a word doodle book?

01Sep10

Yep.

A word doodle book.

82 word doodles.

72 of the best.  (Chosen by the very scientific method of:  my gut, feedback from you guys, and helpful friendly eyes reading them for me.)

And 10 brand new word doodles that will only ever be seen in this book.

Some are romantic.  Some are silly.  And some are downright steamy.

So you should buy a copy. It makes a great Christmas present, birthday present, and Labour Day present.

It is is only $9.99!

Filed under: word doodles   |  4 Comments

pining for the moon

25Aug10

She curled her painted toes over the edge of the wooden dock.

The sweet, sticky summer night air hung over her like it had been generously brushed on with oppressive affection.

She heard the slightest ripples of waves gently lapping on the shore.

She closed her eyes.

And she dove.

The lake water cooled every inch of her naked body.

She opened her eyes, taking in the blurry darkness.

She looked up at a wavering full moon.

She broke the surface.

She rolled over and floated on her back.

She moved her hands instinctively.  She kicked her feet gently when absolutely necessary.

Crickets began their first set of the night on the invisible far shore.

She looked at her inaccurately and unevenly pale skin.  The soothing lack of colour gave the night a timeless feel.

She floated.

Free.

Spinning.

Slowly.

She turned her head and saw that the deck was sneaking away into the distance.

She closed her eyes.

She rolled over and begrudgingly began swimming slowly back towards shore.

She dove under the inky water.

She swam.

She opened her eyes.

She surfaced.

She reached the dock.

She put her chin on the smooth boards.

She didn’t want to get out.  Not yet.

An arm wrapped around her stomach.

A hand moved her wet hair aside.

She melted into the strength.

Lips marked their territory on the back of her neck.

A chest pressed against her back.

Lips laid claim to her shoulders as well.

A hand swam around to her breasts.

She pushed her ass back against him.

Only water between them.

Now.

She spread her legs.

He bit her ear.

She curled her painted fingers over the edge of the wooden dock.

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white lightning

24Aug10

She holds the almost square glass in her hand.   It’s a good weight for a drinking glass, she thinks.

She swirls the clear liquid around and around.

She scoffs at the offered mix.

This isn’t her first rodeo.  In fact she’d once drank at a rodeo.  But this is no time for that story.

She holds the glass up to her maybe-almost-she-thinks-official boyfriend and his family.

She smirkily nods.

Then she downs it.

She closes her eyes.

She exhales.

She opens her eyes to check if she is, in fact, breathing fire.

“Good stuff?” he asks with that expressionless expression that sometimes makes her want to hit him with a shoe.

“Smooth,” she whispers.

Everyone laughs.  She bristles as inconspicuously as she can.

The party continues.

He puts his hand on her knee under the table.  She relaxes.

She leans into him and asks, “What would you say if I told you that, even though I’m from the south, I’ve never tried moonshine before?”

“I’d call you a filthy fucking liar.”

“What?  Really?”

“No,” he replies, as he mixes her a drink with vodka and some kind of juice.

“You’re a pain in the ass,” she tells him.

He shrugs and passes her the drink.

She takes a long swig, to try to wash the taste of evil from her mouth.

Then another.

She suddenly elbows him in the ribs to get his attention.

He looks down at his side. Then up at her.  He gives her a “why did you elbow me in the ribs?” look.  She shoots him a “whatever, you’re a giant” glare.

“Hey.”

“Hey what?” he asks.

“I heard someplace that drinking moonshine can make you go blind.”

“Yeah.  I heard that too.”

He sips from his bottle of water.

She waits for more information.  She gives him what she thinks is a reasonable amount of time; it’s about two point three seconds.

“AmIgoingtogoblind?” she demands.

“Hmmm.  Probably not.”

“PROBABLY not?” she stage whispers.

“You should get rid of that coffee table with the sharp corners just in case.”

“Ugh.  Why do I put up with you?”

He turns to face her.

“Because my day doesn’t really start until I hear your voice.  Because your smile disarms me so completely.  Because I want to know everything you think and feel and believe and desire.  Because I love you purely, simply, and without conditions or fear.   Because you love me.  More than you’ve admitted.  And not yet as much as you someday will.  Because in a world with more questions than answers — a world that seems to breed insecurities and loneliness into us — you know that my feelings for you are true. You put up with me because I love you…  And I always will.”

