Advertisements
Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Archive for the ‘chick lit’ Category


garden girl

My phone number belonged to a call girl before I got it from T-Mobile. She must have been really good because she still gets calls. I thought about answering numbers I don’t know with some themed response.

Since it was Christmas –

Do you want a one horse open sleigh or the whole team?

We’re running a two for one special on Santa’s Little Helper.

Would you like the two French hens and my partridge in your pear tree?

 

With this kind of talent, I should be writing erotica.

Advertisements

Read Full Post »


10 Things I have been known to say to or about my arch-nemesis

cropped-101.jpg

Hey, is hateful on a stick here yet?

If we say my arch-nemesis’s name backwards babies cry, mirrors shatter & volcanoes erupt.

I spoke to your people through a ouija board and they’re ok doing it my way.

Will your crows be sitting on my car when I leave today?

I’m afraid her winged monkeys will snatch me away. How did she get out from under that house anyway?

I have to send a document to my arch nemesis for review. She’s in a different time zone, so I’m waiting until it’s after hours in the inner ring of hell.

The demoness is not to be trifled with. I heard she was divorced. I didn’t know you could divorce the devil.

Someone tell the wicked witch I don’t have her ruby slippers.

The devil’s handmaiden is back and in full force. She’s been refreshed by a cup full of hell fire & brimstone.

The guardian of the gates of hell scared the devil so she’s back early from her vacation.

Read Full Post »


 

woman yellow dress

Imagine a world where the undead exist and you hope one side or the other will pick you to join them. What if the wrong side picked you?

Barb lay faced down on the pavement. Her warm blood flowing away from her like a river, carrying with it her life. She was helpless to do anything but watch. With a last shuttering gasp, blackness enveloped her.

“Hey lady, you okay?”

The smell of vomit and cheap liquor stung her nose. She gagged. Perhaps Barb had cheated death after all. She pulled herself up. The ugly gaping wound was still there. She could clearly see intestines, but there was no blood. Not a drop.

Her heart wasn’t beating. She wasn’t breathing.

“Oh geeze, not undead. Anything but zombie. This is certainly going to put a damper on my sex life. And the whole flesh eating things. I’m a vegetarian for gosh sakes. This isn’t going to work for me,” she yelled at no one in particular.

Read Full Post »


 

cropped-99nnb.jpg

“My first mistake, falling in love with my enemy. My second, not killing him when I had the chance.” The first line of The Novel With No Name and hasn’t been started yet. What do you think?

I was challenged to try First Line Friday by Rami Ungart at https://ramiungarthewriter.wordpress.com/. Okay, Rami I accept your challenge.

You can play along at home. Here’s what you do.

  1. Create a post on your blog titled #FirstLineFriday, hashtag and all.
  2. Explain the rules like I’m doing now.
  3. Post the first one or two lines of a potential work, a work-in-progress, or a completed or published story.
  4. Ask your readers for feedback and then encourage them to try #FirstLineFriday on their blogs (tagging is encouraged but not necessary).

Read Full Post »


green coat toon

Random scene that played out in my head while I was trying to sleep.

Pam’s heels clicked on the tile floor. We were headed to the Friday morning staff meeting. A couple of interns almost broke their necks trying to catch a glance at Pam’s rear. She was the kind of woman who attracted attention.

“Heads up,” I whispered, “Danny’s wife is going to call you.”

Danny had only been married for six months.

“Me, why?”

“She found out Danny and I slept together a couple of years ago.”

It had only been twice on a business trip to Rio. I had obviously lost my mind.

“And that involves me why?”

“I had to throw you under the bus to get her off the phone.” Danny’s wife had turned out to be the jealous type.

“Really?” Pam was still as cool as ever.

We entered the still empty conference room. It was way too bright without coffee, which I would have had by now if I wasn’t answering phone calls from Danny’s wife.

“I told her Danny slept with you, Marcie and Barb.”

“He slept with Barb?”

“Yeah.”

“When?”

“Between you and Marcie.”

“Was he trying to make me jealous?”

“Yeap,” I chuckled.

“Huh, I didn’t notice.”

“That made it more fun to watch.” I slid into my customary seat and waited for the others to join us.

“She called me a slut,” I said, tapping my pen.

Pam laughed, not just chuckled, an outright laugh.

I continued, “Do you think I’m a slut?”

“You haven’t slept with a man in two years. That and a few Hail Mary’s and you’re practically a nun.”

Other consultants began piling in the room. The rest of this conversation would have to wait.

 

Read Full Post »


After hours of shopping, I was trying on slacks in a brightly lit dressing room. Finally, I found a pair that fit perfectly.  Tight enough in the right places and loose in others.

When I stepped out of the dressing room to show my friend, she said, “You have the ass that could rule the world.”

Maybe I could rule the world. I seriously considered her statement before realizing there are already enough asses ruling out there now.

Read Full Post »


203 a

It was early one spring when I found myself on a French highway between Normandy and Paris with my panties strung on a line across the back window of a silver sports car. French truck drivers, not unlike American truck drivers were quick to express their approval of my delicates flapping in the breeze as I zoomed back to Paris.

This would never have happened if I hadn’t decide liquor was more important than panties. You see I worked in Europe three weeks of every month. So naturally, I decided I could forego clothing to create luggage space for more wine and champagne.

This time my brilliance got the best of me. I found myself in the unfortunate position of being in a hotel in rural France without clean panties.

Never fear, I thought, a quick wash in the sink and they’ll be dry and ready for the flight back to the U.S. in the morning.

However, come morning my “delicates” were still wet. Not to be outwitted by panties, I grabbed a string from the hotel owner and strung it across the back window of the sports car I had rented. I set off for Paris, my windows down and my line of undies flapping behind me. Admiring truck drivers honked at me all the way back to Paris.

Unfortunately, I hadn’t calculated air speed and drag, not being of the mathematically minded. As I pulled into the car rental lot to the shocked horror of the Parisian employees, one end of the string had pulled loose and the whole string was waving like a kite high above the back of that sports car shining in the morning sun.

They found me ripping my underwear out of the back window and shoving it into my suitcase just in time to catch my flight. They didn’t even had the decency to look haughty.

Read Full Post »

Older Posts »

%d bloggers like this: