| September 1998 - Vol 2 Issue #5 |
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THE PROLOGUE: Right after I emailed you Saturday, my 'puter crashed again...BIG TIME! When I got it to the shop, the techie could find only 4 unintelligible files on the drive!!! Everything was somehow lost!! He ran tests, he re-imaged the drive, reloaded programs, ran more tests, then something made it happen again! He's stumped! Still working on it today. J |
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ACT I: Hopefully, my computer problems are over! After 2½ months of fighting with the computer store, I faxed the manager a note on station letterhead and "kinda implied" I have a colleague who would love to do a story on my problems...then I suggested they exchange the computer, but upgrade it, at their expense, because it has a better processor {as well as to compensate me for time and money lost over the last two months. He agreed! So, I exchanged the unit… Now I just have to reload and reconfigure everything! J |
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ACT II: Hi! Got it all set up, spent the weekend catching up on my inventory and financial databases, and downloading updates for the various programs... three days of intensive use without shutting it off at night, and the memory filled up! Crashed bigtime! Not even enough memory to run the icons on the desktop!!! Didn't know you have to turn the 'puter completely off to clear the RAM! {Learn something new everyday!} J |
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INTERMISSION: Is there a computer that works for Jamie?? Do you emit some kinda energy that causes them to go wrong?? S |
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REFRESHMENTS: I had a friend in high school who couldn't wear watches... something about his magnetic field. Maybe I've got the same thing...??? FINALE: Anyway, this replacement is doing fine so far...MUCH better than what I originally bought! J |
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EPILOGUE: Been a rough couple of months, but things are getting back to normal {what the hell is normal???}. Spent most of yesterday re-inputing data that I lost when the old 'puters kept crashing {I now do back-ups every 30 seconds!!! }. J |
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In this issue: page 1 - Myhr's Message page 2 - Caption Competition, Schedule & Addresses pages 3 & 4 - ''The Naked Chow'' A story from ''The Adventures Of Myhr'' page 5 - Some of Jamie's Artwork Page 6 - ''The Back Page'' is your page |
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ADDRESSES: To e-mail Jamie: - myhr@flash.net (now closed) To e-mail Sue - suehaley@zetnet.co.uk Website: - http://www.users.zetnet.co.uk/suehaley/myhr.htm Lots of artwork and photos plus soundbytes and much more... |
for submissions for the December newsletter will be 16 November 1998 |
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Up coming Cons and Artshows
1998 Sep 18-20 ………STELLAR OCCASION 5, Dallas, TX (guest) Oct 2-4 ……… ARCHON 21, St Louis, MO (artshow only) 1999 Jan 8-10 ……… GEORGECON 3, St Louis, MO (*guest) Feb 19-21 ………VISIONCON, Springfield, MO (guest) Jul 16-18 ………KINGDOM BY THE SEA Orlando, FL(guest) *=to be confirmed |
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Myhr stepped out of the shower and grabbed the skimpy hotel towel, wrapping it around his waist.
Wandering into the bedroom, he figured he had at least two hours before he had to appear at the
convention being held downstairs. That gave him plenty of time for a relaxing dinner before he had to get dressed.
Suddenly, there came a tapping, as if someone gently rapping, rapping at his chamber door.* "Room Service," called a voice from the other side of the portal. "Thanks," answered Myhr. "Just leave it there." Listening for the sound of the waiter's footsteps as they faded down the hall, Myhr opened the door a crack and peered out. "All clear," he thought. Holding his towel in a death grip with his left hand as he used his right foot to prop the door open, he reached for the tray that held his chicken salad sandwich and coffee. It was just out of reach. He stretched a bit. Then a bit farther. His foot slipped, the door slammed and his towel was torn away. Panicked, Myhr tugged at the towel which was now firmly jammed, half-in and half-out, in the locked door. (Now, Gentle Reader, what does one do when one finds oneself buck-naked in the hallway of an upper-class hotel with only a scrap of terry-cloth that barely covers one's assets?) Being a master of understatement, Myhr uttered the words that will go down in history. "Uh oh." Before he could gather his wits (Too bad wits can't cover you:), an elderly couple, dressed to the nines, emerged from their room a few doors down. Strolling leisurely toward the elevator, they were unable to avoid viewing Myhr ahead of them in all of his unadorned glory. However, being brought up in polite society, they chose not to see him, except for a guick glance out of the corner of their eyes as they passed him by. Using his best "Sunday company" voice, Myhr raised an index finger and said, "Excuse me?" The twosome were motivated to stroll faster. "I could really use some help here," Myhr requested to their retreating backs. The duo were now power-walking, only a few feet separating them from their destination. As they entered the elevator, Myhr heard the woman say, "Did you ever see anything like that?" "No," the man answered. "Must be one of those crazy convention people the front desk warned us about." The elevator doors had no sooner closed on the prudent pair when the door to the room directly across the hall from Myhr opened. Backing out of the room was a short, |
well-rounded female dressed in the uniform of a hotel maid. She was dragging a heavy vacuum cleaner and carrying an
