Showing posts with label ramblings. Show all posts
Showing posts with label ramblings. Show all posts

A Dash of Valentine's Day Madness (bite of flash fiction)


Things are never what they seem...especially online...
 
(disclaimer: I do not own this image)
 
                “No, but he still thinks I’m a seventeen-year-old cheerleader,” Jon cackled into his cell phone.
                “What a moron,” Vinnie laughed over the line. “What girl would ever go for a redneck?”
                Jon scrolled through Brianna Fords’ profile. Her list of friends had grown considerably since last week after he decided to change her profile picture. It was amazing what a bit of cleavage could do. He couldn’t believe how gullible people were. A girl like her? Seventeen, blonde hair, big blue eyes, gymnastics star and head cheerleader and she was single?
                Not a chance.
                But he’d made her that way. Brianna Fords was a girl of his own creation and he was going to fool all these bastards, just like he’d been fooled all those months ago.
              “Well, she’s pretty freaking popular, I’ll tell you that,” he said now. “You should see all the guys that messaged her.”
                “Yeah, the gamers, the losers and the creeps.”
                “Once I post my dick pic, they’ll get it.”
                “And sometimes not even then.”
Jon chuckled. “Desperation abound, my friend, especially with Valentine’s Day right around the corner. I think I would pay to see the looks on their faces when they find out she’s not even real.”
                Ding! Ding-ding!
                “Oh, hang on, man. Incoming messages from the redneck.”
Jon clicked on them then went very still. “Oh shit,” he hissed.
                “What?” Vinnie said. “Dude, what did he say?”
                “He just sent me a picture.”
                “Did he send you a dick pic?” Vinnie guffawed.
                “No. I mean, yes, he sent me a picture but it’s not…it’s not of his dick.”
Vinnie scoffed in impatience. “Well, what is it?”
                “The front of my house.”
                “What? Wait, he’s there? Jon---”
                The doorbell rang.
 
 


A snippet of conversation....


Sometimes there are words that come out of your mouth in such a way that even YOU need to give yourself a pat on the back for coming up with such wit! The following happened to me over the weekend:
My friends and I got together for some good food and drinks. It had been a while since we saw each other so it was a very relaxed atmosphere of catch-up and a healthy dose of Sangria. I made a casual mention of my friend's co-worker who happened to be this absolutely adorable guy and absolutely not available. To which my friend said to me,

                 "Dude, you'd eat him alive."
My reply: "True. But it would be a great meal."

I don't come out with very many good ones unless I think about it first but that reply came flying off my tongue like it was fire.

It had to be mentioned.

Cheers!



There is some kind of epidemic....


            Ack! Finally! I'm on my blog! I've been slacking, big-time! As most of you know, I've been ass-deep in edits for my next book, Lights Out. This thing is a monster. It truly is and it's getting longer by the day. And to think I'm only halfway through with this round and I've got 2 more rounds of edits AFTER this one! I want to cry but why should I? This is what I want to do, isn't it? Why am I complaining? So okay! Enough of this crying and pissing and moaning!
            Onto bigger and better things!
            See that picture at the top?
            Yeah. That's right.
           Those scrumptious little circles are lemon cookies.
There is clearly an epidemic of lemonic proportions because within the last few weeks, I've seen countless of recipes that call for lemons! And I'm not just talking about desserts either (although my sister found this really good recipe for lemons bars....), I'm talking about everything! Lemons on meat, lemons on veggies, lemons in beverages...well, wait, lemons have always kind of been in beverages, haven't they?
           Well, lemons are the fruit of the month anyway!
           Makes me want to grow a lemon tree.
           How hard can that be?
          But what happens when the lemon fad is over? What do I do? Pull a George Washington and cut it down?
           I think I'll leave the lemon-growing to the professionals. But those lemon cookies....those I will have to try!

         Until next time I crawl out of the editing cave, folks!

         Cheers!

 

Why Brent Smith Rocks Harder (and hotter) Than Johnny Depp

 
 
 
 







       I know I’m really putting myself on the chopping block here by stating a rather unpopular, unheard-of opinion about the much-loved, much-drooled-over celebrity that is Johnny Depp. But before you start sending me hate mail or I-wish-you-would-die messages, please keep in mind, Depp-heads, that this is only my opinion.

        Now I’m very aware that I’m one of the few who fail to see what’s so great about Mr. Depp. I’m pretty sure I’ve been of this two percentile for quite some time but was never able to put my finger on why.

        Until now.

        Please refer to the photos above.

On the left, we have a black-and-white image of Brent Smith, the lead singer to Shinedown. In the photo on the right, we have an image of aforementioned actor, Johnny Depp.

        By now I think you can guess which one I would pick to have a beer with.

        All hail…

        Brent Smith.

