The sub-moronic ramblings of a semi-functioning illiterate

Posts tagged “Karma

How to Avoid the Slushpile, by H.E. Ellis

fbf-1It’s Funny Blog Friday again, and I’m here to not only brighten your day but to pass along some sage advice on how to avoid the dreaded slushpile.

What’s the slushpile, you ask? The slushpile, my friends, is the virtual trash bin where your manuscript lands the moment a prospective agent determines it is not yet ready for publication. Believe me, after all your hard work this is no place you want to be.

So how do you avoid the slushpile? Read widely? Write often? Find yourself a solid writers’ group?

Hell no! You do it by following my advice, of course! I’ve spent the past year creating a collection of books designed to help would-be authors navigate their way through the jungle that is the publishing world. Choose from the following: (more…)


Check Out My Bitchin’ Office

I should be working on my novel but as usual, I’m blocked and cannot snap out of it. I suppose I could look up one of the hundreds of tricks on the internet that tell you how to break free of writer’s block, or I can do what I always do and write a separate manuscript where all my characters engage in a massive act of group sex.

Since I can’t share that, I decided to blog about the space where all the not-writing happens instead.

First up, the wall of books:

(more…)


Funny Blog Friday with Peter…er, Randy Pan?

RandyPan_220wfbfHello Everyone, it’s me, Hellis, live and in person. Well, in spirit. I’ve been away from our little corner of the virtual Utopia we call Blogworld this week because I’ve been spending time with the new love of my life. Yes, people I am in love, and have decided to use the Funny Blog Friday post as an opportunity to introduce him to my world.

The latest object of my affection is a man like no other; he is fun-loving, free-spirited and young at heart. His childlike innocence attracted me immediately and before I knew it, I was hooked. Today I’d like to introduce you to the man who captured my heart and is sure to steal yours. Without further ado I give you…Randy Pan. (more…)


Meet The Reaper on Halloween And Win Free Stuff!

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FROM THE DESK OF THE GRIM REAPER:

Tomorrow is Halloween- the one day a year when souls breech the veil between the living and the dead and make my life Hell. Tomorrow is also FUNNY BLOG FRIDAY’s first ever blog hop, an event intended to celebrate humor and incite laughter in all who stop by.

Whoopdee Freakin’ Do.

I know I’m supposed to be as jazzed about this as Hellis is, but that’s fucking impossible. That Hellis chick’s not right in the head. She’s so amped for this in fact that she asked me to turn one of my “legendary” rants into a blog post for the occasion. I said yes, of course. After taking a colossal Bit O’ Honey dump, ranting will be the easiest thing I do all day. (more…)


Raider Nation’s Reluctant Member

dm_140917_nfl_Predict_OAKNEOn the heels of the ass-whooping the New England Patriots gave the Chicago Bears last Sunday, I’ve decided to rerun a post that should do a good job of summing up my present state of misery as a former Pats fan:

Picture the scene:

It’s February 2012 and yours truly is glued to the television, elbows deep in clam chowda, an ice cold rack a pounders within reach. The iconic opening of O Fortuna pours out of the speakers and my heart begins to pound in anticipation. I move closer to the screen just as the un-mistakeable sound of Ozzy screaming, “ALL ABOARD!” heralds the moment I’ve been waiting for– the moment my beloved New England Patriots take the field for SuperBowl XLVI. (more…)


Andiamo Columbus!

isnthcina_fullsizeCaio Lettori!

That’s “Hello Readers!” according to Google Translate. Being Italian I should technically know how to say that on my own, but my family’s dialect is far too regional to communicate anything coherent. Luckily I had the chance to interview fellow Italian and renowned world traveler, Christopher Columbus. Let’s hope his English is better than my Italian: (more…)


Hellis Loses Her Mind on an Airplane

3216573-2967628339-ren-2The Universe is trying to convince me that I am a hot bubblin’ cauldron of crazy, I shit you not. The story I am about to tell to you actually happened to me on a flight not too long ago.

Let’s take a moment to set the stage: (more…)


Hellis Cures Insomnia With…Murder

17238374-lBear with me while I explain the title of this post. I suffer from bouts of insomnia which leave me with a lot of unstructured time on my hands. This is not a good thing, because I have yet to find a constructive way to fill that time. In other words, I don’t always make healthy choices.

So this opening is not doing much to alleviate doubts about my current mental state or potential guilt. Let me begin again: (more…)


SciFi Face-Off!

Today I have decided to pay homage to the late, great Gene Roddenberry on what would have been his 93rd birthday by conducting an interview I believe he might have enjoyed. Now I ask you, what better way to pay tribute to one of the greatest contributors to the SciFi genre than to have a face-off of Starship Captains? Ladies and gentlemen I give you…

JAMES T. KIRK    VS    JEAN-LUC PICARD

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Earth Day Interview With Gaia

In celebration of Earth Day I’ve decided to take a moment to sit down with Gaia, the Earth Goddess. Hello, Gaia. Thank you for sitting down with us today.

Oh it’s so good to be here, or anywhere for that matter. And thank you for celebrating Earth Day. It’s a small step towards saving my beautiful creation. So many people are so fucking oblivious to what is happening to this magnificent planet it boggles the mind, so thank you for the opportunity to shed a bit of light.

It’s been an unusually warm winter here in the United States. What do you attribute that to? (more…)


It’s the Easter Bunn–uh…Wallaby?

Spring has finally sprung, and with it our interview with everyone’s childhood favorite, the Easter Bunny.

Determined to get an interview with this elusive holiday icon, I cornered him in his underground den and discovered something I’d not expected. I open today’s interview with the question that should have been asked ages ago:

HE: Say…you aren’t really a bunny, are you?

(more…)


I Prank You Not

In recognition of April Fool’s Day I scored a rare opportunity to sit down with the God of Mischief, Loki.

HE: “Hello Loki. Thank you for taking time out of your busy day to speak with me and my readers.”

LOKI: “Hi.”

HE: “Uh, that’s it? ‘Hi?’”

