Friday, 29 June 2012

Things That Make Me Go...

..................*headtilt* …really?
·        People friending me on Facebook while blocking their info so I can’t find out anything about them. Why would I friend someone I don’t know without knowing a thing about them? That’s just…weird. And potentially dangerous.
·        People who follow my very obviously m/m author and reader Goodreads page and private message me with promotions for their het romance books. Just…what?
·        The man who scooped his dog’s poop into a plastic bag, carried it two blocks, then dumped it out of the bag into the ditch beside my house, directly across the street from the poop-scoop receptacle at the park. We even have a special garbage can with a lid for this function in our park (Though I don't envy the city employee who gets the job of emptying that sucker!) I don’t know the man. I don’t know the dog. Ok, and I confess, that one maybe made me say a few choicer things than “really?”
·        Oh! Or the woman who chastised her two yr old for picking the daisies in the park, but said nary a word when the kid wandered into my yard and proceeded to pick mine out of my garden. (Won’t even mention the fact that the woman didn’t cross the street with the girl) Next thing you know, they’ll be helping themselves to the peas and tomatoes.
·        The 200 lb garbage man overheard saying “Oh! I wonder how we missed that!” after he didn’t deign to hop off the back of the garbage truck to get the bag of garbage that had slipped into the ditch, even though he clearly looked right at it and decided not to pick it up until my 80 lb 12-yr-old daughter went out and set it daintily on the curb and the driver backed up so they could collect it. And the guy heaved it in the back of the truck with both hands like it weighed more than he did.
·        The jerk wad who races from 0-60 clicks between every stop sign on our street, on which is situated a primary school, an assisted living home for mentally challenged adults, a busy convenience store and a park, not to mention about thirty residential homes.

And finally, returning home from work after picking up groceries, then getting yelled at for helping my son understand his English work (I'm sorry, who's the writer again? Oh! Right. That would ME!) and being asked what I'm making for dinner. REALLY???????

Thank Goodness it's Friday. All I have to say....

So? What are the things that make you wantto smack someone upside the head? Share!

Thursday, 28 June 2012

Life In The House Lane

by Liz Crowe

Pretend for a moment that you are at that oh-so-tender age, that perfect moment in time when you are buying your first home. You have the “house buying for dummies” book memorized. You scour Zillow daily. You attend open houses religiously. You obsess over mortgage rates, have DVR’d every episode of “Flip This House,” and have stopped just short of getting your own real estate license, you know, to pay yourself the commission.  Because you have worked so damn hard on your own behalf, why pay someone else?


During my 8 years as a fairly successful real estate agent (NOTE: do not say “Realtor” or the National Association of Same will climb all up in your sh*t) there were many amusing-slash-frustrating moments.  The buyers who insisted on bringing both their screaming children and their smelly, yappy dog in my car and into every single house spring to mind. The perpetual Lookie-Lous. The Porch Pissers who honestly believed I had not a single thing better to do than to drop everything and show them 10 or even 20 houses in a weekend for fun.  Oh—Oh and yeah, my favorite decision-making-disabled buyers who would leap, sign offers, only to back away (three times) and slink into their apartment only to emerge a few months later with a fresh mortgage pre-approval.

As a real estate agent, every single potential human with a pulse who walks through your virtual door means a payday.  You are trained and obligated to treat them all the same—offer the same level of service and hopefully close a deal, you know so you can pay your own mortgage.  It is horrifically frustrating, I won’t kid you.

But my favorite clients of all are the ones who think they can do your job with their eyes closed, a hand behind their back and sipping coffee with the other.  These folks were the bane of my real estate existence and thanks to the world wide web, their numbers are only increasing.  Buying (or selling) a house requires perseverance, real market knowledge (the kind that means you have actually SEEN some of the houses that have sold), marketing skills, boatloads of patience, a sense of humor, and map reading skills.  It also demands organization, being networked to lenders, builders and other contractors and that you have a working knowledge of mortgage loan process---plus that you can actually read a closing statement.
No, it is no rocket science, brain surgery or even beer brewing (!). But it is not easy either. The road to success is littered with the carcasses of those who claimed “Hey, I think I’ll sell houses. That looks easy and damn are those commission checks huge.” 

The Stewart Realty series makes real estate sexy…just ask Just Erotic Romance Reviews with gave the entire series 5 stars and the middle book (Sweat Equity) a “gold star” AND The Romance Reviews which made Sweat Equity a “Top Pick” and claimed that the 2nd book was the “Best book she has read so far this year.”

Jack Gordon is That Guy—extraordinarily successful, a millionaire thanks to his own hard work and perseverance and ability to ignore the assholes who think they can do his job for him. 
Here is a little taste—the series trailer that was featured on the USA Today Happily Ever After blog a few weeks ago. 

