Saturday, 6 October 2007

Those Saturday chores.….

I believe chores on a Saturday should be outlawed. Why? Because they are dangerous to the busy and the unco (uncoordinated) among us. I have the bruises and cuts to prove it.

They are having a household chuck out day in my neighbourhood. This is where people chuck all their unwanted junk on the sidewalk and other neighbours pick it up and take it to their house. Whatever is left over a council truck comes and picks it up. So I hauled out an old, broken television and a stuffed washing machine. Degree of difficulty with the washing machine? 12 out of 10. I am one of those people who can ‘do it myself.’ Don’t offer to help as I am stubborn and pigheaded and need no help ‘thank you very much’. I am woman. I can do everything. So I dragged that sucker down the driveway swearing and sweating, as that seemed to help the process, and I got it to the sidewalk. The broken TV had already been taken by a neighbour. I gave the washing machine an almighty push to get it in place and the damned thing teetered precariously on its broken stubby little feet and then rolled back on me. The old, metal plate on the back scraped down my shin bone taking skin off with it. More swearing ensued as I kicked the washing machine visciously and then limped into the house clutching my bleeding leg.

Once inside the house, I stumbled head down blindly, staunching blood flow, to the bathroom and I managed to fall backwards over the clothes laden laundry basket that I forgot I had left in the middle of the hall when I raced off to do something else. I went down like a bag of wet cement, smacking my hand hard into the bookshelf which buried the silver thumb ring I wear into the flesh of my thumb. A whole pile of precariously stacked books pelted down on my head. During all this the clean washing was being covered in blood and I was swearing – a lot. Then the phone rang as it does at times like this. I lay there winded and in pain and I wondered what the lesson was in all this. A voice came on the answering machine “Hi Amarinda, just wanted to see if you were doing anything exciting.” Exciting? I am a frigging stunt woman today. How more exciting can it get?

The lesson in this? Slow down. Watch where you are going - and I need to buy another bookcase. By the way as I write this no one has taken the washing machine. I think they saw it attack me. Machine – 1, Human – 0.

So have you checked out for the latest in the blog serial? It’s hysterical what Anny has written and you guessed it – a past cast member makes a come back. So who did not die in the umbrella attack? As you know we rest the blog and our writer brains on Sunday. Monday Kelly is back with the serial on with no doubt another wild twist to the saga that I did not see coming and I will have to spend all day at work trying to match.

Looking for good, entertaining blogs to read? Don’t go searching aimlessly on the Internet. Check out the blogs I have listed on the left. These are smart and fun - why go anywhere else?

Mad About Mirabelle – Released December 19th

Warning - Adult excerpt

Mirabelle unlaced the waist cincher enough to allow it to go over her head and breasts as she slid it down to her waist. As she positioned it under her breasts and just above her groin she had to admit this garment was a nifty item of clothing. It hid a multitude of sins and if any waist needing cinching it was hers. She pulled the laces in tight.
“Oh God…” muttered Flynn, his voice thick with emotion.
Mirabelle arched her eyebrow at him and licked her lips. She cupped her breasts and massaged them slowly.
“You like this limo man?” Her breasts seemed to stand out more with the cincher tight around her waist.
“Hell yes. Put on the stockings now.”
“No Flynn.” Mirabelle shook her head at him as she tugged on her nipples. “You put them on me.” Mirabelle sat down on the edge of the bed and opened her legs wide. “But you must be naked first.” Flynn nearly dropped the camcorder in his rush to strip off his clothes. Mirabelle giggled loudly. This was both sexy and fun. She watched as he placed the camcorder on a nearby dressing table, in line of sight, making sure he could capture the moment.
Flynn dropped to his knees before her. His hands started automatically heading between her legs. Mirabelle smiled. He wasn’t the only one who had power.
“You are not to touch my pussy until I say so.” The look of dark passion in Flynn’s eyes almost made Mirabelle decide to give him the order to touch her.
“I can hold out longer than you can Miss Mirabelle.” Flynn reached over for one of the fine lace-topped stockings on the bed.
“I doubt that every much.” She had plans for him. If there was someone lurking outside in the debris of Lila’s house neither of them cared any more. Mirabelle held a leg up for him to slide a stocking on. It was torture for both of them but she knew it would be worth it. “Nah ah…don’t touch,” Mirabelle gently slapped Flynn’s hand as it finished sliding up the stocking and started to slide on up to her pussy.
“You know I am going to fuck you until you can’t stand Miss Mirabelle.” Flynn slid up the other stocking and got the same hand slapping.
“Promises, promises…” Mirabelle murmured as she crossed her legs and pushed at his shoulders. “Go back to your camera limo man.”
Flynn stood up hesitantly. It was clear to them both that the last place he wanted to be was across the room from Mirabelle. His cock was rigid against his stomach.
“Don’t play with me.” His voice was hot and had a dangerous thrilling edge.
Mirabelle smiled a sexy smile.

And then stuff happens….
For another hot excerpt tune in tomorrow when I give you a sneak peak at Barabra Huffert's, just about to be released book, My Last Dark Day...bring a fan - it's hot!!
Go ahead: Live with abandon. Be outrageous at any age. What are you saving your best self for?


anny cook said...

I said to have a nice afternoon--not a dangerous one! No blood needed!

Mirabelle sounds wonderful.

Kelly Kirch said...

I know it wasn't nice, but I cackled all the way through your Saturday escapades. Are you okay now? Hopefully no stitches?

Barbara said...

I'm with Kelly. It's not funny that the nasty washing machine attacked you like that and then you're bookcase joined in but I'm still laughing since you're going to be okay. There is an upside though that you missed. At least the washer didn't break your toe when you kicked it

Molly Daniels said...

Whew:) I'm not the only one who nearly fell off her chair laughing! Like my fall down the stairs a while back...laughter is the best medicine:)

And I'm with you...chores should definitely be outlawed on Saturdays! And remind me not to call you when it's time to move my's in the basement! God only knows what would happen then!

Maybe your furniture is trying to tell you to go shopping? Hahahaha...

Amarinda Jones said...

F&%*ing furniture...

anny cook said...

It so sounds like something I would do that I couldn't laugh. I once slipped on a magazine that was on the floor. (No I didn't realize it was there!) Fell down. Juuuust missed breaking my neck by about an inch. Scared the liver out of me when I realized how fast my life could have been totally screwed up.