LOKI: “Well, I’ve got a lot on my plate. You do realize what day this is, right? Nice fucking time management there, Chickie.” (more…)


CAPRICORN – The Insipid Wanker of the Blogosphere

capricorn

12zodiacsigns.wordpress.com

In honor of the New Year and for all the impending January birthdays around blogworld (including my own) I’ve decided to draw a parallel between various bloggers and their coordinating astrological signs. I plan on doing one of these at the beginning of every month for each sign, so stick around and see just how close I get to yours.

Today I begin with my own sign which is:

Capricorn

Here is a brief overview of Capricorns in all their glory:

  • They tend to lecture other people about life and how to survive it.
  • They are hard-workers and status seekers.
  • Often mistakenly viewed as “elitists.”
  • Capricorns treat their friends very well and, in some cases, even prefer they company to that of anyone else.
  • Capricorns are deep, mysterious and full of intrigue and there always seems to be something going on in their minds.

Ah, yes…Capricorn. The answer to the question nobody asked.

We’re the bloggers who always have something witty and insightful to say, whether you wanted to hear it or not. We’ve asked all the right questions, know all the right answers and have little time or patience for your opinion on the matter (although secretly we love when you leave comments that allow us to show off our verbal acuity). 

Most of us are ambitious enough to write at least one blog post a day, sometimes more, but never on the same topic. We wax poetic about everything. We enjoy mocking the status quo more than regurgitating it because really, where is the challenge in that? And speaking of challenges, we are all about winning- even in blogworld. We Capricorns believe WordPress should have a little box dedicated just to us and our blog posts. I mean, come on? Who is better at writing anything than we are? Am I right? Am I?

Alright, let’s move on to love and relationships. Here’s what the interwebs have to say about Capricorn men:

“While a Capricorn male might display what could be termed as an aggressive behavior when it comes to getting what he wants, beneath that façade is a shy and introverted guy. Don’t misinterpret his shyness as being disinterested. He just doesn’t know how to express his emotions without feeling self-conscious in the process.”

Apparently the Universe has decided that all date-rapists are to be born between December and January. Not being one to judge, let’s hear what the interwebs have got to say about us Capricorn women:

“You want to love and be loved, but when the feeling starts to blossom, something always seems to stop you from acknowledging it and pursuing it.”

I KNOW WHAT YOU’RE ALL THINKING AND YOU’RE WRONG! THEY’RE TALKING ABOUT LOVE, I’M TELLING YOU! LOVE!

Perverts.

It is widely accepted in astrological circles that the best mate for any particular zodiac sign is to be paired with one of his or her own kind. That being said, astrologists everywhere are in agreement that the WORST romantic pairing for a Capricorn is…

Oh…crap.

So in conclusion, I’ll sum up my evaluation of the Blogger Capricorn with this synopsis of our sign:

“Capricorn has a certain exclusive side to its nature, often preferring to associate itself with people it deems worthy.”

In other words, we know we’re the shit, but we think you are too.

Stay tuned next month for AQUARIUS – THE REBEL WITHOUT A CLUE.


It’s Time For Father Time

Father’s Day is upon us and with it an interview from the ultimate patriarch, Father Time.

*Good Afternoon, uh…is there such a thing as a time reference like “afternoon” in your reality?

Why wouldn’t there be? I’m just like you, missy. Minus the white beard. But don’t worry. It’s nothing a little electrolysis can’t help you with. (Bursts out laughing and slaps his knee). Man, I slay me! See what I did there?

*Yes.

I took the white beard reference and applied it to you! Since this is a print interview, people will think you have a white beard! Haha!

*Yes, I got it. Hilarious.

I know, right? I missed my calling, but relatively speaking stand-up comedy is a new thing. What would I have done before what you people call the 20th century? Wear a jester’s hat? No way. I have my pride. Plus, have you ever seen a comedian with such impressive biceps?

*So…

What? You want me to flex?

*No, thanks. Do time references like “afternoon” exist in your reality?

Oh, that. No offense, sweetie, but that’s dumb question. I mean I’m sitting here with you, aren’t I? In the afternoon. I would think the answer is obvious.

*It’s not afternoon everywhere.

Hey, don’t get all smart-ass and technical. Although I am everywhere I can’t be everywhere. I have to be somewhere, even if I am everywhere. So wherever I am, which doesn’t mean everywhere, is where I am. And when I am there, like I am here, I follow the clock like everyone else. By the way, do you know why clocks die?

*Why?

Because their time is up! Haha! Get it? You see when people die other people say their time was up. So when you apply that to clocks it takes on a whole new double meaning!

*That begs for your thoughts on how we measure time.

You mean how I taught you to measure time. The truth is you people need structure and organization. Have you looked in your closets? So I gave it to you. However, to be fair, precision rocks my world. Without some sort of time structure your life would be chaotic, but mine would be completely different. I wouldn’t be a celebrity, for one. I’d only be that guy with the amazing bod and killer sense of humor. No one would call me Father Time which would be tragic since my given name is Vivien. Hey, wanna see my pecs?

*Since you’ve been around forever you must have witnessed some amazing moments in history. Can you tell us which event was your favorite?

Been around forever? Is that some sort of age crack?

*Of course not. All I’m saying is you are a man of experience.

That’s true. I am. I get a little sensitive when people start talking about age because it is saddled with all these pre-conceived notions. So what if I have a few trillion miles under my belt? I’m still sharper than a Ginsu knife. Not only that, I have quads to die for.

*I’m sure you do. Now back to your favorite moment in history. When was it?

Right now, baby. (winks)

*Which event did history get wrong?

It would be easier to answer which event history got right.

*Okay, which event did history get right?

What? Do I look like some sort of history expert? (Doubles over in laughter.) Sucker! You fell right into that one! Am I killing it or what? Dane Cook couldn’t touch me on his best day! Haha!

*Is there a special lady friend in your life?

Look at me. What do you think? This magic doesn’t just happen. It takes hard work and let me tell you, the ladies appreciate it. One peek at my lats will convince you.

*I’m flattered, but let’s keep this professional.

Oh I’ll keep it professional alright, sugar.

*I have no idea what that means. Do you have any inside information on the Mayans and their world-end predictions?

