Thursday, February 21, 2008
6. Using bathroom cleaner in a poorly vented area won't make me see pink elephants on the ceiling.
5. Sure, I have time to get that done. Pile 'er on.
4. My muse will come back to me any minute. She promised, right?
3. I'll just lie down for a second and then get right back up, recharged and ready to hit the computer. Really. really. r.e.a.l...zzzzzz
2. I'll only blog-surf for five minutes this afternoon... maybe ten, tops. Seriously.
1. I'll have immediate inspiration for the new contest at Clarity of Night. (uh, oh...)
Thursday, February 14, 2008
I don't usually promote new books, but one of the gals over at WOW! Women on Writing, Annette Fix, has a new book out and I thought it sounded interesting enough to agree to give you the lowdown here...
The Break-Up Diet: a memoir by Annette Fix is the true story of a 30 something single mother/aspiring writer who is working as an exotic dancer, searching for Prince Charming, and trying to find a perfect balance between her dreams and her day-to-day life as Supermom.
Please visit The Break-Up Story Forum (www.mybreakupstory.com)
A place where women can go to read and share their break-up and dating stories. Check it out and join the fun!
Annette Fix is the Senior Editor for WOW! Women On Writing, an author, and spoken-word storyteller, living in Laguna Niguel, California with her Danish Prince Charming, her aspiring photographer son, and two rescued dogs.
Book Website: www.thebreak-updiet.com
The Break-Up Story Forum: www.mybreakupstory.com
If you purchase "The Break-Up Diet", let me know! (It could be the perfect Valentine's gift for a single friend!)
And now, onto a new video starring my son and me.
It's on the romantic topic of "Kissing Toads". Hope you like it!
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
I call it "Two Too Many in the Tub"
Maggie turned on the water, sighing. The kids were finally in bed. Ten o'clock. A bath to herself. Lovely.
She searched through the cluttered cabinets and finally found a bottle of nearly-empty lavendar-scented bubble bath. It had spilled all over the drawer, destroying a tube of expensive lipstick as well as soaking a package of heartburn medicine.
"Dammit," she muttered, but didn't clean the mess. It would be there tomorrow.
Slowly, she poured what little was left of the bubble bath into the tub. The smell of fake flowers hung heavy in the air. Maggie sneezed and turned off the water.
She quickly undressed and got into the tub without testing the temperature. "Ahhhh!" she yelled, jumping out and hopping around on the fuzzy blue bathmat. She looked down. Her legs were bright pink from mid-calf to her toes.
Suddenly, the door opened. Bruce stood there, silent at first, then laughed.
Maggie was pissed. "What the hell is so funny?"
Bruce's grin faded... a bit. "It's not every day that I see you looking like a boiled lobster."
Maggie flipped him off and gently got back into the tub. She turned her head from her husband of eleven years, hoping he'd get the hint.
When she didn't hear the door close, she looked back and was mortified to find him undressing. "What in the world are you doing?"
Bruce stood in his stained underwear, hairy belly flopping over the stretched-out waistband. "Well, I thought it would be romantic..." He stopped.
Maggie rolled her eyes. She had been so looking forward to time by herself for a change. But she knew Bruce would pout if she didn't give in. "Come on," she said, scrunching her body up against the faucet to make room in the tub for 220 pounds of testosterone.
Bruce disrobed in record time, knowing his window of opportunity was limited. He got into the tub, wincing at the pain of the steamy water. "This is hot."
Maggie stared at him. "No shit, Sherlock."
Once settled, Bruce smiled at Maggie, who returned his expression with a frown. She crossed her arms. "What now?" she asked.
Bruce tried to extend his legs so they intertwined with hers, but soon discovered that whenever he tried to move much, the water sloshed over the top of the tub, spilling onto the floor.
"You're cleaning that up," Maggie said without emotion.
Bruce desperately wanted to salvage the mood that had never come to fruition. He began to stroke her legs but quickly recoiled in disgust. "When was the last time you shaved?" he demanded.
