Category Archives: Humor
You bought my book? AWESOME! Wanna tell me what to do next? Also awesome!
Go RIGHT NOW to Make Contact and select FOCUS GROUP from the pull-down menu.
I’m collecting information to help me decide my next move in the book game.
As always, thanks for playing along!
So this is happening to me on Saturday:
My Brand New Boyfriend is a loyal Bulls fan, a season ticket holder, and is BIG on tailgating. I get a sense of, either I get into his conference this year, or I’m just not gonna see the guy! I’m gonna be a good sport; I even bought a fitted tee with USF across the chest. After all, I gotta out-girlfriend the other girlfriends!! ;)
Meanwhile….tonight is Texas A&M v South Carolina! The SEC… the conference of CHAMPIONS!
You music lovers need to be following Mik Mob’s Music Mass! Sometimes I get lucky enough to catch the ‘fresh’ posts and listen to some DIAMONDS like DJ Assault!!
‘Ass-N-Titties’…WOW…that’s taking it back to the house parties! If you weren’t spinnin’ Ass-N-Titties at your party, well…you never *really* had a house party. ;)
May I also please encourage you to follow with, ‘Dick By The Pound’…
Hello friends! On April 4th of this year, I released my debut novel, I Blew Up Juarez. Proudly, I sold several copies and ran out of printed books!
I intended to put out the next “book” this holiday season, but I have another idea, and this is where I need your help!
On AUGUST 31, 2014 I’m sending out a quick survey for all readers of I Blew Up Juarez via email to collect your thoughts on how the story continues, even if you’re not finished reading the book! Exciting, right?
If you are interested in becoming a participant, please send an email titled “FOCUS GROUP” to firstname.lastname@example.org by AUGUST 30 so that you’re included.
It will be a bcc interaction, so don’t worry about your individual opinion being lost in the mix.
I value your insight. Thanks!
Author, I Blew Up Juarez
Somewhere in Oklahoma…
How dare you, Union Pacific, block off the ONLY road to the neighborhood I need to get to!! Alright, fine, roll on through…
…keep it moving…
…geeeeeeeeeez how long is this train? Hurry up slowpoke…
…wait, WHAT? Why are you stopping? Here?? IN FRONT OF ME???
(several torporific minutes pass)
BACKWARDS?!?! You just went– you were going — GAWDDAMMITSUMBITCCCCHHHH!
I HATE THIS PLACE!!!
[My friends and I believe I met an angel in Tulsa, Oklahoma. Here's the story..]
Riding the wave of musical enlightenment, I break off from my Center of the Universe clan as I proclaim in Spanish, “Necesito mear.” I need to go pee. They round the bend to find a wall to lean against while I experience the rare joy of no line for the port-o-potties!
I exit my pee terminal and find the wash stand. This is cool; a foot pump to deliver the water, a soap distributor to remain sanitized. Ahh technology! Afterwards, I open my backpack and dig for my hand lotion, the complication of darkness mixed with intoxication makes me fiend with desperation! I’m searching for this elusive bottle of lotion as I spy a group of festivalgoers carrying on in laughter and play. One of them separates from the happy herd and wanders my way. “You’re just digging away in that bag!” he notices. I give him an apprehensive look, for his hands are behind his back. The strange yet jovial man lowers his head so we’re face to face, then pronounces what he’s destined to do, “I want to give you something.” The blue eyeglasses sans lenses he’s wearing come off his face and he waves them towards me.
I smile politely and refuse, yet he’s sweetly adamant. I shake my head as I take him in: wide smile, wearing a fitted blue ball cap matching his dark blue eyes, endowed with a Bruce Campbell chin. He’s broad and tall; his body, immaculately sculpted. Holy shit, how did I not notice this dude is hot?? I smile internally at the revelation; I noticed his playful energy before I let the superficial influence me.
“Sweetie, I don’t want your glasses,” I insist.
He gestures towards me, “Take them!”
“But I already have glasses.”
“You’ll look great in them.”
“But I need glasses to see,” I explain, “there’s no lenses; how am I gonna see?”
I make a smug face. Logic trumps all.
He’s wearing the saddest look of dejection! Aww dammit, I kick myself internally, I did that thing again where I say something that makes sense to me, but comes off dickish to them. Puppy eyed, tail tucked, he starts backstepping towards his friends.
Now I realize I’m an asshole. “Come here,” I sigh, widening my arms, waving my hands to encourage him back so I can deliver an apologetic hug. “Come, come.” He smiles then wraps big arms around me, and I feel quite possibly the most purest of authentic happiness pierce my cynical skin and invade my corroded heart. We rock in this embrace. I tighten my hold as if we’ve known each other for decades.
