(insert pithy rejoinder here)

Love Letters Gone Wrong

Happy Blogiversary To Me!

COVER

TODAY IS THE FIRST ANNIVERSARY OF MY BLOG! TO COMMEMORATE THIS AUSPICIOUS OCCASION I HAVE DECIDED TO RERUN MY VERY FIRST BLOG POST.

PLEASE TO ENJOY…

So yeah, I wrote a book.

I must have been high when I wrote it because there’s no other explanation I can give for my 120,000 word upper YA novel where the only noun I used more than “boner” was “blood.” It goes without saying that I’m self-published. I didn’t even try to submit it traditionally. Can you just imagine the poor agent who gets my query letter?

“My novel, THE GODS OF ASPHALT is complete at 120,000 words and is the first in a series of five books that for some reason I’ve decided to write out-of-order. Each one is told from the point of view of a teenage male protagonist who has exactly zero supernatural powers (unless you consider perpetual erections a superpower). Oh, and it also has Spanish subtitles.”

Yeah.

On the good side, if you’re like me and are just a little too into music, motorcycles and all around badassery this is the book for you. If you’re not, I’m sure Jodi Picoult’s got a blog somewhere. You can find the opening to chapter one at the top of the page under the tab GOA REVIEWS and you can find my book on line at:

SMASHWORDS

AMAZON


My Secret Admirer – Twenty-Two

CLICK ME

It’s time for this week’s LOVE LETTERS GONE WRONG secret admirer big reveal! This week we did not have a winner, so click the trophy to the right for another timely post.

Here’s a recap of Friday’s post as well as my response at the bottom. If you’d like a free copy of my ebook take a guess or send a love letter gone wrong to heellisgoa@gmail.com.

**************

Dearest Ruth,

I loved seeing you again last Thursday. It was hard waiting to see you, but you are a busy lady. And then, when we were together, it was really hard to talk to you. I know you asked me questions, but I found it difficult to get the words out. I’m not like that all the time. Anyway, I couldn’t help but stare at you the entire time, and I was wondering if you’d like to get together sometime outside of work.

I loved staring at your face. I love that you let me. I love everything about it, from the lower lashes, to the slight jowling, to the 47 nose hairs – I feel like I had time to know you, thanks to your patience. You are amazing!

I hope you will accept, because I have this great idea to get some caramel fondue and Oreo cookies at this dessert shop I found. And you already know I’ll have clean teeth and a good smile!

Love ya,

Dean

************

Dear Dean,

Or should I say, Dr. Smith? Because that’s how you need to address your employees. I didn’t put myself through Dental Hygienist school just to be hit on by my boss. Oh, and by the way, it’s really kind of twisted to make me put hard candies out for the patients to eat. I know it’s a tough economy, but there’s got to be a better way to drum up business. And no, I am not talking about your idea to approach Hooters as an investor. Topless dentistry is an idea that will never take off, mark my words.

So before I file a complaint with the A.D.A., please refrain from further referring to me as your “Little Mouth Wrangler.”

Regards,

H.E. Ellis

CLICK THE HEART BELOW FOR THIS WEEK’S SECRET ADMIRER:

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Love Letters Gone Wrong – Twenty-Two

oreomadness_thumb

It’s time for another round of LOVE LETTERS GONE WRONG! Every Friday I feature a LOVE LETTER GONE WRONG submitted by an anonymous blogger. Sunday morning I reveal the secret admirer’s identity with a link to the blogger’s home page. If you’d like to submit some truly heinous love letters please send them to heellisgoa@gmail.com.

This week’s love letter one wrong was written by a blogger who commented on the THINGS YOU CAN’T UNSEE post. Check out this post and then return to the comments here to guess who the secret admirer is. The first correct guess wins a free copy of my ebook.

***************

Dearest Ruth,

I loved seeing you again last Thursday. It was hard waiting to see you, but you are a busy lady. And then, when we were together, it was really hard to talk to you. I know you asked me questions, but I found it difficult to get the words out. I’m not like that all the time. Anyway, I couldn’t help but stare at you the entire time, and I was wondering if you’d like to get together sometime outside of work.

