After repeated problems with our internet air card (AT&T MiFi), we decided to part company. It was an amiable divorce, they kept the money and internet access and we get to stare at a blank screen. Connie is going through Facebook withdrawal and my opportunities to post, read, and comment on blogs is limited to what free time I can scrounge up at work during breaks, lunch, before/after normal hours, etc. Therefore, I apologize for not visiting, reading, and commenting on as many of your blogs as I would like. We are engaged to a new provider and hope to tie the knot (no gifts, please) as soon as they are able to come and install the equipment.
Yesterday, I received one of those letters that every registered voter hates—the dreaded Jury Duty summons. Names are supposedly drawn at random, but after speaking with other registered voters (most of whom have never served), I have come to the conclusion that I’m exceptionally good at being random since my name gets drawn at regular intervals. Too bad I don’t have the same luck with Powerball tickets.
If you’re new to Friday Flash Fiction, the Lottery Commissioner in charge of selecting weekly photo prompts is Babette “Bingo” Wisoff-Fields. If you’d like to participate in this exercise in madness, head over to her blog for step-by-step instructions. To view the FFF Hollywood Squares Authors Block click here.
Born on the day Ernest Tubb died, Claude knew he was destined to become a country star. He had the boots, the cowboy hat, even the sequined-encrusted, powder-blue jump suit. All he lacked was a decent singing voice.
“When Claude Bawls sings,” one music reviewer wrote, “his vocal tones are reminiscent of a coyote who sat down on a steel trap.”
Claude’s entourage included a couple of bleach-blond, trailer-trash bimbos and his cousin, Leroy. Booked to play a Louisiana swamp family reunion, one of the bimbos constructed a sign from an empty beer carton promoting the event as “The Bored Strait Tour.”
Poetry, Horror, Psychological Thrillers
Stories From Within
This is the blog of a woman who is seriously on the edge and I mean right ON the edge…no, not there… just a little bit further… further than that…no, further still…just a tiny bit more… just move slightly to the right a little…no, that’s too much…just move a tad to the left…that’s right, just there…now you’ve moved too far to the left… Damn, what part of the ‘on the edge’ do you not understand? Oh, and her matricidal boy genius, come devil spawn.
Or the three people I guilted into reading this blog, whatever.
Growing older is inevitable. Growing up is optional.
I may make you feel, but I can't make you think.
All the Blogging That's Fit To Print
AS I TOLD THE GIRL THAT I LOST MY VIRGINITY TO, THANKS FOR LAUGHING AT ME HERE TODAY.
I don't write, I touch without touching.
A Humor Blog
Stylistically Abusing Language for the Betterment of Mankind
Straight up with a twist– Because life is too short to be subtle!
An author's perspective of mystery and more.
And the worst things. And all that weird stuff in between.