Monthly Archives: January 2013

My review of Splintered by A.G. Howard

Originally posted on my book review blog at


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January 25, 2013 · 3:58 am

The Saint Bernard Kiss Incident

I received a quick peck on the lips, which I didn’t expect.  After two dates, especially as an adult, you kind of know, instinctually whether or not the other person wants you, but I really had no idea how Simon felt.

I place a lot of emphasis on a kiss, or at least a series of kisses.  Making out can tell a lot about a guy that you wouldn’t normally find out.  If his kisses are languid and fluid in motion, and he seems to savor your mouth, chances are he’ll savor your body when the clothes finally come off.  If he’s a darter, i.e., when he pushes his tongue in and out of your mouth in rapid succession like a knife, or a dart, and his target is your uvula, well, he’s probably a wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am kind of guy in the sack.  Those are the ones I worry about, since they don’t seem to care about anything except getting themselves off.

After the time I’ve invested in Simon in endless conversations and two very long dates, I was curious.  Hell, I was more than curious.  This was make or break time.  “Wait!”  I breathed into the cold night air, and watched my words form into steam.  I wrapped my arms around his neck, and said a little prayer that this wouldn’t suck as his lips inched closer to mine.

And then all of my curiosity went out the window, and I knew I should have knelt at the statue of Mary and lit candles while I said my prayer.  Immediately, my chin was drenched in saliva as his tongue aimed like a marksman holds his bow in the quiver, and missed it’s target, over and over again.  He’s hitting the sides of my mouth, my chin, at one point, he even hits the tip of my nose as his mouth completely engulfs the lower half of my face.

It’s all I can do to hold on.  I try to coax him to go slower, to stop assulting me with his tongue, but he wasn’t budging.  Simon was moving to an internal rhythm I couldn’t break.

And with all of that, and the aftertaste of medicine at the back of my throat, like he just sucked down a Halls cough drop, I’m completely and utterly disgusted beyond reproach.

I pull away first because I have to, and I am afraid to open my eyes because he might still be kissing the air in between us.  I try to discretely wipe the lower half of my face against my thick winter gloves, but the air is so cold, the mess he’s made has frozen to my skin like a slobbery icicle.  God, I hate Buffalo winters almost as much as I hated that kiss.

“So yeah, ” I stumble over my words, and find that I have none. “I’ll see you Friday.”  I slip away quickly before he can say anything, and half-run, half-slide through the snowy parking lot to my car. I hope that my non-committal tone says what I can’t, that this kiss was on par with a root-canal without suction, but I know he doesn’t get it.

The ear to ear grin across his face as he waves goodbye to me is proof that he is not only oblivious, but absolutely pleased as punch that he got to first base with me.

I slam my car door and turn the key, hoping the heater will work before I get halfway home, and wonder how the hell I can get out of date number three in a few days.  Unfortunately though, that’s not my most pressing thought.

No, the thought is that I feel like I had just made out with a saint bernard, and I couldn’t get over how anyone, especially someone who is seven years older than my 28 years on this earth could think that the kiss was worthy of anything other than gagging.

It dawns on me as I hit the highway and my ipod is singing through the speakers of my rusty car that he probably doesn’t have much experience in that area, guys like him; shy, aloof guys who are too nice for their own good normally don’t, and I pity him.

Oh crap, I pity him.  This does not bode well for me.  True to form, I will probably see this Friday date to fruition, and kiss this guy again, reliving the wretchedness of this night, praying it can’t be that bad a second time, right?


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Blogging, the great time waster?

Now I know I am a glutton for punishment.

Every morning, I wake up, and think to myself of the possibilities of the day, and I am downright hopeful.  I’m filled with the prospect of writing glorious amounts of pages, filling my yet unfinished novel (which one, it’s always a toss up) to the brim with witty dialogue and unique ways to tell a story, and poof…real life intrudes.

It’s really difficult to devote time to write, and write well when it seems like the whole entireity of humanity is waiting and watching to see you fail.

I’m over exaggerating, but sometimes it feels like that. Continue reading

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Published about a week ago on [miscellany media] Enjoy!

[miscellany media]

I don’t like New Year’s resolutions.  In fact, I loathe them with the fiery hot passion of a thousand suns.  I believe my hatred started at the ripe age of seven while I sat with my parents in the living room of our apartment, hyped up on left-over candy canes, desperately trying to make it to midnight in my Fifel pajama’s from An American Tale.  (That’s straight out of 1987 for you generation Y people.)  That year, a tradition was formed at my house.  My parents wrote down their New Year’s resolutions on pieces of paper, preparing to read them after midnight.   By 11:15p.m. the suspense of not knowing what my father wrote was eating my mother alive inside, so we’d end up reading them just before Dick Clark counted down the last seconds, all the while shoving Taco Dip into our mouths.

That year, their resolutions were simple; quit…

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So I read this book…The Raven Boys By Maggie Stiefvater

So I read this book…The Raven Boys By Maggie Stiefvater.

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to go with the last post…

to go with the last post...

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January 16, 2013 · 3:53 am

Unpacking the boxes and moving in…. (so to speak)

So yeah, um…hi, or something

If that isn’t the most eloquent way to start off my first blog post on a new site, I’m not sure what is.

For those of you that have followed my (mis)adventures into the publishing and blogging world, you will have to pardon the boxes and newspaper floating around the floor, especially when I get to the fragile items like why my novels are stalled, but for those of you just joining, welcome to my little rainy corner of the interwebs.

Yep, this is going to be one of those blogs…well, maybe.  I still haven’t figured out where the kitchen box is yet, so my recipes on juicy tidbits of life will be waiting until the necessities like getting out the toilet paper and washing this place up a bit take place.

Yep, I’ve gone too far with the damn metaphor.  I’ll stop now.

So here are the plans for the future of our little time together;  I plan to make you laugh, I plan to make you think, I hope to inspire you, to make you run out and buy my books (insert shameless plug for my not yet published novels) I plan to review other independent author’s works, and some pretty well known authors too.  I plan to pimp out my friends’ blogs and have you witness their global takeover and become a minion.  I will talk about music, a lot.  I will talk about books, a lot.  And dating, and being in my thirties, and well, pretty much any single thing that I can think of…

Dust off the couch cushion and make yourself at home.  I hope you like pizza.


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