Thirteen Corrupted Wishes

Anyone up for a rousing episode of my favorite game, Corrupted Wishes?

Remember the rules--grant the wish but with a horrifying twist. After granting the previous person's wish, make one of your own.

For example:

Ann: I wish I could go to Europe...

You: Wish granted Ann! You can go to Europe -- on a flying carpet during a Luftwaffe air raid!
I wish I had a million dollars...

Someone Else: Wish granted You! You have a million dollars -- half of what you need to pay your defense lawyer for that civil suit! I wish I could fly...

And so on. Let's get it started early and see if we can exceed thirteen wishes by Thursday night!

I'll go first: I wish my face wouldn't bloat anymore...

Ann Looks Like...

The Google game of typing your name and a phrase is always so fun and informative! Here's a blast from the past -- I played this game about a year ago and still get hits on my blog from it:

Ann looks like a million dollars, before taxes, while the rest of us only depreciate

Ann looks like a Ruby that has fallen on tough time and was forced to whore herself.

Ann looks like an Afghan Hound on crack. Plus she is outdated because she tries to model herself after Marcia Brady. ...

Ann looks like a sex change operation gone horribly, horribly wrong

Ann looks like a man and dates dogs

Ann looks like a slut for running into Jack's arms before Kong even hits the street. (Granted, it's a long way down...)

Ann looks like the typical girl next door.

Ann looks like a lump on a log, isn’t she supposed to be smart?

Ann looks like she’s being a little aggressive with that “salute,” don’t you think?”

Ann looks like she died of food poisoning and flopped over into her bowl of soup.

Ann looks like an ostrich!

Ann looks like Nicole Kidman? Does anyone else think so?

Ann looks like the softhearted type. You could get lucky.

Ann looks like some kind of reindeer or something

Ann looks like everyone in Des Moines. But when the moon is out, she commits unthinkable acts

Getting Rooked in Saratoga

Last year when we went to Saratoga, child number one, her friend, and I got our tragi pierced.


Apparently this was a powerful bonding experience, because this year friend number one and I got our rooks pierced.

Ouchie. My ring is thicker and larger than this one. It's bruised. But the Totally Hot Piercing Guy complimented me by saying I had a nice, well-developed rook. There was even room for another ring, if I wanted one. I got all tingly inside.

It's an interesting phenomena, to sit there with a gaggle of cackling girls and let someone punch a hole in your body. We joke and laugh and describe the sensations to each other. I went first, child number one went second, and then there was a pause while friend number one decided what she wanted and filled out the paperwork. When it came time to enter the surgical room, Totally Hot Piercing Guy waved his hand and said, "Are you all coming in there again?" He'd gotten totally wrapped up in the party atmosphere too.

You might be wondering how child number one joined in this ritual bonding experience.


Yeah, yeah. I swore I wouldn't let her but you know what? Life is too short to live without a belly button ring. Totally Hot Piercing Guy did such a great job, it looks like she was born with it. Next year, I'm all over that.

Friends who prick together, stick together! How was your weekend?

And They're Off...

Taking a mini-vaca with the children. See you at the finish line!

Give Me A Story

Ok, here's an idea that might be fun. Throw an opening line to me and I'll write ya'll a little story about it. Won't be a long one -- just a few paragraphs and ya'll can add to it in the comments if you feel like it. I'll post them on the blog.

Summer's winding down and I need to get back into story-telling mode. Who wants to help and be entertained along the way?

Gimme something to live for!

**UPDATE** We have some contributions!

jane/fabdame said...

Sheesh! You didn't say there would be assignments!

Ann Wesley Hardin said...

Is that your first line? Hehe.

You didn't say there would be assignments! Assignments. The word hung heavily in Karen's brain. The brain already drunk on the pheromone fumes emanating from her professor's starched white dress shirt.

Who took master's level classes in Human Sexuality expecting to have assignments? And why did Elliot look at her that way when he mentioned them?

Karen ripped a blank page from her brand new notebook and fanned her face. This was going to be a long semester.

jane/fabdame said...

"Is that your first line?"

Why yes. Yes it was. Why do you ask?
PS: Love it!

Ann Wesley Hardin said...

