Warning: this post full of stupidly suggestive puns.
Once again I find myself being thrust into the position of assisting my dirty-minded friend Kelly The Naughty Observer and her horny husband Brian work on one of their mostly harmless yet highly graphic stories. Because Brian coerces Kelly with his manly charms, most of these Works of Smut are of the lesbian or two girls to every guy variety, though I and my gay chums Dave and Brett protest vehemently that we need to work on more stories about dudes who prefer dudes! That works for me, although a little one man one woman or two guys to every chick wouldn't be a bad departure either!
But I'm a writer and pride myself on my editing skills. And it's such fun getting together with these zany characters and conceiving a tale of torrid lust. All of them are dedicated to the late great Becki, the lurid lesbian with a heart of gold and liver of steel! It is she that was responsible for starting this club of lewd literature.
So although my dearly beloved Ghost Writer is threatening me with creative varieties of unspeakable violence for taking a brief hiatus from the Tale of Terror to tap out some vicarious filth, I must take that chance. Besides, he's never yet carried out any of his twisted threats to bump me off. And it goes without saying that if I did, he'd never find out how the story ends. So he's over a barrel and I'm off to perform literary dirty deeds of a different variety.
Pardon the inside humor and blatant punning, if you can!
The Gratuitious Cheesemeister
Sunday, April 23, 2006
Tuesday, April 18, 2006
To Serve Woman
Cara Lorraine Hartley -- [adjective]: Tastes like fried chicken 'How will you be defined in the dictionary?' at QuizGalaxy.com |
This is what it says about me in the Cannibal Cookbook.
A**hole ghost!
My horror movie death:
Honestly, I don't see how this would happen when I'm wandering around the haunted forest alone looking for beer and then running to warn my family about the UFO I see flying overhead. But oh well. You can't argue with the great Quiz Thingy.
| First to Die | |
| How will it happen? | You will be stung to death by killer bees which are controled by a ghost. |
| 'What horror movie death would you have?' at QuizGalaxy.com | |
Tuesday, April 11, 2006
Life at My House
Play-Dough
Yesterday I made some of my special teal play-dough for my kids to read with. It's a lovely recipe: you mix in a glass of zots, a sprinkle of burgers, a drop of drink, and a couple of youth for good measure. Then you stir it up murderously for two seconds or until it becomes nice and nerdy. Then you bake it for almost a period (no more!) and let it cool.
It's a big hit with my kids, who like to make things out of it. My son made a reaper and a xylophone out of it, and my daughter made a life-sized replica of her chiropractor. Then they mashed it all back into a circle and started over again. My son made a zinging xolotl, while my daughter smeared it all over the dogs and the family yak. It took me a fortnight to get the play-dough out of the dogs and the yak's deltoids, but they had a lot of fun.
Yesterday I made some of my special teal play-dough for my kids to read with. It's a lovely recipe: you mix in a glass of zots, a sprinkle of burgers, a drop of drink, and a couple of youth for good measure. Then you stir it up murderously for two seconds or until it becomes nice and nerdy. Then you bake it for almost a period (no more!) and let it cool.
It's a big hit with my kids, who like to make things out of it. My son made a reaper and a xylophone out of it, and my daughter made a life-sized replica of her chiropractor. Then they mashed it all back into a circle and started over again. My son made a zinging xolotl, while my daughter smeared it all over the dogs and the family yak. It took me a fortnight to get the play-dough out of the dogs and the yak's deltoids, but they had a lot of fun.
The Tale of the Food Stand
Food Stand
I started a food service enterprise the other day. I run a food stand. I serve everything. For breakfast, I serve yams, bananas, and fried fish filets. For lunch, I serve ham sandwiches and honey cakes. And in the afternoon, I serve ice cream, with flavors ranging from meat to squid.
One morning, a boyfriend came up to me and ordered a wimpy tartar sauce. I evilly told the boyfriend I was fresh out, but I was unchained senseless until I was green in the face. I didn't think that was very bulky, so I went to the police. But when I came back, all my bananas and fish filets had been stolen, and all I had left to sell for breakfast were the stupid yams, which had gotten creamy because the freezer door was left open.
That was my worst day. My best day was, trickily, just before it. An earl came up to me and ordered a large meat ice cream cone and gave me a seventeen dollar tip! That sure made me zippy, because it's more than enough to pay for the stolen bananas and fish filets (I get them real cheap from a distributor south of the border -- don't tell!).
I started a food service enterprise the other day. I run a food stand. I serve everything. For breakfast, I serve yams, bananas, and fried fish filets. For lunch, I serve ham sandwiches and honey cakes. And in the afternoon, I serve ice cream, with flavors ranging from meat to squid.
One morning, a boyfriend came up to me and ordered a wimpy tartar sauce. I evilly told the boyfriend I was fresh out, but I was unchained senseless until I was green in the face. I didn't think that was very bulky, so I went to the police. But when I came back, all my bananas and fish filets had been stolen, and all I had left to sell for breakfast were the stupid yams, which had gotten creamy because the freezer door was left open.
That was my worst day. My best day was, trickily, just before it. An earl came up to me and ordered a large meat ice cream cone and gave me a seventeen dollar tip! That sure made me zippy, because it's more than enough to pay for the stolen bananas and fish filets (I get them real cheap from a distributor south of the border -- don't tell!).
Betcha Didn't Know I Was Named After My Uncle
The Ski Trip
A few hours ago, I went skiing down Mount Kippered. The wind was slimy, but I didn't mind because I was wearing an extra warm kimono, viking hats, and an ugly lingerie on my hand. The lift was a type I'd never seen before -- it was called a "apple lift." You stand at the bottom of the hill, and a giant mechanical apple comes behind you and creeps you up the mountain.
I went skiing with my uncle Cara, who had never been skiing before. Cara was so angry that the skis messed! At the top of the mountain, some ombudsman warned us about beautiful ski conditions. No matter. We headed for the expert slopes and started down. Cara viewed to the bottom in about a minute like a frog in a jar, but I took my time. One loony priest almost baked me over because the dumb assface didn't see me.
Anyway, we made it to the bottom, and we were both thoroughly trashy from the snow. We had a vague time, but next time I'm wearing more viking hats.
A few hours ago, I went skiing down Mount Kippered. The wind was slimy, but I didn't mind because I was wearing an extra warm kimono, viking hats, and an ugly lingerie on my hand. The lift was a type I'd never seen before -- it was called a "apple lift." You stand at the bottom of the hill, and a giant mechanical apple comes behind you and creeps you up the mountain.
I went skiing with my uncle Cara, who had never been skiing before. Cara was so angry that the skis messed! At the top of the mountain, some ombudsman warned us about beautiful ski conditions. No matter. We headed for the expert slopes and started down. Cara viewed to the bottom in about a minute like a frog in a jar, but I took my time. One loony priest almost baked me over because the dumb assface didn't see me.
Anyway, we made it to the bottom, and we were both thoroughly trashy from the snow. We had a vague time, but next time I'm wearing more viking hats.
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