They were a fun-loving group, the Mayans. Did a bit too much peyote, which is never a good thing. I’ll tell you this much though. Even when the world ends, time will continue. Which means – cha-ching! – I have nothing to worry about.

*What is the one thing most people get wrong about you?

That I’m a “father”. I’m not. I challenge anyone to produce a paternity test that says otherwise. And if they do show me a test it better be multiple choice. Haha!

 

This bit of Father’s Day diversion brought to you by the mad genius of John at Trask Avenue. For more holiday fun read Iconic Interviews– some of the best bloggers around the ‘sphere coming together for a good cause and a lot of laughs. Pick up a copy today.


A Tiny Thumbelina Tale

imagesPinch me because I must be dreaming. Today we have another amazing addition to the Blogger Compilation Project better known as F*CKED UP FAIRY TALES (I know, I know, the asterisk fools no one, but I’m trying to class my blog up, okay?)

Anyway, this little bit o’ tome comes from none other than our very own Beach Bunny Sandy Floyd, better known to Blogworld as Sandylikeabeach. Her take on the classic Thumbelina is as witty, clever and brilliant as this tiny writing powerhouse is herself. Please to enjoy, A TINY THUMBELINA TALE.

 

by Sandy Floyd 

It was a dark and stormy night. Not really, but I always wanted to start the story of my life with that line. I have no idea if it was a dark and stormy night on the night of my birth or if I was even born at night. I was just a baby so I have no clear memories of the event. I’m not even sure I should start at the beginning. So let’s begin again.

I’m special. Well, as special as a person can be in a world populated by people, each one thinking he or she is special. Of course, if we’re all special, then special isn’t really special. It’s ordinary. It is the normal order of things. But I’m the Abby Normal of ordinary though my name isn’t Abby.

I wish it was Abby. Christ! I got stuck with an awful name. I swear to God, if there is one, that if I ever have children I will not stick them with some cutesy or super esoteric or just plain fucking weird name. And the lovely name that was bestowed on me? Thumbelina. What the fuck? Who names a kid Thumbelina? What the hell is a Thumbelina? I loathed my name. I shortened it to Tina. However, there was always that one teacher who insisted on calling every child by his or her proper name, no nicknames allowed. And of course, the first day of school each year my embarrassing name would be called out and I would have to acknowledge it and then say, “But I just go by Tina.” Then the more compassionate teachers would make a note on their rosters but the damage was done. The more obnoxious poets among my class liked to chant “Tiny Tina, Thumbelina” whenever I happened by.

Of course, even without the embarrassing weird name, I still would have been teased because of the tiny thing. Just as it’s not easy being green, it’s not easy being tiny and tiny is what I am though I’m not green and tiny, just tiny. Though now that I think about it, if green is the color of your species, then how hard can it be to be green? And if tiny is the size of your species, then being tiny wouldn’t be hard either, but tiny is not the size of my species so being tiny is not easy except that it is easy to be overlooked and easy to be treated like a child and easy to be thought of as younger than you really are which will be nice when I get older.

I am a very small person though not dwarf small, and unlike most dwarfs, I am exquisitely proportioned. But if other people didn’t feel compelled to state the obvious by telling me how small I am, I would rarely think about my lack of height unless I needed to get something off the top shelf at the grocery store. Of course, I’m sure one of the functions of the lowest shelf is to serve as a step for those of us who are vertically challenged to reach the stuff we need that is always on the top shelf. And I will admit to always being surprised when I catch a glimpse of myself in a mirror or some sort of reflective surface standing next to a normal sized person. Honest to God, again, if there is one, I look like a miniature person.

So despite all my name loathing during my formative years living on a farm with my foster mother after being abandoned as an infant with a note pleading for someone to take care of “our little Thumbelina” thus dooming me to a lifetime of name loathing and forever linking me to a shadowy group of people with weird names, my feelings about my name took a somewhat nuanced turn. Translation: I figured out how to cash in.

Upon my successful completion of high school, I knew college was a financial impossibility. I also knew that I did not want to spend the best years of my life waiting on people be it as a waitress or a retail worker. Cubicle life sounded no better. So having no moral compass, or any compass at all, I decided to put my decidedly good looks, flexibility and passion for my passion to good use. I became a tiny stripper and Thumbelina was my tiny stripper name even though that name is not tiny and doesn’t often, or possibly ever, come up in that internet what is your stripper name thing. But I was dancing and dancing made me happy. It also made me money.

Now some people might think stripping is demeaning and they have valid arguments and indeed, I would agree it is demeaning if the stripping is involuntary. However, if stripping is a personal choice, there is power in that choice. And pardon the obvious use of the word, but stripped of its moral questions, at its heart, it is art expressed in a very specific form of dance. The best strippers embrace this. I know I did, and I was one of the best. I even won the International Pole Dance Championship a couple of years ago. Though to be fair, Miss Australia probably would have won if she hadn’t had that embarrassingly awkward slide down the pole. A little lube goes a long way.

You might not think that a strip club would be the best place to meet the love of your life and before it happened to me, I would have agreed with you, but then it happened to me though the actual meeting thing took place in a coffee shop across the street from the club, but that first sighting was in the club. He was part of a bachelor party though not the part that was The Bachelor. He was just one of The Bachelor’s buddies helping The Bachelor celebrate one of his last nights of bachelorhood.

He didn’t look like the usual regulars, but boy, did he look good. He had this tall, dark and handsome bad boy with the scruffy beard thing going on even though he wasn’t particularly tall or dark, but he was definitely handsome. And he had that scruffy beard thing which looks great on a male model, though male might be redundant because no one ever thinks a scruffy beard would look good on a female model, but I’m not typically a fan of the scruffy facial hair decision. It’s not even a decision. It’s a mark of indecision. Make a choice, already. Grow a beard or shave, but damn, it looked good on him.

I could have looked at him all night. I didn’t, because I also wanted my usual haul of tips and it’s not just the dancing that does the trick, you have to make eye contact and smile at everyone to make the most tips. But I did glance his way every now and then, and each time, he was looking at me, but not in the way the usual strip club attendee does. When our eyes would meet, he smiled ever so slightly. It was warm and sweet and it felt like we were the only two people in the room.