Before you start lobbing your shoes at me, allow me to explain…that is, if you’re still reading this post instead of closing it in disgust, muttering, “Girl’s flat-out, out of her mind,” I would like to draw your attention to three categories in which comparisons can be made between these two gentlemen. Now I realize, one’s a singer and one’s an actor. They both travel in different circles, they’re involved in different things but I just want to emphasize the point that there are truly more awesome, humble people out there than Johnny. So let’s begin, shall we?

First category: looks.

There is no contest here. Brent is H-O-T even with the nose ring. Perhaps it’s the strong jawline covered in stubble, the tattoos (yes, there are quite a few them) or the deep, hooded eyes that are, if you’re curious, a mix of gray and blue. Simply put—he has that careless way of putting himself together without even trying. I get the feeling Depp on the other hand (hang on a minute while I get my shoe-blocking shield) tries way too hard. Did you see him on Letterman the other week? I was so busy counting the scarves that were hanging off him that I couldn't pay attention to what he was actually saying. It was just layers and layers of stuff---shirts, jewelry, and those damn scarves. And let’s not forget the hat. You could easily walk by him on the street and mistake him for a homeless person. I mean, how much money does this guy make? Is he really telling the world that he doesn’t care? Or that he’s too lazy to care? Or that he just takes himself waaaaay too seriously? You be the judge because I have a feeling that not many of you are enjoying my judgment right now.

        Second category: Professions.

Okay, yeah, they’re both in different professions. But Depp has been known to get on stage and “rock out” with the likes of The Black Keys and Aerosmith. A pretty stiff rock-out but a rock-out all the same. Hell, if it wasn’t for the hat, you wouldn’t be able to tell the difference between him and Steven Tyler. It’s pretty obvious that music is not his first passion. Acting is, so he might need to stick to what he knows best. Brent knows exactly where he belongs---on-stage, belting out relentless, hard-driving music that’s both powerful and haunting. I can only hope that he doesn’t get bitten by the acting bug. I find it extremely aggravating when musicians try to be actors and actors try to be musicians. I mean, really, have you ever seen Mariah Carey in Glitter?

        I thought so. I rest my case.

        Third and last category: interviews.

From the word go, Brent knows how to say something real. He knows where he’s at, what he’s doing and you feel like he actually gives a s***. Maybe it’s from his years of being addicted to drugs and alcohol. Maybe it’s from the hard work it takes to stay clean. Or maybe he simply appreciates what he’s been given. It’s a long road and you need to make the best of it. From Depp, I get the feeling that he works hard at not giving a s***. He looks for the right, smart-sounding words in his interviews that will make him sound, well, smart. He’s the ultimate artist, isn’t he? Looking like he doesn’t care about his appearance, sounding like he doesn’t care about his success and how he got there. He even lives like he doesn’t care, out in France, away from the “Hollywood-ness” of it all. But he doesn’t mind taking the Hollywood money, does he?

        I think the point of this post is that Depp simply annoys me. He’s given such opportunity, such choices and he just doesn’t seem to care about any of it. Brent Smith and the boys of Shinedown seem to be the exact opposite, giving their fans their all at every concert, every appearance and there’s Johnny Depp, slouching around in the background, smoking clove cigarettes, draped in scarves, trying to be Mr. Anti-Hollywood and complaining that having his picture taken is “like being raped.”

        Ugh.

Spare me the over-sensitive actor, please. I prefer someone a little bit more appreciative for what he has.

 

Cheers!

 

       

 

50 Shades of What the Hell???

 

Okay, I think it's a little late to be jumping on this bandwagon but sweet holy Jesus, I only just found out that 50 Shades was actually a piece of fan-fiction starring Bella and Edward of Twilight! And here I was thinking the majority of participants on this bandwagon—critics, readers and authors alike—were only here because both trilogies were so badly written! (Although I’m sure that’s a big part of the reason too!)
Yet for all the horrifying awfulness of these books, not one person can see any possible, sane, intelligent-sounding reason as to how or why the 50 Shades trilogy had the stamina, talent or weight to get published by a big-name publishing house.
            Now, you may say to me, “Dearest Melissa, the quest to find this reason has been going on for quite some time. We really don’t think one more 50 Shades hater is really going to make that much of a difference.”
            To which I say, fear not. I’m not here to hate or offer any hope, reasons or explanations. My current purpose is to find out who is to blame for this travesty and yes, it is a travesty. The publication of 50 Shades has brought the world of writing down to a whole new level and no, I’m not talking about the sex. Sex sells. Everyone knows that. What I’m talking about is the quality of the work itself. The quality of the writing, the flow of the story, the words, the plot, everything that goes in to the telling of a good story---where is it and who do we blame because honestly?
These books are awful.
I know publishing companies are struggling in the face of the ebook explosion and the do-it-yourself publishing programs but does that mean the books they do receive no longer need to be above par? Are these companies so desperate that they’re willing to put anything into print even if the work doesn’t meet their standards? Are they telling future writers that they too can write crap? That all they have to do is take an already-published story, change a few things around to make it their own then submit it for millions and fame?
            The connection between 50 Shades and Twilight is unmistakable. It’s simply unbelievable and unfair that one author could so blatantly build upon the success of another. I suppose the term “solid work ethic” need not apply here.
            Writers beware!