I loved staring at your face. I love that you let me. I love everything about it, from the lower lashes, to the slight jowling, to the 47 nose hairs – I feel like I had time to know you, thanks to your patience. You are amazing!

I hope you will accept, because I have this great idea to get some caramel fondue and Oreo cookies at this dessert shop I found. And you already know I’ll have clean teeth and a good smile!

Love ya,

Dean


My Secret Admirer – Twenty-One

CLICK ME

It’s time for this week’s LOVE LETTERS GONE WRONG secret admirer big reveal! This week we did have a winner, so click the trophy to the right for this week’s winning blogger.

Here’s a recap of Friday’s post as well as my response at the bottom. If you’d like a free copy of my ebook take a guess or send a love letter gone wrong to heellisgoa@gmail.com.

*****************

Maybe it was your name, and how Heellis reminded me of the high heels I fantasized you wearing, or maybe it was the way you smelled as you walked past me, not seeing me hiding behind the flower pot. Whatever it was, I am in love and I want you, even for a minute. I have this ring that it stole from my dead grandmother and I want you to have it, I want you to wear it, forever.

I know you love another, but that can change, anything can change if we want it to. Forget him, I am better, stronger, faster. I am the Bionic man, I am Superman, I am Spider man, I can be your hero if you let me.

As I sit in front of my computer, looking at porn, I think of you and I think of us, and how wonderful it would be if you said yes to a date. Just a date you say, but for me it would be the world. So what if I am 53 and never had a date. I watch movies, I know how to act, even if they don’t believe me. They who work here, and watch me and give me the medications it takes to help me deal with my insanity.

For you I would do anything. For you I would trade this straight jacket for a tuxedo and sweep you off your heels and …I love heels…I am getting sidetracked again, it is like that when the voices in your head talk constantly now where was I? Sweep you off your feet and into my arms.

So what do you say? Do you want to date? Let me know, or better still, let the guards in my cell know that you want to date.

Yours truly,

Sam

***************

Sam,

How touching it is that you care so much. I can tell you are devoted and loyal, and believe me, you will be rewarded. I think it is quite appropriate and fitting that you watch movies, especially porn, which by now should have exposed you to what you will be in for.

By way of a taste of our time together, let me say that while I find the offer of your grandmother’s ring touching, the only ring I will accept from you is the one I want binding your collar closed. Until we are together, please imagine what I have planned, beginning with me oh-so-gently slipping the ball gag into your devoted mouth, cinching it tight, and then whispering in your ear:

“NOW LICK MY FUCKING STILETTOS CLEAN, YOU NASTY LITTLE MAGGOT BITCH!”

I assume you have no aversions to whips given your situation.

Always,

H.e. ELLis

CLICK THE HEART BELOW FOR THIS WEEK’S SECRET ADMIRER:

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Love Letters Gone Wrong – Twenty-One

i-love-high-heels-sex-and-the-city-t-shirts

It’s time for another round of LOVE LETTERS GONE WRONG! Every Friday I feature a LOVE LETTER GONE WRONG submitted by an anonymous blogger. Sunday morning I reveal the secret admirer’s identity with a link to the blogger’s home page. If you’d like to submit some truly heinous love letters please send them to heellisgoa@gmail.com.

This week’s love letter one wrong was written by a blogger who commented on the TOP TEN SPaM post. Check out this post and then return to the comments here to guess who the secret admirer is. The first correct guess wins a free copy of my ebook.

**********************

Maybe it was your name, and how Heellis reminded me of the high heels I fantasized you wearing, or maybe it was the way you smelled as you walked past me, not seeing me hiding behind the flower pot. Whatever it was, I am in love and I want you, even for a minute. I have this ring that it stole from my dead grandmother and I want you to have it, I want you to wear it, forever.