After my shift that night, a couple of the other dancers and I headed to the coffee shop for our usual after work confab. We settled in a booth and that’s when I noticed him. He was at the counter and he was alone. I’ve never been a big fan of fate, but fate might be a fan of me, because as fate would have it, Amber’s phone rang.

“Ugh, that was the sitter,” she said as she returned her phone to her handbag. “I’ve got to get home.”

“Nothing serious, I hope.”

“No. Jason has a touch of a fever so I need to get home. See you later, TIna.”

“You going, too?” I asked Nina.

“Yeah, she’s my ride tonight. Good night, TIna.”

“Bye NIna, bye Amber. Hope Jason’s feeling better soon.”

The girls had no sooner walked out the door when the scruffy beard guy appeared at my table.

“Mind if I join you? I’ve never been a fan of eating alone.” His voice was like velvet – soft and smooth. A voice that could be on the radio, maybe a classic rock station or maybe even smooth jazz although much of what smooth jazz stations play isn’t even jazz, it’s more yesterday’s pop and soft rock.

“Um,” I hesitated because it’s usually not a good idea to get involved with customers, but he was good looking and he smelled good, or maybe that was the bacon cooking in the kitchen, but he looked and seemed to smell good enough to eat and I was hungry.

“It’s just a little food and conversation,” he said. And then he smiled.

“Yeah, company would be great.” I smiled back.

He slid into the booth across from me and smiled that smile. “I’m Cooper.”

I wasn’t sure if Cooper was his first name or last name, so I asked. My foster mom always told me I shouldn’t ask too many personal questions too soon, but how else do you find out stuff that you’d be wondering about and all that wondering would keep you from being able to concentrate on the conversation. And I was going to need all the help with concentration because I wasn’t really thinking about having a conversation with him, if you catch my drift.

“It’s my first name. It’s a little unusual but I like it.”

“It’s a great name. I’m..”

“Thumbelina. The tiny dancer.”

“I go by TIna.”

“How’d you come up with Thumbelina for a stage name?”

“It’s my real name. And you thought Cooper was unusual.”

He laughed and his laugh was even better than his smile. “Well, I think Thumbelina is a beautiful name. It rhymes with ballerina and you are an exquisitely beautiful dancer.”

He had me at ‘exquisitely,’ or maybe he had me at ‘mind if I join you.’ It doesn’t really matter when he had me, much like it doesn’t matter when the heart finds love, only that it does and mine did that night. We talked for hours or it seemed that way. At last, we noticed the night was easing into dawn and we made our way to the parking lot. He asked me where I was parked and I pointed to my car.

“I’m right next to you,” he said.

“That’s your bike? It’s gorgeous.” Though I didn’t add ‘just like you,’ but I was thinking it.

“Yeah, you like bikes?”

“I’ve never been on one but it looks like fun.”

“It’s just about the most fun you can have with your clothes on.”

“I always thought that about dancing, but of course, I don’t always keep my clothes on for that.”

He laughed. “Here’s my number. Call me and we’ll go for a ride. And you can keep your clothes on the whole time.”

I smiled at him and climbed in my car. “It was nice meeting you, Cooper.”

“See you soon, tiny dancer.”

A few days later I had my first bike ride. I climbed on the bike behind him and as I wrapped my arms around his waist I said, “I think this is going to be the best part of the ride.”

He laughed. “Not by a long shot. Hang on.”

And off we went. He was partially right. Holding on to him wasn’t the best part, but it wasn’t the best part by a long shot. It was a very close second. The ride was exhilarating. Sitting behind him, looking over his shoulder, the wind in my face was a great feeling. We spent the afternoon on country roads, stopping here and there to admire the scenery or grab a bite to eat.

It was just like one of those Hollywood movie montages the writers employ because they suck at writing dialogue. And it did feel like one of those too good to be true but wouldn’t it be lovely if it could happen to me Hollywood scenarios right up until it turned into a killer zombie movie but without the killer zombies, but Killer Bees instead. But not African killer bees, but the biker gang. I know it sounds like a silly name, but the backs of their jackets have this evil looking killer bee and they used a sinister typeface for the name, so it doesn’t just sound silly, it looks silly, too. But I kept my silly thoughts to myself.

We ran into the Killer Bees at Roady Toadies, a little dive bar on the outskirts of town. Of course, we didn’t know the bikes we saw outside meant there were Killer Bees inside. In fact, Cooper said he recognized one of the bikes as belonging to a friend of his. We walked inside and let our eyes adjust to the light after being in the bright sun. Cooper spotted his friend and we headed over to where he was sitting.

“Jack, this is Thumbelina. Thumbelina, this is my good friend, Jack Sparrow.”

“Like the Johnny Depp character?”

“No,” Jack said. “I had the name first but I like to think he got his character’s inspiration from me.”

Cooper laughed and said, “I think he got the inspiration from Keith Richards.”

I smiled at Jack. “Nice to meet you, Jack.”

“Likewise. Thumbelina, huh? That’s not a name you hear everyday.”

“No, it’s not,” I replied, except that I was hearing it more today then I usually do and right about then, a loud voice behind me bellowed my name again.

“Thumbelina! I’d recognize that ass anywhere even covered in jeans.”

I turned around and there was the biggest Killer Bee I had ever seen. Of course, it was the first Killer Bee I had ever seen so thinking it was the biggest one ever was a big mistake. Behind the loudmouth Killer Bee, were more Killer Bees and they were even bigger than Mr. Bigmouth which was how I was coming to think of him. Mr. Bigmouth didn’t look familiar and I had never seen men attired in Killer Bee attire in the Pussycats club. But he was looking at me, the way hungry men look at a grilled steak.

And before I could reply, Mr. Bigmouth looked around at his buddies and said, “Boys, this is your lucky day. We have a celebrity in our midst. This here itty bitty thing is Thumbelina, stripper extraordinaire!” Then he looked at me and said, “I watch your World Pole Dance routine on YouTube all the time.” He glanced at Cooper and added, “She won the championship a couple of years ago. You know that?”