armload of dirty laundry. "Am I ever glad to see you!" cried Myhr. The maid squeaked in alarm and jumped slightly, startled to hear a voice immediately behind her. Turning, she saw Myhr (all Of Myhr). Her eyes widened to the size of saucers and her cheeks blushed fiery red. Instantly her eyes clamped shut. "I need you:" Myhr blurted out to the shocked hotel employee. "Oh no: No: I no do that:" Stating her firm moral position, the woman ripped down the hallway, the vacuum cleaner cord zig-zagging after her like a snake on amphetamines. Myhr held out a hand to her rapidly departing figure. "At least leave me a towel!" he whimpered piteously. Growling with disgust and frustration, Myhr gave the towel a sharp yank. Engrossed in his combat with the recalcitrant wrap, he failed to notice a young man dressed in the latest grunge style with three-foot-long dreadlocks sauntering toward him. Stopping in front of Myhr, the young man politely asked, "Are you going to eat that pickle?" referring to the now-forgotten sandwich on the dinner tray. Myhr stopped his tug-of-war, looked at the lad mutely and shook his head. "Can I have it?" Myhr was asked. Myhr nodded. "Thanks, dude!" came the young man's reply. As the youngster walked away chomping on the pickle, he turned his head and called back to Myhr, "By the way, that's a cool earring:" "Thanks," replied Myhr to a now-empty corridor. "For crying out loud, Myhr, use the plate and the tray to cover yourself and go get some help!" came the exasperated voice of Jamie inside Myhr's head. "Good idea. Glad I thought of it," concluded the ever-modest Myhr. Stuffing half the sandwich in his mouth with the other laying on top of the coffee cup, Myhr held the tray in one hand and the plate in the other, debating his options. Nodding his decision, he placed the tray in front of him while the plate demurely covered the rear. Breathing easier now that he wasn't quite so exposed to the elements, he attempted to psych himself up for the long trek to the front desk. Downstairs. In the crowded lobby. Enter two fanzine writers who recognized Myhr straightaway... (continued) |
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"Myhr!" called the first writer, "I knew we'd be seeing you at the convention but I didn't know we'd be
seeing this much of you:" Holding one hand over her mouth to stifle her giggles, the other hand flipped
her long, dark tresses behind her back. The second writer shook her short salt-and-pepper hair as she nudged her partner. "Behave yourself!" she admonished as she lifted a hand to cover her eyes. "Me behave? Look at him! He's in his birthday suit!" laughed the dark-haired woman as she began to lean against the wall, her arms wrapped around her middle. "Are you in trouble? Can I help?" asked the second writer. "Yes, you can shut her up," he answered, glaring at the first writer who had slid down the wall and was now in a sitting position, tears running down her face as gales of glee shook her slender body. "Sorry. I've worked with her for eight years and I haven't been able to accomplish that yet," replied the woman soberly. "Is that your. . . HA HA. . . costume for . . . HEE HEE. . . the Masquerade Ball. . . HO HO," gasped the first writer as she rolled on the f loor. 
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"Will you shut up!" demanded Myhr and the second writer in unison. Myhr turned to the only rational
partner of the writing duo and explained what had happened that he found himself in this predicament. "I'll go down and get the manager. You'l1 be back in your room in no time." Myhr looked at the pragmatic writer and sighed his relief. "Thank you:" As the rotund writer started down the hall, she saw two brief flares of light, followed by Myhr's indignant "Hey:" Quickly backtracking, she stopped in front of her writing partner and held out her hand, wiggling her fingers impatiently. "Give it to me," she said, addressing her partner in literary crime. Holding the camera behind her back, her brown eyes the picture of innocence, the first writer asked, "Give you what?" "The camera." "Why?" "Because I don't trust you," the second writer replied with a long-suffering look. "Neither do I," grumbled Myhr. ''The last time I saw her, she took a picture of me sitting on the toilet. But at least I had all my clothes on then.'' The second writer nodded sympathetically. "I know what you mean. She always catches me when I have a mouthful of food." Turning to the petite brunette, she said, ''You'd better come with me to get the manager.'' "Spoilsport," pouted the first writer as she reluctantly followed her friend. Myhr shook his head. He wondered what else could ever happen to him that would top today's events. Fifteen minutes later Myhr was offering his grateful thanks to the hotel manager for getting the door to his room unlocked and the towel unstuck. As Myhr shut the door securely behind him, he mumbled, ''I know those two women. They'd better not write a story about this:'' |
"The Adventures Of Myhr" by Marcia Lefebvre and Jacqueline Skalski My thanks to them for allowing me to reproduce it here. Sue |
| She Calls
Whatever you *imagine* you can see under the water is entirely that… *your* imagination!! ;-) |
Study of Xena Xena, Princess Warrior with Gabrielle |
| Mira D'Lenn Four images in one painting |
B Files Mulder and Scully make a startling discovery |
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ODE TO MYHR'S BUTT One thing that I know for sure There's nobody with a butt like Myhr. I've wandered many banquet halls And seen posteriors large and small. But none ever quite strikes my fancy As Myhr's in his tight black pancy. It's firm, it's formed, it's there to pat. It's just one part of that sexy cat! So I can't help but hover near To quietly admire that lovely rear. And if I'm ever given a minute I'll grab the jeans with him in it! |
| OUR MYHR Myhr, Myhr All sexy fur. Scratch his chin And hear him purr. He's a pedigree Not a mutt. With laughing eyes And a squeezable butt. |
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Jamie : Myhr : Sue Haley : Jackie Hunt : Karen Quattlebaum Chris Haley : |
''an artsy fartsy kinda guy''
One year on Myhr is seven years on Jamie!! Co-ordinator and Editor Executive Producer (& Distribution) Producer (Merchandise) Preafrooder ;-) |
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or anything you'd like included here.... please e-mail me: |
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