I know you love another, but that can change, anything can change if we want it to. Forget him, I am better, stronger, faster. I am the Bionic man, I am Superman, I am Spider man, I can be your hero if you let me.

As I sit in front of my computer, looking at porn, I think of you and I think of us, and how wonderful it would be if you said yes to a date. Just a date you say, but for me it would be the world. So what if I am 53 and never had a date. I watch movies, I know how to act, even if they don’t believe me. They who work here, and watch me and give me the medications it takes to help me deal with my insanity.

For you I would do anything. For you I would trade this straight jacket for a tuxedo and sweep you off your heels and …I love heels…I am getting sidetracked again, it is like that when the voices in your head talk constantly now where was I? Sweep you off your feet and into my arms.

So what do you say? Do you want to date? Let me know, or better still, let the guards in my cell know that you want to date.

Yours truly,

Sam


My Secret Admirer – Twenty

CLICK ME

It’s time for this week’s LOVE LETTERS GONE WRONG secret admirer big reveal! This week we did not have a winner, so click the trophy to the right for a timely post from Edward Hotspur.

Here’s a recap of Friday’s post as well as my response at the bottom. If you’d like a free copy of my ebook take a guess or send a love letter gone wrong to heellisgoa@gmail.com.

***************

Dear Heloise Ecclesiastes Ellis,

 

I remember the first time I laid eyes on you.  I was in kindergarten.  You wore a blue dress and smelled of huckleberry (I distinctly remember it as huckleberry because even back then I was looking stuff up on Wikipedia).  I moved in closer to admire you as you finger-painted fiery orange and red and black with a yellow stripe running down the middle of the artpaper.  I touched the gauzy film of your petticoat and you punched me in the face, shattering my nose in thirty-two places. It was only later that I realized what a gift that was, as my new proboscis bears an uncanny resemblance to Edward Hotspur’s penis.

 

As we grew older in the small town of Valentine (I’ve always wanted to give you one—a small town, not a Valentine), I realized that even though I could sing and dance, I wasn’t gay enough to keep from wanting you, even after I figured out that you are a woman—a small woman with big breasts and all the energy of a Red Bull factory wired by Nikola Tesla while Benjamin Franklin flies a kite on top of the building with a key attached to the string with a 12 gauge copper wire attached to the key so that when the whole thing electrifies from lightening, it is conducted back to the factory, which is you I think, though I got kind of lost when I started talking about wiring, as I’m not an electrician.

 

As the years flew by and you became more stacked and stacked tire after tire after tire in that random field by the pond (I worked at the Goodyear Plant and would dump them there just to give you something to do), I began to realize that you would never love me, not like you love Prince Charming and Junior.  And I knew that the shit I say would never be as meaningful as the shit your kids say, but I would yell “Shit, shit, shit?” as I hauled tires back and forth, and you would post pictures of snowy trees on your blog and I knew you saw me in every frozen leaf, especially the ones where I actually glued my picture to the leaf,  with Edward’s Penis above my lips, those lips screaming out from every gluey leaf, screaming, “Love me, Love me, Love me!”

 

I know you think needy men are pussies, but it isn’t so much need as the desire of several teenage boys wrapped together like a duct-taped suitcase filled with the masculine love of an older, unneedy salt and pepper gentleman with a moustache (moustache rides are free by the way).

 

And then, one day, I was up on the roof with a couple of tires I’d hauled up there (I thought that would be a new challenge since you’re getting tired of the Thunderdome) and you said in that husky voice of yours:

 

“Hey, Asshole.  I’ve got a gun and I’m going to blow you a new one!”

 

And when that bullet went through me I knew in my heart (the bullet was actually in my heart with all the other feelings) that you really did care.  You really did.  No one shoots someone unless they really care about them, or they just wish they had a penis like Edward Hotspur’s and they’re frustrated.

 

You’re the former, not the latter.  So I climbed down the ladder, my former self wondering why I was bleeding so profusely, and you met me at the window, the same one you like to lick so much, and before I passed out, I swear we had something real between us.

