Another Award

Elizabeth Mueller over at:http://elizabethmueller.blogspot.com/ , awarded me the following award:

Thank you, Elizabeth! I'll proudly hang this on my blog wall.

Shelly

Z is for Zaney

Yup. I'm posting my Z blog the day before its due. One, that darned virus won't release my other computer (I took out my SD card...had to..shutting it down didn't work this morning). Two, Sweetman refuses to call our computer guy because he's twenty-something and it's Friday night. Three,I have no access to my Blog Writer. Four, no access to my pictures. Five, no access to my e-mail. OMG! What did I do to the CYBER-GODS to deserve this?

I mean, I'm at the finish line with the A-Z Challenge and this happens. This thing is ZANEY!Really.

I thought I was ZANEY when I signed up for the challenge. Thought it ZANEY I could come up with stuff literally off the cuff but I am a self-proclaimed fart writer.

I'm so glad to have met so many awsome and talented writers. I'm so glad I met two new characters, Contessa and Arthur. Will Contessa's chocolate stress eating keep Arthur from turning her into a vampire? The Novella will be coming. When? Um....soon...I hope. I've been writing dialogue between the two. I'm surprised I haven't ran out of ink or tablets yet. It's ZANEY how a writers brain works.

So this week I go back to my usual schedule. Three or four blogs a week. It all depends on my work schedule. Plus, my edits and rewrites to Secondhand Shoes. It's ZANEY how we writers juggle our lives around demanding work schedules and households.

Anywho, I'm glad to see so many serious writers and how we all handled this challenge. ZANEY. Right?

Okay. That's all for now folks!

Happy blogging, writing, and reading!

Shelly

PS Save a library!

PSS I'm looking forward to visiting everyones' blogs.

Y is For Yikes and Yak! Literally

This morning while I was preparing my blog, a supposed Microsoft Word program popped up. I was on the internet searching for pics to download. Yikes! A message blinked across my screen. You’ve got this many virus threats in your computer. Yak!

Immediately, I turned on my scan program. Nothing came up. Just what I figured. It was a virus trying to download into my computer.

Two years ago, the same thing happened to another computer of mine. I lost everything.

So beware of a Fast Anti-Virus Microsoft 2011 that could at anytime surprise you on your screen. It will destroy your computer. Really. It happened to one of mine.

Advice: TURN OFF YOUR COMPUTER!

Okay. Ya’ll have been warned and I’m trying to deal with the willies that thing gave me while I watch Kate and Williams wedding. Right now, I think the news broadcasters are waiting for Kate to screw up her courtesy to the queen. Really. They’ve repeated it several times now. THEIR WAITING FOR THE COURTSEY. They say it with such suspense.

Unfortunately, this is the post for today. I’ve got to get ready for work. Pulling a nine to five today. I’ll be back to read comments and other  blogs later this evening.

Actually, I’m waiting to see if Kate falls into the lap of the Queen or throws up on her. But, they’re getting into the carriage. Did I miss the courtesy before the Queen event? Crap!

Anyway, I really do wish Kate and William the best. They do look in love. I hope they stay that way. I hope Kate wasn’t set up to marry a scoundrel prince. But I can’t see William being like that. I see Diana in him.

Okay. I’m muttering, and I need to get ready for work. I did hear rain. The broadcaster said something about rain. Rain is good luck for a wedding day. Let it pour then. It rained on my wedding day with Sweetman. Rain is good.

Okay. Bye all!

Happy blogging, reading, and writing!

Shelly

PS Save a library!

X is for X Marks the Spot

This morning I’m pressed for time. I’ve got to be to work early. Working til 7 PM. Yikes! I know I still have more Versatile Blog Awards to give away but there’s no real time this morning for that. Sorry guys. But, I’ll tell you another secret and share with you some blogs I’ve been following that mark my X spot.

Okay. Secret first.

Hmmm…..

5. I had a horrible fear of starving and living on the park bench. Actually, I still do.The thought of being homeless terrifies me. That’s why I keep the day job. Of course, the plan is to have at least three books published and selling well before I either go part-time or quit the day job altogether. We will see.

6. I love hummus on just about everything but it gives me the farts. In fact, Sweetman is great at ripping more than one a day. They are loud and not necessarily smelly. Mine on the other hand, silent and noxious. I take charcoal pills when working to spare my clients’ lives. Don’t need anyone keeling over in my chair from some invisible explosion and gas cloud.

Okay. Onto the next point of this blog.

I wanted to tell these bloggers thank you. I consider them my friends. And, they’ve been a great encouraging force since I began blogging like a maniac. They even put up with sentences that don’t make any sense at times. I know they’re there (my crazy sentences). Most times, I don’t see my mistakes until after the fact but my blog buddies never say a thing. They put up with my imperfections.

Here they are:

http://allkiddingaside-beth.blogspot.com/

http://threegnomes.blogspot.com/

http://raisingmarshmallows.blogspot.com/

http://williamkendallbooks.blogspot.com/

http://thedesertrocks.blogspot.com/

http://the-open-vein-ejwesley.blogspot.com/

http://beishirbooks.blogspot.com/

You guys hit my X spot. Each one has a unique voice. Each one has a special ability to make me laugh. You guys ROCK! I ‘m lucky to know you.

AND, I’m so glad to meet all the bloggers through A-Z Challenge. You’ve all got that rock-ability thing going on too.

That’s all for now folks!

Gotta run!

I’ve got head loppings to do today. I mean hair loppings.

Happy blogging, reading, and writing!

Shelly

PS Help save a library today! 

W is For “What the Bleep”

Aha! Got your attention, did I? Today I’ll be presenting awards again and telling you another secret about myself.

So onward with the awards….

The following are awarded The Versatile Blog Award:

 

http://melissakline.blogspot.com/

http://sylmion.blogspot.com/

http://lucybgoosey.blogspot.com/

http://clancytales.blogspot.com/

http://bcbuddie.blogspot.com/

I like these ladies, too. Some are educators. Some are already published. Most have wonderful senses of humor. They even like animals.

There are rules. Nothing in life is free but I’m sure you knew that already.

Rule 1: Thank and direct other bloggers to the person who gave it to you.

Rule 2: Tell some secrets about yourself. Seven or ten. This one has me eye-brains crossing.

Rule 3: Award it to fifteen others.

Now for another secret about me. It will be secret number four and maybe more.

I absolutely hated high school. It was definitely not the best time of life. People lie when they tell you this.

For one, I was fat, shy, and insecure. The other reason, I was bullied. Kids saluted me through the halls by pushing their middle fingers against their noses and snorting. Yup. I said/wrote snorting like pigs. My nickname in high school was Miss Piggy.

To make matters worse, I attended a Southern Baptist high school. The kids didn’t seem to understand the Bible verse about loving thy neighbor as them- selves. The worst thing they ever did to me was take my uniform and shoes one day while in the gym shower. When I got out, I found them in the toilet. Several girls had peed on them and someone finished it off with a bowel movement. I sat in the locker room for three hours wrapped in a towel waiting for my mother to bring me a change of clothes. Poor mom had issues as well. But I won’t go there now.

I’m glad I never resorted to killing myself. Never thought of it. I always told myself that one day they’d be repaid some how. They have. One’s in jail for life. One’s a hooker. Several are addicted to drugs and have horrible lives. And, a lot of them know what it’s like to be FAT. Need I say more.

If I could tell a teen how to handle their oppressors, I would advise animal crackers, a gallon of your favorite ice cream, gummy bears, a pen, and a tablet (Journal, journal, journal). They were my best buds through high school until I learned how to work out and eat right (the sweets that is). And, have a mantra. Mine was “you’ll reap what you sow” and “this too shall pass.”