So the next time you decide to buy or sell the biggest investment you are likely to ever make, trust me. Trust it to a Realtor. Yes I said the word. Maybe you’ll get lucky and Jack will give you a tour around….
Buy the series folks are kinda sorta buzzing about and see for yourself:

Tuesday, 26 June 2012

All you have to do... make enough money for us to live on, and I'll do the rest, he says. I'm confused. I know I go on and on about what a sweet deal I have, but I was going over my schedule for today, and listen to this:

5:40 am Wake up, shower, make a lunch, eat breakfast and get ready for day job.
6:10 am: Leave the house to catch the bus.
6:22 am: Board bus, ride to work
Yeah Baby!!!! That's what I'm talking about!
6:34 am: Arrive to coffee shop, refrain from weeping all over poor lady who served me coffee FINALLY!!!!! because there was no coffee an no cream to make some before I left the house.
7:05 am: Make it to desk, only five minutes late, because everyone and their fr-enemy at work wanted to know where my new desk is and what workflow I'll be doing and how hard is it? (No idea, I'm only in my second day of training. Give a girl a break)
7:12 am: seek out new boss and tell her I know it's only my second day, and I'm still in training, but my son has a dentist appointment and I have to leave early. (She's a dear. She said yes)
7:37 am: wander with the rest of the newbies to the training room and promptly nod off.
8:17 am: clean drool of desk and try to find where in blazes on the system we are working....blah.
10:00 am: Finally break for more coffee. Thank GOD! Quickly dash off a few emails and check edits haven't arrived from publisher. No edits. Breathe deep. Either there's nothing much to do, and they're working on other stuff, or there's so much, it's taking them forever to figure out what the hell my story is about. DON'T PANIC. (wish I had a towel...)
11:32 am: realize it's another hour until lunch break and slip out of training room to find foods before I starve.
12:35: LUNCH at last. gulp down yummy food, think happy thoughts of hubby who made yummy food for me. Text him. Find out he forgot to tell me the appointment time changed, and I have to leave work an hour earlier than planned or talked about with new boss. Think less happy thoughts about forgetful hubby.
12:47 pm: locate new boss, explain problem, and realize as I'm doing so that an 'hour earlier than planned' is...NOW. (I like my new boss. She was very nice about the whole thing)
1:23 pm: catch buss towards home to pick up boy for dentist, frantically text hubby to bring laptop and sunglasses, and to find out where I'm supposed to meet them.
1:29 pm: realize I was suppose to meet them at the library stop. Two stops ago. Get off buss and walk in sweltering heat and sun with no sunglasses for four blocks, get to library, find they haven't even left the house yet.
1:43 pm: Meet family, exchange lunch bag and sweat for laptop, son, but no sunglasses. They have mysteriously disappeared.
2:02 pm: Board bus only to discover boy forgot his bus pass: scrounge for change. Forget to get him a transfer.
2:20 pm: beg next bus driver to have mercy and grant amnesty for forgotten transfer ticket. She relents. Nice bus driver.
3:00 pm: arrive at dentist, break out laptop, and work while waiting for appointment. All goes well. No cavities, too soon to talk about braces. The bank account is relatively safe for another year.
4:00 pm: arrive downtown, decide to stop for beer and coffee.
4:25 pm: realize we've missed last close bus by five minutes, and now have to walk three blocks to get home.
4:47 pm: text hubby to send reinforcements to carry groceries, and inform him we are starving.
5:01 pm: arrive home to find hubby lying down in cool bedroom waiting for us. No dinner. No cold beer. Think unhappy thoughts about rested hubby as I make my own dinner.
6:05 pm: Hubby asks to use laptop, and do I want him to save my files. Yes, of course, GOD yes, please do. Watch as he clicks "no" in answer to the questions "Do you want to save the file "Christmas story?" Dare not think any thoughts about Hubby at all right this moment lest they be murderous ones.
6:06 pm: warn hubby he'd best leave the house for a little while. No, REALLY. Go. take the laptop to the garage, just don't be in my line of sight right this minute.
6:07 pm: decide to watch Bunheads with the girl and eat chips and drink beer.
8:09 pm: make my way to computer to re-write all the words written at the dentist that got lost. Find hubby has taken my computer mouse.
8:11 pm: retrieve Mouse. 'nuff said.
11:52 pm: sigh a breath of relief. 1487 words written, better than the first time, and I. Am. Done.
11:54 pm: realize I can't go to bed yet. Still have to write a blog post. Fuck.
12:17: finish blog post.
12:30  crawl into bed, realize it's too late to do anything but sleep.

Tomorrow? Once more, from the top.

(Someone told me today to "[write a blog post] about women who work at a dream (say, writing) when they have other responsibilities (say, family and an Evil Day Job) and do it with grace and humor. Cause, you know, that would be something you'd know about ;-) ")

If I do anything with either grace, or humour, it's because of friends like this, who make comments like that, even when I know they know I lose my cool, just like everybody else, and yet, they still see the good and chose to remind me I'm not a complete nut case. (or, they join me in the nuttiness, which also works) Love you to pieces, Amy.

So. what's everyone else up to tomorrow? Oh. Wait. Later today. Right.