It was time for Maggie to laugh. "I don't know. It's winter." She turned her head to rest her face against the cold water knob.
Feeling foolish yet determined, Bruce maneuvered himself so he was close to Maggie's face. He kissed her cheek. It felt like a moist, dirty sponge beneath his lips. He resisted the temptation to gag.
Maggie turned to look at her husband. She knew sex was inevitable tonight, but she was damned if she was going to do it there. Too much chafing. Too little pleasure.
"Let's get out of here," she muttered.
Bruce awkwardly escaped from the tub and began drying himself with a threadbare towel. Maggie got out, too, wondering if she had remembered to take her birth control pills and hoping to heck she had.
Without warning, Bruce pulled Maggie close to him. She could smell the garlic on his breath. His face came closer and she resigned herself to the knowledge that there would be no "down time" this evening. Again.
"Wahhhhh!" The voice wailed from down the hall. "Mommmmmmy!"
Maggie brightened. "Jenny's crying! Gotta go now, hon!" She pecked Bruce on the ear. "Coming, sweetheart!" she yelled to the nursery. In a millisecond, she was gone.
Bruce stood naked, dripping lavendar-scented beads and standing in a pool of rapidly cooling water.
"Happy Valentine's Day." He slowly walked to the bedroom. He needed a cigarette.
And if you check out their latest post at Clarity of Night, you'll know why. I literally was feeling guilty while indulging in the writing because it's a bit... ummm... real.
You'll understand what I mean after you read it.
DISCLAIMER: Have the sexpot of your choice or a cold shower handy.
Friday, February 8, 2008
Wednesday, February 6, 2008
Yadda, yadda, yadda.
But the past two days have really kind of sucked. I got turned down for a writing gig. I goofed on the organization of a project. And, to top it all off, I have a super-duper-pooper-scooper case of tonsilitis. (Thanks, son! I love you with all my heart, but couldn't you have given me a lovely handmade drawing instead of your cold?)
Can someone out there please promise me that things will be better tomorrow? Or will the old "bad things come in threes" omen come to pass?
I need a soothsayer... or at least someone who will don a funky turban and wave his or her hands around a crystal ball or deck of Tarot cards.
Sunday, February 3, 2008
If so, I have a little project for you, courtesy of my crazy mind!
Last night, I dreamed that I suddenly realized (at this age, 36) I had
never finished by last semester of college.
Consequently, I dropped by Bucknell University (my alma mater) to pick up information from my mailbox (I don't even remember which number it was, to be perfectly honest!) to find out what homework I'd missed.
I kept thinking, "Oh, man. I'm so close to a degree, but I forgot to do my assignments, and I haven't even been in class! In fact, I don't know which classes I'm supposed to take or what times they start! How on earth am I going to explain this to the professors?"
I was panicked, but more disheartened than anything, wondering how on earth I would be able to achieve grades that were good enough to earn my diploma. (In reality, I earned that diploma almost 14 years ago...)
When the dream ended, I had found out the four classes I was supposed to take, but I couldn't find my homework assignments nor could I figure out how to juggle everything I had to do to graduate on time.
So... what does it all mean, my sage readers? Is my psyche telling me something? Or did I just eat spicy food for dinner?
Saturday, February 2, 2008
I love being an instructor for teens and adults, but some days, I wish I weren't so diligent and responsible. Sometimes, I just wanna play hookie, dang it! But see, I can't and I won't and I wouldn't and I don't.
Ironically, I have worked with far too many people who think nothing of calling off work without a second thought. No worries, they either call in "sick" or simply never appear and figure they'll deal with the consequences later.
Though I can't fathom that kind of behavior, I do envy it just a teeny bit.
Imagine -- being able to say, "Hell, I want to sleep/play/goof-off so screw everything else!" Must feel good, at least for a nanosecond. But I'll never know because at heart, I'm still the geek kid who wouldn't dream of taking any other path than the "straight and narrow"!
The upside? You'll never see my face on a "Wanted" poster... unless I make a mock one on my blog! (Hey, there's an idea...)