Take a few minutes to discover author Noel Osualdini and his debut collection. You'll be glad you did.
Sunday, December 30, 2018
Sunday, December 9, 2018
My Horror Tree Interview with THE Angela Y Smith
Tuesday, November 6, 2018
Horror Tree interview from THE Nikki Nelson Hicks
Give Nikki and her books some love.
Sunday, September 30, 2018
My blog tour
Any blogger, website, interviewer etc want to join my blog tour, please sign the link below!
Saturday, September 22, 2018
My Horror Tree interview with THE Dean Drinkel
Tuesday, September 11, 2018
Anyone want to hop on my blog tour?
Blog tour anyone???
Wednesday, August 29, 2018
How to Tell When Your New Found Psychic is a Fraud
In this unpredictable world we all live in, people want to know just what their shitty lives have in store for them. Some people look for guidance, solace and answers in a psychic, medium or clairvoyant.
I have this friend who says she met this cool psychic and she's the REAL DEAL. And continued on and on about how SPOT ON this psychic was.
I didn't share my friends enthusiasm. Now, I'm not saying I don't believe in psychics, I do. I believe there are people who are 'gifted' and have tremendous abilities. But I'm also a cautious skeptic. And that's a good thing, because cautious skeptics refuse to be hosed by charlatans but are genuinely awed and appreciative of the 'real deal.'
But for giggles and shits, I asked my friend, "So where'd you meet this psychic?" Excitedly, she giggled, "It was Kismet!"
(I knew I wasn't getting out of this conversation.)
She continued, "See, on a whim, I went to the one grocery store where I NEVER shop. And for some reason I was compelled, COMPELLED, to check out the meat section and before I knew it, I'm fondling up the pork butts. They were so...firm. And you know that's so unlike me. I don't fondle meat."
I snicker because I know damn well my friend is a meat fondler from WAY back. But she ignores my gaff and continues prattling on.
"I look over and there's another woman fondling the butts. She grabs one of the pork butts I had just put back in the case and said, 'I don't mean to pry but I'm reading this pork butt and it's telling me you were planning on making a nice meal for someone...are you married? I believe you are planning on making a meal for your husband." I couldn't believe it! She was right! How did she know I was gonna make a MEAL for my husband?"
I wanted to tell her, It could have been the ring...but...whatever. She was so excited, I didn't have the heart to tell her how much of a gullible dumb shit she was.
So, I'm gifting you with nine signs that will let you know your left tit is more 'in-tune' to your future than your psychic....or your right tit. The right tit is a damn con-artist!
1. Your psychic is rifling thru your purse when you come back from the bathroom. And don't believe her when she says she was searching for gum! Psychics don't need to search for gum. They always know where it is!
2. She asks to see your cell phone (thinking she's going to read your energy from it) but she calls the psychic hotline instead. "Hello, Miss Cleo. I got a live one here? How many cats does she got?"
3. She jiggles not one but TWO Magic 8 Balls impressively in one hand and calls her spirit guide "Big Daddy."
4. She asks for your resume.
5. She tells you her spirit guide is Mark Zuckerberg's twice absorbed twin and he needs you to "friend" him on Facebook so he can absorb YOUR energy and transmit it to her!
6. She asks you to bring a piece of your jewelry or a family heirloom to the reading so she can interpret the energy signatures exuding from it. As she molests the intimate item in her hands she pours a cup of Turkish coffee. She instructs you to drink most of it, but leave the dregs in the bottom of the cup. These dregs will help fill in the gaps if the energy from the object is weak. You suck the nasty shit down. Turkish coffee is terrible.
Unfortunately, you wake up hours later wearing only a suspect pair of stained mens tighty-whities and a t-shirt that reads, "I'm What Willis was Talking About" behind the dumpster of an abandoned Chick-fil-a. Your jewelry, purse and teacup labradoodle is gone.
Why do I keep falling for that one? Second damn teacup labradoodle I lost.
7. Lighting every candle in the room, the psychic informs you that the smoke will cleanse your negative energy, but you clearly see the crumpled Chipotle bag peeking from the garbage can and the not-so-subtle nasal assault of a taco laced air biscuit.
8. She answers the door in her paisley moo moo, blows clove cigarette smoke in your face and tells you that you're a gullible t$#t before slamming the door on you.
This one might be credible...
9. Instead of tea leaves she reads dirty hot dog water teaming with the remains and bits of wieners past.
Eww...but...color me intrigued.
