Halloween is looming so Mel & I have decided to scare the __________ out of ourselves.
(Choose as many as apply.)
heck/hell/snot/crap/shit
daylights (living, everliving and everloving )
dickens
bejesus
wits/willies
It’s time to Ketchup With Us about horror films. I am an enormous coward in this area. Which is why I expect a huge thank you from each and every one of you for the field work I put into this writing prompt. With the moral support of my friend, Vanessa, I summoned every shred of my courage to drag myself to see the latest screamer to hit theaters – House at the End of the Street. Seriously, since I saw that horrifying movie last week, I have lain (I hate that stupid word) in bed having to pee but paralyzed for an hour in the middle of the night. More than once. Thanks to my crippling fears, I’m probably well on my way to a UTI.
But this behavior is nothing new for me. I think it all started with this movie. (You go ahead and watch. I’m covering my eyes and ears.)
(Peeking from under hands) Is it over? Okay, good. For a quick explanation of this link-up, click here. In short, Mel and I will post a picture or video with a writing prompt on the 1st and 15th of every month. All you need to do is respond in 57 words or less. In any form. We love creativity. And, with each prompt, we’ll feature a writer from the previous link-up. Which reminds me …
Our esteemed Ketchup With Us Featured Writer for today is …
In 57 WORDS OR LESS, retell the plot line of your favorite horror movie. And, if you can find a good one, be sure to include a movie clip of your own. (God, I’m gonna be so freakin’ scared going through these entries. )
When we last checked in with the ODNT Job Search, we were talking about very specialized housekeepers. The position looked great. It was part-time and the compensation was “expereinced.” (I’m not sure if that means the same thing as “experienced” but I’m confused either way.) Still, you guys have me convinced that I’m not qualified for this position. So I guess we’ll keep looking, right?
I found another job opportunity on Craig’s List this morning. I didn’t get a chance to read it in its entirety but it sounded interesting so I thought we could examine it together line by line and you could tell me what you think.
Here’s the ad.
Four female magician’s assistants needed for regular shows in private club.
Well, I’m a female so that’s a great start. Plus they want FOUR of us. So my chances are quadrupled. And I like the words “regular” and “private.” Sounds stable and fancy.
Four nights per week. (Thurs-Sun) Two shows per night. (45 minutes each)
Okay. So, that’s the “regular” they’re talking about. Cool. Consistency is good in a job.
Must be 5’7″ to 5’11” tall (barefoot height) and tattoo free.
This sounds like a clear cut case of heightism to me. With a very straightened spine and slightly teased hair, I’m about 5’4″ in my bare feet so this could be a problem. On the plus side, I AM tattoo free. (I know. I just disappointed a number of you.)
Must have minimal costume limitations and finales for both shows will be performed at least topless.
“Minimal costume limitations” … okey-dokey. “Finales for both shows will be performed at least” … WHAT? I draw the line at being “at least topless” for BOTH shows. What’s the old expression … Always Leave Them Wanting More? I have to say no here. Where’s the showmanship in this act? Oh, and I’m not a stripper. So, there’s that, too.
All costuming supplied.
Now, that just doesn’t even make sense. Except that I guess that’s where the “at least” comes in. Plus, apparently, this “costuming” is worn until the finale. That’s when they send the kids out of the room.
Pays $2500 per week with possible 25-50% bonus. Six month contract minimum.
Now, why can’t this blogging gig pay that kind of cheese? And, yes, I sincerely meant cheese. Damn it.
Guess it’s back to the old drawing board, you guys.
* * * * * * * * * *
HAVE A JOB FOR ME?
Email me at olddognewtits@gmail.com … before I’m forced to wear a Princess Leia bikini and be transformed into a White Bengal Tiger in Vegas.
MamaKat’s writing prompt: Write a blog post inspired by the word “magic.”