Monday, 25 June 2012

Movie Review: Secretary


Steven Shainberg


Erin Cressida Wilson (screenplay)Mary Gaitskill(short story)and 2 more credits »

So, first of all, when I watched this movie, I didn't realize it is ten years old. Not that it changes a whole lot, other than making the whole "We don't use computers here." a teeny, tiny bit less ridiculous. That makes Mr. Gray's character more eccentric and less full on crazy, I suppose. I doubt you could even run a paralegal office without a computer these days.

So anyway, the fact she has to type everything up on a typewriter is kind of essential to the plot, so I had to just suspend my disbelief on that and move on.

Maggie Gyllenhaal's character, Lee: Well, she played her well, but it took me a long time to warm up to her. She was a very washed-out, bland, weak woman, which was totally the point of her, and I can appreciate that Gyllenhaal played that aspect of her very well. I felt she stayed that way a little too long, though. When she finally stepped up, though, I was pleased to see she didn't for a moment hide what she wanted or hesitate to accept it. I liked that a lot. She grew from a frightened woman, full of fear and shame, into a strong submissive not even a bit uncertain about what she wanted or needed in her lover.

Mr. Gray was a dick. I wanted to slap him. Sure, okay, he was conflicted and uncertain and he had a hard time accepting that he wasn't actually a perverted predator, but it took him so bloody long and Lee had to go through so much torture at his hands (or, more to the point, torture from him keeping his hands to himself) that I just got mad at him and was actually pleased when she made up her mind to find someone else. That shouldn't happen in a romance story, no matter how kinky it gets. I shouldn't want the heroine to find someone other than the hero to be with. At the point I found myself hoping that Lee really did move on and find herself a man worthy of her surrender, I realized the story had become about her and her growth, and not about the romantic relationship. So I wanted her to find a man worthy of her who could keep her safe and happy.

She didn't.

She fought for the man she loved and eventually convinced him that she wanted what he had to offer and that she not only accepted him and loved him, but needed him to be what he was. So yes, she manned up and convince him. But he didn't deserve her. At least I wasn't convinced he did, and that's bad in a romance story and worse in a Dom/sub romance.

If you can't convince me the Dom deserves every once of that sub's surrender, I you're not doing it right. In the end, Mr Gray left me cold, and that was sad.

A few of the scenes I really loved?

The scene in the park when Lee is walking home form work for the first time, after Mr' Gray has told her she won't cut herself any more and she can walk home on her own. She talks about how she can't remember ever walking home alone, and how she doesn't feel alone because it feels like he is holding her as she goes. It might seem like a simple thing to agree to do what he told her to do, but for Lee, it was a very big deal to let him dictate those terms. That one scene showed the essence of the relationship, and I just wish he had lived up to her faith in him. He almost didn't, step up, and that would have been a tragedy.

Bathroom Etiquette

by Olivia Starke

As I’ve mentioned before in past rants, I work in retail. A job that requires nerves of steel, the patience of a saint, and a cast iron stomach.An iron stomach?you wonder in confusion. What could folding T-shirts and straightening cans on shelves have to do with being able to keep breakfast down? One word the BATHROOM.
Kneel before the Porcelain Goddess 

The majority of us (not all, but most) were potty trained by kindergarten at the very least. And basic potty training involves us being able to hit the toilet. Sure, an easy job for us gals, a little trickier for men, but we master it. Until we walk into a public restroom, then all bets are off and it’s a free for all.
I’ve come to the conclusion that there are some men in town who believe touching their penis to aim is a sin against God. After all, they ARE only a few wanks away from masturbation, and I imagine the temptation would be nearly irresistible in a stark bathroom barely bigger than a closet. The result:  pee on the toilet, pee on the walls, pee on the floor.

Maybe we should throw a Cheerio into the toilet, make hitting it a game and distract them from their lascivious thoughts….

And this isn’t relegated to men, I’ve had to clean up after women who’ve accomplished the same feat.
Then there are those in town who fear going number two in their own homes, lest their entire family die from the noxious fumes. Therefore, they come to the store solely to use the bathroom. Mind you, we provide a can of Lysol spray, and the overhead light has a fan installed, both of which they refuse to use. And if we’re really lucky, they leave us a special surprise.
C.H.U.D. II was filmed entirely in our bathroom. Or it could’ve been.

Needless to say, I spray bleach cleaner over the toilet seat and scrub the hell out of it every time I use the bathroom.
I’m particularly impressed with those who believe flushing the toilet will result in a catastrophic vortex of doom.
Ninety percent of all tornadoes are caused by irresponsible flushing….

And don’t get me started on the few times we’ve had to close the bathroom to the public.
There was much wailing and gnashing of teeth.

The moral of this story is when using a public restroom facility be courteous of others and above all, the poor sad souls who have to clean up after you. If your bathroom habits are akin to an unhousebroken puppy who’s eaten a bowl of laxatives PLEASE DO YOUR BUSINESS AT HOME.