Also, laugh with the idiots. Take nothing seriously or personally. If anything, bullies see strength in someone they torment. Their more afraid of you than you are of them. They are more insecure with themselves than you could possibly know.  That’s why they do what they do. Quite frankly, their pretty down right pathetic.

Everyone's life is precious. I find it sad that the kid who was bullied into suicide had something great to offer the world and we’ll never see his/her light shine.

Once at a conference, I heard a group of writers say, “Look who rules the world, NERDS and GEEKS.” 

Okay. I’m done now with that fact. Onto the next award.

 

Before I go further handing this one out, I Googled the word. I found the Liebster Blog Award was created to bring recognition exposure to the small blogs who have less than 300 followers. The diddy said to hand it out to three but I know I’m going to give out more. Poohie on the rules.

I award the Liebster Blog Award to the following:

http://www,thoughtsmusingsandbrokenpromises.blogspot.com/

http://bcbuddie.blogspot.com/

http://lucybgoosey.blogspot.com/

http://clashofspearonshield.blogspot.com/

http://wifilibrarian.blogspot.com/

Congrats fellow bloggers!

That’s all for now folks!

Happy blogging, writing, and reading!

Shelly

PS Remember to save a library!

OMG, I Got Another Award, The Zen MaMa Award

Tonja over at http://tonjasmusings.blogspot.com/ , kindly awarded me this award. Thank you, Tonja.

And, there's no rules. Way cool!

V is for Whatever I Say Its for Today

Nope. Haven’t lost my creative mind. Just don’t have the time to type my little heart out today. So, I will be awarding awards. Yes, awards. Two kinds today, but I’ll be delivering a little at a time this week. I do everything in chunks. Especially when I don’t have much time. Okay, here I go:

This was awarded to me by these three lovely bloggers:

Robb Logger http://inspiredbycaffeinenictene.blogspot.com/

Ms. Giggle, Laugh, and Cry http://gigglelaughcry.blogspot.com/

Hallie Gomez http://halligomez.blogspot.com/

And, I thank you guys. I really, really do. However,there are rules. Hate the damn rules but one must comply. Right?

Rule no.: 1: Which is the best one. The good one. Thank the one who gave you the blog award and direct everyone to their blog. No problem.

Rule no.: 2: Award fifteen others. Yikes! That means I need to pay close attention to what others have been awarded so I  don’t duplicate. Or, is it proper etiquette to duplicate in the blog world. Haven’t got a clue. Someone please fill me in.

Rule no.: 3: Tell seven or ten things about myself you all don’t know (Something like that. Need to get the story straight). HOLY CRAP! Really? You mean my profile’s not enough blah, blah about me?

Okay. Today, I’ll give you three things you more than likely don’t know about me.

1. I have a hemorrhoid I personally named SNEED. He’s a regular visitor at the Bed and Breakfast Down Under Inn.

2. The letters in SNEED represent the first letter of each one of my daughters’ names.

3. If you didn’t know, my daughters are grown. And yes, they still drive me crazy. Their drama literally zaps the life out me. Hence, SNEED always comes to comfort me when I’m the most stressed. What are best friends for? Right?

Let’s move on….(a line from Robb Logger)

So, today I'm awarding The Versatile Blog Award to the following:

http://meetingswithmymuse.blogspot.com/

http://tonjasmusings.blogspot.com/

http://fromsarahwithjoy.blogspot.com

http://alisonmiller20.blogspot.com/

I like these ladies. I think you will, too. Tomorrow, I’ll award more and figure out what other secrets I can tell you about myself.

HOLD ONTO YOUR UNDERWEAR AND PANTIES FOlKS, I’m not finished yet because I was awarded another award over the weekend. Lorlei Bell, the author of Vampire Ascending (Really good book. Reading now but not right this minute), gave it to me. Thank you soooo much for this award, Lorelei (Like her name).

 

 

Okay. Ya’ll are wondering what the hell is a Liebster Blog Award. I couldn’t tell you. Nor could Lorelei. It’s probably a good word to Google. The word itself looks rather studious. Don’t you think? An intelligent-looking word, in deed.

Anyway, Lorelei is cool. She writes vampire novels. Serious ones. Really. You can check out her blog here: http://loreleismuse-lorelei.blogspot.com/

All righty then, the rules for this one….there is none. HAPPY DANCES TO ME! And, of course to those I award it to. There is five to give. My first choice goes to:

http://bobscotney.blogspot.com/ He’s a grand-puppy-pa, after all.

Congrats buddy! You get to paste this beautiful, intelligent looking word on your blog.

Okay. I’m out of here people. I’ve got blogs to read. Stories to write. Places to go. And, last but not least, people to annoy.

Happy blogging, writing, and reading!

Shelly

PS Remember to save a library!

PSS Don’t forget to come back tomorrow for more stuff.

U is for U-No Bar

The saga continues. What will Arthur and Contessa do with the Arab vampires bodies? And what will Contessa find next to snack on?

“We’re going to need to bury their heads and drop their bodies into a river or something before we go to my place,” Arthur said.

I removed his arm from my shoulders. “Seriously, I’m ready to have another shit-fit and go into convulsions here. You want me to touch those things?” The two decapitated, bloody heads gave the willies. Their wide open eyes stared back at me. Silent screams must’ve escaped in the middle of slicing their heads off them because their mouths were wide open, exposing their fangs.

“Its only to ensure they stay dead. Don’t need any followers or one of their clan members tracking us,” he said, stooping beside the heads. “Go grab some Glad Bags. Black ones.”

I put my hands on my hips, tapped my foot, and huffed, “Are you giving me an order?”

“Contessa.” He looked up at me through wisps of blond hair. His yellow eyes glared at me. “Now’s not the time to be difficult.”

I stomped over one aisle from the toiletry one. “What are the bags going to do?”

“For one, it’ll keep you from having to touch their dead bodies. And, it will keep their blood off us. That way no one will come hunt us down.”

I grabbed a box of the black bags and tucked it under my arm. “For real?” I asked. “You mean if their blood gets on us …it’s like being bated?” I looked back at the store shelf. Yellow Latex Gloves stared back at me. I yanked them from its hook none to careful, ripping the package open, took them out, and slipped them onto each hand.

Before going back to Arthur and the dead vampires, I slipped plastic bags over my Prada boots. My bag covered boots squishedsquished toward them.

My vampire boyfriend looked up and laughed.

“What?” I asked.

“You look…cute.”

“Seriously,” I said, throwing the boxed garbage bags at him.

Unlike the human him, he caught them with one hand. A true klutz, my old Arthur would’ve dropped them or cracked his fingers. Now he moved fast and graceful. Watching him, took my breath away.

“We need to hurry. You can stare at me later,” he said, tearing two bags out of the box.

“Would you like a pair of these?” I dangled an extra pair of Latex gloves out in front of me.

He nodded.

I shuffled toward him and handed him the pair.

He took them, sliding them onto his clean, well manicured hands. They were nothing like his other hands. Bitten nails and ragged cuticles. Being a vampire agreed with my boyfriend.

“You hold the bag open while I throw their heads in,” he said, standing. He shook a bag open and handed it to me.

I took it, stretching it far out from me. No way did I want their blood on me.

My boyfriend dumped Queen Bitch’s head in first.

I twisted and twisted the bag around at least twenty times before tying a knot in it.

We did the same with Hamid’s head.

“’Kay,” Arthur said. “It’s going to take two bags each to cover their bodies.”

“Can’t we just set the store on fire?” A whine tinged each one of my words. “Do we really need to dump them into a body of water?”

His eyes danced for about a minute, saying nothing.