For this week’s Trifecta challenge, I’m teaming up with two of my favorite writers to bring you a spooktacular (yes, I said spooktacular) Halloween trilogy. Our instructions are simple. Create a story between 33 and 333 words using the 3rd definition of the following word:
DEATH
1a : a permanent cessation of all vital functions : the end of life
b : an instance of dying <a disease causing many deaths>
2a : the cause or occasion of loss of life <drinking was the death of him>
b : a cause of ruin <the slander that was death to my character — Wilkie Collins> 3 capitalized : the destroyer of life represented usually as a skeleton with a scythe
Death and George crowded into the restaurant while Nausea headed over to the bar. “I can do some real damage in there. They’re running a tequila special,” he called out, running ahead of the other two.
“Dimwitted dilettante,” Death condescended under his noxious breath. George laughed, remembering a time when his old friend had that same insatiable glimmer in his apocalyptic eye. “Why are you smiling, George?” Death asked, as the hostess escorted them to their usual booth. “Are you amused by his enthusiasm … or have I unintentionally entertained you in some way?”
“Don’t you remember?” George began. “There were none more eager than you. But now … CPR, defibrillators, the Heimlich Maneuver. Why have you allowed these measures to interrupt your delicate work?” George was just getting started when the waitress interrupted him. “Good evening, gentlemen. Will anyone else be joining you?” Nausea was now bellying up to his third victim since they’d arrived. “No. Just the two of us,” answered Death, matter of-factly. “And we’d like to start with a couple of glasses of Richebourg Grand Cru.”
“Yes, of course, sir. Are we celebrating anything special?” she asked. “Yes,” answered Death. “My friend and I are celebrating my first holiday. A day off for Death. Do you know there’s no way you can die today, young lady?”
“I beg your pardon?” she stammered.
“I said that you cannot die today.” Death explained. “There is nothing you or anyone else can do to make that happen. Do you understand?”
Mouth agape, she managed, “I’ll be right back with your drinks,” then turned too quickly directly into a busboy and the business end of the steak knife he was carrying.
Death rolled his eyes. He placed his hand on her bleeding abdomen. “I said nothing,” he reiterated, clearly vexed at the need to prove himself. He removed his hand from her now unscathed stomach and returned to his seat.
“Wow,” said George. “I’m impressed. I didn’t think you had it in you.”
When we last checked in with the ODNT Job Search, we were talking about if I had what it takes to join the crackerjack team over at Xtreme Cleaners, a highly specialized crime scene and biohazard clean-up company. The answer? A resounding, yelled-by-Sam-Kinison-across-the-Grand-Canyon NO! Frankly, I’m proud of me for having the gumption (and stomach) to view the YouTube clips and email the guy at all. I still say the Xtreme training would’ve been fun. Which, I concede, makes me very, very weird.
So anyway … with dreams of gut-scrubbing grandeur behind us, my friend, Vanessa, and I turned back to Craig’s List for more of this entertainment (cough, sputter), I mean, torture. And we might have found another one. Again, it involves cleaning but at least it’s not like I’d be removing testicles from chandeliers or anything like that.
Still, I’m just not sure I’m qualified.
What do you think of my chances, you guys?!!?
* * * * * * * * * *
HAVE A JOB FOR ME?
Email me at olddognewtits@gmail.com … before I’m forced to start price shopping androgynous French Maid costumes.
My cat has a dream. And it’s a simple one. He’s always wanted to roll around in $1000 cash. I know. I think it’s a weird dream for a cat, too. I totally would’ve thought birds. Or some kind of smelly fish. But that’s what he said. And, as you can see, he’s been practicing.
He’s only worth $40 in this shot.
Want to help make his dream come true? All you have to do is CLICK THE IMAGE BELOW. Then, when the link opens, READ it and … by all means … LIKE it. Even if you hate it.