A funny story....


I have a story to tell you that has nothing to do with winter, snow, Nemo or shoveling. This pretty picture above notwithstanding, what I'm about to tell you could gross you out so I'm advising anyone with a heart condition to cease reading immediately.
Now to start off....I was not present at the time the catastrophe occurred. I was told this story second-hand but being cursed with an overactive imagination allowed it to unfold in my head like a bad horror movie. Maybe along the lines of Chucky and any of the Saw movies (there were seven of them, weren't there? Take your pick.)
So here's what happened. My mom was making my dad a cup of coffee. Simple enough, right? Now my dad likes to drink his java out of travel cups and these particular travels cups are black inside, to hold in the heat of the beverage which in any other situation would be pretty ingenious, right?
In this particular case, the black inside worked against all parties involved.
So my mom pours the coffee into the cup and puts it in the microwave to heat it up.
Time ticks down and the microwave goes off.
Beverage is hot and ready to be serve....except it's not.
It's not because there is this horrible stench coming from the cup when my mom takes it out of the microwave. She's gagging at this point, wondering out loud, "What in the world happened here?"
She looks into the cup, sees nothing but black-on-black. She puts the spoon in and starts to stir.              
Something bobs to the surface.
My mom freezes.
And what's floating along on its back? Charbroiled and coffee-soaked?
A stinkbug.

Screaming and gagging ensue.
Yep.
I don't think you need an overactive imagination to picture that, right?

A word to the wise: check the inside of your cups! You never know what may be lurking!



 

The aftershocks....


Oh man, raise your hand if your house still looks like this three days after Christmas....*sigh*

PS--I do not own this picture.

My run-in with the law....


Hey gang! Today, I'm at the awesome blog of fellow author Christine Hughes! I'm chit-chatting about my run-in with the law that is the New York Bridge Authority. Follow the link to her blog, read with caution and take notes because the next victim could be YOU!
http://christine-hughes.com/2012/12/15/481/

PS--I do not own this photograph!

December? Already???


Oh man, it's that time of year again....
Yup.
You know it.
You've only been hearing about it since the week before Thanksgiving. Perhaps even before that.
*sigh*
Christmas.
Now, don't get me wrong. I love Christmas. I love the lights, the atmosphere, the cookies and even on some morbid level, the shopping. My only concern is HOW did it get here so quickly????
Wasn't I just at the beach yesterday? Wasn't I just wearing shorts and flip-flops and feeling the back of my shirt stick to me whenever I climbed out of my car?
When in the freaking world did Christmas even ARRIVE????
Time, my friends, is slipping away, faster and faster, like sand, like water, like anything slippery, between our fingers to puddle at our feet. It's sad, isn't it, when you look up, look in the mirror and realize that the person staring back at you looks kind of different? Not because you dyed your hair. Not because you're wearing make-up or you had your lip pierced but because of time going by. It's sad and tad bit scary.
So enjoy what you have now, folks. You only get one shot at this life. One shot.
Make it good.

Cheers!

Name-calling....

 
 
Oh, what's in a name? *flails dramatically*
Well, if you're a story-teller, you know just how important names are for your characters. I'm guest-blogging over at Piper Shelly's blog today, trying to tackle that very issue. Check out my attempt at explaining name-calling from a writer's crazy point-of-view: http://pipershelly.com/2012/11/18/whats-your-name-again/#comment-240
 
Cheers!
 
PS--I take no credit for this adorable image of this baby! But the look on his face says it all, doesn't it?
 


Obsession at the moment....


 

So it's been quite a number of years since the Calvin & Hobbes comic strip ceased productions, which, I have to say, was a very sad time. Not a day had gone by when I didn't flip open the newspaper to find out what kind of trouble Calvin was getting into at school or at the dinner table or just how far his sneakers would fly off his feet when Hobbes pounced on him, stealthy stuffed tiger that he is. But I have to say that the above picture, one that I do not own in any way, shape or form, comdensed my absolute love for that comic strip and my most recent obsession with Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band.
I find it somewhat disheartening that being from New Jersey that I'm only now just discovering how awesome the Boss is and how passionate he is with his music, with his views of the world and how at being in his sixties, he's still sexy as hell and can still put on one hell of a show.
I think my next mission in life, aside from cranking out another book, is to attend a Springsteen concert---just to be able to exist in the midst of all that energy, just to be able to listen, to stand against the massive wall of sound and let that gravelly voice pound at my eardrums and skate down my spine to my toes.
Yep.
A Springsteen concert.
That's a fabulous idea.
And guess what I'm listening to right now on my iPod: "I'm On Fire."

Cheers!