“No, I didn’t, but I can’t say I’m surprised. She is quite extraordinary.”

If I hadn’t already fallen in love with Cooper, I would have right then especially since he didn’t know about how Miss Australia should have won except for that embarrassing slip or in her case, slide down the pole.

But Mr. Bigmouth wasn’t done. “Why don’t you dance for us Thumbelina? Just climb right up on the bar and show us what you got.”

“You can see me dance at Pussycats,” I replied in an even tone.

“I want to see you dance right now!”

Cooper stepped between us, “Leave the lady alone.”

“She ain’t no lady.”

And then Cooper slugged Mr. Bigmouth.

“I’m not a fan of double negatives either, but I usually refrain from hitting the illiterate,” I said to him.

“I would have slugged him even if he was grammatically correct. No one gets away with saying you’re not a lady.”

But before we could congratulate ourselves on just how clever our repartee was becoming, all hell broke loose. It was the three of us, okay two of us because I’m not much good in a fight and I’m really tiny, against all those Killer Bees. Fists were flying, glass was breaking and I was ducking. I could feel strong arms around me pulling me backwards and then everything went dark.

I wasn’t unconscious, just locked in a closet. I banged on the door, but I guess Cooper couldn’t hear me over all the noise of the fight and last I saw, he and Jack seemed to be on the losing end. After what seemed like an hour but was probably much shorter because everything seems to take longer when you’re locked inside a closet, I heard what sounded like a gunshot. My heart stopped, but not because I got shot but because I was afraid of who might have. I could hear voices but I couldn’t make out what was being said or who was talking. Then it got quiet again, so I started banging on the door and screaming to be let out.

The door opened and a rather mousey looking woman was standing there.

“It’s all right, dear. Toadie put you in there. He thought you’d be safer in there.” She smiled at me and there was kindness in her eyes.

“Toadie is a real person?” I couldn’t believe how many people had parents that made such bad choices when naming their kids.

The mousey woman laughed. “Oh, he’s real all right, but Toadie is a nick name he picked up when he was a roadie for Z Z Top back in the day. I’m Mrs. Fields, Toadie’s mother. I help out in the kitchen.”

I refrained from asking her for a chocolate chip cookie and instead asked about my friends.

“Well, they’re a little banged up, but no permanent damage. Come and see for yourself.”

She led me through the kitchen and into the bar. I spotted Toadie right away because he looked like a toad, kind of like how that senator looks like a turtle. Toadie was holding a shotgun but when he saw me, he smiled and said, “Sorry to stick you in the closet like that, but a bar fight is no place for such a pretty little lady.”

“No worries, Toadie. Thanks for looking out for me.” I was looking around for Cooper and Jack. “Where are my friends?”

“They’re in the john cleaning themselves up. Those Killer Bees did a number on them, but as badass as they think they are when you point a shotgun in their general direction and let it discharge, they run away like little girls.”

I laughed. Then I heard a noise behind me.

“She does have an incredible ass, Coop.”

I turned around and flew into Cooper’s arms. “Everything about her is incredible,” Cooper replied.

“I think I’m in love,” I sighed.

He smiled at me, “I know I am.”

Jack said his goodbyes and left the bar. Cooper looked at me, “Ready to ride off into the sunset to that happily ever after place?”

“I’ve always wanted to do that. Especially if that place has a bed big enough for two.”

He held my hand as we walked out of the bar. We climbed on his bike and he looked back at me.

“Too bad it’s midnight,” he said.

“Midnight will do.”


Jazz, Jesus and the 1 Star Review

jazzEvery so often there comes a moment when we see ourselves through another person’s eyes. Determining whether that’s good or bad depends entirely on what we see. Most of my epiphanies are delivered in the form of my sister telling me my ass looks fat in my jeans, whether I ask for her opinion or not.

Commentary on my fat ass or bad breath I can handle, but what I wasn’t prepared for was the reality of personal feedback in the form of reviews for my novella, Reapers With Issues.

Before I begin I’d like to state that every reader who reviewed my work negatively did not condemn me personally for what I’d written, despite not particularly enjoying the book. I’ve read reviews of other books where the reviewer took the author to task, and I am happy to say I’ve been blessed with a classy group of readers who didn’t feel the need to blast me.

I guess what confounds me most is that I expected there to be more blow back for subject matter. Portraying Jesus as a closet homosexual and writing a scene where Genghis Khan violates a shi-tzu wasn’t going to win me an audience with the Pope, and I knew that going in. I also prepared myself for a critique of the quality of the writing itself, which as it turns out I didn’t receive much of. What I did get was essentially the same question, asked in so many words, of what kind of person could conceive of the Reapers idea at all. Again, good or bad depends entirely on what we see.

[enter the dreaded introspection process]

The first thing I did was try to answer the question of what kind of person I am. Despite an obscene amount of navel-gazing I am no closer to that answer now than I was when I began. My motivation to write Reapers With Issues was just as strong and the subject matter just as easy to conceptualize as Gods of Asphalt’s was, so identifying a specific default in thinking didn’t pan out. The truth is that I’ve got a hundred different stories buzzing around in my head; everything from harmless children’s stories to British comedies to even more Reapers sequels (oddly there’s nothing milling around in there that remotely smacks of Erotica, but that’s a post for another day after an hour on a couch).

So after an even more shameless bought of self-contemplation I began to ask myself a different question, “Why do any of us write what we write?”

Do we choose our genre or subject matter because of who we are, or because of what we make of the world around us? I imagine it’s no coincidence that Reapers With Issues was written during the darkest hours of a friend’s battle with cancer, or that Gods of Asphalt was written while stuck in bed, listening to my two teenaged sons bicker amongst themselves and argue with their father.

It is also not lost on me that I wrote Reapers With Issues from a third-person point-of-view, allowing me to observe at a distance the story of a Reaper whose best efforts to gather souls are thwarted by a Savior, or that the overall theme of Gods of Asphalt is how brothers cope when their mother isn’t around.

I suppose in the end what we choose to write comes from the harmony of both who we are and what we see. I’ve learned that whether my writing is received as harmony or dischord depends entirely on who’s doing the reading, and no amount of alteration of my “music” will accommodate everyone.