Oh, and there’s one more thing. Please SHARE the book. HOWEVER and WHEREVER you can. Here are a few suggestions:
Facebook, Twitter & Pinterest
Public bathroom stalls
Handheld signs at traffic intersections
Small, tasteful tattoos
Church bulletins
Graffiti on interstate overpasses
Commandeering the department store intercom while no one is watching to make an announcement
Tiny sandwich boards fashioned to your pets or children
Skywriting
Shoe polish messages on your car windows (and all others in the office parking lot)
Too much? Fine. Then, just do the first one. Remember, this is Milo we’re talking about. Is there anything you wouldn’t do for him?
P.S. I’ll further sweeten the pot. Using the comments below, you are invited to submit questions you want me to answer if I win. Duh, all submissions must be PG-13 or below. In the event of my victory, I will pick one at random and answer it.
The Day Things Got Hairy at Disney World – Before and After
Boys I’m Going to Marry When I Grow Up – Before and After
Next up?
Anyone remember Journey to the Bottom of My Purse? Well, now you can read AND see it … in pictures! To view my new Brite book, just click the picture below.
The post you wrote yesterday was WAY too long. People don’t want to read a damned epistle filled with bullet points. I know you were going for the whole Spinal Tap “This One Goes to Eleven” thing but … oh, my God! Yesterday’s post was over one THOUSAND words. What are you trying to do, yesterday me? Bore us all to death? You had eleven unique and entertaining post ideas that you could have developed into amazing individual posts. You could’ve been fat and happy in ideas for weeks. But NOOOO! You just crammed them all into one … long ass … post. That’s just lazy. It’s stupid is what is. Just stupid. Next time, please consider your audience and try to cull it down a bit. You’re better than that.
My two cents,
The October 1st Me
P.S. You ate way too much at your mom’s birthday dinner last night and you know it. Why do you think you’re avoiding the scale today, dumb ass? Next time, instead of eating ALL of them, consider CHOOSING among the Truffle Fries, Lobster & Watermelon Salad and Cheese Plate. Dude, you were a PIG!
MEL: Just write about a similar story from your past, Michele. It’ll be easy.
ME: (under breath) Easy for YOU maybe … you unscrupulous THUG!
It’s Ketchup With Us time and my co-host, Mel at According to Mags, had a unique idea for the writing link-up. To illustrate it, she wrote about one of the many foolhardy misdeeds of her youth. Frankly, when I read it, I was appalled. Shocked. And appalled. There were a few moments there that I seriously considered backing out of this whole Ketchup thing with her. I mean, you think you know a person, right?
Anyway, I’m sorry to disappoint you guys but I have nothing that comes even close to Mel’s story. It’s not like I ever cheated on a science test and got grounded so I couldn’t go to the Adam Ant concert … or snuck out to toilet paper the boy around the corner’s house and put a big rainbow-y Rick Springfield bumper sticker on his car. No, sir. But doesn’t that so sound like the kind of thing that our friend, MEL, would do. (laughs condescendingly)
For a quick explanation of the link-up, click here. In short, Mel and I will post a picture or video with a writing prompt on the 1st and 15th of every month. All you need to do is respond in whatever form strikes your fancy. Be creative. And, with each prompt, we’ll feature a writer from the previous link-up. Which reminds me, we’re happy to honor one of the only boys brave enough to link up last week.
Our esteemed Ketchup With Us Featured Writer for today is …
Post the ‘Ketchup With Us’ button (below) in the body of your post.
Link your entry’s URL (not your blog URL) to the linky at the bottom of one of our posts.
Tweet us your post. Please include both of our handles AND the hashtag #KetchupWithUs so we can RT you.
Please turn off your captcha. (Don’t know what that means? It’s when your commenters are forced to enter nonsensical codes to establish their non-roboticness. But, seriously, robots HATE writing link-ups. And Ketchup. So, I think we’re good.)
It’s been a crazy week. As in crazy, out-of-the-ordinary stuff keeps happening. I’m not a superstitious person … to a fault my friend, Carrie, might say when I taunted the plane we took to Las Vegas. I’m not an astrological person … to the extent that my only real knowledge of astrology comes from the musical theater production of Hair. All I know is that there’s some weird ju-ju going on in ODNT-ville these days as a lot of truly weird stuff has crossed my path. I culled it down to eleven examples. (Yes, eleven. An homage to my Spinal Tap-loving friends.) And remember, by reading this post, you’re very likely going to catch my weirdness aura … so reader beware!
