It's Just the Right Time!

Dear friends,

It's here -- the book I've been keeping a secret. In the midst of working on my novel, I didn't see the light at the end of that tunnel and caught a bad case of the publishing bug. So I pulled together some of my poetry, teamed with artist-blogger Robin Mead, and here we are! It's a little one, the perfect stocking-stuffer, available through Amazon here. 

I'm all smiles. 
Thanks for your support and friendship, always.

Here's the theme poem: 

Just the Right Time

It's not too late

It's not too soon

To watch the stars dance towards the moon.

Paint rainbow colors across the sea

Invite the ladybugs for tea.

Ride the clouds to fairy lands

Grow cookie gardens in the sand.

To see a world where nothing's wrong

And make it so through silly song.

It's not too late

It's not too soon

To watch the stars dance towards the moon.

Top 10 Dating Ads from 2012

                                        a perplexed Bachelor Ben courtesy of google images

As 2012 comes to a close, Life by Chocolate proudly (or, in this case, shamefully) presents a series of the year's Top 10.  Today, we're looking back at the best of the worst dating ad snippets. I hope this brings laughter.  

In reverse order, here they are:

10) I,m well grounded

And so is your apostrophe.

9) I am attending the local junior collage in town.

Keep attending, babe. Keep attending.

8) New in town and ready to get in!! Sounds sexual. Judging from your shirtless photo and delightfully chiseled abs, I’d like to invite you to do so. I mean - clearing throat and composing self -  good luck to you, sir. Have a nice day.

7)  what does a guy got to do to get a gril Save $100. Visit Walmart’s Patio and Garden department. They should be able to assist you from there.

6) for leisure; i like to go for walks at the park i also like to ride my bike there on the bike baths or just have a nice panic by the lake.

Sounds lovely, darling, but I prefer to have nice panics in private.

 5) I'm distrustful of gnomes.

I’m distrustful of men who are distrustful of gnomes.

4) You can call me Jim (no it's not MY name) but, it's only fair since I call everyone "Jim"

3) Lets play in traffic

Okay, you go first!

2) pork  

No thanks, I’m Jewish.

THE CLEAR WINNER:

This one, I'm not touching.

1) I'm a Clyde looking for my Boney

CONGRATULATIONS, Mr. Clyde! We’d like to offer you your Boney, but we can’t do that here. Good luck on your search.

Ode to the Twinkie

Oh Twinkie, Dear Twinkie

So light and so long

Though your creme was real sweet

I preferred the Ding Dong.

Oh Twinkie, Dear Twinkie

You were handsome and blond

But they stuffed you with chocolate

And then you were gone.

Oh Twinkie, Dear Twinkie

While drooling, I've sighed:

Oh how I wish

I'd tried you deep fried.

A Horse-Turkey Combo: Sundays in My City

UnknownMami did it again. She does it every week: hosts a wonderfully scenic worldwide party.

So welcome back to Chico, CA, where our town mascot is dressed as either...

                                                                a Horse-Turkey or...

                                                                    a Turkey-Horse.

Whichever the case, you gotta love it!

Thanks for visiting, and happy Sunday.

Whether or not you celebrate Thanksgiving, may it be a safe and thankful new week.

Oh, How I Miss You Blogfest

Hosted by Andrew Leon, Matthew MacNish, and Alex J. Cavanaugh, it's time to pay tribute to bloggers we really miss because they've scaled down on blogging, and those we would really miss if they stopped blogging.

I feel so close to so many of you, it's really difficult to narrow down the list. Please know that I value our connection, whether or not you made the final cut. Here we go:
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TWO BLOGGERS I REALLY MISS:

I never thought I'd find another blogger with a sense of humor as silly and warped as mine, much less two other bloggers. From different parts of the country, though, we connected and enjoyed repeated threesomes. Don't get too excited for me, I'm talking about a series of blog posts. One, an intervention with Yogi Bear, is here. These two have kept me laughing for days on end. Life being life and all, we haven't had a threesome in a long time. I really miss my hilariously clever buddies, The Invisible Seductress and Powdered Toast Man.  


THREE BLOGGERS I WOULD REALLY MISS:

I love Melissa. She's a feisty, quick-witted, caring badass, who likes to write about female badasses. Her writing is wonderful, and she holds nothing back. Melissa has become a friend too. I could go on and on. Instead, I'll say that you should follow her at Melissa's Imaginarium if you aren't already.

Pearl is one of the most talented, entertaining writers I know. She spins hilarious tales about things like a coworker pointing out that her sweater was on inside out. She looked down and noticed some type of pureed food (squash perhaps?) on it. That Pearl. She's a fun-loving delight, whose second book is near publication.

Third but not least, there's Alex. I'm unlike many of Captain Alex's crew in that I'm not a sci-fi fan, movie buff, or published author (not quite yet). But Alex has become a good friend and inspiration, whose support is invaluable. He consistently visits and comments on my blog. We all know Alex works hard to facilitate blogger connections, in addition to regularly creating fun, informative posts. I can't imagine the blogosphere without you, Alex. I really appreciate you.

