sister were here, I'd have her make me one—she's going through a fashion design phase and just bought a sewing machine. I'm tempted to go to the fabric store, buy some tulle, and hand-stitch one for myself. Is that crazy?

On second thought, please don't answer that.