About Me

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Jersey Shore, United States
In case any of my friends or family members actually read this Blog, please consider all Names, Characters, Places and Incidents to be the product of the author's imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales are entirely COINCIDENTAL...Muaaah!! Now, really, about me: I bring the crazy wherever I go, so I've been told...I make fun of myself more than anyone else ever could. I hate: the awkward silence in elevators, watches with no numbers, picky eaters, Cancer and legalism. I love: coffee, stalking Hugh Jackman, my Spanx, COMMENTS, sarcasm and writing: Middle Grade, NA, YA Paranormal and Urban Fantasy.

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Tuesday, September 21, 2010

Lauren who made a beautiful bride, and me, her cousin, an old Italian lady....









My cousin Lauren's wedding was magnificent. I loved every minute of it. She made a beautiful bride, as I always knew she would. When my sister saw me, she said, "oh my gosh, you look like an old Italian lady!" and I said, "I AM an old Italian lady!!" Later on she clarified her statement by saying:
(1) It was just the big, curly hair, too much makeup, tight black dress etc. that led me to come to this conclusion, not that you looked old.
And I answered her, "the big hair, too much makeup, tight black dress, it's all in my blood, I'm destined to go out rocking this look, really, I don't even have a choice in the matter." LOL

Wednesday, September 8, 2010

New Character- One you will love to hate...

OK so a little back story here... This is the character I told you about who's a real departure for me. She is the epitome of all the "mean girls" I've ever encountered in my life rolled up into one and then times by ten. Just remember, there's a reason she's so evil. When you learn why she's such a bitch, maybe you will learn to love to hate her, just like me. Enjoy...

Chapter One- Bitch
God, I am such a bitch. I really am so good at being bad, it should be my super power. And everyone here worships me because of it. Ha! Isn't it ironic, the meaner I am, the more they love me?

As I strut down the halls of Shore Hills Prep, the crowds part for me, their Queen, like the Red Sea. The lame dive for cover and those who dare step up and address me do so with quivering lips and unsure steps. I adore holding so much power over them, it's such a rush. I will be holding court shortly but am not yet ready to deal with the lessors, so I dismiss them with "the glare". They turn and run, tripping over each other in a futile effort to get safely out of my line of sight. My minions, ever so fearful of me, aptly named the power of one of my looks, "the glare". They can anticipate their fates according to a mere glance I shoot in their direction. What idiots, each and every one of them. It's a struggle to find an intelligence to come close to mine, much less equal or rival it; and that's including them all, students, teachers and even the Dean himself.

The Dean of Shore Hills, Mr. Nathan Lankowitz, may be MENSA smart, a Rhodes Scholar and a graduate of Harvard, but he is a social moron. It's actually quite amusing how easy it was for me to mold him into what I needed, like a blob of nerd silly putty in my hands. With years of being tortured for being a total geek (pocket protector and all) and his obvious lack of any female companionship, (other than his mother) it was over before it even started. I turned him out with such little fuss and fanfare, I was almost disappointed. Recalling the look on his face when he realized what he had done, with whom and how truly screwed he was, (in every sense of the word) well, now I really can't help but smile.

***Let me know if you'd like to read more...

Saturday, September 4, 2010

My version of drunk dialing...

Lately my insomnia has been really raging. It turns out, after 3:30 am, I am wide awake but literally useless. I should stop writing altogether, but I just can't help myself. I do, however, stop working on my more serious projects, like my book. Nothing I write after hours is coherent, sensible or any good anyway. Well, at least not to anyone but me.

What to do, what to do? I hate to watch tv, can't really concentrate enough to read, so I came up with something to amuse myself. I created my own version of "drunk dialing" people. My version of drunk dialing is writing stupid poems and/or stories and then randomly e-mailing them to friends and family. Lame, I know, but strangely satisfying...

See my blog entitled "Phantom Crapper". Phantom Crapper was such an e-mail. I sent it to my little brother, knowing full well it was ridiculous and not really funny at all. (Well, except to me, at 3:30a.m.,it was frickin hilarious.) So I sent it lmao the whole time, thinking about how he would read it, then imagining his reply. I would not have to wait long. It was something along the lines of, it's 3:30 a.m., WTH is wrong with you? Which made it even more hilarious. Ah, it's the little things in life.

So as long as I suffer from this insomnia friends, get ready to randomly receive and read some seriously demented e-mails/blogs posted by a very deranged and sleep deprived me :)

Phantom Crapper

There's a Phantom Crapper who haunts my house,
Haven't caught him yet, but I'll flush him out.

You never know when or where you will find,
The irrefutable evidence he leaves behind.

Upstairs, downstairs, master, even the half bath,
None of them have escaped his malodorous wrath.

Phantom Crapper, there's one thing I know,
and that's you always reap what you sow.

Because if I catch you in the act, just
consider it your last, Phantom Crap.