He turns back to the party.  He takes a swig of water from his bottle.

After a few moments, she speaks..

“Okay.  Fine.  But I’m genuinely worried about going moonshine blind.”

With his hands resting flat on his lap, he asks, “How many fingers am I holding up in front of your face right now?”

Filed under: Uncategorized   |  3 Comments

my weekend in sound bites

23Aug10

Peter: Are you Uncle Pete’s girl this visit?

ACN: *shakes her head no*

Peter: Are you [grand mother]‘s girl?

ACN: Yeeeaaah.

Peter: Nooooo.

ACN: *giggles*

Peter: Are you mad because I missed talking to you a couple of nights last week?

ACN: Yeah!  *giggles*

Peter: But I called you every night, you were just running the roads with mommy and daddy!!

ACN: *louder giggles*

Peter: Are you sending me back to the unc store?

ACN: YEAH!  *much laughing*

**********

Peter: I’m taking off.  Where’s my thank you, pain in the ass.

Monkey: Thank you, pain in the ass.

**********

My aunt: Your anniversary is tomorrow?  How long have you been married?

My mom: Forty… fucking… years…

**********

My mom: Where did all the chairs come from?

Peter: Trees.

Filed under: ACN, The Monkey   |  3 Comments

easy

20Aug10

a fly whizzes by my nose
so i swat and growl
king kong style yo
standing on the deck
wiggling my toes
looking at the harbour
realizing again
for the first tine
the sun always shines brighter
down on the lighthouse
even when you
whomp me on the head
with your newspaper
sunday edition!
as you walk by
and back into the house
i run my hand through
my now flattened bed spikes
you giggle
i hear you
woman
i eventually forgive you
and go find you trying
to finish a cross word puzzle
i solve the last clue
doesn’t mean you’re smarter
you say
i agree
in that way i do
that infuriates
imma make you breakfast today
i say
really
you seem unconvinced
something i never made before
from a recipe i found
on the in-ter-net
you oooooooh
as you should
i turn the music up
i cook
you bust six or seven moves
poor bastards
you sit
i serve
i sit
i realize i forgot
your tea on the counter
you say you’ll get it
i like your butt
i eat my toast
you sip your drink
the best games of footsies
start out as accidents
you’re still not smarter
you remind
i grin
you grrrrr
i chomp chomp
you nom nom
i look
you mmmmmmm
i smile
i run my hand through my hair
and try to bring back
some bed spikes

Filed under: word doodles   |  1 Comment

it’s about you

18Aug10

you know how
everyone is always
so very excited
about first times
and newness
and learning
and exploring
and
i get it
i do
but you know what
i love
knowing
that when i place
my lips
softly
softly
on the spot where
your shoulder
meets your neck
you’ll purr
right there
every time
and that
when i kiss
kiss
kiss
from your chin
down
between your breasts
your back
will arch
for me
i love
knowing when
to change gears
from high to
fuck the neighbours
and the moment
when your worries
about society’s views
about everydamnthing
and stresses
about nothing
melt away
and you’re stripped
bare
pure
fucking
craving
i love
knowing which touch
makes what sound
and how to play
you
like a fine violin
unfinished symphonies
no longer
trust
me
yeah
i’m looking forward
to our first time
because
mostly because
once i learn
what you want
i’ll never ever forget
what you need

Filed under: word doodles   |  7 Comments

there should be a U in team, future wife

12Aug10

Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii.

You’re pretty.

So, Eff Double U, like all other celebrities, I require a team of people around me to help me look good and to get things done.

But, in my case, it’s not a cadre of toadies, groupies, astrologers, shamans and freelance anal bleachers.

No, no, no.

For me it’s a group of people who are related to me, and thus have to put up with my annoying ass.

My family is going to love you.

The ACN will say she likes you more than she likes Uncle Pete.

Then I’ll grrrrrrrrrrrrrr.

Then she’ll giggle.

Then I’ll steal a kiss from her and stomp away. (Back to the Unc Store, presumably.)

Then she’ll giggle more.