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Thanks for stopping by, everyone.  I'd miss you if you hadn't.

Have a safe, peaceful weekend.

Dear Holidays

                                                  originally posted in Nov, 2010
Dear Holidays,

How’d you get here so fast? Let me help you  --pause, as I kick holiday's tuchas (Yiddish for butt)-- out the back door. Oops, sorry. I forgot I was wearing stilettos. Well, while you’re down there, I’ve gotta say something. Who invited you anyway? What with all that tinsel and sparkle, you think you’re hot to trot. Sweetie, you’re wrong. You don’t bring on the cheer. You incite increased need for Prozac. You multiply family tensions a gazillionfold. All this forced focus on love and happiness just makes us think about our losses and what we don’t have. Face it. You’re a downer, darling.

Financial problems torment us already. There you go, sauntering in, all flirty and stuff. Next thing we know, we have to buy gifts for people we don’t even like. Plus, we have to see them, and eat with them, and even hug them.

On the other hand, ever been alone between Halloween and Valentine’s Day? I can’t even grab a bite to eat without incident. Wait-staff never get it. I always have to overemphasize the “one” factor. “Yes, I want a table for one. Yes, that’s ‘one’ as in ‘one.’ Me. Yep. I’m alone again this holiday season. Just seat me in that decrepit booth in the corner. Toss me a box of tissue, a bag to wear over my head, and a bottle of whiskey. I’ll be just fine. All one of me.  Oh, quit looking at me with sympathy. I could be on a date, but have you read my dating stories? I'm better off, all one of me, at a table for one. Yes, just one."

What’s up with fruitcake, anyway? It’s got no business calling itself a cake. Cake is neither ugly nor gross. 
 
Alright, I’ve knocked you down long enough. Come on in, and leave the chocolate-peppermint fudge on the counter. You can come back next year, but only if you bring some more and depart quickly.

With sincerity,
Robyn

Interview with Author of 50 Shades of Grey: IWSG

Alex J. Cavanaugh  founded the blogosphere's one-and-only Insecure Writer’s Support Group. We’re posting monthly, exposing our vulnerabilities and/or offering support to one another. Please check out Alex’s blog to visit others’ posts. It’s a great group.  Join us, if you haven't already! All that's required is an insecurity or two hundred.

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**The following interview might be real. Any resemblance to a real author, though, is a mere coincidence.**

Robyn: Ladies and gentlemen, today we welcome Erika James, better known as EL James, author of 50 Shades of Grey! Erika bites her lip. She walks on stage wearing a very low-cut pale grey blouse, tight dark grey leather skirt, and black-grey stilettos. Robyn shakes her hand. Thanks for taking the time to come here. Please have a seat. Erika and Robyn sit in leather recliners; hers a deep grey, Robyn’s a fainter grey.

Robyn continues: I’ve seen your interviews on other shows, and I’m disappointed. You seem nice and humble. It’s hard to hate you. But I’m extremely jealous of your success, especially since you write like *bleep.* It’s not fair of me to judge, because I didn’t read it, but it’s *bleep.*

Erika sits erect and bites her lip again. I’ve sold over 40 million. How much of your work have you sold?

Robyn changes the subject, slumps over and digs into her purse. She pulls out a Big Hunk bar. Want some candy?

Erika: No thank you. She bites her lip again. I get my nuts back at home.

Robyn: I bet. I don’t. Robyn ravages the Big Hunk. Mmm mm, so um, -she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand- when I first heard your book has a lot of BDSM,* I got excited. I like big dark sexy men. I wanted to research and write about them too. And make millions. Something was wrong, though, because lots of real authors write about big dark sexy men, and they’re struggling. So I googled BDSM, and good Lord! Robyn’s face turns red. She giggles. My idea of risqué sex is doing it over the bedsheets. But only with the lights out. At night. During the summer.

Erika: She bites her lip again. I understand you’re an expert on celibacy. I’m not surprised really.

Robyn: Yeah, but on the other hand, sex shouldn’t be torturous. I mean, there’s build-up to a scene in your book in which the young woman tells the man to punish her to the full extent. So he beats her with a belt, and then she’s devastated because they aren’t compatible. That’s pure *bleep*! Your success raises my insecurities. Do I have to write sh*t that to be successful?

Erika: It depends how you define success. And sh*t. She bites her lip again.

Robyn: Ah yes. That’s the deepest thing you’ve expressed. Thank you!

Erika: You’re welcome. She bites her lip again. Listen —she grabs her purse– you keep plugging away, and I’ll keep whipping them out and making millions. Erika stands up, waves at the audience, then graciously shakes Robyn’s hand. Toodles!

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*In case I’m not the only one who needed to look up this term, it means: bondage-discipline, dominance-submission, and sado-masochism.