For the record, I’m fine with that. I am a Jazz fan, after all.


Earth Day Interview With Gaia

In celebration of Earth Day I’ve decided to take a moment to sit down with Gaia, the Earth Goddess. Hello, Gaia. Thank you for sitting down with us today.

Oh it’s so good to be here, or anywhere for that matter. And thank you for celebrating Earth Day. It’s a small step towards saving my beautiful creation. So many people are so fucking oblivious to what is happening to this magnificent planet it boggles the mind, so thank you for the opportunity to shed a bit of light.

It’s been an unusually warm winter here in the United States. What do you attribute that to?

Well, I certainly had nothing to do with it despite what Zeus may have told you. He tried to tell me I was just having a primordial hot flash, but he’s almost as stupid about these things as most of the people on the planet.  You people need to get your heads out of your collective asses and get a fucking clue. Do you think that over a century of burning coal and gas while at the same time  cutting down my beautiful trees on a massive scale is having no effect on the atmosphere? If you don’t get your act together soon, the Earth is going to resemble Venus.

The world’s population is about to reach seven billion people. How has this affected Earth as you see it?

It’s making it damn hard for me to see the Earth. You know, almost all of the world’s problems can be attributed to one thing – too many people.  When birth control was invented I thought you’d at least have the good sense to use it. But noooo. And now, people are a planetary problem. At least most of you seem to congregate in the same areas so there are still a few pristine places where you can experience this beautiful planet in all its glory.

You have quite the following among the New Age Hippie crowd. Which do you prefer as worshipers; the Hippies or the Greeks?

Ahhh, the Greeks – the wine, the debauchery, the bacchanalia – I love me a good bacchanalia. But then the Hippies, and not just the new age Hippies, but the old age ones, too, are all about peace and love and sex and getting high and hugging trees and the music.  Yes, I think the music  tips the scale in their favor.

I’ve done some research and discovered that you have over twenty children. Which one is your favorite?

I think it was way more than twenty but I lost count of the little bastards long ago. I know most mothers don’t refer to their offspring as little bastards but I never married any of their fathers, so they were all technically bastards.  Now I’m not going to give you the standard mommy lie of ‘I don’t have a favorite, I love them all the same,’ because that is such a crock of shit. Of course, every mother has a favorite, it’s just that some mothers are better at hiding it than others.  I simply adored Phoebe but Aergia was a huge disappointment.

Which God was the best in the sack?

Ahhh, I had some wild times with Uranus. There was nothing that guy wouldn’t do. And I mean NOTHING. It was SO hot! But he got a little mean in his old age so I got the kids to kill him.  Pontus was so much fun, too. We would do some role playing, the pirate scenario was my favorite – always a hoot.  Zeus had a huge ego, but sadly his manly parts weren’t so big.

How does it feel to be the original MILF?

Fucking fantastic! Though I prefer GILF or Goddess I’d Like to Fuck. There is fucking power in being so fuckable. Every woman deserves to feel like this. I think that’s what all those poser Wicca chicks are trying to achieve by invoking my name and dancing naked under the full moon.

What does Earth’s future hold for mankind?

I think you have that question backwards. It’s more a case of what does mankind’s future hold for the Earth. If you stay on your current path, the Earth is doomed.  Earth is the only fucking planet you have. It is a glorious planet full of beauty and wonder. It can feed you and sustain you. All she asks in return is that you take care of her and nurture her. So get a fucking clue. Recycle, reuse, embrace sustainable farming, find viable sustainable energy,  clean up the place. Tread lightly on the Earth and every now and then hug a tree.

CLICK THE RED BUTTON FOR PAST HOLIDAY ICON INTERVIEWS!!!


Happy Normal Birthday!

Cocktails-2It’s time once again to celebrate our favorite Brit’s birthday, Megan from VeryNormal!

I’ll admit to having a heck of a time trying to figure out how to top last year’s send off, but this year I think I’ve got it covered. When I imagined what I’d likely be doing if I were in England right now,  the answer became instantly clear. Why I’d be drinking, of course. So this year I’ve decided to create a drink specifically for our Megan, and name it accordingly. Ladies and Gentlemen I give you:

The Induced American

Named because you will likely be driving on the wrong side of the road after you knock one of these babies back. Here’s the recipe:

Ingredients (sorry they aren’t metric)

1 very thin sliver habanero pepper (because she is so spicy!)

2 slices fresh ginger root (because I like her with red hair best)

1 1/2 fluid ounces gin (because gin is British)

3/4 fluid ounce lime juice (because…well, because I like lime juice)

1/2 fluid ounce simple syrup (because she is so sweet!)

1 cup ice cubes (just because)

Directions

Muddle habanero pepper slice and 2 slices fresh ginger together in a cocktail shaker until pulverized, about 20 seconds. Add gin, lime juice, simple syrup, and ice. Cover and shake until well chilled. Strain with a fine mesh strainer into a cocktail glass. Garnish with a thin slice of ginger on a toothpick. Drink a toast to Megan and the Queen!

Happy Birthday, Megan! Have a drink for me!

TO WISH MEGAN A HAPPY BIRTHDAY VISIT:

VeryNormal

FOR THE FULL COCKTAIL LIST VISIT:

Archon’s Den

El Guapo

HR Nightmare

Sandylikeabeach


I Prank You Not

In recognition of April Fool’s Day I scored a rare opportunity to sit down with the God of Mischief, Loki.

HE: “Hello Loki. Thank you for taking time out of your busy day to speak with me and my readers.”

LOKI: “Hi.”

HE: “Uh, that’s it? ‘Hi?’”

LOKI: “Well, I’ve got a lot on my plate. You do realize what day this is, right? Nice fucking time management there, Chickie.”

HE: *looking at the calendar* “Well, since it’s April Fool’s Day I am going to assume you are joking.”

LOKI: “You would think so, wouldn’t you?”

HE: “I am guessing that April Fool’s Day is the busiest day of the year for you.”

LOKI: “No, that’d be Valentine’s Day. People say a lot of shit they don’t mean which makes for a lot of lies to distribute. Especially to the men folk.”