“I mean…this seems like an awful lot of work. Look.” I tipped my head to the right. “Lighter fluid and lighters.” They sat next to a display of U-No Bars. Another favorite of mine. “It would make life so much easier. Besides, I’m tired and I’m getting hungry again.” My mouth watered, remembering bits of almonds bathed in milk chocolate. That would hit the spot.

He let out a loud sigh, “You’ve got a point. But, we still need to bury their heads elsewhere.”

Relief washed over me. “Good. You go bury the heads while I grab more food.” The U-No bars sent my palette into a trance.

My boyfriend gathered up the bagged heads and walked out the Circle-K.

I went around the store filling up my basket, dumping half the U-No Ba display into the basket.

The lighter fluid and lighters sat two displays down. I scurried toward them, grabbing two lighter fluids and a package of three Bic lighters.

Before walking out the store, I popped open one of the lighter fluids and soaked the dead vampires with it’s liquid, throwing the can on top them. On the way out, I drizzled the store floor with the other lighter fluid, leaving a trail behind me. The can emptied halfway to the Hummer.

I walked all the way to the vehicle before setting my goodie basket down. There, I grabbed the package of Bics, ripping a red one from it’s package. In the other hand, I fumbled for an U-No Bar, sticking it between my lips, wrapper and all.

Arthur came from behind and wrapped his arms around my waist. He rested his chin on my shoulder and gave a low growl, nuzzling his nose into my neck.

The candy dropped from my mouth into my hand.“Seriously,” I said, thumbing the lighter with my other hand. A flame burst from the silver part. “We need to set the fire and get out of here.” I freed myself from his arms, walking toward the end of the liquid trail. Crouching beside it, I dropped the flame onto the thin line. It blazed yellow and orange. “We need to get out of here.”

The Hummer purred not long after I spoke the words. I turned around, running toward the vehicle, grabbing my other goodies, I flung the door open, and hopped in.

Arthur spun the vehicle around and sped it forward. Within three minutes an explosion sounded from behind. I looked over my shoulder. A ball of fire poofed against the night sky while I ate my chocolate bar. A great stress reliever.

To be continued….maybe this week….maybe in a couple months when series number one to this Novella is finished.

Saturdays with Sir Poops-A-Lot: T is for Time Out

SPALS: Good morning everyone! Hair Ball started the morning out by screwing up my post. He erased his picture in time out. That’s where he goes when he busts to the slididng door to barkbarkbark and groooowl at anything he sees moves. Even the wind. Told you he had no manners.

HB: That’s not true. I do too have manners.

SPAL: Do not. That’s why mummsy yells at you and not me. You don’t know when to keep your flapper shut.

HB: You’re just a pansy! Pansy! Pansy! Nah, nah, nah!

SPAL: Go to your bed!

HB: Can’t make me!

SPAL: Can, too!

HB: Not! (He pounces on SPALS head) Pansy!

SPALS: Mummsy! (He yelps)

Mummsy: Honey Bear get into your box!

HB: ‘Kay. (tail between his legs, he crawls to his box)

SPALS: Told you I could make you get into your bed. (He grins)

Anyway, Happy Chocolate Bunny Day.

HB: I want a chocolate bunny.

SPALS: No bunnies for you. Especially chocolate ones.

S is for Secondhand Shoes

Today I thought I’d send you to my other blog, Secondhand Shoes. It is a finished work being prepared for publication. In October, it was accepted to be reviewed by Wiley-Merrick. To date, I’ve heard nothing but its not going to stop me from publishing it myself.

Right now I’ve been filling in the plot holes and time lapses. Something you don’t see until after you’ve written the entire manuscript. Slowly but surely, I’ve been passing it through my live critique group and my beta reader. Once that’s done, it will be sent to my editor who’s already edited the first twenty-five chapters.

It’s been a long process writing it around a forty hour work week. But, this is my passion. Writing stories. And, I’ve got more.

Anyway, you can go to: http://www.secondhandshoesnovel.blogspot.com/

Leave a comment and let me know what you think.

That’s all for now folks!

Happy blogging, reading, and writing!

Shelly

P.S. Help save a library today!

R is for Robb Logger, A Book Review for Strangers on a Bus

 

Here’s a little diddy from his book:

I love people, but I’m more than a little afraid of them. People do things like cut other

people’s heads off and put them in freezers. People say things around little kids that scar

them for life. People need to work on their act quite a bit before I’m going to get involved

with them to a greater extent than I do.

Warning: Before I go further, I must tell all who suffer from bladder issues and cry easily be prepared. Make sure you’ve doubled your Depends and you’ve got plenty of Puffs in plain sight. Not only will Robb make you laugh but he’ll make you cry, too.

Let’s move on….(Robb’s line)

Robb has this unique ability to pull you into his story, his world, and point of views. This one is a memoir of sorts. A funny but heart warming one where he embarks on a journey back to his homeland, Canada, after a break-up with his long term girlfriend, and meets another girl on the bus he names Gertrude. Is this the beginning of a new romance? Get the book.

While on this journey he contemplates what went wrong with his relationship in a notebook, while forming a new relationship of sorts with Gertrude. He’s also writing things down as they happen on his journey. In spots, his imagination does get carried away(there’s a really cool dressing room scene) and he’s got you believing certain things are really happening when they’re not.

In fact, you wish they really did happen but he’s as honest as he is polite. He confesses each time when he knows he’s got you by the seat of your Depends. It’s all part of Robb humor. Yes, it’s a bit twisted but that’s what makes it a great read. I had a hard time putting it down. It’s a page turner folks.

And the end, really got me. Its’ unexpected and makes me a true Robb follower. And no, I won’t give it away. Buy the book yourself. Find out what I mean.

Robb when’s the next book coming out? Will there be a sequel? You deserve ten stars for this one.

If you want a good dose of daily laughter, follow his blog: http://inspiredbycaffienenicotene.blogspot.com/

That’s all for now folks!

Happy blogging, reading, and writing!

Shelly

P.S. Remember to save a library!

Q is for Queen

Contessa and Arthur’s saga continues. Will Contessa let her beloved be beheaded for an Oreo? Or, will she allow a vampire queen take Arthur as her mate?

The Arab Vampire pressed his sword closer to Arthur’s neck.

I slipped another cookie between my lips before I slurped from the milk carton. It made cookie mush on my tongue. Oreo Cookie soup.

“Looks like I’ll get desert with the Infidel,” the Arab vampire said, spittle flew out of his mouth. It sprayed onto my boyfriend.

My handsome vampire squirmed, shoving against the other vampire. His body didn’t budge.

I chugged more chocolate milk. A small burp escaped me. The fog in my mind dissipated. Violent images crossed my mind. I needed to chop the Arab vampire’s head off. Another cookie should give me the strength I needed to the job.

The store bell rang at the front. A gust of wind blew in, and we all looked up. Heels clicked against the floor. High heels. Slow and methodical, female like steps.

I set my treats down, propping myself onto my knees, stretching my neck to see who or what was coming from behind the two struggling vampires.

The Arab vampire looked my way and roared like a lion. Drool dripped from his yellow fangs.

I sat back down and grabbed another cookie.

“Hamid,” a woman’s voice said. “Where are your manners?” She spoke broken English, too.

The vampire looked over his shoulder, holding his sword’s blade against my vampire knight’s neck.

I gulped down more chocolate milk.

A woman dressed in belly dancer attire towered over the grappling vampires. Complete black eyes peered through a sheer white veil, covering her face. “Hamid, please stand. Behave yourself we’ve dinner guests.” Her eyes averted to me then to Arthur. “As for the blond vampire…I want him for my mate.”

The Arab vampire stood but kept the sword’s point at my boyfriend’s throat. “But Ameerah? He’s a Jewish dog.”