Wednesday, August 22, 2018
My Horror Tree Interview with THE Loren Rhoads
My Horror Tree interview with Loren Rhoads. If you enjoy graveyards, this fantastic lady can give you some fantastic grave hunting tips!
Monday, April 9, 2018
Wal Mart Etiquette- Or...ForThose that Can't Read French -How NOT to be a Douche while Shopping Wally World
Wal-Mart is a shopping...experience. I get that.
Most red bloody-eyed M'uricans either love it or hate it. There is no grey area when it comes to the Wal of Mart.
Here is where the average...and not-so-average-Joe can do their one-stop shopping.
If you are looking for lighter fluid...it's here!
Socks? Yep, they got em.
Fresh veggies? Sure as shit they do.
How about electronics? Well, I thought you'd never ask, yep-yep.
Bags of Lye to dissolve bodies? Well, duh!
See, Wal-Mart has everything you need and a bunch of shit you don't.
The problem with Wal-Mart is with all the stuff, excess and the obscene glut of people that visit the store every frigging hour of every frigging day...somehow, peeps forget how to be decent human beings.
I know! It's crazy, right?
So before you decide to step out to skip the light fandango of the local Wal Mart while thoughtlessly doing cartwheelies in one of the wheelchair carts and shop until you get seasick- let's go over some Etiquette or as spoken in the language of pure M'urican-ese--"shit that you shouldn't do while out shopping in fucking Wal-Mart."
This needs to be said with a Western Pennsylvania accent to fully understand the sentiment.
1. Always wear your GOOD pajamas & sweatpants when going to the Mart. Why? Come on. Don't be stupid people. Stank-free, hole-less PJ's and sweats are exactly what the big stars wear when THEY go shopping. And if you're going to toss on your yoga pants, please don't complete the look with your beat up combat boots, a camouflage jacket, hat and matching scarf because...unfortunately, I can see you. Western Pennsylvanians always wearing shit to let everyone know they 'like to hide in the woods.' You're not Bigfoot so you're not hiding from anyone. Especially in Wal Mart! So take a tip from Fashion Police, Say Yes to the Dress and Rue Paul's Drag Race; always look like you're trying. Even when you're not.
2. If you MUST have a three hour conversation with your long lost half-sister's babysitter's uncle, or that neighbor you would never get caught dead speaking with in your neighborhood, please, for all that is friggin' holy, pull your carts over to an area where people are not trying to reach over you to get, I don't know...GROCERIES-- since it is a damn grocery story. And if you are reminiscing back when you were in high school, since that was the last time you actually saw this person, do not---I repeat, DO NOT give anyone the stink-eye because they are trying to snag a box of toothpaste that you so happen to be loitering in front of. YOU are the one deserving of the stink-eye, not the person tying to SHOP. But, if you MUST have a conversation with one of your six baby-daddy's mothers about, "How come he doesn't pay me my money for child support when I see he's driving a new car with his even newer ho..." go to the fast food restaurant that your Wal-Mart has up front...unless you want other people's opinions....because if you're airing our your 'bidness' in front of strangers don't get all pissy when they start schooling you. Especially, when you're stupid enough to have six baby daddies. And on that note...condoms are in aisle 12. Buy a box... or 4.
3. If your child is screaming louder than a Trump supporter defending the Presidents right to use Twitter as platform for future peace talks with shithole countries, please do the right thing and take your fussy child out of the store to calm him/her down. Maybe the kid is tired or hungry. Or maybe it's simply a little asshole. I don't know anything about your demon spawn. But I do know, that no one wants to hear your kid yell and throw a temper tantrum in the middle of a "therapeutic" shopping session. NOR, do they wish to hear you attempt to OUT SCREAM your kid or watch you act like someone who should have been sterilized at birth. If you were smart enough to have kids, be smart enough to learn how to take care of them. Oh- and don't tell me you need to take them to the store because you don't have a sitter. I do get that, but then teach them how to act or take them outside to calm them down. Don't be a rutting, breeding asshole, Asshole.
4. If you need to use the bathroom while you are shopping, please leave the rest area the way you found it. Meaning...because I'm certain there's one person reading this that will say, "I don't know what you're talking about." That person, would be lying of course but, I'll give em' the benefit of the doubt. So here it is...Don't raise your ass because you refuse to sit on the toilet seat because it's GROSS and then spray the entire stall with your disgusting fecal matter! That's what I mean! Do people do that in their HOME bathrooms? I get a little tinkle on the seat. It happens to the best of us, but when the seat and the surrounding area looks like a someone was murdered in the stall, ya know...stay the hell home until you can get your bodily fluids under control. Are you fucking two years old?
