Melissa Snark's Blog: The Snarkology, page 120

Feeling Lucky

SEX.

My comments have been in a slump lately so I'm trotting out the Big Tease, the one topic that's guaranteed to titillate my readers into tossing me a few token remarks.

SEX.

That's right, ladies.

SEX.

Mr. Snark and Mrs. Snark enjoy an unusual relationship, at least so far as relations between men and woman go. For the most part, we're honest with one another. And blunt, like the head of a penis.

When Mr. Snark wants to get laid, he owns a number of fancy boxer shorts, all of which Mrs. Snark has purchased for him.  Like a peacock tail, these boxers are his way of advertising that he is interested in playing hide the salami.

These are my personal favorite:


The "I'm Feeling Lucky" Boxers
I just love how the Joker card is over the crotch.

When the man is wearing these, I know that I can expect to enjoy at least a solid thirty minutes of shoulder rub and back massage. (The husband is amazingly transparent in his seduction techniques.)

Also, point in his favor, Mr. Snark is well-versed in the French arts. Sadly, he rushes to it. Invariably, Mrs. Snark winds up catching his chin as he breaks the kiss and rushes downward.

"Hold up, buddy. There are a lot of points between A and B. It's called foreplay. For Gawd's sake, I'm not a man!"

~*~
The boxers are available on Amazon.

Common Sense by Michelle Devon

(Here’s a story I wrote based on something that my son really did back in about 2006. I wrote it back then, but I’m not sure much has changed since then…lol Enjoy. Don’t laugh too hard at his expense!)
 
The grocery store had a good sale on some of those pre-prepared casserole dishes, like lasagna, and Mexican chicken casserole, and those types of things. They were three for 10 bucks. Really, you can’t beat that for a night when you don’t feel like cooking but still want something better than fast food. Plus, I figured it would be easy for the kiddo to make himself.

What was I thinking?

I mean, how many blogs have I posted about the brat boy nearly burning the kitchen down? Still, he’s almost fourteen (he’s seventeen now, almost eighteen!) and should be able to cook some things for himself, right? Plus, those pre-packaged meals have very easy to read and clear instructions on them, don’t they?

Don’t they?


Well, okay, so I figured I’d let him cook dinner last night, or at least, he could follow the instructions on the box and put dinner in the oven. I figured I’d do the veggies and such on the stove. Brat boy and I actually do like to cook together.

So he opens up the box and pulls out the tray and reads what to turn the oven on to pre-heat it. He then pulls the film off the top of the box, and then I go to the bathroom and come back and the food is in the oven.

Cool.

So about 1/2 an hour later, I come into the kitchen to see if it’s ready.

What do you think I find?

Well, he had taken the casserole, while frozen and had, as the instructions indicated, placed it on a cookie sheet.

The thing is...

...he didn’t put it on the cookie sheet in the tray.

That’s right. He turned the casserole upside down on the cookie sheet without the tray it comes in.
So while frozen, this was not a problem.

When it thawed and started cooking though, the once inch tall frozen casserole starts to, uhm, melt? over the edges of the very shallow cookie sheet, and drip all over the burners and the bottom of the oven.

Nice.

I asked, “Why did you take it out of the tray?”

His response: “The tray was plastic.”

“So?”

“Plastic melts in the oven.”

“Did you read the instructions like I said?”

“Yes.”

“Did it say to take it out of the tray?”

“Well, no, not exactly.”

“What exactly did it say?”

“To put it on a cookie sheet, and I did that.”

“Yes, son, you most certainly did.” Sigh.

So turn the oven off and clean up the mess, toss out that casserole, what little was left of it on the cookie sheet was close to burnt anyway, and ask the brat boy to get another one out of the freezer.
I say this time, “Just follow the instructions exactly, okay?”

“Okay,” he responds, “but if the plastic melts, it’s not my fault.”

(shaking head)

I do have to laugh though. Ryan and I were talking the other night about how this kiddo doesn’t have a lick of common sense, and how common sense is something that kids just have to learn over time (and some never do), and not really something you can teach them.

In one respect, my son showed good common sense in that he was thinking ahead that perhaps plastic would melt in the oven.

Good thinking, right? Okay, I’ll grant him that.

BUT…

That same ‘common sense’ never stopped to consider that a 1 inch tall frozen casserole on a shallow cookie sheet would end up expanding over the edges.

Ah, well.

Ya’ll have a fantastic day!
Love and stuff,
Michy

Today, my guest blogger is Michelle Devon, a terrific lady who has some hilarious stories on her website.  Her original article is posted here.