“I’m your Queen. Your maker. I get what I want.”

I chased another cookie down with more chocolate milk.

The sword at Arthur’s neck pulled back.

My boyfriend turned his head toward me and whispered, “Sorry.”

The woman vampire shooed at the Arab vampire. “Go stand over there.” She lifted her veil from her face, exposing her fangs. Pearl white. They sparkled under the store’s fluorescent lighting.

He moved aside. “Ameerah! You can’t align yourself with a Jew!”

She looked over her shoulder, running her hands down her body, outlining her curves. Her boobs were bigger than mine. A diamond clung to her belly button. That spelled bravery for sure.

“You can’t,” the male vampire said.

She swiveled her head around and looked at me this time. “Piffle. I’m making him mine.”

Jealousy pricked at me. I stood, a package of Oreos in one hand and a carton of chocolate milk in the other. “He’s my boyfriend, bitch!” Cookies and milk dribbled down my chin.

The female vampire stepped over Arthur. Her face within inches of mine, curling her upper lip all the way up, growling. Her breath stunk.

I crinkled my nose and turned my head to avoid the fumes, dropping the milk carton. Chocolate liquid pooled around my black Prada buckle boots. Shit.

“Look at you,” she hissed. “ What kind of girlfriend wears food on her face? Cookies and milk are for children. You’re not a woman. You’re not enough to satisfy any man let alone a male vampire.”

Bravery washed over me. I grappled for another Oreo, shoving it into my mouth before raising the container mid-air. Adrenaline took over, chewing my cookie with intention.

“What?” she asked, tilting her head from side to side. “You think you can destroy me with a bag of cookies?”

I lunged toward her, shoving the cookies at her face.

The vampire queen roared with laughter.

I dropped to my knees beside Arthur, grabbing his sword. God, it was heavy. It weighed me down but I didn’t wear Prada boots and consume chocolate for nothing. Sugar surged through me, helping me to stand. I swung the sword out in front of me, stepping over Arthur.

Both vampires hissed, showing their fangs.

“For your information once again…Queen Bitch! He’s my boyfriend!” I swung the sword again.

They both jumped back.

“And he loves me. And I him,” I said.

Hamid raised his sword.

I closed my eyes and swung like a wild woman. It went schwoosh. Something made fast snapping sounds in front of me, landing on the floor with a loud thud.

Elevator music played softly in the background. It added to the sudden silence.

One at a time, I opened my eyes. Arthur now stood beside me. Two vampire heads lied two feet away, their bodies at my feet.

“You’re going to make a fine vampire, Tessie,” Arthur said, draping his arm around my shoulders.

“It’s all about the chocolate.”

P is for Powerful Woman Writer Award

Right before the A-Z Challenge began, Deirdra Eden Coppel, at http://astorybookworld.blogspot.com/, awarded me this award:

Thank you, Deirdra.

I’ve been following her blog. She’s been doing author interviews for her A-Z Challenge. GO check her out.

Also, Halli Gomez, from http://halligomez.blogspot.com/ has awarded me The Versatile Blogger Award.

Right before the challenge, Robb Logger, from http://inspiredbycaffeinenicotene.blogspot.com/ , awarded me the same. As did the gal from http://gigglelaughcry.blogspot.com/. These two deserve the Depends Award, because they make me laugh so hard I pee myself but I haven’t figured out how to make such an award.

And Also, there are rules with this one so I’ll blog al that stuff when the letter V comes around for this challenge.

Once again, thank you all. And to everyone else check out their sites.

Happy blogging, reading, and writing!

O is for Oreo Cookies

Will Contessa let an Oreo cookie come between her and saving the life of her beloved Arthur, her vampire boyfriend?

“For crying out loud, Contessa.” He annunciated my entire name. He’s pissed.

“You can’t change me yet,” I said, watching him lean back into his seat. “I want my diamond first. Go see my family. Eat a weeks worth of chocolate. And do what you suggested. Get my rest and eat right the week before my change.”

“Sounds more like you’re stalling.” He crossed his arms in front of his chest, lowered his head, and frowned.

“Oh, Arthur. You know I love you but this vampire thing is a lot to deal with.” I grabbed the lever on the passenger door. It clicked and cracked open.

My blond vampire knight had his door wide open before I stepped onto the pavement. At lightning speed he moved around the Hummer and took my hand into his.

“Are you better now?” I asked.

“Not completely,” he said, pulling me along side him to the Circle-K sidewalk. He stopped us, looking around and sniffing at the night air.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“Other vampires. And, not from my clan.”

“Clan?”

He scooped me up into his arms. “We need to get your things and get out of here. This horde of vampires are very powerful. And they’re in hunt mode.”

“Hunt mode?” I looked into his yellow eyes.

He raised his brows. “Human. Hunt. Mode. Someone… tasty like you hunt mode.” He backed his bottom into the glass door, swinging it open.

“Oh.” I swallowed a hard lump.

He set me down and grabbed a store basket. “Stay beside me.” He draped his free arm around my shoulder, and tucked me into his side.

A low growl came from the left of us, behind a deserted clerk’s counter.

Arthur rushed us over to the junk food aisle. We were surrounded by shelves of various chocolates and cookies. Every kind imaginable lined the shelves except Keebler’s Chocolate Chip Cookies. So I grabbed two packages of Oreos, and crammed them into the basket along with a plethora of chocolate bars.

A set of feet shuffled from behind us. I looked over my shoulder. The place looked void of others.

“Keep going.” Arthur pushed me ahead to the freezer section.

Chocolate milk and ice cream pints stared back at me. They were out of Godiva’s Unconditional Chocolate, but they did have Ben and Jerry’s Fudge Brownie. I pulled two pints out along with two cartons of chocolate milk, dropping them into my shopping basket.

“Done yet?” Arthur asked.

“I need Tampons, too.” My cheeks went hot. “It’s about that time of the month.”

He let out a loud sigh.

“Oh, and soap, toothpaste, a tooth brush, and some deodorant. Don’t want to stink.”

“Tessie. Really. We need to get out of here. Like now.” He scurried us to the toiletry aisle, grabbing my requested items, plunking them into the basket.

A moan came from the front of the store. My vampire hero shoved the basket into my arms, turned around, pulling me behind him. He towered in front of me.

Heels clopped against the shiny floor.

“What is a Jewish vampire doing in my store?” A man’s voice spoke broken English. He sounded Arab.

I hooked my arm into the basket handles and peeked around Arthur’s arm.

A black-haired man stood in front of my boyfriend, blocking the way to the checkout counter. He looked well-fed. Saliva dripped from the corners of his mouth. His red eyes shifted from my boyfriend to me. He tilted his head like an animal and sniffed at the air.

I clutched the goody basket to my chest.

“Stay behind me, Tessie,” Arthur growled, shoving me behind him.

“Let me have the female Infidel, and I’ll let you keep your head, Jew-dog.”

My whole body shook. Cellophane rustled in the basket. If only, I had an Oreo lingering on my palette.

“No,” my boyfriend said. “She’s mine.” He pressed his body against me, backing me into the store shelf. Bottles pummeled to the floor with a loud thud.

I fumbled in the basket for the Oreo cookies, ripped them open, grabbed one, and shoved it between my lips. I closed my eyes and chewed fast, swallowing it. It might be the last thing I eat before I die and go to heaven.

“Yours…as in dinner?” The Arab asked.

“My mate,” Arthur snarled.

I shoved another cookie into my mouth.

The other vampire laughed. “She should be in a burka then.”

Arthur pressed his backside into me harder, raising his right hand mid-air. A shiny sword gleamed above our heads.