5. That being said...please use the bathroom and not the middle of aisle to poop. How dare I say that? Whelp, I dared. Use the bathroom crackhead.
6. Another one for the bathroom and the parking lots....don't shoot up with drugs in either and die. That's just rude for everyone involved. People are waiting FOR BOTH. Give someone else a turn, will ya? Some people think of no one but themselves.
7. Before shopping with throngs of people, let me give you a tip. Bathe. Yep, apparently there are those that believe shopping at Wal-Mart means forgoing soap, deodorant and toothpaste. I can understand if you have run out of such things and are shopping to restock. But this is NEVER the case. I've stood in line next to men and women reeking of BO and ass. And it's not like the scent just happened on their body when they walked in the door. Nope, that stench is from body funk aging and fermenting like cheese-- and not in the delicious fromage variety. I am not one that finds the smell of musky pubes, halitosis and sweaty sub shop HOT. Maybe our ancient ancestors eked out each others crack crud to find a mate and ensure the propagation of the human race but it's 2018...I'm going to douche your disgusting ass with some dishwashing liquid, a hose and a gallon of Axe body spray....that I will purchase at Wal-Mart. You get a pass if you are mentally challenged. Only pass I'm giving today. So deal with it, butt-stench boy.
8. Don't hover over a product and not let anyone else near it. It is not yours until you pay for it. So don't piss a circle around the stand up freezer with a selection of fish sticks and think you can call "dibs" on all of them while you decide the exact brand/flavor/ingredients/price you want. Move over to the side a little. Give others that KNOW what they want the chance to grab their fish stick and move along. Just because your an indecisive twat, (Yep, I used the 'T' word. See, I embrace certain words, because, guess what? That's all they are...WORDS. Now back to your regularly scheduled rant.) it doesn't mean everyone else is. I know I want the crunchy fish sticks, so move aside ya bitch ass fish stick monger!
9. If you are checking out with one of the Wal-Mart cashiers have all your crap ready. Once you're in the home stretch- get your cash, gift cards, check book, WIC check or check card OUT and ready. Don't be the asshat who stands there digging everything from a used cucumber to 12 sets of car keys to a pile of dirty diapers out of your purse or billfold after everything is packed up, ready and waiting for YOU to get your head out of your ass. It's called, 'Be Considerate to Others'. I'm sorry your mommy didn't love you enough to teach you those things.
10. Riffing a little off of number 8....BE CONSIDERATE. I get this world is rough and not everyone is feeling their humanly best when they venture out in the world, but there is no damn reason you can't be pleasant to people. If someone is kind enough to open a door for you, smile and say THANK YOU. Don't just walk through the door like that person OWES it to you. Say EXCUSE ME, when you bump into someone. Why the hell is everyone looking for a damn fight? Manners! But it seems to me that everyone expects everyone else to have manners...except for them. This is a particular pet peeve of mine. I'm sorry about the rant. See, I at least apologized.
11. Wrong is wrong. I don't care that your neighbor returned their live Christmas tree two days after Christmas because they didn't need it any longer and you think you should do it too. I don't care that all six pair of underpants you bought don't happen to soak up as much menstrual blood as you thought they would and think you deserve a refund. I don't care if the cashier accidently gave you the wrong pack of cigarettes and you felt the need to throw them at her and tell her she was a idiot. That behavior is wrong! WRONG! The customer is not always right, ESPECIALLY when they're WRONG. Ugh. Let's go back to number 10's message which was BE FUCKING NICE! Especially in Wally World. This is the big box store where the mascot is a happy smiley face. And no one is happy...not even the smiley face.
12. I'm CERTAIN I'm missing some Wal-Mart Etiquette. But I'm tired of telling normal, usually well-adjusted people who SHOULD know better what to do while shopping. Please feel free to remember this information the next time you decide to go to Wal-Mart and decide to be a dipshit. I'm trying to make the world a better place....one goddamn Wal-Mart visit at a time.
Monday, March 26, 2018
Look Who's NOT Coming to Dinner
Recently, I whipped up dinner for my folks.
What the hell was I thinking?
Now, I enjoy cooking. Not all the time, mind you I have a friggin job, but I’m no slouch in the kitchen. My cookbook- which no one has read- can attest to that.