(1) Vanessa and I awakened a sleeping motorist.
We spotted him driving (I mean, snoozing) through a residential neighborhood as his car slowly started to drift into our lane. As we approached the four-way stop directly adjacent to our children’s school, Vanessa laid on the horn and the two of started screamed out the window until Rip Van Winkle opened his eyes and took control of his old Buick Regal. Yes, he was elderly. Yes, he was wearing an old man bucket hat. And yes, his hands were higher on the steering wheel than his head. Would someone please take his license away?
(2) I attended Hispanic Appreciation Day at my local bank.
No, I am not in the least bit Hispanic. And yet I still found this display of clichéMexicana offensive. Or at least borderline offensive. Oh, yeah … and damned funny. I felt like I was on an envelope-pushing episode of 30 Rock. Although I guess I should be saying Chico & the Man. Or Dora! I can’t wait for next year. I’m so wearing a pancho.
(3) I saw a grown man running through the grocery story with no shoes on, yelling at his “mama.”
She stayed back in line to pay after he fled the store with her keys, laughing and screaming. (I should probably be saying hollerin’.) Then, as she was leaving the store, she carried on a full, heated conversation with him, returning all of his back talk. And I’ll remind you that he was already far away, outside in the parking lot. I watched the whole thing with my mouth open. Those Honey Boo Boo people “ain’t got nothing” on these two. (Did I say that right?)
(4) An 18-wheeler jack-knifed into a crumpled mess under the overpass three blocks from my house.
As you can imagine, it was a scary sight to see. Amazingly, I managed to distract my kids from most of it by handing them my phone activated to the SongPop app. I’m not sure I should be proud of that quick thinking or concerned that my kids were so easily distracted from even seeing the mangled Mack truck a mere ten feet outside of the car window.
(5) I exchanged tweets with Christopher Atkins.
Remember the cute naked guy from Blue Lagoon? Well, I wrote a book about him. It’s actually a little flipbook about all my celebrity crushes. Then, I tweeted all of them about it. Or at least the ones who are still alive. And he was the only one who responded. So, he’s my new favorite. I’ll bet he’s so excited about this book!
(6) A glass bottle of club soda exploded overnight in my refrigerator.
Yes, I said refrigerator, not freezer. I guess the top shelf of my fridge is set too cold because it somehow managed to freeze up. (Although I don’t see the eggs complaining.) So it exploded into one thousand (okay, fine … one HUNDRED) pieces. And, should you ever find yourself in the same enviable position, remember that glass shards are very easy to confuse with frozen chunks of club soda. Sift with caution!
(7) I called 911 about an abandoned truck in the middle of the interstate during a torrential downpour.
It only had three tires so it was leaning front left. And there was no sign of exploded rubber anywhere. Perhaps it burst into so many pieces that they were invisible to the naked eye. What is WITH me and explosions lately?
(8) I witnessed a pet store trying to pass off a rabbit as a ferret.
I don’t know about you but I’d be pretty upset if I spent $139.99 on this red-eyed leporid (look it up, it means rabbit) thinking I was bringing home a smelly ferret. I’m picturing PETCO employees, Bill & Ted, having the following conversation. “No way, dude. Just put the little guy in the cage. (To the rabbit) Okay, little dude. Can you tuck your ears down? Excellent! Now, don’t jump.”
(9) I smacked my skull with great force on the underside of my son’s bunk bed.
For the record, it is an excellent way to wake yourself up in the morning. But the cartoon bluebirds flying around your head are sure to slow you down as you try to pack the kids lunches and drive them to school. Plus, my memory now goes only as far back as age 20. What does ODNT stand for again, you guys?