 

It was a tire.

 

Love   XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

 

****************

Dear XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX,

I cannot begin to tell you how surprised I was to receive your letter! In fact, I came as soon as I heard the postman ring my doorbell. Sorry this took so long to respond, but the postman came to my backdoor instead.

At first I thought it was my weekly delivery of tube steak or my monthly bottle of trouser snake repellent or the latest issue of Beaver Buster catalog. You can imagine my surprise to find my postman, John Thomas, standing at attention on my doorstep holding your letter in one hand and my package in the other (my dog Bukkaki got a bone or two in the mail that day).

I want you to know that I read your letter over and over while I watched West Point’s Black Knights play the Midshipmen- after I adjusted my antenna, of course. There’s nothing better in the world to me than the feeling of beating Navy. Well, maybe Magic  Johnson with ball in his hand. Not to blow my own horn, but I was a bit of ball-handler myself back in the day.

I’d love to stay and chat, but I promised Rosy Palm and her five sisters that I’d help them polish the family jewels.

Signed,

Edward Hotspur’s Penis

 

 

CLICK THE HEART BELOW FOR THIS WEEK’S SECRET ADMIRER:

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Love Letters Gone Wrong – Twenty

eh

It’s time for another round of LOVE LETTERS GONE WRONG! Every Friday I feature a LOVE LETTER GONE WRONG submitted by an anonymous blogger. Sunday morning I reveal the secret admirer’s identity with a link to the blogger’s home page. If you’d like to submit some truly heinous love letters please send them to heellisgoa@gmail.com.

This week’s love letter one wrong was written by a one of my Blogs With Books authors. Check out this page and then return to the comments here to guess who the secret admirer is. The first correct guess wins a free copy of my ebook.

 

**************

 

Dear Heloise Ecclesiastes Ellis,

 

I remember the first time I laid eyes on you.  I was in kindergarten.  You wore a blue dress and smelled of huckleberry (I distinctly remember it as huckleberry because even back then I was looking stuff up on Wikipedia).  I moved in closer to admire you as you finger-painted fiery orange and red and black with a yellow stripe running down the middle of the artpaper.  I touched the gauzy film of your petticoat and you punched me in the face, shattering my nose in thirty-two places. It was only later that I realized what a gift that was, as my new proboscis bears an uncanny resemblance to Edward Hotspur’s penis.

 

As we grew older in the small town of Valentine (I’ve always wanted to give you one—a small town, not a Valentine), I realized that even though I could sing and dance, I wasn’t gay enough to keep from wanting you, even after I figured out that you are a woman—a small woman with big breasts and all the energy of a Red Bull factory wired by Nikola Tesla while Benjamin Franklin flies a kite on top of the building with a key attached to the string with a 12 gauge copper wire attached to the key so that when the whole thing electrifies from lightening, it is conducted back to the factory, which is you I think, though I got kind of lost when I started talking about wiring, as I’m not an electrician.

 

As the years flew by and you became more stacked and stacked tire after tire after tire in that random field by the pond (I worked at the Goodyear Plant and would dump them there just to give you something to do), I began to realize that you would never love me, not like you love Prince Charming and Junior.  And I knew that the shit I say would never be as meaningful as the shit your kids say, but I would yell “Shit, shit, shit?” as I hauled tires back and forth, and you would post pictures of snowy trees on your blog and I knew you saw me in every frozen leaf, especially the ones where I actually glued my picture to the leaf,  with Edward’s Penis above my lips, those lips screaming out from every gluey leaf, screaming, “Love me, Love me, Love me!”

 

I know you think needy men are pussies, but it isn’t so much need as the desire of several teenage boys wrapped together like a duct-taped suitcase filled with the masculine love of an older, unneedy salt and pepper gentleman with a moustache (moustache rides are free by the way).

 

And then, one day, I was up on the roof with a couple of tires I’d hauled up there (I thought that would be a new challenge since you’re getting tired of the Thunderdome) and you said in that husky voice of yours:

 

“Hey, Asshole.  I’ve got a gun and I’m going to blow you a new one!”