So I purchased all the items for a simple Sunday meal. There would be no frills or elegance. That’s not how my family rolls. Our tiaras were at the dry cleaners but we made certain we used the pretty paper plates. Got me?
My menu was a HO made salsa verde over chicken burritos with a side of Spanish rice, made by THIS HO. I researched many salsa verde recipes online searching for the best one I could make from the fresh tomatillos I bought. Now, I will admit, the rice was of the RONI variety but it was tasty none the less. My folks were tasked with making local garden grown sweet corn using my mom’s favorite kitchen gadget, the microwave. *sigh*
I SLAVED for over two hours making the sauce and prepping the chicken breasts which I despise making. Yeah, I hate the whole process of doing anything with chicken. Fuck chicken. But I was doing something special for my folks so I went through the trouble of making the chicken 'goddamn delicious' by cleaning it of all opaque ligaments and bloody bits, cooking the remains with spices until it was fork tender and finally shredding the poor bird to bits. What more could one ask for?
|Not the Salsa Verde I made that day but I'm certain they wouldn't eat my Shrimp n' Grits either. I needed a pix of food so...here.|
I brought the food over and popped the tortillas in Mom’s handy-dandy microwave to warm them up.
My dad, who isn’t a fan of Mexican food quizzes me. What’s this green stuff? How do I eat it? Why are you trying to poison me? You didn’t let the cats help you cook, did you?
Lemme explain; my dad’s biggest fear is my cats and dogs assisting me in the kitchen. Which they do not! I keep telling him they are 'sans thumbs' so they can’t do much to help me….except lick the spoons and bowls clean. I don’t have a fancy machine that scrubs the dishes so I make-due with what I have. Which are cat and dog tongues.
As my dad’s bombarding me with questions, the sounds of gagging and giggling are ringing off the appliances from my mom.
She’s holding herself up in the doorway attempting to stop herself from laughing and gagging, but she yells, “It’s the smell of the cumin.”
Now, in my family, we all think the smell of cumin is reminiscent of body odor. Particularly, from the ‘jock strap region’. It doesn’t stop us from using it-but it always makes for entertainingly distasteful conversation.
That triggers my bitching, “What the hell mom? You haven’t even platted your food yet, let alone tasted it and you’re over there gagging like you’re Linda Lovelace’s stand-in.”
I can already tell this meal is going to be a winner.
As if I’m scolding the children I found out were mine on Maury, I tell my folks to grab their plates and sit at the damn table so we can eat like adults. Yeah, that didn’t quite work out as planned.
See, the older my folks have gotten, the more they have taken to eating like five year olds. Small, quick, heat em up meals that by rights should come with a juice box and a friggin toy are what they subsist on. So I try to bring something over once in a while to expand their palates and give them a healthier meal.
We sit down to eat and my mom, who years ago had a botched gastric-by-pass procedure, and to this day can only eat very small meals, is picking at her food telling me that, 'it’s good,' which is code for, I’m eating it because I’m your mother and I love you, not because I like it.
My DAD on the other hand is moving the food around on his plate. Taking little bird bites. I’m watching him and I notice he has his napkin in his hand. I think it’s weird but my dad IS weird so I don’t think much of it. As the meal plods on and we make small talk my mom suddenly blurts out, “You’re father is hiding his food in his napkin!”
“Am not!” my Dad shouts.
Mom shoots back, “You are too!”
See? Five year olds.
Pounding my fist in mock rage I yell at him, “Dad! For fucks sake, what the hell?”
|My "What the Hell" face.|
I say, “what the hell” A LOT when it comes to my folks. ‘For fucks sake’ was off the cuff.
The man is so BUSTED.
Mom is in hysterics, continuing to call my Dad out. His face blooms the ripe red color of a baboon’s ass. And mind you, he’s laughing his own ass off.
"I can't believe you squealed on me," he snickers pointing at my Mom with a not-so-menacing fork.
The rest of the meal, which didn't last long, consisted of us cracking up and making fun of my dad.
So, I repeat….FIVE YEAR OLDS.
No dessert for you Dad!
Unless the cats make it. Yep, I'll have them 'hand mixing' whatever batter with their tiny litter encrusted paws. Ooooh yeah. Delicious.
Unless the cats make it. Yep, I'll have them 'hand mixing' whatever batter with their tiny litter encrusted paws. Ooooh yeah. Delicious.
Sunday, February 18, 2018
Horror Tree interview with THE John Reinhart
Poet and Arsonist...check him out.
Sunday, January 7, 2018
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