Olivia Starke

Buy Dreaming in Blue HERE

Blind since childhood, Sierra is satisfied with her success as a relationship therapist. Contacting 1Night Stand is an outlet for her physical needs, or so she tells herself. When she meets Daniel, the chemistry sizzles, but a single parent with a child has the terrifying potential to disrupt her orderly life.

After losing his wife in a fire three years before that left him terribly scarred, Daniel has focused on raising his young daughter and little else. Meeting Sierra through 1Night Stand is a way to step back into the world. And he definitely can’t deny the instant attraction.
Mind blowing sex isn’t the only thing these two share. And when they find out what it is, it’ll change their lives forever.

Wednesday, 20 June 2012

Motherf@#!&ing Stress

by Valerie Mann

I guess you can tell I’m a little stressed right now. I’ve had some days lately when it sucks to be me and more crap gets heaped on the shit pile when I'm not looking. But one thing I’ve learned in the Game of Lifethere can be lots of curve balls, tackles and blows to the head. And there is only one thing you can do:


If you find another, more productive solution other than dealing with it (one that doesn’t involve a shot glass) I’m all ears. But here’s what I’ve found has helped me the most.

     1.   Bitch to your friends. A good friend has a wonderful ability to just listen, maybe offer some advice, or know when keeping her mouth shut is good logic. And in the Game of Life, chances are you will be returning that favor.

     2.   If someone offers help, TAKE IT.  I don’t accept favors easily. But I’m learning.

         3.   Eat chocolate. Or cookies. Chocolate cookies are a two-fer. Indulge.

         4.    Read or watch a movie. Take time for yourself. My friends know I love going to the movies. Oftentimes, it’s not the movie so much as the dark theater and the escape for two hours that the movie provides. It’s a little sad that the kids who work at the local indie theater know me now and that I like a diet Coke with no ice and popcorn with butter.  The point is, find something to take your mind off your problems. Sure, the problems will still be there when you come back to reality, but that mini-vacation is so worth it.

        5.   Exercise. Those who know me are laughing. I hate exercise. Seriously though, a walk around your neighborhood isn’t exercise, it’s not even hard work. But it will get your blood flowing and you may even meet neighbors you didn’t know. Case in point: our black cat, Turbo, loves to walk with us. Evidently, he’s quite the social butterfly because people on the other side of our subdivision told us they knew him. Or rather, their dog did. What a wonderful way to meet new faces! Sort of.

        6.   I’m not a shopper but hey, if it’s retail therapy that gets you through, by all means, take advantage of the opportunities life gives you.

        7.   Strangle your children. Oops, sorry, bad typo.

        8.   Laughter is the best medicine. Find something to laugh at. There is humor everywhere.

        9.   Hang in there. And remember, there is always someone who is way worse off than you could even imagine. Be glad you aren't dealing with THAT!

Tuesday, 19 June 2012

Arsenic, a tale of witchcraft and humor

Today, Terri Talley Venters brings a humorous short story. This was supposed to go up yesterday, but time ran away from me. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did.



Terri Talley Venters

Penelope stood in the attic of her ancestral home. She loved the hexagon-shaped stained glass window which dominated the top floor. She stood at the antique wooden podium and looked down at a group of tourists gawking at her home. She wondered if they knew how close they were to getting cursed today.

Penelope opened her spell book with the utmost respect, just as her mother, grandmother, and great-grandmother had done before her. Penelope put the finishing touches on her love potion and raised her arms above her head. She recited the words from her spell book, enjoying the ritual of her craft. It surprised her to run out of the potion so quickly. She kicked herself for not brewing the love potion in bulk sooner than today. But with Valentine's Day coming up, the orders poured in. With word of mouth increasing her sales dramatically, she barely scrounged enough ingredients together to make her final batch.

She heard a knock at her door. Are you kidding me? She closed her spell book and covered it with the black, embroidered silk cloth. She descended two flights of stairs, growing impatient with each subsequent knock her visitor delivered. If he only knew who lived here.

Penelope checked her appearance in the foyer mirror, her long black hair hung straight against her tall slender frame. Her creamy white complexion made her mismatched eyes stand out. Although most believed her one blue eye and one green eye made her a freak, Penelope knew it a sign she inherited the strongest powers of Witchcraft. Her family prayed to birth girls carrying the blue eye/green eye trait.

"Good afternoon, ma'am. Are you Penelope Manchester?" the man asked, tipping his hat like a Southern Gentleman.

"Yes, I am," she said, admiring his good manners. Maybe he knew, after all?

"My name is James Toliver, identification 1975690. I'm an agent with the Internal Revenue Service," he said.

"You're with the IRS?" Penelope asked.

"Yes, ma'am. Our office made several attempts to contact you. I've telephoned and sent letters, but I haven't received a response. I'm glad to see you are alive and well, ma'am. But I hope to schedule a time to meet with you to discuss various tax matters," he said.

"Sure, now is as good of a time as any. Please, won't you come in?" Penelope said, only because he acted so nice to her.

"Thank you, ma'am. You have a lovely home," James said, entering the enormous mansion and marveling at its exorbitant furnishings and decor.