And then I’ll run back and steal another kiss, causing her to blink repeatedly and tee hee.

The Monkey will borrow your clothes.  And let you borrow hers.

Especially shoes.

And she’ll tell me to go away so that she can discuss Big Brother (or American Idol) with you.

She’ll explain, “OH… MY… GOD…  I hate when competitions go from one show to the next.  AND from Thursday until Sunday.  NOT even Wednesday to Thursday.  I hate that!”  And she’ll point out that two of the contestants are “beeyatches anyway.”

My mom… oh my mom..  She’ll adopt you, basically.  She’ll find out your favourite snack treats and make sure you always have lots of them.  She still buys Xmas gifts for this broad. (Speaking of her, I have a 60-something uncle who had such a crush on her. He sensed any time she was around.  He’d drop in and be all swoonypants.  So be on the lookout for cartoon hearts floating around his noggin when he talks to you.)

My mom will be all excited to hang out with you.  She’ll tell you stories.  I’ll interrupt with a sarcastic comment.  She’ll ignore me.  I’ll do it again.  And again. Finally she’ll yell at me and call me a bad name.  You’ll laugh louder than you expected.

My dad will be quieter in his adoration.  But you’ll know.  He’ll be in charge of finding interesting foods and alcoholic beverages for you.

“What would you like to try?  A brontosaurus burger?  I’m on it!”

Grabs gun.

*chick chick*

(That was a gun cocking noise.)

(Yes it was.)

You’ll appreciate having these people to talk to, especially when I’m all holed up in a room some place, writing things like this:

“We’re going to dinner tonight.”

“Do you have reservations?”

“Well she likes Sex and the City and might be a bit of a whore…”

See?

Yeah, my family will love you.

And I’ll sit back and smile.

I’ll love that they all adore you so much.

I’ll know I chose well with you.

I’ll think about the fun stuff we’ll all do together.

I’ll think about all the words spoken and typed, and dreams dreamed, and bad aim and bad luck in the past leading to…

A great fit.

I’ll smile.

I’ll walk by and squeeze your shoulder lovingly, while you talk to one of your many admirers.  Just needing to touch you, you know?

I’ll get the chills a little.

I’ll smile bigger.

I found you.

I finally found you.

And then I’ll hide all of your snack treats.

Try to steal my family, will ya?

Love,
Peter

Filed under: ACN, The Monkey, peter's future wife   |  13 Comments

because the night

09Aug10

I glance back over my shoulder as you fumble with the keys.

Repeatedly.

You swear a little under your breath.

You finally locate the proper one and the large door swings open. I hold it as you run over to the alarm keypad.

You punch in the code written on a piece of paper by a friend whose favour debts outweighed her misgivings. Barely.

The beep of success makes you grin.

And it makes you drag me by the arm into the darkened back room of the library.

“This is your favourite place?” I ask.

You nod excitedly as you disappear from sight.

The blackness makes the silence overwhelming.

Heavy.

I follow your breathing. And the smell of your cinnamon gum.

We make our way out into the main section. There is a bit more light here.

You take a deep breath.

I stand beside you.

“The last time I brought a boy here, I was five and he pulled on my pigtails.”

“Crap. That was going to be my go-to move.”

I place my hand on your lower back to say, “I know it’s a big deal.”

You smile to say, “You better.”

You lead. I follow.

We get into an elevator.

The doors close.

**********

The doors open on the third floor.

We exit.

“… and I was eleven when my mom asked me why I like it here so much. I told her it’s because I can hear the poets’ souls dancing.”

“That’s amazing,” I say.

“Yeah, I’m pretty great.”

You make a beeline for a shelf. You read the names like you’re greeting old friends.

I wander over. My eyes now adjusting to the low light, I skim along without paying too much attention.

You step in between me and the shelf. I smell your hair.

“Here.”

You pull a book and turn.

I don’t think you realize how close we are.

Your chest is almost against me.

Our eyes meet, frozen in a moment I’ve been trying to create all night.

I ever so barely begin to lean in.

“Basil Bunting,” you say, pushing a book into my hand.

“What?”

You spin away.

“Poetry? It’s a hobby / I run model trains,” you say as you disappear around the end of the stacks.