HE: “That’s just sad.”

LOKI: “I’ll tell you what’s sad, having a God like Odin as your step-father. Growing up I never did anything right.”

HE: “On that note, tell us about your childhood.”

LOKI: “What’s there to tell? I was always in trouble since my dickhead brother Thor is a cock-blocking douchebag. I got him back good by convincing Odin that his perfect son wasn’t worthy of living in Asgard so he kicked him out. Now I got the big bedroom.”

HE: “Holy crap! How did you manage that?”

LOKI: “Let’s just say I hid some of our Mother’s more “intimate apparel” in his sock drawer. You do the math.”

HE: “It seems pranking and lying started at an early age. Have any of your lies ever backfired on you?”

LOKI: *laughs maniacally* “No, but the truth sure has.”

HE: “Alright, you’ve GOT to elaborate on that.”

LOKI: “Well, my mouth gets me into trouble, you see. One Thanksgiving I got ripped on Jager and told my whole family off, including my two ex-wives. Every word I spoke was the truth, but it didn’t change the fact I had to transform into a fish and hide in a river to get away from them. Shoulda just stuck to lying.”

HE: “You are known world wide for your practical jokes and pranks. Which prank do you consider your masterpiece?”

LOKI: “Pranks change with the times. I had a blast fucking with the Druids by stacking a bunch of rocks for no reason and then there were those IT virgins who blew their wads worrying about Y2K. That one was a double bonus because it also got the Military’s panties in a bunch sweating random nuclear missile launches. But I’d have to say that the best has yet to come.”

HE: “Come on, give us a hint.”

LOKI: “Uh…I’ll just say to keep a watch out for December 21, 2012.”

HE: “Are all the pranks you do so grand or do you work on a more personal level with the public?”

LOKI: “At times I like to dabble in the everyday, like when one sock goes missing or when you ‘accidently’ hit Reply All on that email where you trash your boss. But remember, I still have to make a living. Right now I am the major shareholder in Pfizer, a pharmaceutical company that manufactures a little, blue pill.”

HE: “Are there any pranks you regret?”

LOKI: “Non-Alcoholic beer and Star Trek. Never thought anyone would take that shit seriously.”

HE: “What is the one thing you would like the world to know about Loki?”

LOKI: “That I am everywhere. I am a shape shifter, after all. That woman you meet in the bar that is too good to be true? She probably is. Just sayin’.”

Return April 7th  for our exclusive interview with The Easter Bunny!!!


It’s the Easter Bunn–uh…Wallaby?

Spring has finally sprung, and with it our interview with everyone’s childhood favorite, the Easter Bunny.

Determined to get an interview with this elusive holiday icon, I cornered him in his underground den and discovered something I’d not expected. I open today’s interview with the question that should have been asked ages ago:

HE: Say…you aren’t really a bunny, are you?

EB: Well Maybe it is time to come clean, if you wanna call me a Bunny go ahead but being a Bunny is not very useful when you deliver eggs is it! I am a Wallaby, you see, I can put all the eggs in my pouch and then I don’t have to go back and forth with my basket. I am all about convenience, you know what I mean.

HE: What made you decide to color and hide eggs?

EB: Shots. In my College years (I did not do much studying) my friends and I enjoyed colorful shots. So I now pick colors by having a shot, coloring an egg, different coloured shot, and different colored eggs. The hiding part is a long story about my friend and his … well it’s a long story.


HE: How do you feel about children eating chocolate likenesses of you?

EB: As we have just been through, I am not a Bunny, never will be because it will never be practical! So the Kiddywinks can eat as many chocolate bunnies as they please.                        


HE: How do you feel about sharing a holiday with Jesus?

EB: My mum once told me that story, I did not really understand it, and I mean it’s a bit gloomy for a Holiday all about the Kids, you know? Plus to me, chocolate crosses would be awful to make and color, all that blood and gore is for Halloween, not my holiday.


HE: Is there more than one Easter Bunny?
EB: If you call me a Bunny one more time, you will be getting nothing! And no, I am the one and the only, mostly because nobody likes the low pay and low hours. I wish sometimes that I had maybe an Easter Camel, so I could pack even more eggs or a Donkey, Donkeys can carry a lot of stuff, even pregnant women I have heard.


HE: Did you want to be an Easter Bunny when you were a kid…uh, a joey?

EB: No, as I have said I went to College, I just didn’t do well, this was my fall back, I wanted to be a Football Mascot but I do not think there is much call for a Wallaby, maybe if I was a Dolphin or A Ram! I mean have you ever heard of a Wallaby before today?! Do you even know what I look like?!


HE: What do you do when you aren’t hiding eggs?

EB: Nothing, I drink, I try and think of new ideas for next year but with 5 joeys at home and one on the way, thinking does not happen a lot.

Thank you, Easter Bun–Wallaby, for this timely and insightful interview. Return April 22nd as we celebrate Earth Day with none other that Gaia herself!


Hellis In Love – A Romantic Monday Offering

RandyPan_220wHello Everyone, it’s me, Hellis, live and in person. Well, in spirit. I’ve been away from our little corner of this virtual Utopia we call Blogworld because I’ve been spending time with the new love of my life. Yes, people I am in love, and have decided to use Edward Hotspur’s ROMANTIC MONDAY post as an opportunity to introduce him to my world.

The latest object of my affection is a man like no other; he is fun-loving, free-spirited and young at heart. His childlike innocence attracted me immediately and before I knew it I was hooked. Today I’d like to introduce you to the man who captured my heart and is sure to steal yours. Without further ado I give you…Randy Pan.

peter_stand_largeNow, before some of you start sending emails to a certain tall, SciFi-loving Cowboy let me explain. Randy isn’t your ordinary, everyday Pan-fan. He’s living his dream everyday in a way that shames me as a writer. It took me a year to work up the testicular fortitude to query agents with my GOA novel while this guy was laying it all out there for the world to see. There was no fear of judgment or harassment on his part. He exposed his life and his soul in an act of bravery that humbles me. And while I will admit that it is taking every bit of self-control to not mock the living shit out of this guy; I have decided a better use of my time would be to honor him here.

