How I Landed in Chuck Norris' Hood

I could have met Chuck Norris this weekend, but I might not have lived to tell the tale.

   It was a long drive to the woodsy club, but I made the trek to support a few musician friends. And because I had no idea that I wouldn't make it home that night.

   Darkness dominated when I embarked on a solo drive home after 10pm. Despite the "Maintenance Required" light flashing on my dashboard, 1/4 tank of gas, and a poor sense of direction, I'd be fine. Garmin would get me home. Whenever she said "Keep going," I obeyed. [Garmin wasn't working properly due to a faulty signal in the mountains.]
   Over an hour later, I faced a sign directing me to Chester and Susanville. Not a good sign. Bad, bad sign. Chester is as it sounds. (Hint: It rhymes with "molester.") Susanville is known only for its prison. You get the idea.
   I stared at my phone's face. No signal. No lights, no sign of life, low on gas, car needs maintenance. Alone in the pitch dark ideal gruesomely terrifying horror movie crime scene. A homicidal ax wielding one legged, twelve armed vampire zombie would pop out at any moment. But I'd driven too far to back track. So I gripped the steering wheel with rigid palms, as I cautiously winded further into eternal blackness.
    By 11:20p, I thought about crying. That is, I thought: "I feel like crying." But the tears were too scared to leave their ducts. Can't blame 'em.
   Alas, a precious sight: a bright red VACANCY sign. In the midst of nowhere too! Lucky girl!
   I jumped out of my car, dashed to the door, and knocked. No answer. Tried the knob. Locked. I knocked harder. No response. I pounded on the damn door. Nothing. I ran around the perimeter of the building, knocking frenetically on lumber, glass, metal door frames, whatever. At this point, tears found the courage to run and play all over my face. Good on them.
   The front door cracked open. I rushed over, and I was met by a caring woman.

   I'd landed at a charming Bed and Breakfast just west of Chester in Plumas County (NRA land near Lake Almanor). A queen sized bed provided comfortable, relieving slumber.
   The next morning, I delighted in a generous serving of country potatoes, fresh fruit, and homemade pastry. The owner engaged me and a handful of guests in friendly discourse. Chuck Norris' getaway home is nearby, she said. He had a big party at this place years ago for one of his step-daughters. He's a lot smaller than he looks on screen, and he's "a very nice man."  
   I'm glad I didn't awaken Chuck in my hysterical state the night before. I can't imagine that things end well when you upset Mr. Norris - however small and nice he may be.

   It took me two hours to get home on Sunday. Thank goodness I made it -- safe and unsound as ever, and with not having met Mr. Norris in the woods of Plumas County.

I hope you're well and safe, my dears.

Comment Collage Starring YOU!

Dear Sillies,
  I hope you had a great Easter.
  You're so silly that I figured it's time for a comment collage. This one reads like a hilariously bizarre script, and it's comprised of your recent comments. If you're not quoted below, my apologies. {You're likely more sane than the rest of us.}
  Thank you for being a fun-filled, playful bunch. Please stay that way, because I love ya.
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Joanne said Spring has sprung, figure out who's hung…

Janie Junebug said Now that's the way to cheer me up--not that I've ever had an unhappy moment. Elsie Amata said It's about freakin' time!  Lux G. said Matt Damon though. Pat Tillett said I'll bet he wouldn't like it if you called him "peanut dick!"

A Beer For The Shower said So is no one concerned about her wanting to tear up beef to the bone? No food is safe here! Alex J. Cavanaugh said I wonder how many Leprechauns were harmed? Birgit said I just think of the Jolly Green giant as having syphilis. Jono said The urges of spring are strong. Now to find a willing partner to perform the rites.Gorilla Bananas said Now if the foot fetish guy could write with perfect grammar and punctuation, I hope you'd be curious at least. I mean he can't stay down there forever, can he? Elephant's Child said There are far too many oxygen thieves about and I would like to cut off their supplies. sage said Trying to be cute he made an ass out of himself. Al Penwasser said Using Peeps for S'Mores while camping. Giddy up! Anthony J. Langford said Shakin that ass Robyn! JoJo said That's hilarious!!!!!! Pickleope Von Pickleope said As the one with a sentient pickle avatar, THANK YOU STEPHEN for looking out for the rights of cucumbers. Pat Hatt said Guess short people just get the short end of the stick. Mitchell is Moving said You could always wear a sign that says, "If you want to have a snowball's chance in Hell of getting to first base, don't call me Shorty." fishducky said My nephew has been married to a 4'8" woman for about 40 years. I love her dearly!! Stephen Hayes said As a short person I take comfort in that. Debra She Who Seeks said Do I hear a mic drop at the end of that! Yes!

Peep Show!

Dear Sillies,

Since I'm not doing the A-Z Challenge this year, I thought I'd attract new followers through a suggestive post title. And could there be a more sacred week for a Peep Show? Passover starts on Monday night, 4/10. This celebration of freedom, with a focus on compassion for the oppressed, lasts for eight days. So Passover overlaps this year with Good Friday and Easter. Woohoo!

Now, the real reason for this post: chocolate samplings.
There's a chocolate covered Peep on the left, and a chocolate dipped macaroon* on the right. (*coconut cookie that's a traditional Passover dessert)

Adults tend to either hate or really hate Peeps. Aside from the outrageously loud, carcinogenic-like coloring and the annoyingly sweet, sticky innards, what's there to hate? I loved my Peep.

I devoured my Peep. The milk chocolate covering was yummy, as was the bright yellow marshmallow chick. And then it was gone. 

Next, the macaroon. The coconut, which I typically dislike, was fresh and rich and nicely textured and light and semi-sweet. I only wished it had been dipped in more chocolate. A LOT more chocolate. I barely tasted the chocolate, and this made me sad. 

I give the chocolate dipped Peep an 8, and the chocolate dipped macaroon a 7. With a total of 15 on a 1-10 scale, you're bound to have an extra sweet and sacred holiday week.

The minions on my placemats insisted on joining the Peep Show. (Not to worry, photo was taken before eating was completed.)

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WARNING: The following Peep Show cannot be unseen. Please do not see it if you do not have a strong constitution. And for all of us in the United States, the constitution is weakening by the minute, so I suggest you close your eyes and move on. I'm posting this more for the Boycott American Women guy who's been trolling blogland for at least 6+ years and has 2 followers. Two!

I'm also posting this for all the people who drop by and say "Visit me" numerous times in various languages. Yet they never follow my blog or buy my books, which I'm kind enough to inform them of numerous times. However, they tend to praise me for my informative posts. Granted, I take credit for my achievements, but an educational blog is not one of them.

Have a great week, dears. Okay, you've been warned...

This one's for you, creepster peeps.

Springtime Erotica!

Dear Sillies,
I'm resurrecting this baby in honor of Springtime.
Here's hoping Spring brings brighter, more glorious days for you and the earth.
Take good care, friends.