 

And when that bullet went through me I knew in my heart (the bullet was actually in my heart with all the other feelings) that you really did care.  You really did.  No one shoots someone unless they really care about them, or they just wish they had a penis like Edward Hotspur’s and they’re frustrated.

 

You’re the former, not the latter.  So I climbed down the ladder, my former self wondering why I was bleeding so profusely, and you met me at the window, the same one you like to lick so much, and before I passed out, I swear we had something real between us.

 

It was a tire.

 

Love   XXXXXXXXXXXXXX


My Secret Admirer – Nineteen

CLICK ME

It’s time for this week’s LOVE LETTERS GONE WRONG secret admirer big reveal! This week we did have a winner, so click the trophy to the right for this week’s winning blogger.

Here’s a recap of Friday’s post as well as my response at the bottom. If you’d like a free copy of my ebook take a guess or send a love letter gone wrong to heellisgoa@gmail.com.

 

****************

Oh, Heidi, Heidi. Christ almighty,
how I do love thee?
Thy witty prose, thy way with words,
pure amazes me.

I would write for you a poem
if I only could.
But when I think about you
I part turn into wood.

It gets so hard and painful
I can scarce endure.
And in case you’re doubtful,
that’s not bull manure.

It’s not the type of wood with which
I heat my home at night.
It is instead so warm and smooth,
and could give you great delight.

But the miles that lie between us,
so many in their count,
make it so unlikely
that you I’ll ever mount.

My wife would be heartbroken
if she knew to you I write.
But I’ll be thinking of you
when I’m doing her tonight.

************************

Thank you, kind sir
for your letter to me
that I read many times
while I sat in the tree

outside of the window
that looks onto your bed
and watched you make love
to a woman in red

who called out a name
that I didn’t quite hear
and then something about
something else in her rear

that I assumed meant you’d used
a bit too much force
which makes total sense since
you’re hung like a horse

but when she complained
how it started to burn
all I could think of was,
“When’s it MY turn?”

CLICK THE HEART BELOW FOR THIS WEEK’S SECRET ADMIRER:

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Love Letter Gone Wrong – Nineteen

1085093_wooden_heart

It’s time for another round of LOVE LETTERS GONE WRONG! Every Friday I feature a LOVE LETTER GONE WRONG submitted by an anonymous blogger. Sunday morning I reveal the secret admirer’s identity with a link to the blogger’s home page. If you’d like to submit some truly heinous love letters please send them to heellisgoa@gmail.com.

This week’s love letter was written by a blogger who took the time to comment on my OPEN LETTER post. Check out this post and then return to the comments here to guess who the secret admirer is. The first correct guess wins a free copy of my ebook.

Oh, Heidi, Heidi. Christ almighty,
how I do love thee?
Thy witty prose, thy way with words,
pure amazes me.

I would write for you a poem
if I only could.
But when I think about you
I part turn into wood.

It gets so hard and painful
I can scarce endure.
And in case you’re doubtful,
that’s not bull manure.

It’s not the type of wood with which
I heat my home at night.
It is instead so warm and smooth,
and could give you great delight.

But the miles that lie between us,
so many in their count,
make it so unlikely
that you I’ll ever mount.

My wife would be heartbroken
if she knew to you I write.
But I’ll be thinking of you
when I’m doing her tonight.


My Secret Admirer – Eighteen

CLICK ME

It’s time for this week’s LOVE LETTERS GONE WRONG secret admirer big reveal! This week we did have a winner, so click the trophy to the right for this week’s secret blogger.

Here’s a recap of Friday’s post as well as my response at the bottom. If you’d like a free copy of my ebook take a guess or send a love letter gone wrong to heellisgoa@gmail.com.

***************

Dear H,

I’ve come to realize I am the only one for you, just because I may have let’s say “taken care” of the competition. But as I am writing this note on my clip board as a wander aimlessly around your house, don’t worry as to how I managed to get in but I can say I will pay for the hole in the roof.