So here’s to you, Randy Pan. May your tights not chafe, may your loafers be light, and may every jock who beat you down in high school scratch himself to death because of a raging, unchecked venereal disease.

peter_flies2_adj_680h

For more Romantic Monday Posts visit Edward Hotspur


CAPRICORN – The Insipid Wanker of the Blogosphere

capricorn

12zodiacsigns.wordpress.com

Due to the all the recent January birthdays being celebrated around blogworld (including my own) I’ve decided to draw a parallel between various bloggers (mommy bloggers, sports bloggers) and their coordinating astrological signs. I plan on doing one of these each month for each sign so stick around and see just how close I get to yours.

Today I begin with my own sign which is:

Capricorn

Here is a brief overview of Capricorns in all their glory:

  • They tend to lecture other people about life and how to survive it.
  • They are hard-workers and status seekers.
  • Often mistakenly viewed as “elitists.”
  • Capricorns treat their friends very well and, in some cases, even prefer they company to that of anyone else.
  • Capricorns are deep, mysterious and full of intrigue and there always seems to be something going on in their minds.

Ah, yes…Capricorn. The answer to the question nobody asked.

We’re the bloggers who always have something witty and insightful to say, whether you wanted to hear it or not. We’ve asked all the right questions, know all the right answers and have little time or patience for your opinion on the matter (although secretly we love when you leave comments that allow us to show off our verbal acuity). 

Most of us are ambitious enough to write at least one blog post a day, sometimes more, but never on the same topic. We wax poetic about everything. We enjoy mocking the status quo more than regurgitating it because really, where is the challenge in that? And speaking of challenges, we are all about winning- even in blogworld. We Capricorns believe WordPress should have a little box dedicated just to us and our blog posts. I mean, come on? Who is better at writing anything than we are? Am I right? Am I?

Alright, let’s move on to love and relationships. Here’s what the interwebs have to say about Capricorn men:

“While a Capricorn male might display what could be termed as an aggressive behavior when it comes to getting what he wants, beneath that façade is a shy and introverted guy. Don’t misinterpret his shyness as being disinterested. He just doesn’t know how to express his emotions without feeling self-conscious in the process.”

Apparently the Universe has decided that all date-rapists are to be born between December and January. Not being one to judge, let’s hear what the interwebs have got to say about us Capricorn women:

“You want to love and be loved, but when the feeling starts to blossom, something always seems to stop you from acknowledging it and pursuing it.”

I KNOW WHAT YOU’RE ALL THINKING AND YOU’RE WRONG! THEY’RE TALKING ABOUT LOVE, I’M TELLING YOU! LOVE!

Perverts.

It is widely accepted in astrological circles that the best mate for any particular zodiac sign is to be paired with one of his or her own kind. That being said, astrologists everywhere are in agreement that the WORST romantic pairing for a Capricorn is…

Oh…crap.

So in conclusion, I’ll sum up my evaluation of the Blogger Capricorn with this synopsis of our sign:

“Capricorn has a certain exclusive side to its nature, often preferring to associate itself with people it deems worthy.”

In other words, we know we’re the shit, but we think you are too.

Stay tuned next month for AQUARIUS – THE REBEL WITHOUT A CLUE.


HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME!

Yes, you are correct, it is my birthday. I know this to be true because I follow Edward Hotspur’s blog and El Guapo’s blog and Ginger’s blog and Sandy’s blog (as well as kind email wishes from Trask Avenue, LeClown, and many a sweet comment from my good friends John E. and PMAO). All better blogs than mine, because quite honestly I completely forgot it was my birthday until I read them. Wait…more to the truth I forgot again that it was my birthday since my kick-arse British friend Megan wished me a Happy Birthday the night before (suck it, HR and Elias. She beat you to it).

It’s been through these good people that I’ve made even more friends today, and perhaps have even sold a book or two. That being said, I am not sure mere words can describe what all your birthday wishes mean to me. Without knowing me personally, you may not understand what a Dickensian upbringing I had, and how kind words and well wishes I never received as a child mean the world to me now. You have all become my family, and I am grateful for each and every one of you. Thank you for sharing my day.

hebday


Edward Hotspur and the Rainbow Pissing Unicorns

rainbowunicornHELP!!!

Is there someone out there?

Can anybody read this?

It’s me, Hellis, texting from deep inside a crawlspace under a house somewhere in Ohio. I don’t know how long I’ve been here or even how I got here. All I know for sure is that Edward Hotspur is not who or what you think he is. He’s something else entirely; something…evil.

My battery is dying and I am growing weaker by the moment so I have decided to use my last blog post to tell the tale of what happened to me, hoping others might avoid the same cruel fate.

It all started a year ago when I asked Edward Hotspur what his attraction to rainbow pissing unicorns was. I mean, there were pics of them all over his blog, so surely they had meaning to him, right? Yeah, well, my curiosity was my first mistake.

He answered innocently enough, stating that this was merely an expression of his quirky sense of humor. I told him I found the pictures humorous as well, and thus began our friendship. It wasn’t long before we were trading emails of pics we’d find on the net, each one more absurd than the one that came before.

ruwallThen came that fateful day when EH would invite me to his home to see his collection of Rainbow Pissing Unicorn figurines. I knew Ohio was far away, but come on people, how could I resist? I mean, who has a collection of Rainbow Pissing Unicorns? Am I right?

Once in Ohio he showed me around his “lair” decorated from floor to ceiling with Rainbow Pissing Unicorn figurines, all hand-crafted from what he described as “bone” china. After viewing his collection he offered me tea which I drank willingly. Soon I felt light-headed and queasy, and the world began to spin in one giant, rainbow swirl. The next thing I knew I woke up here, in a crawlspace, with only a view of his lair through a tiny gap in the floorboards above my head.

Wait…I hear him coming. I can just make out him setting a giant pot of water to boil. Damn, he’s moved out of sight…I can still hear him though…singing to himself as he…he…sharpens something….

OH…

MY…

GOD…

CLICK BELOW TO SAVE ME OR

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CLICK TO START FROM THE BEGINNING…

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