The Treasure of Como Bluff by Alison Henderson

Blurb:



In her race against rival bone hunters, the last complication paleontologist Caroline Hubbard needs is an unconscious stranger cluttering up her dig site. Nicholas Bancroft might have the chiseled features and sculpted physique of a classical statue, but she's not about to let him hamper her quest to unearth a new species of dinosaur and make her mark on the scientific world. 
 Nick has come to Wyoming in search of silver but, after a blow to the head, finds himself at the mercy of a feisty, determined female scientist. Despite his insistence that he's just passing through, he agrees to masquerade as Caroline's husband to help save her job. Once their deception plays out, they face a crucial decision. Will they be able to see beyond their separate goals and recognize the treasure right in front of them?







Review:


Hard-headed. If I were forced to choose one term to describe the hero and heroine of Alison Henderson's western, The Treasure of Como Bluff, it's got to be hard-headed.
Paleontologist Caroline Hubbard is a determined scientist trying to make a name for herself in a man's world, a feminist ahead of her time.  Alone in the wild, wild west, our heroine seems oblivious to all potential dangers but rattlesnakes as she conducts her solo dig to locate fossilized dinosaur remains. She is a woman with something to prove—to her brother, to her male colleagues, and to herself.
Nick Bancroft is a drifter, a man with a troubled past and a broken heart, distrustful of beautiful women, and a treasure seeker. He has dollar signs in his eyes as he chases after rumors of silver in Wyoming and emeralds in the Amazon. He has his gaze firmly fixed on the horizon, which is probably how he winds up getting thrown from his horse and knocked unconscious. A bit more attention to his surroundings might've saved the man from a nasty fall.
Fortunately for Nick, Caroline happens across him at her dig site and hauls his sorry butt back to her campsite—with the aid of her trusty mule, Jasper. From the moment our hero awakens, the pair bang heads—did I say hard-headed? The romantic tension is fast and fun, never contrived, and makes for some hilarious scenes. Never before have I seen a man more aptly compared to a mule!
The plot progresses with Nick bailing Caroline out by impersonating "C.P. Hubbard" for the sake of her snooty employer. Duplicity brings the pair closer, although they never seem to be straight with one another until the very end. Another reviewer on Amazon compared the story's feel to movies made by Hepburn and Tracy, Lombard and Gable. As a fan of old movies, I agree with this assessment one-hundred percent.
The Treasure of Como Buff is set in July, 1879, and Alison did a great job with the details of the era, creating a realistic backdrop for this sweet historical western.  Frankly, I wanted more. My only complaint is that it should have lasted longer. Five stars all the way.

Buy Links:
Amazon ebook
Barnes and Noble ebook
The Wild Rose Press

Where to Find Alison Henderson on the Web: Website   Facebook    Twitter   Blog   Email 

 

Recalculating Route...

Why is it that a man who won't listen to his wife's advice will blindly follow the instructions of a computer navigation system? 

Example:

On two separate evenings, Mr. Snark suffered an upset stomach following the consumption of hot links. On the third occasion, Mrs. Snark said, "You shouldn't eat that. It will upset your stomach."

"I'm going to eat it anyway," Mr. Snark said. And did. And paid for it with indigestion all night long.

In the morning, he moaned and said, "I shouldn't have eaten that hot link."

"NO, REALLY?" Mrs. Snark exclaimed.

In comparison...

In 2009, Mr. and Mrs. Snark purchased their first vehicle together--a Honda Odyssey with on board GPS navigation. Soon after, the first real test of the Global Positioning System came when the Snarks took a family vacation to San Diego, an unfamiliar location.

In a curt female voice, the GPS issued instructions with the perfunctory air of a drill sergeant and any attempts to stray from the designated path resulted in a bitchy "RECALCULATING ROUTE".

The trip from the SF bay area to Los Angeles passed without incident, because--frankly--the route through the central valley is damn hard to deviate from.

In the middle of stop 'n go LA traffic, Mrs. Snark asked the hubby: "Did you remember to grab the boys' suitcase? It was sitting in the family room."

"I took only the luggage sitting in the entryway," Mr. Snark declared. 

Mrs. Snark's eyes bugged. "You forgot their suitcase?!"

Mr. Snark sniffed. "Correction: you forgot to place it in the entryway."

Mrs. Snark fumed for an hour, and then succumbed to hysterical laughter, reducing her to tears.

In San Diego, the Snark family checked into their hotel and then immediately headed to the closest Target in order to purchase enough clothing for the boys to get by on for a week.