 

That aside I must say, your choice of furniture is peculiar but the way it is (after I’ve made alterations) set out is pure amazing… I hope you like it. The only flaw for my love for you, is that your home does not have easy access to someone of my height but that said armed with my trusty foot stool I was able to reach those hard to get spots even managing to climb into your bed, my plan was to wait for you to come home to find me waiting for you but instead I decided to unpack all my clothing into what I presume is your wardrobe, and after going through just about all your clothing and admiringly wearing some items I might just have to take you shopping so that I can buy us matching vest tops that express our love for Snow White. As part of my work being a dwarf mob boss I am pleased to say anything or anyone you want can be dealt with making it easier for us to be together, money or resources are not an issue as you can see by the new jungle gym now found in your yard.

 

I have also assigned security to your kids and they are now on route to keep them safe you might want to drop them a call and tell them that the small green bushes that follow them with guns are there for their own protection. On that note I’m off for some shopping and I have some things to take care of, ill be back in a day or two.

Lots of love from but one of the 7 dwarves who now lives with you

xOxOx

P.s I think I left a gun in one of the draws please take case as it is loaded.

***************

Dear #7 (assuming?),

I surely do appreciate the added security on the kids, and yes, I had wondered where that draft and the jungle gym equipment came from, although around here, things appear in the yard randomly anyway.

I was intrigued by the stepstool refrences through your note. I have to admit that I’ve always fantasized about being in a situation where I’m the tall one, so that is something we’ll have to explore. However – and I hope this doesn’t deflate your Vienna sausage – I do want you to bring the other six friends you mention. I can’t tell you how long I’ve yearned for being taken care of that completely. Hope you and the six of your crew are “up” to me.

Waiting in anticipation,

H.E.

CLICK THE HEART BELOW FOR THIS WEEK’S SECRET ADMIRER:

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Love Letters Gone Wrong – Eighteen

bruenor____by_direnayhan_by_Dwarves

It’s time for another round of LOVE LETTERS GONE WRONG! Every Friday I feature a LOVE LETTER GONE WRONG submitted by an anonymous blogger. Sunday morning I reveal the secret admirer’s identity with a link to the blogger’s home page. If you’d like to submit some truly heinous love letters please send them to heellisgoa@gmail.com.

This week’s love letter was written by a blogger who’s new to my blogroll:

A PLACE FOR NERDS

DELIGHTFULNESS

BUDDAKAT

HOBBLING AROUND

The first correct guess wins a free copy of my ebook.

***********

Dear H,

I’ve come to realize I am the only one for you, just because I may have let’s say “taken care” of the competition. But as I am writing this note on my clip board as a wander aimlessly around your house, don’t worry as to how I managed to get in but I can say I will pay for the hole in the roof.

 

That aside I must say, your choice of furniture is peculiar but the way it is (after I’ve made alterations) set out is pure amazing… I hope you like it. The only flaw for my love for you, is that your home does not have easy access to someone of my height but that said armed with my trusty foot stool I was able to reach those hard to get spots even managing to climb into your bed, my plan was to wait for you to come home to find me waiting for you but instead I decided to unpack all my clothing into what I presume is your wardrobe, and after going through just about all your clothing and admiringly wearing some items I might just have to take you shopping so that I can buy us matching vest tops that express our love for Snow White. As part of my work being a dwarf mob boss I am pleased to say anything or anyone you want can be dealt with making it easier for us to be together, money or resources are not an issue as you can see by the new jungle gym now found in your yard.

 

I have also assigned security to your kids and they are now on route to keep them safe you might want to drop them a call and tell them that the small green bushes that follow them with guns are there for their own protection. On that note I’m off for some shopping and I have some things to take care of, ill be back in a day or two.

Lots of love from but one of the 7 dwarves who now lives with you

xOxOx

P.s I think I left a gun in one of the draws please take case as it is loaded.


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