Sunday, December 30, 2018

My Horror Tree interview with THE Noel Osualdini

Take a few minutes to discover author Noel Osualdini and his debut collection. You'll be glad you did.

Sunday, December 9, 2018

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

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, 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

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!


for you.

Unless the cats make it. Yep, I'll have them 'hand mixing' whatever batter with their tiny litter encrusted paws. Ooooh yeah.  Delicious.

Do NOT eat with these miscreants unless you want a good laugh.

Sunday, February 18, 2018

Horror Tree interview with THE John Reinhart

Poet and Arsonist...check him out.

Fake News from a Friend

Bigfoot self portrait The President’s dead. That’s what the media proclaims. But there isn’t a body. Rumor has it- he was as...