As we pull apart, I find his face once again restored to that playful cherub. He reaches out his hand.
I extend my hand to flatten against his.
“Now stick out your thumb,” he instructs.
I flare my five so that my thumb sticks out. He does the same. “Now bring it in,” he instructs. I wrap my thumb around his hand and he does the same. He brings his face close to mine. “Hand hug.”
I smile. He smiles.
“Pay it forward.”
Tears fill my eyes as I nod, “I will.”
Even though I was standing and he was sitting, Billy towered over me by another foot. Billy’s huge, like, HUGE, with a thick neck, broad shoulders, and tree trunks as thighs. At one point in our boisterous conversation, Billy reached out for a pound, and as I served it back, my four knuckles rested against his first two. Big boy, that Billy.
We’re jawin’ on about whatnot and whatever when suddenly, Billy’s right leg swings up swiftly, his knee level to my chest, and I, out of instinct, hop back into a fight stance and lift my arms to block what seems to be a right knee to my face.
Billy doesn’t break a beat in his story as the battering ram is returned to a relaxed pose. I’m now in fight mode, but not sure why.
“Billy! What the fuck was that??”
“Oh my leg? Oh it does that.”
“Yeah, it’s like a nervous twitch or something.”
“Nervous twitch?? Billy, I thought you were gonna knee me in the face!”
“Really? No, I wouldn’t do that.”
I relax my balled fists and loosen my stance. I exhale deeply, hoping I didn’t leak out too much adrenaline. “Billy, I was gonna hit you.”
Billy slumps his shoulders and closes his eyes. “It’s okay. You can hit me.” He straightens his spine, rests his hands on his thighs, and just waits, in a knowing fashion, in a this-happens-all-the-time fashion. I’m bewildered. He doesn’t move. “Go ahead, hit me.”
Flummoxed, I look to his brethren at his right, who says, “That’s just Billy.”
Billy awaits his bludgeoning, a willing receptor for my left hook. And I thought I was insane!
“Billy,” I place a soft hand on his left shoulder, encouraging his eyes to open and look at me, “I don’t want to strike you, Billy.”
“It’s okay if you want to.”
“Thank you for the invitation, but no, I don’t want to hit you.”
Billy shifts in his seat, back into his relaxed pose, and offers sweetly, “But just so you know, if you wanna hit me, you can hit me.”
I am simultaneously touched and freaked out by his gentlemanly invitation for assault. I sit back down, where the girls are talking, and continue eating sushi.
Imagine what it feels like to be driving, alone, after midnight in unfamiliar territory, when suddenly your GPS navigation system gives out, and the lamps inside your truck stop working. This happened to me during the wee hours of Thursday, July 24 just a few weeks ago.
The Girl Scout in me knew she needed a map, but she also knew we didn’t own one. All I knew was that I was in Georgia, alone, directionally blind in the middle of the night.
A familiar beacon, a striation of sunny yellow beams extending from a blue background and the words, “Wal-Mart.”
If ever a woman could get completely exasperated from excitement merely by reading a lit sign, it would be in the way I reacted.
Pulled in to Store #5797 and noticed first how bright and clean it was for stock hours. The design of this store is different from what I have back home, so I must’ve looked very turned around when a lovely associate stopped shelving and asked if I needed help. I asked for an atlas, and so he came up to Maranda, who, mind you, had recently lost her voice, eagerly directed me towards the atlas I own now.
Not content to leave me looking at the atlas, Maranda asked me where I was headed, and, still nervewrecked I responded, “I don’t even know where I am!”
With the sweetest delivery, she pronounced, “You’re in Albany, Georgia,” to which I sighed relief. At least I was still heading the correct direction.
Maranda called over KT, who used to frequently travel to Memphis and Little Rock. As my stop was Memphis, he showed me on the atlas which roads to take, as well as how much time it should take me to get there. Relieved, grateful, confident on my path, I bid them farewell and told them I’d write a letter to express my sincere gratitude. Of course, they said it wasn’t necessary.
Obviously, I was compelled to share my story. I appreciate Maranda and KT going the extra mile to help me find the product I needed and get me safely on the road. My navigation system eventually resolved itself, but it’s good to know this cherished atlas is in my truck with me.
Still on the road; might visit Store #5797 for snacks!
Please freely use my expression of gratitude, as long as KT and Maranda are mentioned.
With greatest appreciation,
Author, I Blew Up Juarez