My mouth went dry. I grappled for the chocolate milk carton, opened it, and took a few swigs.

“You think, you can take my head?” The other vampire hissed.

My boyfriend moved two swift steps ahead and swung his sword. The Arab moved to his right, swinging his.

I plopped onto the floor, cramming one Oreo after another into my mouth. Stress eating helps me in times like these. It clears confusion and fear clogging my brain.

My Jewish vampire did a fight dance with the Arab vampire, their swords clanked together.

The Arab lunged at Arthur, toppling him to the floor. His sword’s blade within inches of my boyfriend’s throat.

I shoved another cookie into my mouth. It kept the panic in the pit of my stomach.

Saturdays With Sir Poops-A-Lot, N is for Neighborhood Nazi

Sir Poops-A-Lot

                Hair Ball

SPAL: Boy, is mummsy mad right now. This morning she was cornered by the woman in the hoodie. I thought Hair Ball was going to eat her ankles.

HB: I should’ve. Bad Neighborhood Nazi. Thinking mummsy doesn’t pick up our poops. ( gives a low growling wolf)

SPAL: Calm down. Okay. Daddy-o’s sleeping. And, I’m trying to get this blog done.

HB: I’m upset they blame us for that ugly albino Doberman’s poop who thinks he’s so big and tough.

SPAL: If you didn’t notice, dumb-dumb, he’s a giant. Wonder if the Neighborhood Nazi’s even notice? And then there’s the Black Lab and the Pit Bull twins.                 

HB: Yeah! Torpedo poopers.

SPAL: Yeah! Their poops litter the sidewalks.

 

   

SPAL: There are signs everywhere. Can’t these other dogs read? Like me?

HB: Well, not every dog’s a pansy like you.       

SPAL: I’d rather be a pansy than a hair ball….and stop interrupting. I thought we were having a conversation about those Neighborhood Nazi’s. And, I’ve got to finish my blog for today.

HB: Yeah. Mummsy made that name up. (giggles) Neighborhood Nazis.

SPAL: Yes, she did. She says there’s three of them that she sees daily. Walking around with their pads and pencils. They even dig through garbage.

HB: Mummsy says that’s bad. We get in trouble for that.

SPAL: I know…anyway, she says we live in a mini luxury internment camp with spies. And, there’s one way in and one way out.

HB: What does that mean?

SPAL: I think we live in some kind of prison.

HB: Oh.

SPAL: I heard mummsy telling daddy-o that the Neighborhood Nazis may come take our DNA.

HB: What’s that?

SPAL: Not real sure…but mummsy says that the Neighborhood Nazis might come  swab our bum holes. Maybe even our mouths. It would be a way of determining who’s leaving poop on the sidewalks.

HB: I’ll bite ‘em. I’ll beat ‘em up. They’re not touching me. I don’t like them mean ole Neighborhood Nazis. (he barks and growls)

SPAL: Shhh! You’re going to wake up daddy-o.

HB: Well, what are we going to do about those Neighborhood Nazis taking our DNA? How are we going to stop them?

SPAL: Use the upstairs bathroom.

The Versitile Blog Award

Well, folks I've got two now. Robb Logger presented me with the Versitle Blog award right before I took on the A-Z Challenge and I recieved one this morning from http://gigglelaughcry.blogspot.com/.

Thank you both. I plan on blogging about it on V day. One problem though, I can't seem to grab the award and save it.

Help!

And thank you, again!

Shelly

M is for Mea Culpa

Wiki-pedia states: Mea culpa is a Latin phrase that translates into English as "my mistake" or "my fault". To emphasize the message, the adjective "maxima" may be inserted, resulting in "mea maxima culpa," which would translate as "my most [grievous] fault."

We all have them. Faults. Bad habits. As writers we need to expel them from our writings. Not the most easiest task when you can’t seem to absorb certain rules. And yes, this happens. Sweetman calls it Alzheimer's. I call it a mental block.

No matter how many self-help books I read or, how many writing seminars I attend, there are still some things I haven’t grasped, yet. OMG! I drive myself insane repeating the same stupid mistakes.

How about any of you? Is there still something amif in your writing? Something you can’t seem to hold onto that you need to apply to your work?

Admit it, guys. It’s the first step to fixing the problems with our writing.

So, I’ll leave you all with something to meditate on, Enigma's version of Mea Culpa.

Happy blogging, reading, and writing!

Shelly

L is for Lazy Days

Today will be a small lazy day. For one, this post won’t be a long one. Sometimes we writers need to kick back. I find it to be one of the hardest things in life to do. My mind never shuts up. There’s constant character chatter. Constant plot construction going on. Or, my soul is journaling some personal experience.

And if words aren’t busying my day, hair loppings are. Or, housework. Laundry. Cooking. Grocery shopping and errand runs. There’s always something keeping me from a perfect lazy day.

My perfect lazy day would be sleeping in until maybe seven and lay in my bed until ten. I’d make myself a cup of tea and grab a book to read. Play some relaxing music. Later, I’d feast on fruits and cheeses. I’d go for a long walk and ponder things (I’d probably have a scratch pad to scribble my mind babblings on). Maybe, I’d rent a bunch of movies I haven’t seen and do a couch potato thing for the day. I’d definitely take a nap. These are some things that would make my perfect lazy day.

One day. Perhaps.

What would your perfect lazy day be?   

Before I leave you, I found something from Spanky and Our Gang,  a Lazy Day remix. Enjoy! 

Happy blogging, reading, and writing!

Shelly

K is for Kit-Kat Bars, Kool-Aide, and Keebler's Chocolate Chip Cookies

Here’s another Contessa and Arthur tease. Enjoy!

Arthur and I drove around for what seemed like an eternity before we came upon a Circle-K. Where ever he and his monster friends took me and my friends to was hidden well in a thick forest, veiled by the dark of night. There’s no way I would ever be able to point it out to any police by day light.

“We’ll stop here,” he said. The Hummer slowed, turning into the convenience store’s parking lot. “Dove chocolates for my Tessie.”

“And, fudge. Kit-Kats. Kool-Aid. Ben and Jerry’s Fudge Brownie ice cream. And, Godiva’s Unconditional Chocolate ice cream,” I said. “Some Keebler’s chocolate chip cookies and chocolate milk. That should keep me for a week. If you’re going to be turning me into a vampire soon, I know I’m going to be stress eating.”

He parked the vehicle in front of the store. “You can’t have a diet of junk before I turn you.”

“Why not?”

“You’re going to need your strength. Besides, you won’t be eating any of that stuff after you turn.”

I frowned. “How come?”

“Vampires live off a steady diet of blood and raw meat,” he said matter-of-fact-like.

“Uhg. That doesn’t sound appetizing at all.” My stomach turned. The thought washed nausea over me.

“You need seven days to eat clean foods. No processed junk. No sugar. No caffeine. Not to mention, you’ll need to get at least twelve hours of sleep a day. I’ll need you to be well nourished and rested.” He took my hand in his, looking ahead into the wide store window.

“Oh…okay then. Well…can I have the next seven days to feast on junk and another seven to eat right?”

His other hand tapped at the steering wheel. “I’ll think about it.”

“It’ll give me time to go see my family. It’s not like I’ll be visiting them after I change, you know. Especially since I’ll be someone who’ll want to feast on them. Couldn’t do that to my family. And surely, I wouldn’t want to suck my brother’s gnarly neck. He doesn’t wash behind his ears. And, he’s got festering zits, too.” My imagination stuck a picture of my brother in my mind’s center. It made me shudder.

Arthur belly laughed.

“And I want a diamond,” I said. “If I’m going to be yours forever…I’m just saying.”