Along the way, the GPS ordered Mr. Snark to perform an u-turn. Her directions required him to run THREE clover-leaf ramps in order to get turned around even though the traffic light offered a left turning arrow.

"Why are we running the clover leaves?" Mrs. Snark asked, gazing at the window at passing palm trees as the vehicle spun in lazy circles.

"Because the GPS said so..."

"I wonder if the GPS could be programmed to tell you to put away your laundry..."

Author Spotlight: Alison Henderson

Alison, please tell us about yourself and your writing.

Unlike many writers, I didn’t grow up knowing I wanted to be a writer. My writing grew out of my obsessive reading habit. While I was home on maternity leave in the mid-eighties, I discovered romance novels, and I was hooked. By the time my daughter entered pre-school, I started one of my own. That first book was awful, but I didn’t know it at the time. Over the next twenty years, I studied my craft, wrote two more books, won several contests, hired and fired an agent, and eventually published my second and third books with The Wild Rose Press. My current release, The Treasure of Como Bluff (also from WRP), is my first novella and the first story I wrote just for fun.
On the personal front, I took early retirement at the end of 2012 and am moving with my husband of thirty years from Minnesota to Carmel, California at the beginning of April. Yay to no more shoveling snow!
What inspired your current book?
It may be hard to believe, but The Treasure of Como Bluff was actually inspired by a dream I had about a female paleontologist finding an unconscious man at her dig site. Where that came from I’ll never know. I didn’t write the dream down at the time, but the imagery persisted in my mind for several years until just the write time to write the story.


Blurb:
In her race against rival bone hunters, the last complication paleontologist Caroline Hubbard needs is an unconscious stranger cluttering up her dig site. Nicholas Bancroft might have the chiseled features and sculpted physique of a classical statue, but she's not about to let him hamper her quest to unearth a new species of dinosaur and make her mark on the scientific world. 
Nick has come to Wyoming in search of silver but, after a blow to the head, finds himself at the mercy of a feisty, determined female scientist. Despite his insistence that he's just passing through, he agrees to masquerade as Caroline's husband to help save her job. Once their deception plays out, they face a crucial decision. Will they be able to see beyond their separate goals and recognize the treasure right in front of them?



Buy Links:
Amazon ebook
Barnes and Noble ebook
The Wild Rose Press

Where to Find Alison Henderson on the Web: 
Website   Facebook    Twitter   Blog   Email
 

More on Men and Laundry

There are a great many things about our boyfriends and husbands that drive women crazy, but I've got to admit that my leading complaint is that my husband seems perfectly content living out of laundry baskets. It's a character flaw that just drives me up the wall. 

With two adults and three children, I have to run a minimum of two loads of laundry a day and that's just to keep up with the avalanche of dirty clothes and towels. The washer & dryer run day and night, and when I dream...

I dream about laundry.

Mountains of it. Shambling mounds with eyes and mouths that roam about the house in the dark, waiting to attack our feet when we get up to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night.

So I sort, wash, line dry or transfer to the dryer, remove, sort and fold. Each member of the Snark household receives a laundry basket full of clean clothing with specific instructions, "Put these away and return the basket to me."

The boys, for the most part, obey. Not with alacrity but after a couple reminders, amid much whining and complaining, they eventually comply.

Not so, Mr. Snark.

Oh no, Mr. Snark promises action and then leaves his laundry basket perched atop his dresser for upward of THREE FREAKING WEEKS at a time. He lives out of the basket, reaching in to grab clean socks, underwear, shirts, whatever he happens to need, so he doesn't have to go into the drawer. Reminders are met with bland agreement that he should put his laundry away, and the nagging gradually escalates to threatens until Mrs. Snark eventually sidles alongside her husband and kisses him sweetly on the cheek.

"Dear," she purrs, "Do you like being married?"

His eyeballs bug open. "Yes."

"Are you happy?"

"Yes," he says suspiciously. "Why?"

"If you want to remain so THEN PUT AWAY YOUR FUCKING LAUNDRY!"

That usually brings about a burst of cooperation. The laundry goes away, the prodigal basket is returned and the cycle goes on to repeat itself.

One day, Mrs. Snark tired of nagging and hid Mr. Snark's clean laundry basket in the back of the walk-in closet. A week passed and the man made no mention of it. Mr. Snark actually removed clean clothing from his drawers. Mrs. Snark shrugged and continued to add folded laundry to the basket.

Two weeks passed. Surely, Mrs. Snark thought, He must have noticed by now.

