Ring Ring Ring

Game of Groans
Think about an object, an activity, or a cultural phenomenon you really don’t like. Now write a post (tongue in cheek or not — your call!) about why it’s the best thing ever.


Remember back in  the olden days when all you could do on a  phone was talk into it?

It just sat on a table or it hung on the wall and when it rang  you had to run to it and hope the other person didn’t hang up  before you could answer it.

Now you can carry your phone around with you anywhere you go.

Even if you are in an accident and  strapped to a stretcher with you head immobilized you can not only answer  your phone, you can take a selfie and go to Facebook and update your status to say something like, ‘ I think my neck is broken and everyone in my car and the other car are smashed to a bloody pulp and they’re all dead but at least the Paramedics are hot LOL.”

You can text message  from your phone too- but those aren’t just four or five sentences forced to exist  together like couples in an arranged marriage. Oh no. Those are literary  gems. If Hemingway were alive he’d die with envy because text messages are so concise so well crafted so alive.  Plus you can do little faces like this you
to get your point across…instead of you know, explaining yourself.

Text messages are the best thing ever, instead of talking you can just send a picture of a woman sitting on a rock and looking off into the distance or arranging flowers.

Back when I was a kid that was how Kotex and Tampon said ‘buy our products’.


Nowadays the same image means you’re centered and feeling strong and the person you send the Tampon Ad to will know it and you don’t have to say, ” I’m doing fine. Thanks for asking. How are you doing?”

I love my phone.

It whistles and sings to me and I’m not ashamed to admit when it calls I am it’s slave and I do whatever it tells me to do- update it, recharge it, make sure it’s safe and away from harm at all times.

I’d drop a baby before I’d drop my phone.

I worry  that when it gets older  I’ll have to think about replacing it- I mean we have a life together me and my phone.

My phone, my companion,  my connection to the world, what was I before you?

I was an empty shell. I know that now.

Never leave me- I can’t exist, do NOT exist without you.

Blue Is The New Yuck

______ is the new ______
Click over to your favorite blog, and pick out the 4th and 14th words (that aren’t “the” or “an”). Drop them into this phrase:
“__BLUE___ is the new _YUCK____.”
There’s your post title. Now write!
Photo: A.M Moscoso

Photo: A.M Moscoso

I used to tell everyone that my favorite colors were Black and Blue.

Everyone would roll their eyes around and laugh and say of  course because I wore a leather jacket, I rode motorcycles, I played the guitar and I wrote horror stories and worshipped Stephen King and Clive Barker.

So of COURSE black and blue were my favorite colors.

But in my dark heart where I wrote stories about people being buried alive, killer grandma’s, cannibals and murderous ghosts I loved pink.

I adored pink and I didn’t wear a spot of it on my person.

Nothing I owned was pink.

There was a reason for that.

Do you know the world is full of pink haters?

Something about that color sets people’s teeth on edge- mostly women.

I guess it’s because Pink is associated with vulnerability and  dare I say youth and innocence.

My great Aunt was buried in a pink coffin and she was one of those ladies who wore pearls and looked prim and proper and she could whip your ass with one arm tied behind her back and she could whistle between her teeth.

She wore dark colors too, but she always had something pink around her.

As I’ve gotten older and less inclined to hide my feelings I have released my inner demon which is pink.

It’s a dark lovely shade of  pink and it’s deadly vicious and it carries around this magic marker and when I run into a Pink Hater I can see it slither up their leg straight to their face and it magic markers, ” dumb ass ” on their forehead.

In pink of course.

So now days I always have  something pink on me- my shades, my nails, my purse something I’m wearing.

Just a little splash of ” Kiss My Ass “

For real, hating a color is like hating puppies or kittens.

Who does that?

And why did I ever care?