"Thank you. Would you like a cup of tea?" Penelope asked.

"I'd love some, if it's no trouble, of course," he said.

"Excuse me while I put the kettle on," Penelope said, disappearing into the kitchen. She returned to the living room where the agent waited. "How did you find out about me?"

"When I audited a friend of yours, he tried to deduct your spell casting services from his income. He showed me a receipt for $5,000. Did Kyle Smith pay you to curse someone? He said it was a necessary expense for his business," the agent said.

"Oh, yes, I remember Kyle. Did he tell you if it worked?" Penelope asked.

"I didn't ask. That's not my job. I have a copy of your tax returns for the last several years, and I'd like to ask you a few questions," the agent said, his tone turned harsher.

"My CPA, Terri, prepares my taxes. All of my income derives from my great-great-grandmother's Dynasty trust," Penelope said.

"Yes, I can see, your taxable income exceeds over five-million dollars each year. But I'm afraid you're not reporting all of your income," James said.

"I don't understand, I pay over a million dollars in taxes every year. How much more do you want?" Penelope asked. She hated to pay the government so much money, especially after the way the authorities treated her ancestors.

"Do you earn money from your potions and spell casting services?" James asked.

"I suppose, but it's nothing compared to the income I receive from my trust fund," Penelope said.

"I'm afraid you must pay taxes on your income derived from all sources. However, your accountant can deduct your costs related to your, uh, business," James said.

"I have to pay taxes on the money I make from Witchcraft?" Penelope asked, trying to control her anger.

"I'm afraid so," James said. He turned his head towards the kitchen as the tea kettle whistled.

"Excuse me while I see to your tea," Penelope said.

She hurried to the kitchen and removed the boiling water from the stove. She poured the steaming water in the tea pot, feeling furious at the nerve of this man. Taxing my Witchcraft income? Seriously?

Penelope took the back stairs straight to the attic, carrying her teapot with her. She retrieved her dark magic spell book from the bookshelf and blew off the dust. Her family only practiced good magic, but they made exceptions for demons and bad people. This man fell under the latter.

She found a potion she never used before and lacked confidence in its success. She scrounged the required ingredients together and placed them in the steaming pot of tea. Penelope lit a candle and raised her arms above her head as she read the words to cast the spell.

As she closed the pages of her ancestral spell book, she added a sprinkle of arsenic to the Tax Man's tea, just to be sure.

~ ~ ~


Lilly Allen has brains, beauty, and a trust fund. She's living in New York City and her career as a reporter is taking off. She's hoping the love of her life, Grier, will propose soon. She has it all, or so she thinks.

Grier Garrison, Create Life executive, is running the company while his father, Dr. Michael Garrison, is in the ICU awaiting a heart transplant. Grier knows the truth about Create Life and its shady side business. He fears Lilly and her twin brother, Luke, are in danger.

While working on two unrelated stories, stolen newborns and cloning, Lilly discovers a shocking connection. Horrific things are happening, but who is behind it all?


Terri received her Bachelor's degree in Accounting and Master's degree in Taxation from the University of Florida. She is a licensed CPA and a Second Degree Black Belt in Taekwondo. She lives in St. Augustine, Florida, with her husband, Garrison, and their two sons.

Carbon Copy is the first thrilling novel in the Elements of Mystery Series. The title of each novel will contain an element from the Periodic Table of Elements. Terri recently finished writing Tin Roof, the sequel to Carbon Copy, coming soon fromWild Child Publishing. And Terri's romantic/suspense novel, Body of Gold, is coming soon from Freya's Bower. For more about Terri's upcoming releases, please visit her website

On the first of each month, Terri also posts free short stories on her blog. Follow her at as she weaves her way through the Periodic Table of Elements.

Friday, 15 June 2012

The queen who wished for non-creeping panties--a silly story

Once upon a time, there lived a queen in a far away, or not so far away, land who was happy with her life. She had a loving family, a roof over her head (although she did wish for a maid, a personal chef, and a masseuse), loving cats (or as loving as cats can be), and food on the table. Only one thing truly marred her happiness: she yearned for her younger days when panties stayed put, were cheaper, and lasted longer than it took her to wash her hands. Alas, her current panties crept up her buttocks and into her crack multiple times a day. This, of course, happened at the the most inopportune times (eg. in a crowded aisle of a grocery store, walking down a busy street, while in line at the DMV, etc.) How could she pick them out in such places? She could not without looking gauche. And this really burned her buns (although not literally.)

So, she turned first to one of her subjects her male cat Ebony and said, “Ebony, I command you to go out into the world and find me panties that do not creep.”

Ebony looked up at her from his all important task of cleaning himself and blinked his big golden eyes as if to say, “Who do you think you are to command me, wench?”

The queen knew when he was in one of those moods, there was no talking to him. So, she tried her sweet female kitty Patches and said, “Patches, I command you to go out into the world and find me panties that do not creep.”

Patches purred at the sound of her name, but did not move. Matter of fact, she yawned and closed her eyes, settling into one of her many naps.