Nada. Nothing. Zip. The man continued to live out of his dresser. Mrs. Snark hauled dirty clothing away and never returned the clean stuff.

THREE WEEKS PASSED. The hidden basket of clean laundry grew until it towered and became impassable, requiring Mrs. Snark to leap over it in order to reach her sweatshirts.

Then, one day, Mr. Snark said, "I'm starting to run out of underwear. A basket of clean laundry usually appears on my dresser right about now."

Face palm.

Sex Ed: the generational divide

When I was thirteen, I asked my mother about sex. She stammered, blushed and changed the subject. Fortunately, for me anyway, I had a library card. Karen Robards, Linda Howard and other romance authors of the 80s taught me about sex. 

Armed with a lot of unreasonable expectations, I went off to college where I lost my virginity at nineteen to a boy named Jesse. Through happenstance, or maybe just blind luck, his skills as a lover actually exceeded what I'd been led to expect.

As I've grown older, I've come to realize that being a parent is rough. I've had children of my own, and I've given the topic of sex education a great deal of consideration. In fact, I've planned for the moment when one of my own children will ask me about sex.

What will I say? How will I say it? I've stayed educated on various methods of birth control and STDs. I possess a thorough understanding of the human reproductive system and I'm okay with one of my kids being gay.  More than anything, I want my children to be prepared to enter the world as informed participants with the knowledge they need to make the right decisions.

I have a white board and color markers. Stick figures. Directional arrows.

I'm ready.

Unfortunately, the school system seems to have taught the boy everything he needs to know. And any mention of sex sends my teenage son into a convulsive seizure, resulting in a total communication shutdown. 

"Son," I say, "as soon as you're ready to talk about sex, go ahead and ask your old mom."

"MOM, GROSS!" His hand shoots up in a STOP-gesture and his neck disappears so deep into his chest his eyeballs are barely visible.

"No, really, son. I'm only too happy to help you. Nothing is taboo or off-limits." 

"REALLY, MOM!" he shouts, slouching toward his bedroom, muttering beneath his breath. Then the door slams shut and he's not seen again for a minimum of twenty-four hours.

I sigh and eyeball my ten-year-old who has the emotional maturity of a blue berry scone, thinking maybe in a few years.

On the opposite end of the generational spectrum, my mother stares at my novel cover and asks, "Is that your X-rated book?"

I sigh and say, "Mom, I write erotica, not porn."

Six Star Review: Sword-Bound by Jennifer Roberson

A good novel is like going home and the characters from a good series are like family. For twenty-five years, Jennifer Roberson has been my favorite novelist; the adventures of Tiger and Del have been my chosen couple. My original copies of the Sword-Dancer series have grown ragged and dog-eared from frequent reading, and I have replaced the set at least once. When Roberson announced plans to release a seventh (and an eighth!) book, I wooted and whooped—and almost performed back flips.

Roberson paints a canvas with words, creating a world alive and vital--full of memorable characters, vivid places. In Sword-Bound, she resumes the adventures of Tiger and Del, a story set two years after where they last left the reader. The plot kicks off slowly, depicting domestic life in a peaceful canyon, where the couple lives with their two-year-old daughter, Sula, and Tiger's grown son, Neesha. They operate a sword-dancing school and Tiger appears quite domesticated—up until his son accuses him of being so and challenges him to go on an adventure.

The pace picks up swiftly, covering ground and combats, with caravan guard duty and what may be Tiger's most challenging sword dance ever. Overall, it comes fast and furious, and keeps on coming. There are occasional bits of back story, explanations for those not familiar with the series that slow things down a little. Umir-the-Irritating (not his real name) is back to his old mischief. All in all, the story is absolutely absorbing—an "I can't put this down" thriller.

The worst thing about a series is when it ends because the couple gets together. Tiger and Del provide the reader with the rare and satisfying experience of watching a beloved couple continued to evolve and grow—together. There are touching moments of shared affection, amusing glimpses of our dynamic duo confronting the messy realities of parenthood, and that hilarious competitiveness of a man and woman who keep their significant other on their toes.

A six star read. Unfortunately, I can only give it five stars.