**********

You’re gingerly turning the pages of an old book. I lean against a shelf and check out ol’ Basil.

“We can’t, you know,” you whisper.

“I don’t know that at all.”

I take a step towards you.

“She has dibs.”

“What?” I ask.

“She does. Dibs.”

“I’m not the last piece of pizza.”

“But when I hear of the brotherhood of lovers, how it was with them…”

“Walt Whitman,” I reply.

You smile.

You pass me the book.

You walk away.

**********

“Just the first two lines,” I confirm with you, across the table.

You look up from the notepad you’re tapping your pen on and nod.

“Okay…”

I jot. Then scratch. Then jot.

You put your pen down.

We exchange pads.

I read yours.

i wonder from time to time to time if i could ever/ get back to the me i was before i was me and you

“I like that,” I tell you.

You smile, while already re-writing it in your head.

You read mine.

You may be a maneater / but I’m a lot to swallow

You look at me.

I’m not yet fluent in what is written on your face.

**********

You’re sitting, cross-legged on the top of the table. I’m sitting on a chair with my feet up.

There are books piled everywhere around us.

“She met you first.”

I look up from my book and shrug.

“That’s important,” you say, in hopes it’ll convince one of us.

“I don’t care.”

“She wants you.”

“And what about what I want?”

“What do you want?” you ask, joining me in allowing cheesy dialog to get us to where we want to be.

I stand up.

I lean in and put my hands on your bare knees. I slide them up a little, just under the hem of your dress.

You watch me watching my hands.

You uncross your legs.

I pull you over to the edge of the table.

You put your legs around my waist.

**********

We exit from where we came in.

The night’s a little older now. More knowing.

I look skyward, in search of stars. Always.

“Don’t worry, Magellan, I know the way,” you assure.

We head up the middle of the side street.

The echoes of our footsteps fall into sync.

The backs of our hands rub a little as we walk.

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in the pools of light there, go wherever you choose

29Jul10

The dusk sky was messy yesterday.

Different types of clouds of multiple colours playing at various heights. It was like they were still trying to figure out what kind of sunset they wanted to create.

The lowest level was wispy and dark. Like dust on a view that’s been ignored for too long.

As has many an east coaster before me, I looked to the west. Something caught my eye.

A plane, with it’s ever growing vapour trail, was heading this way. More or less.

Having long been pro contrail, I watched.

The sun, not yet ready to call it a day, spectacularly back-lit the jet and tail.

I considered pointing it out to the people around me, but I didn’t. I’m not sure why.

I watched.

The closer the plane got to me, the less it glowed. However, to make up for it, the patch of the sky it was traveling through cleared to a blue that typically only exists earlier in the day.

I began to wonder about the passengers. I stood on the deck and imagined a boy planning the first words he was going to say to a girl. He chuckled because he knew he’d forget everything he wanted to say. When he saw her. When she saw him.

Just then, the vapour trail disappeared. I could see the plane, but it was leaving no foot print. I considered the reasons. Some kind of crosswind? I tried to remember what I learned of turbulence in physics classes many moons ago, before I’d take off my glasses and blend into a school hallway to meet up with a pretty blond girl between two sets of lockers.

I wondered about the boy on the plane. Was he being rocked by turbulence? Maybe it was providing him with a little distraction from obsessing about impressing the girl. Perhaps he was seeing it as just one more obstacle on his way to finally getting to be with her.

Then the vapor trail started again.

I was oddly relieved.

I watched for a bit longer, as the plane continued eastward.

I was happy for the boy.

The sky looked messy in that direction too.

A little messy.

But manageable.

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Pick-up lines you should look out for at The Wizarding World of Harry Potter™ (Now at Universal Orlando!)

28Jul10

“Wanna see what’s under my robe?”

“Have you ever held a magic wand?”

“You should tumble more with Dumbledore.”

“I likes to snuggles with the Muggles.”

“You’ll be impressed with my Parsel… tongue.”

“Like Luna, I Love Good too.”

“I’m the one who made Myrtle moan.”

“Baby, you put the ass in Azkaban.”

“I’m hung like Hagrid.”

“Nice quaffle. Wanna fuck?”

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