The queen sighed in frustration. What good was being queen of her little spot of land if she could not get her subjects to obey her? Asking her daughter would not work. Her daughter was too young and still enjoyed the benefits of panties that did not creep because whoever made princess underwear knew what they were doing. Their panties stayed where they were supposed to. Asking the king to find panties that did not creep would result in him buying butt floss. She did not want butt floss. She wanted panties that did not creep. Now, technically, butt floss did not creep because it was already where she didn’t want it to be! (g)

So, out into the world, the queen went. Everywhere she looked, she found creeping panties. They crawled across butts, sidewalks, buildings, and up stairs. They flew through the sky. They floated on the water. It was a nightmare of creeping panties. Finally, she walked into a store and found some panties that claimed to stay put and never creep for the duration of the panties' lifetime.

“Hallelujah!” the queen sang and proceeded to buy 20 pairs in her size.

Hurrying home, she rushed to wash and dry them. As she waited, she threw her old, creeping panties into the trash. And the new panties did not creep, but they cut into her legs until she thought they would fall off. Yet now she no longer had her old panties she had to wear the new ones. Sighing in defeat, she bowed to the inevitable and wore the uncomfortable, stay put panties.

A few months passed, and contrary to the claim, the panties began to creep. The queen did not know whether to weep for joy or weep in frustration. Her legs were much happier, but her butt was not.

With resignation, she realized this was one of the many conundrums of the Universe, one that might never be solved… at least not in the current try-to-convert-all-women-to-wear-butt-floss-by-wearing-them-down-with-creeping-panties climate.

Being the contrary person that she was, the queen refused. Some day, she would find truly comfortable panties that did not creep. Until that time, she’d wear what she had.

And thus ends our story... for now, anyway. (g)

Wednesday, 13 June 2012

Childhood Road Trips

The other evening, Charlie, Lily and I ate out at Fat Burger. While not the most nutritious dinner, we do this only every so often. Well, Lily spied another little girl about the same age with her father. You know how kids are at this age. There is a friend around every corner. It's wonderful and makes me kind of jealous, but it's great fun to watch. Anyway, as we left, Lily said, "Mommy, did you know her name?" I shook my head. "Her name was Catalina."

I've never met anyone named Catalina, but it evoked memories of my father and the many car trips we went on. When I was a young whippersnapper, we didn't have DVD players, iPods, iPads, smart phones, laptops, or anything else electronic that could entertain us. We had to use the old standbys: songs, games, and books. (Or sleep. If it was really long and we'd grown tired of everything else, we slept. :) )

But I digress. LOL

The girl's name reminded me of this song my father taught us called "Catalina Madelina Rubensteina Walnedina Hogan Bogan Logan was her name." Yes, that was the title, or at least that's what we thought it was. And it was a great silly song to pass the time. These are the lyrics I remember:

Chorus (sung between every verse):

Catalina Madelina Rubensteina Walnedina Hogan Bogan Logan was her name.


1. She had twenty hairs on the top of her head. Ten were alive and ten were dead.

2. She had two eyes on the front of her head. One was purple; the other was red.

3. She had two ears like the sails on a boat. The only problem was she couldn't float.

4. She had two feet like a bathroom mat. Nobody knows how they got like that.

5. She had two hips like battleships. One stayed home while the other took trips.

6. Well, one day a truck hit Madeline. That was the end of Cataline.

Catalina Madelina Rubensteina Walnedina Hogan Bogan Logan was her name. (Whoever sang this last chorus the fasted won. :) )

You can see how this silliness would appeal to kids. We sang it until our parents wanted to duct tape our mouths shut. So, I had to look it up and see where it originated. No one seems to know, but there appear to be thousands of versions of this particular song. I don't know if my dad got it from his childhood or the Navy. Regardless, here's a link to other verses. Some are quite hilarious.

Dad also taught us some other, less kid-friendly songs he learned in the Navy. I think they were watered down a bit, though. And there was one he only taught us the first line. (sigh) That one we really wanted to know the rest of. Here's the line. If you know it, please add more:

She's a big fat turd twice the size of me. Pimples on her butt like the apples on a tree.

I told you. Not appropriate at all for kids, but, hey, this was the 70s. We had more fun back then. :)

Dad also taught us a Navy drinking song, although it might have been from his college days, called "Leland Stanford Junior Farm." It went like this:

Oh, it's beer, beer, beer that makes you want to cheer
on the farm
on the farm.
Oh, it's beer, beer, beer that makes you want to cheer
on the Leland Stanford Junior Farm.

Chorus (again sung between each verse):

My eyes are dim
I cannot see
For I have, hey, ho, not brought my specs with me.


1. Oh, it's whiskey, whiskey, whiskey that makes me feel so frisky
on the farm
on the farm.
Oh, it's whiskey, whiskey, whiskey that makes me feel so frisky
on the Leland Stanford Junior Farm.

3. Oh, it's gin, gin, gin that makes me wanna sin
on the farm
on the farm.
Oh, it's gin, gin, gin that makes me wanna sin
on the Leland Stanford Junior Farm.