"Why yes. Yes it was. Why do you ask?" Karen shoved the dildo deeper into the labrynth of her backpack, tucked a strand of hair back into her ponytail, took a deep breath and met Elliot's unflinching dark gaze.

"But purple?" He smiled. "With...studs?"

She shrugged, trying to look casual as a shaking hand wiped a suddenly sweaty brow. "Well, in Borneo--"

He held up a hand. "I know all the rumors about Borneo."

Renee' said...(edited)

Besides the best line was the one you finished with....

"Gimme something to live for!"

Ann Wesley Hardin said...(created)

"Gimme something to live for!" Elliot could take her pride, he could take her intellect, he could take her future career and her virginity. He could even take her GPA fer chrissakes.

But Karen would not, could not, let him take her purple studded Indonesian dildo.

Bev Stephans said...

This is too hard.

Everything I came up with sounded trite. Actually, "This is too hard" will have to be it!

Ann Wesley Hardin said...

"This is too hard." Elliot held the purple studded Indonesian dildo in his hand, turning it round and round, wandering over to the lava lamp in her dorm-room to get a closer look.

Karen lounged on her waterbed, bored, taking a sip of single malt scotch.

"Real men can't get this hard," Elliot continued.

He seemed so far away. So thoughtful and brainy, Karen felt as if she couldn't compete. After all, he'd joined the Peace Corps right out of college, met Angelina Jolie. Had, in fact, helped her choose her children...

What right did Karen have to impose her intellectual opinions on him? Despite the bunny fur teddy?

Okay, SO...

I got nothin' to blog about. Less than nothin', actually. So, whaddayawanna talk about? Ask me something -- about my books, about writing, about my life... Anything you want.

I might not answer truthfully, but I will answer.

Thirteen Little Known Facts About My Stories!

1) Out of This World began life as a zany contemporary and only morphed into a Futuristic after I realized Arnie had to have better reasons to think the insane things he does ;)

2) Layover was the result of being told time and again by editors that I had too much going on in my stories. I needed to focus more on the romance and, as they say in the industry, "put the couple on an island." I decided to put mine in a cockpit.

3) Miss Behavior was a full-length novel that grew boring and stupid, even to me. I realized it was because Gage had no conflicts and no amount of force on my end could give him any. Some people just aren't conflicted. D'oh! Don't you wish you knew more of them? I do.

4) Coffee, Tea or Lea? came about because of this satirical article in The Onion.

5) I didn't know how the hell Out of This World was going to resolve until the last possible minute. It tortured me for weeks. I learned the ending in a dream.

6) Since I didn't want to go through that torture with A Lick and A Promise, I programmed myself (with Stephen King's help) to look for themes and symbols. As a result, I dreamt ALAP's resolution very early on.

7) I like having a title to guide my way. I can't write an unnamed book. Luckily for me, I've gotten to keep all but one title.

8) The working title of A Lick and A Promise was Down and Out of This World. But way back when I got the idea for the story, before I knew it was connected to OOTW, I called it *drumroll* A Lick and A Promise. That's the one EC liked.

9) In A Lick and A Promise, Dove's Great Aunts, Penny and Poppy, were inspired by actual, living beings -- the two parakeets I had growing up!

10) Dove is named after my childhood cat.

11) There is a real Lorna Merryfield. She wrote to me!

12) The Mooney airplane featured in Miss Behavior, Out of This World, and A Lick and A Promise was owned by my late brother. I rode in it.

13) The emergency landing in Miss Behavior actually happened. Not to me, and not in my brother's plane. Thankfully, to a friend of his. Heh.

1. Gabrielle

2. Heather

3. You're next!

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Cracked Like Dresden Porcelain

So I've been reading about the real Valentine's Day Massacre, the Firebombing of Dresden, Germany in WWII.

A little light reading material anyone?

For alot of years, no one knew anything about this horrific massacre because even the allied military and political bigwigs at the time, doubted whether it was really necessary. But then Kurt Vonnegut wrote about his personal experiences as a prisoner of war and eyewitness, in Slaughterhouse Five, and suddenly everyone knew that this air raid, using conventional explosives, had wreaked more havoc and destruction than Hiroshima.