Buy links: Amazon hardcoverAmazon ebookBarnes & Noble hardcoverBarnes & Noble ebook
The first six novels in the Sword Dancer series are currently available in reprint.Amazon paperback:The Novels of Tiger and Del, Volume I: (Sword-Dancer & Sword-Singer)The Novels of Tiger and Del, Volume II: (Sword-Maker & Sword-Breaker)The Novels of Tiger and Del, Volume III: (Sword-Born & Sword-Sworn)
Barnes and Noble paperback:The Novels of Tiger and Del, Volume I: (Sword-Dancer & Sword-Singer)The Novels of Tiger and Del, Volume II: (Sword-Maker & Sword-Breaker)The Novels of Tiger and Del, Volume III: (Sword-Born & Sword-Sworn)

Ninja Bear

At the Snark residence, a visit from Grandma & Grandpa Snark warrants eating in the formal dining room. Often, dinnertime entertainment is provided courtesy of the Snark children. Typically, they choose the living room, adjacent to the dining room, as their stage.
Holding a plastic scimitar concealed behind her back, Miss Bear stalks her older brother. Of course, Ninja Bear is unaware that the end of the weapon sticks out over the top of her head, so her hostile intentions are transparent.
"Hee-ya!" Miss Bear shouts, swinging the sword high and wide.
"Ouch! Ouch! Ouch!" Holding his hands in a defensive posture, the brother stumbles backward while enduring a whirlwind of sword strikes.
"Miss Bear is going to get thrown out of school," Grandpa Snark says, observing the epic battle. "Did you hear about the boy who got suspended for biting his sandwich into a triangle and pretending it was a gun?"
"Help! I'm being attacked!" The boy runs through the living room, stumbling backward over the couch. 
"Hee-ya!" Miss Bear screeches, unrelenting.
"No, but I heard about the Kindergartener who got suspended for saving the playground from an imaginary bomb," Mrs. Snark says, sipping her wine.
"I've been destroyed!" The boy falls to the floor where he curls into a fetal position.
"Hee-ya!" Miss Bear strikes her downed opponent again for good measure.
"Ooohhh…" The boy rolls over, knees tucked against his chest, hands crossed protectively over his head. 
Miss Bear promptly jumps onto the boy's back. She whacks him with the sword again. "Horsie!"
"No, Miss Bear!" Mrs. Snark exclaims. "We don't hit animals!"

Author Spotlight: Rolynn Anderson

 My writing journey
I fit the statistics.  The big 8.  Most authors get published after they’ve written 8 books or after they’ve been writing steadily and trying to get published for 8 years.  I was a high school teacher and principal before I started writing full time.  My debut novel, a thriller/romance (LAST RESORT) was published in 2012; I’ve had two books, FADEOUT and SWOON of the Funeral Planner Suspense Series, published in 2012.  I’ve written 12 novels in total, with a new manuscript in TWRP’s hands as we speak, and another book ready for revision on the back burner.  I’ll be starting on FAINT, the third novel in the Funeral Planner Series very soon.

Where did the idea for the Funeral Planner Series come from?
Back in 2005 after my father died, my sister, my brothers and I began planning his funeral with a fairly traditional approach in mind, until my teacher-self spoke out in alarm: “The children will be watching!”  In fact eight children under the age of 15 were going to be present; the youngest was two years old at the time.  Could we design a funeral ceremony about the death of a loved one that wouldn’t frighten children?  Indeed, could we use the event as a teachable moment?Our second challenge: most of the grandchildren knew my father during the time he was bewildered by Alheimers.  What could we provide in the ceremony that would show the audience he once lived a robust and productive life?My character, a boutique funeral planner emerged out of this experience.  Of course, I had to add suspense and romance to the equation when I wrote the story.
****
“Don't miss SWOON by Rolynn Anderson! If you like an interesting cast of characters, a heavy dose of mystery and a lot of fabulous surprises, you'll be happily turning pages late into the night.ˮ~ Brenda Novak, NYT and USA Bestselling Author of WHEN LIGHTNING STRIKES
****

Blurb: Her dead clients won’t rest in peace.When the dead tell tales, Jan Solvang’s first reaction is to RUN!  But then she gets caught up in their mysteries.Jan’s a boutique funeral planner, new to risk, hired to bury a missing woman and memorialize an infamous man.  Yet when she digs for clues to write their eulogies, she disturbs family secrets and unmasks killers. Roman Keller, hard-driving documentary writer, is in complete control of his life and his stories, until he falls for Jan, a woman who trusts her dog, her faint-dreams, and her instincts more than she trusts him.
Can they make the sacrifices necessary to cement their relationship or will the mayhem caused by the dead ruin their second chance at love?  

Where you can find me on the web:Website


Buy links:Amazon Paperback *** Amazon ebook
Barnes & Noble Paperback ***  Barnes & Noble ebook