“Of course, Tessie.” His soft but cold hand traveled up my arm gently, sending pleasure shocks all over my body. It rested on my shoulder. Butterflies fluttered in the pit of my stomach. His hand massaged its way behind my neck.

“Arthur?”

“Yes.”

“You’re driving me crazy. If you keep it up I might let you turn me here in the Circle-K parking lot.” I spoke the truth but at the same time guilt tugged at me. How could I want this? He made a deal with other monsters to eat my friends so he could get to me. Romantic? Insane? What the hell is wrong with me?

Within seconds his lips nuzzled my neck, and the hand kneading the back of my neck, made its way into my hair. Cold breath brushed hot against my skin, making my heart thumpthumpthump. His other hand trailed down to my thigh and slithered back up to my hip, moving to my waist, moving up an up, tracing the underneath part of my right breast. His wet lips spread open across my neck. Something pricked my neck below my earlobe. The sensation caused pleasure from head to toe. I trembled and moaned.

“Seriously,” I said, pushing him away. “I need a a Kit-Kat. Now!”

To Be Continued…

J is for Janet Rockey, An Interview with an Author

Today I thought I’d brag on a fellow critter of mine, Janet Rocky. We’re both members of the Florida Writer’s Association, and we attend the same critique group. I like to refer to her as the grammar angel because pretty much verbatim she can recite any grammar rule. But, she refers to herself as a pixie. No matter, wished she’d come sit on my shoulder while I wrote everyday. Angels have special powers, you know. Anyway, thought I would give her a happy dance on my blog and post her interview. I’m soooo happy for her!

You can find her anthologies in the following books:

You can also find her author page @: http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B0032MU152

Now, on with the interview.

Me: What got you into writing?

JR: My grandmother was a writer and encouraged me to follow in her footsteps when I was a teenager. Of course, I didn't listen. One morning, I couldn't shake the vivid dream from the night before, so I started typing it out as a story. It became my novel, "Obedient Heart." Now that I'm older and wiser, I experience the joy that comes from writing short stories, devotionals and, yes, even my novel(s). And yes, I wish I had listened to Grandmother and started writing when I was younger.

My first publishing accomplishment was Thy Will Be Done, a true story in "God's Hand Prints," an anthology of Christian-themed accounts of how God is ever present in our trials and difficulties.

Me: What are your accomplishments so far

JR: After Suzanne Baginski spoke to our FWA group about writing for Chicken Soup anthologies, I submitted Romeow and Julicat to their book, "What I Learned from the Cat." Armed with more cat stories, I responded to a call-out for short stories in Barbour Publishing's anthology, "Heavenly Humor for the Cat Lover's Soul." They bought Silhouette on the Shade, a short devotional about my first cat names Sammy. The editor then asked me to write seven stories for "Heavenly Humor for the Mother's Soul (available April 4, 2011). After submitting those stories, the editor gave me the assignment to write five stories for "Heavenly Humor for the Dieter's Soul."

I continued to work on my novel "Obedient Heart" and entered it in the 2010 Royal Palm Literary Awards contest, where it won second place in inspirational romance genre. The same novel won third place in the Thomas Nelson/WestBow Press/Women of Faith 2011 writing contest.

ME: What inspired you to write your stories?

JR: The best inspiration for my short stories is, of course, my cats. They supply a wealth of opportunities to turn their antics into devotionals or life lessons.

Then Barbour Publishing asked me to provide seven humorous stories for “Heavenly Humor for the Mother’s Soul.” I had to take a step back. My cats offered no inspiration for this assignment. The only memories I had of my mother were years of pain and suffering; the agony of multiple hospitalizations and numerous back surgeries. With my sister's help, I dug deep within me to discover that my mother experienced joy and laughter. She loved and was loved. And she had a great sense of humor. The assignment blessed me beyond words. Now I can smile at memories of my mother.

ME: What's the best advice you can give to any writer starting out?

JR: The best advice I would give a new writer is to first learn the basics of English grammar. Get involved with a critique group to let other sets of eyes look over your work. Then expect rejection but rejoice with each success. Most important, though, is to keep writing!

She also keeps a blog @: http://rockeywrites.blogspot.com/

That’s all for now folks!

Contessa and Arthur will return tomorrow for the letter ‘K’.

Happy blogging, reading, and writing!

Shelly

P.S. Help save and support your local library!

I is for Ice Queen and Icey Blue Mints

Contessa continues to reminisce before Arthur turned her into a vampire.

Arthur knit his brows together and opened the Hummer’s door. Gently, he slid me into it’s seat.

“Seriously,” I said, glaring up at him. His eyes averted mine. “What were you doing with that Ice Queen from hell? You had sex with her didn’t you?”

He stooped to one knee, keeping his head down, looking at the ground. “Tessie,” he said. “Girl…women vampires give off a certain scent that normal human males can’t resist even if they want to.”

“That sounds almost as bad as Adam blaming Eve for eating the forbidden fruit in the garden.” I sucked in a gob of air and let out a loud sigh, kicking at the Hummer’s glove box.

He kept his gaze away from mine. Jealousy boiled the blood in my veins.

“The night,” he said. “ she changed me was the night you said you didn’t want to see me anymore. Remember?” Yup. I remembered. Found his whack material in a box in the trunk of his 1979 Trans Am. Thought I’d teach him a lesson and break up with him for a while. The next day they found him missing except his favorite t-shirt and a blood trail in some near-by woods.

“Oh. My. God! Really? You went from whack mags to a vampire-cheerleader-slut-ho-dog! Knew something wasn’t right with that girl.” I crossed my arms in front of my chest, glowering down at him. “Probably gave you crouch critters. Friggin fritters! She did the hole football team in one night! What were you thinking?!”

The moonlight made his hair glow, angelic-like. No way did he look like a blood-sucking-fiend. Whatever guts he came with to eat my friends, left.

A sniffle escaped him. “I’m sorry, Tessie.” His apology didn’t matter. I had more to tell him.

“You know what? I’m still a virgin. Never gave it to anyone. Not even after I was led to believe you died. Maybe you should take me back to my dorm. I’m not sure I want to become a blood-sucker and be with you forever. And when I see that Shelb—

“She’s dead,” Arthur said, peeking at me through his wispy bangs.

I shoved my brows together. “What do you mean she’s dead? Vampires don’t die easily.”

His lip quivered before he said, “Well, I chopped off her head, buried it, and dropped her body into the Atlantic somewhere. That’s what keeps vampires dead forever.”

I shook my head. “What?”

“She made me what I am against my will for one. And two, she was jealous of you for becoming captain of the cheerleading team. She targeted me.” He stood. “And when she found out I was in search of you, she wanted to kill you herself. Couldn’t let that happen. So I killed her.”

My heart softened. “Oh, Arthur.” I reached for his hand and squeezed it.

“I love you. Only you. Please, forgive me.” His yellow eyes embraced mine. Electrical butterflies flew around my stomach.

His words left me speechless. My mouth went dry and my tongue grew pasty. A golf-size lump rolled up into my throat and an overwhelming metal taste seized my palette. Nothing a mint couldn’t fix. My breath must be bad, I thought. Probably residual blood from his lips.

“You okay?” He asked, his thumb stroked my knuckles. Cold and hot shivers traveled up my spine.

I cleared my throat. “Do you have any of those Brach’s Ice Blue Candies? My mouth tastes really gross right now.”

To be continued Wednesday…..

Saturday With Sir Poops-A-Lot: H is for Hair Ball

 

Before I go further with my post for today, I wanted all of you to know something. I’ve given up on Ms. Dog. But, I’m not giving up on my search for The One.

I’ve marked my territory a good one this week. Saturated it. My biological clock is ticking. It’s an expression I’ve heard on women’s talk shows lately.