We made up a few of our own. :) Although the vodka one might be from him. :)

4. Oh, it's vodka, vodka, vodka, that makes me feel so hodka
on the farm
on the farm.
Oh, it's vodka, vodka, vodka, that makes me feel so hodka
on the Leland Stanford Junior Farm.

And it wouldn't be complete if I didn't mention this one:

5. Oh, it's tea, tea, tea that makes me wanna pee
on the farm
on the farm.
Oh, it's vodka, vodka, vodka, that makes me feel so hodka
on the Leland Stanford Junior Farm.

There were numerous songs, but perhaps they should be different posts as this one is growing by the second. LOL

Ah, well, good memories. :) Fun memories. I miss Dad, but, boy, did he see that we had great road trip memories. :)

Monday, 11 June 2012

Getting Dressed in the Morning

by Jessica E. Subject

I’m a morning person. I get up early to get things done before the kids wake up. And even though I get them up with plenty of time to eat breakfast and get dressed, it always seems to be rushed. They have to fight at the breakfast table, refuse to eat, or think they should dance instead. So when it’s time for them to get dressed, I’m counting down the minutes until we have to leave.
My daughter is old enough to dress herself every day. But that doesn’t mean she dresses properly. In the middle of winter, she’ll wear a t-shirt, pants, and no socks. In the summer, she’ll choose her flannel pajamas to wear to bed.
But the thing she does most often, is wear her clothes backwards. Seriously. I don’t know how she cannot feel that her clothes are on the wrong way. I hate when a shirt or sweater is too close to my neck. It feels like I’m being choked. And yet she doesn’t notice.
When it was Backwards Day at her school, she loved it. She simply dressed the way she normally would.
Now she has a dance recital coming up. She’s in three different dances, meaning three different costumes. And I won’t be backstage to help her during rehearsals or the recitals. I just hope she puts her clothes on the right way. Should make for some interesting pictures. J

Satin Sheets in Space:

Danyka's unusual height and radiant red hair earn her the cold shoulder from any guy she approaches, unless he wants to experiment with a giant. So when her boss sets up on a one night stand, she hopes for a prince but expects the usual toad.

As a captivating stranger whisks her away from the ball and introduces her to his equally gorgeous brother, she fears her fantasies have become a nightmare. Has she finally given into impulse only to become a lab rat in an unknown world? 

Now available from Decadent Publishing and other ebook retailers.
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Jessica Subject started writing to encourage her daughter to read. Now she writes to keep herself grounded. Although she reads many genres, she enjoys writing Science Fiction Romance the most and believes everyone in the universe deserves a happily ever after. She lives Southwestern Ontario, Canada with her husband and two kids and loves to hear from anyone who has enjoyed her stories.

Thursday, 7 June 2012

I Tell Myself to Shut Up

I’m a li’l behind on my blogging. The brain is on overload, lol, and as a result, I couldn’t really think of anything to write about. However, this morning, as I sat pondering the state of many things from my family life to what’s going on in the world, a post finally began to form. 

There are times I bitch a lot about where I live and how we, as a family, struggle here. For such an economically depressed region, the hubby actually makes good money. The problem is that the high price of everything from gasoline to food to daily necessities defeats the pay check every time. And when he makes an exceptionally good check, it bumps him into that weird tax level where he’s taxed extra and all that overtime comes out to the same as a typical pay day. Add his health insurance payment to it…you get the picture.

I’m always thinking about getting a part-time job, but we also discuss it to death and we always come to the same answer. Since it’s so far for me to drive to a town that’s more than a mom-and-pop store, I’d just turn around and put my pay check in the gas tank. Again, it defeats the purpose. And moving is not an option.

I don’t waste money on getting my nails done and I only go get my hair cut/styled maybe twice a year. Seldom do I buy things like makeup, perfume, or nail polish; I use something until I’m shaking it out of the bottle to get the last bit or I’m using a pin to scrape the residue out of the compact. We don’t have a car payment, a mortgage, nor any large bills unless you count my student loan. However, nearly every dime that comes into our home goes to bills, groceries, gasoline, odds and ends needed to run a household, and items the kids need—and don’t even get me started about the cost of sending a child back to school every fall.

Often I wonder what people would do if there was a magnetic pulse (or worse), rendering everything useless or inaccessible from cars to refrigerators to cells, computers, and even medical records. There’s so much hype about December 21st and there are shows on television such as Doomsday Preppers that I have to wonder what people will do when there are no nail salons, no bars for that after-work drink, and no way to shop at Macy’s let alone finding anything that hasn’t been ransacked or rotting in a grocery store. City folk would be hit the hardest because they’re used to having everything at their fingertips or just a couple blocks over.

When I ponder how financially hard it was when I was growing up during the 70s Recession and I find myself bitching and moaning from time to time now when things turn to crap, I remind myself that we do have a lot more than third-world families have and more than many around the globe who work one day to the next not knowing if they’ll have a meal that night.