(10) I shopped in a cute local boutique and left with my new favorite piece of jewelry, for only $13.
My friend was the one doing the shopping. I was surveying the impulse purchases at the register when I saw a box of vintage-looking rings with different birth stones. I fell in love with them immediately so I summoned the salesgirl. “They’re called poison rings,” she said. “Like in Snow White.” Now I ask you, could YOU have passed that up? I am only human, after all. So, I left the store with my beautiful new poison ring. My girl says I can now compete in the Hunger Games. I don’t know. I have no intention of using it to kill anyone. But I’ll bet it could hold a drop of sleeping aid or a truth serum. Ooh, or maybe a laxative.
(11) I watched a hamster drive a car. In real life.
Yep, Herve’s got a new set of wheels. And, boy, did we have fun watching him use it. (Yes, it was a Saturday night. Jealous?) To quote my parents, he looks like a drunk driver operating this thing. I assume he wasn’t but, of course, I can’t be sure. Here. See for yourself …
Did anybody else have a weird week? What’s the weirdest thing that’s happened to you lately?
Take one of your former 33 word entries and build upon it with another 33 words.
I haven’t taken on Trifecta in a while but this weekend’s prompt spoke to me. It said …“Get off your fat ass and join the party, slack jaw. People are going to forget you even EXIST if you don’t get back into the game again. Seriously, freak show, put down that apple-sized ball of cheese and get out of bed.”
I know! That’s what I thought, too. This weekend’s prompt is a total jerk.
Still, it got me thinking. And the gears in my tired brain started turning. Rustily, yes. There was even a little smoke for a few minutes there. Then, it finally spat out the following idea: If At First You Don’t Succeed. I wrote it in July 2012 for the Trifecta prompt that asked us to “Give the first 33 words of your book.” Here’s how it went:
He woke to the smell of a hot breakfast. Opening his eyes, he saw the walls of his childhood bedroom. The Gong Show desk calendar said 1977. He was 8. “Not again,” thought Henry Beckett, 43.
It seemed like the perfect story to continue for this weekend’s prompt. And so I did.
He leapt down from the top bunk, panic-stricken. The deposition, his anniversary dinner, his son’s championship game … he’d miss all of them again if he didn’t think fast. “Henry … breakfast!” called his mother.
Actually, the title is ironic when you consider the fact that I’m taking a second shot at writing the same story. Thanks, Trifecta. You’re helping me finally get moving with this writing thing. I’ve got 66 words under my belt now. And the average novel length is only about 80,000 words. (laughs like a buffoon) Shoot. I should be done by Tuesday.
Just writing about the daily dumbassery of life. The good, the bad and the so-utterly-mundane-that-you'd-think-I-wouldn't-even-bother-to-write-about-it.
OldDogNewTits 
A Letter to Yesterday Me from Today Me
Dear September 30th Me,
The post you wrote yesterday was WAY too long. People don’t want to read a damned epistle filled with bullet points. I know you were going for the whole Spinal Tap “This One Goes to Eleven” thing but … oh, my God! Yesterday’s post was over one THOUSAND words. What are you trying to do, yesterday me? Bore us all to death? You had eleven unique and entertaining post ideas that you could have developed into amazing individual posts. You could’ve been fat and happy in ideas for weeks. But NOOOO! You just crammed them all into one … long ass … post. That’s just lazy. It’s stupid is what is. Just stupid. Next time, please consider your audience and try to cull it down a bit. You’re better than that.
My two cents,
The October 1st Me
P.S. You ate way too much at your mom’s birthday dinner last night and you know it. Why do you think you’re avoiding the scale today, dumb ass? Next time, instead of eating ALL of them, consider CHOOSING among the Truffle Fries, Lobster & Watermelon Salad and Cheese Plate. Dude, you were a PIG!
13 Comments
Posted in Uncategorized
Tagged ate like a pig, do-overs, if anyone actually reads these tags please say hi in the comments, meaningless tags for posts, post was too long, regrets