Now for the real post. H is for Hair Ball. Mummsy calls him, Honey Bear. What kind of name is that? It’s totally undignified. That’s what! Just look at him! A hair ball!

I can’t seem to get away from him. See, he’s on my mummsy’s robe like it belongs to him or something. He thinks everything is his.

I can’t even politely ask for my favorite treats without him butting in.

See what I mean.

He thinks he’s all that and a bag of Greenie Bones.

A Hair Ball.

Too bad I don’t have my kitties anymore. They’d show him who the boss is. They’d spit him out like the hair ball he is. He’s not fooling me like he does mummsy and daddy-o.

SPALS: No…stop…it’s not your computer!

HB: Is, too!

SPALS: Is not. Oww! My head! I’m going to tell mummsy! (That hair ball just knocked me onto the floor. He’s a head butter.)

HB: Pansy! Sir Poops-A-Lot’s a pansy. That’s why Ms. Dog ignored you. Pansy! Pansy! Pansy! Na…Na…Na. Girls don’t like pansies!

Dear Two-Legged people:

My brother Sir Poops-A-Lot is a real pansy. Don’t you think?

He’s just jealous because mummsy loves me better. I’m cuter, anyway.

What do you think? I’m better, right?

G is for Go-Go’s

 

I’ve got little time to post this morning. Worked late last night and have to be in at eight-thirty am today. So, I thought I’d give you a TGF treat. When your feet have swollen from sitting all day at your computer and you’ve gotten a good case of writer’s cramp, get up and go-go with one of The Go-Go’s tunes. Get your blood bumping and your creative juices flowing.

I loved the eighties. Sometimes I wish I could get into a time machine.

Everyone have a great day!

Shelly

 

Our Lips Are Sealed

F is for Fudge

Contessa and Arthur are back. You know, I’m fart writing this as I go guys. Maybe I’m onto something here. Novella. A series, perhaps?

I pulled back from Arthur, panting, looking into his eyes again. They no longer glowed red, but yellow.

“What?” he asked.

“Your eyes,” I said. “They’re yellow.”

Brown flecks danced in them and his pupils twinkled. “Of course. I’m full and content to be with my girl.”

The comment chilled and warmed at the same time. I’ve kissed a vampire who ate my friends. Or, rather helped to eat my friends. Something must be wrong with me. But the vampire is Arthur, my boyfriend from way back when. This all made my head swirl. Where’s the chocolate?

His hands found mine, wringing in my lap. “I need to get you out of here.”

I yanked one of my hands away from him.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Where are you taking me? To some tomb?” I asked. Tears found their way back into my eyes.

“Nah. To my suite in the city.” He stood, tugging at my other hand. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

I looked up, smearing snot and tears around my face. “You’ve got a suite. How can you afford something like that?” Two years ago he fixed computers for a living right out of high school with no plans to go to college.

“Don’t worry about that now. We’ll have plenty of time to talk later,” he said. He pulled me to my feet and before I could breathe or snot anymore he scooped me up into his arms.

His arms were firm and his chest rippled against me. I don’t remember his body being like this. Two years ago, he was the skinny, dorky kid. He didn’t play football and others cheated from his tests. He had brain power, not body. A flash of electricity ran through me. My dead friends forgotten. Wonder what he looks like naked? I thought, fanning myself. The dank, chilly place was getting hot.

I stayed silent while he walked us forward. Door hinges creaked and light breeze wisped against my face. It felt good.

The moon greeted us, looking full and gold. Bright stars speckled the dark velvet sky. Evergreen and fir scented the air around us. I breathed it all in and looked up at the vampire. He looked like Arthur, but different.

Moon light danced against his blond, shoulder length hair. The old Arthur wore a fade, what they call a high and tight, shaved to the skin and finger length on top. His cheeks and jaw line were more prominent than I remembered. Only one word could describe him on the outside. Beautiful. His vampire life changed him from lanky-geek-boy to a hot-vampire-stud. Hot flashes zipped through me again.

He looked down at me and smiled. Fangs revealed, but not fierce ones. They didn’t appear hungry. “I hope my appearance doesn’t frighten you,” he said.

I rested my head against his chest. “No. It doesn’t but you’re not off the hook for eating my friends. There could’ve been another way to entice me to you. Like a fudge trail or something.” Some sticky fudge would be good now. Better than Dove Chocolate.  I imagined it in my mouth, gooing into my teeth, saliva surrounding it. Pure Yoga for the mouth and mind. There’s no way one can rush through a piece of that confection. A true stress reliever.

A hummer came into plain sight. It beeped a couple times and the headlights blinked twice.

“Anyway. Who made you into a vampire?” I asked.

“An old high school cheerleader,” he said.

I pulled my head away from the safety of his chest. “Which cheer leader?”

His big-bad-vampire-exterior melted, and he swallowed a lump before he said, “Shelby Moore.”

I threw a fist into his chest. “What were you doing with that ho?”

To be continued….

E is for Ear Hair

This morning Contessa and Arthur are on hiatus. They wanted more time to make out. Not mention, Arthur needs more time to convince Contessa she needs to go with him for protection. Vampires! You know how they are.

Okay. The flying monkeys need to fly….

Wanted you all to know that I’ve got a pet peeve. Ear hair.

I’m a hairdresser and I see lots of hair. Head hair. Nose hair. Eye brows. Neck hair. Back and chest hairs that wave at me, peeking out of their owners’ collars. Unusually long forehead hair. All of these are worth blogging about, but ear hair takes the cake.

My hubby and I know a gentleman who has the hairiest ears I’ve ever seen. They remind me of baby fried squid. You know, the little bulbous things with fried squiggly legs that are edible. And I like those but not growing out of someone’s ears.

How can anyone hear with rows of ear hair? Better yet, how can one possibly clean the potatoes out of their ears with all that ear hair. Really?

And, what’s wrong with their wives, girlfriends, or sweeties? Do they really not care about their mens’ appearances? Really? Ewwe…

The guy above wants the government in India to pay him because he can grow gorgeous ear hair. Really? He resembles half bat, half wolf. Someone sharpen me a blade. I’ll be glad to whack them suckers off. Maybe then he can get a real job, sitting at a desk, processing paperwork for his government.

This old guy is in the Book of World Guinness for the longest ear hair. Really! I guess it brings you celebrity status if you live in India. Watch the next news clip I found.

Longest Ear Hair

What do you think? Should we send our men to India so they can obtain celebrity status for growing ear hair?

D is for Dove Chocolate

This a story continued from yesterday.

“Arthur?” I reached for his hand. It felt sticky and cold. “That really you?” My body quivered all over.

“Of course,” he said. I could swear a smile stretched across his face despite the fact I couldn’t see anything other than his blood-colored eyes. “When I went back to our home town a year ago, I found you’d left for college like you’d planned. I’ve been searching for you ever since, my love.”

Love. He called me love. Arthur never called me that.

“You sure about that?” I pulled his gummy hand from my cheek, watching his pure red pools. They didn’t flinch from me. “What did you do with my friends?” Panic riddled through me.

A round of laughter encircled us. Females and males.

I looked around into the shadows. The darkness kept out the audience hidden except for another pair of sinister eyes coming toward us.

Arthur or should I say whoever, put both his hands on my shoulders. His lips touched my cheek and brushed them against my skin toward my ear and whispered, “Don’t move.” This sent heated shivers on the inside and made my nipples hard.

What a great time for something like this, I thought. For crying out loud, Contessa, your friends are probably dead and you’re getting hot and bothered. Really? You should be ashamed of yourself.

“Why?” I whispered back.

“Trust me.”

“Why should I?” I kept my voice hushed, but firm.