I grew up using a wringer washer, eating squirrel and rabbit, raising huge gardens and freezing/canning everything we could, and our water came from a rain-fed well. Probably 90% of my clothes came from yard sales, too. To this day I still use a wringer washer, hanging the clothes out during warm days and inside on a line when it’s raining or cold. I gather berries and use them for desserts and jellies. We fish and hunt. We know how to process meat, and I can skin a deer, if I have to (not one of my fave jobs). The only thing I don’t know is how to fillet fish (my dad always did that), but the hubby will remedy that this summer (uhm, yuck).

Over time I’ve learned natural remedies such as using the jewelweed plant to cure the sting of nettles and that both usually grow near one another. Flaxseed oil can cure mild to moderate hemorrhoids and give blessed relief to bad ones (hmm, wonder how many readers wrote that one down, LMAO!). Poke greens can be eaten when they’re very young and no more than 8 inches high (they taste like spinach), but they’re toxic if they’re any bigger. Cat tail roots are edible, all of a dandelion plant, including the bloom, is edible and has medicinal purposes such as boiling the roots to rid the body of toxins. If I have to, I can make lye soap, too. And often most manmade things are recyclable such as washing out a zippy bag and re-using it later.

However, how many people can get by without electric? How many people would haul water half a mile from a spring, and would they think to use the cold spring to store perishable food in a waterproof bag/container? How many would take a bath in a cow trough full of rain water?

Where there is a will, there is a way. As long as we’re all healthy and have a roof over our heads and food to eat, the other things are manageable in some manner or other.

So when I start bitching about this bill getting paid late or being stuck at home until the money to fix my Blazer is saved up, I think about how so many people have it so much harder than we do. That’s when I remind myself that things could certainly and unexpectedly get much, much worse for all of us. That’s when I tell myself to such the hell up and count my blessings.

Monday, 4 June 2012

Playing in the Shadows

by Jenna Jaxon

Anyone who know me knows that paranormal is not my first love.  However, anyone who really knows me, knows I have a penchant for vampires.  Always have.  I think they are the sexiest beings--beating werewolves out hands down--writers have created.  And I’m pretty sure my preference for these luscious bloodsuckers stems from my childhood fascination with the (then) spooky television series Dark Shadows.  (I read the words and I can hear that eerie music clear as a bell.)

At four o’clock every afternoon my friends and I were glued to the TV to watch the supernatural happenings of Barnabas Collins, resident vampire and all the other ghosts, werewolves, witches and other normal and paranormal happenings in Collinwood.  Was I in love with Barnabas?  I can’t quite remember.  I’ve always loved horror movies, so maybe it was just the storyline, though I’m sure I’d have gladly been bitten at the time. LOL

So how delighted was I to find out that Tim Burton and Johnny Depp were making a movie based on the series.  And with Johnny Depp playing Barnabas Collins--just bite me now. J  I would not have believed it, considering the gray makeup, but Depp is one actor who even makes death appealing.  And sexy.  The original actor, Jonathan Frid was hardly a sex machine, though I think the allure of the vampire worked for him.  But Johnny Depp--who said when he watched the series he wanted to be Barnabas Collins--is hands down the sexiest vampire around.  (Eat your heart out, if you had one, Edward Cullen!) So if I wasn’t in love with Barnabas before, I certainly am now.

Of course, I was a bit skeptical as to how they were going to pull it off.  But in my opinion, they did so, and beautifully.  I do think they made the right choice in re-making the series as comic movie.  Though Dark Shadows was supposed to be serious in the 60s and 70s, looking back at re-runs now it was so melodramatic and campy it might not work as a serious movie.  (I do recall, however, the two Dark Shadows movies that came out in the 70s were pretty creepy, more seriously spooky than the series.)  But I love the fact that Burton took the comic sensibility into consideration, making the 2012 Dark Shadows movie a complete blast, with just enough gore and sex to satiate!

I haven’t kept up with reviews, so tell me, ladies.  If you’ve seen Dark Shadows, how do you weight in?  I’m a complete fan and left the theatre rooting for a sequel.  But I daresay there are some dissenting voices.  So, do you want to bare your neck or grab a stake?

Available Now!

Almost Perfect by Jenna Jaxon

Pamela Kimball’s birthday present, a 1Night Stand adventure, promises to jump-start her life, put a new man in her bed, and help her forget her past.  Unfortunately, movie-buff Pam’s Pirates of the Caribbean fantasy takes an alarming wrong turn when she’s abandoned on a not quite deserted island—with ex-husband Roger Ware. 

Forced by hunger to accept Roger’s offer of dinner,  Pam realizes the geek she married has transformed into one of the most charming, sexiest men she’s ever met. His newfound confidence—and hot body—re-kindle old fires.  A simple kiss leads Roger to challenge her to discover how much his lovemaking skills have improved, leaving Pam torn between self-preservation and burning desire. 

With time running out before they’re rescued, Pam must decide if her heart can survive the consequences of becoming Roger’s “almost” perfect 1Night Stand.

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