“Please, Tessie.” His gentle words melted my insides.

Icy, slender fingers traveled up the back of my neck into my hair. “They were for dinner,” a female’s voice said. “They were tasty.” Her chilly breath swept against my other cheek.

Arthur made a deep-throated growl before he said, “She’s not for dinner.” He pulled me close to him burying my face into his chest. I breathed him in sniffing for remnants of chili dogs and Dial soap. Nope. He reeked of top soil and fresh blood.

“Achoo…achoo…Sorry…achoo…I’m…achoo…allergic to dirt,” I said.

The female chuckled and twirled a finger into a strand of my hair.

“I’m making her my mate,” Arthur said.

“Really?” The woman released my hair. “She seems too frigid to become one of us. She’d make a better meal.”

“Did you forget the deal?” He snarled at her. It’s a good thing darkness veiled their faces. They sounded like the monsters I sometimes dreamt about.

“Whatever,” the female huffed.

Scuffling in the dirt sounded around us and a door slammed.

“They’re gone,” he said.

I loosened myself so I could look back into his eyes. They changed. Black pupils evolved. The sight soothed me, but not enough to keep my mouth shut. “What’s going on?” I fought back tears that should’ve come sooner, but I’m not one to show open terror when threatened. “Where have you been? What happened to you? Why did you eat. My. Friends?” I shot the words at him.

“I’m a vampire,” he said.

“You’ve got to be kidding. Right?” I backed away from him and put my hands on my hips.

“No. I’m not.”

My knees went weak, pummeling me to the dirt floor. A shit-fit was coming on. “Seriously,” I said. “I need a Dove Chocolate Bar right now. In fact, I need a pint of their Unconditional Chocolate. Oh. My. God.” My mind went into a frenzy. It made my head throb more. Some stress eating would help me process this overwhelming information.

“Tessie. Don’t panic. I’ll get you whatever you want. As much ice cream as you want.” He must’ve dropped to his knees because he smoothed my hair back and his eyes held mine. “Come home with me. Be mine forever. That’s the only way I can protect you now. They know your scent. They’ll hunt you if I don’t turn you soon.”

“Turn me into what? A bloodsucking fiend?” Tears washed over my cheeks and snot ran down my lips.

“I love you. You’re my girl. Always have been. Ever since the fifth grade. We both know that.” He slipped his hands behind my head and cradled it.

I ran my hand underneath my nose, and dropped it down into my lap. “Well, before you turn me I want a diamond. And loads of chocolate. And I w—”

His lips pressed against and opened over mine, snot and all. His tongue gently made its way between my lips washing over and around my tongue. My body relaxed, and I took all of it into my mouth. Our tongues danced together until I could no longer breathe.

To be continued…

C is for Contessa

Contessa is a character I’ve been working on for fun. If you want to know more about her, you can scroll down to the March archive and find her in Ben and Jerry’s Fudge Brownie. Who knows, maybe she and her boyfriend will show up again during this A-Z Challenge.

Two years ago, my boyfriend, Arthur Goldman, went missing. People believed he’d been kidnapped and murdered by some maniac. The police found a leaf trail, in a wooded area, splattered with blood, and his favorite t-shirt, Computer Geeks Rule. Everyone in my town accepted he wouldn’t be coming back but it took me a while.

The summer after his death, I readied myself for college and moved to another state. Little by little, I accepted the loss. About half way into the third semester, I let my hair down so to speak, went on a few new dates, and hung out with my girlfriends.

Six months ago, my girlfriends and I went out. We visited a local night club. The Bloody Mary. We danced. We got tipsy. Did some bump and grind. You know, the usual stuff twenty year olds do.

The next thing I’m about to tell you is corny but true. A tall, dark haired waiter came to our table. His eyes glowed. Yellow and cat-like. His skin looked flawless, not one zit, but pasty-white. “I brought you ladies, some cocktails on the house,” he said, setting glasses on the table. The words rolled off his tongue.

I thought my friends would get on their hands and knees to follow after him. Something about him made you want to drool and loose all lady-like functions. The guy was drop-dead-hot.

The three of us raised our glasses and cheered in unison, “To new beginnings and hot guys!” At the same time we downed our free cocktails.

We looked at each other like something went wrong. I know the room spun for me, and I saw doubles of everything. My friend next to me collapsed on the table before the room around me blacked out.

I woke up in a dank, cold place with a throbbing headache. It reeked of moist topsoil. Achoo…achoo. The stuff makes me sneeze. Allergies suck.

A warm hand grabbed my arm out of the shadows. “Contessa.” my friend said. “That you?” Her voice shook.

“Yeah,” I said.

“Where are we?” she asked.

“Don’t know, but it feels and smells like a place where there’s lots of dirt. Where’s our other sister?”

“Haven’t heard a peep from her. It’s too dark to see anything. I had to feel my way toward you.” A little whimper escaped her.

“Maybe she’s dead,” I said. It made sense to me. Some socio-path spiked our drinks and towed us off to some dark secluded place. With my luck we’re in the bottom of a grave awaiting death.

My friend’s nails dug into me. “Don’t say that.” She pulled me close to her and bawled.

A low growl came from behind.

“Shhh,” I said. “Did you hear that?” I looked around the dim area and blinked my eyes.

“Hear what?” She sniffled.

A chain of snarls surrounded us. Dirt flew into my eyes. My friend screamed, wiggling and kicking her feet. Something dragged her away from me.

I held my breath, closed my gritty eyes, and froze. My friend’s squeals stopped. Snapping and slurping sounds surrounded me. A metallic smell wafted through my nostrils. Blood.

Oh. God. Please forgive me all my sins, I prayed. I had a horrible fear of going to hell when I died.

Someone or something plopped beside me. A cold hand touched my cheek.

I opened my eyes, one at a time. Red glowing eyes stared back at mine.

The creatures touch went from touching to caressing my face. “Tessie?” Only one person ever called me that. Arthur.

To be continued…..

Sir Poops-A-Lot Say B is For Butts, Bums, and Bottoms

 

Hello to everyone and Ms. Dog:

Before I follow through with my part on the A-Z challenge, I must reach out to Ms. Dog. Why haven’t you answered me? I thought we were onto a good thing.

Am I too old for you? Not handsome enough, perhaps? Maybe that’s it. So I allowed mummsy to put me in the Great White Watery Abyss of Torture this week. She always says it make me more handsome. She even brushed my teeth.

Daddy-o shaved me after. I went from this:

To this:

This is all for you, my beauty.  I hope you find me appealing now. Maybe you will find me sniff-worthy.

Speaking of sniffing everyone… butts, bums, and bottoms, its how we dogs greet each other. We dogs release a foul brownish discharge. It’s like perfume to us. It also identifies who we are to each other. Girl. Boy. Mean or friendly.

I still say if the two legged species got their sniffers going on each others’ bums the world be a more peaceful place to live. Maybe then no one would have the need to be at the top of the food chain or steal others’ resources.

Even though I’m the older dog in my house, I share my food, toys, and bones with my brother, who really isn’t my brother, but mummsy says so….he’s really a hair ball. She can’t fool me.

Anyway, back to my point, if I can get along with hair ball, why can’t the two legged species get along with their own?

Well, for now, I’m going to end this blog with this beautiful melody. Mummsy says it’s inappropriate but I don’t see the problem. It’s about bottoms. 

 

Have an enjoyable day!

Very truly yours,

Sir Poops-A-Lot

P.S. Ms. Dog I send you LLKK. Lots of them.

P.S.S. Mummsy works 9 to 6 today, grooming the two-leggeds. That means the computer will be off until she gets home. So if anyone leaves a comment, I’ll answer back this evening.