"We saw the burning street, the falling ruins and the terrible firestorm. My mother covered us with wet blankets and coats she found in a water tub. We saw terrible things: cremated adults shrunk to the size of small children, pieces of arms and legs, dead people, whole families burnt to death, burning people ran to and from, burnt coaches filled with civilian refugees, dead rescuers and soldiers, many were calling and looking for their children and families, and fire everywhere, everywhere fire, and all the time the hot wind of the firestorm threw people back into the burning houses they were trying to escape from."

So, why have I been amusing myself this way, you might ask. Because, before I knew some of the facts about this air raid, I was gonna have the heroes in my Urban Fantasy series take part in it. They're a WWII bombing crew. I needed them to be in the airspace over the Black Forest as they returned from a mission. I needed them to be lost and confused -- and the smoke over the city after the firebombing certainly could've lead to that. Dresden seemed the perfect raid for them to have taken part in before they were cursed.

But now, I have to ask: Can my men still be heroes after dropping jellied gasoline on children and refugees?

I think about it and here's how I answer myself: Sure. Why not? My dad is still a hero to me. He did the same thing, under orders and for a great reason. And to be honest, he got pretty sensitive about the war as he got older -- didn't want to talk about it anymore. Perhaps he'd read the facts about Dresden too. Perhaps he'd been involved.

It's so easy to romanticize war. In fact, romanticizing it is one of the brainwashing tools used to recruit soldiers. We see tons of pics of what the enemy did. Of the death camps and gas chambers. I'll admit I fall under the spell all the time. Until I see something like this. This is something we did:

This is something we, The Heroes caused:

I'm still gonna write it. But now, my heart hurts. I'll have to use those wrenching, contradictory feelings to deepen my characters.

Sometimes, writing is such a pain.

EXCERPT: A Lick and A Promise

Without nitrogen, he couldn’t be held completely responsible for his actions. So he should be honorable about it and go to his room. Now.

If he could get his legs to work. “I’m not feeling well.”

She scurried to his side and braced him, pressing a cool hand against his forehead. “You’re overheated. Let’s get you to bed.”

Dirty ideas looped-the-loop inside his mind. Plans to yank her down on his bed, pin her beneath and tear off her clothes with his teeth. Nibbling every centimeter of that soft, white flesh sounded good too. Yeah. Then licking the thin film of sweat off her body to replace the potassium he’d lost with the hoe. He’d finish her off by fucking her senseless, then start all over again.

Fortunately he’d adapted enough to harness these impulses. How much temptation he could take without acting, however, was anybody’s guess. “The porch will do.”

Certainly, by now, Queen Win knew he’d survived. No chance of her discerning his location, though, as long as he kept his breeches buttoned. Dove’s hand at his waist didn’t help. Nor the fingers that kept slipping below his waistband, tickling his hip bone and calcifying his dick.

They reached the porch and lumbered drunkenly up the steps. He fell heavily onto the bench glider, on his back, and she tumbled on top of him.

Their faces collided, noses bashing. Her breasts squished against his chest. She giggled into his cheek. He gripped her shoulders, intending to push her away and she lifted her head and smiled.

He wrenched her lips down to his.

Crazy lust spewed all over the floorboards and out to the four corners of the universe. Their mouths latched, suckling and licking, pulling and teething. He mashed her closer until their teeth engaged and she gasped. “I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re not.”

He clamped her to him, bending his legs through hers and braiding them together. She writhed and moaned, sliding and testing for the best fit until she found it and their forms settled and merged, becoming one and forcing his cells out of habitual clusters to form an entirely rearranged being.

He’d forgotten the sheer bliss of physical contact—those stolen moments in his teens when raging hormones overwhelmed the dangers and he’d seek and molest an equally horny female. He’d never crossed the line, though. Those who did had a tendency to disappear. And as he grew and developed acute mental skills, his physical needs had been trained to feel satisfied.

Until now.

As transcendent as mental petting with Dove had been, he realized it was pond water compared to Starbucks, an energy pill instead of eggs and bacon, logical understanding ruffling the fringes of emotion instead of his entire self blooming with unchained sensation.

I knew it! Queen Win shouted.

Dove opened her eyes.

“Ignore her,” he muttered, running his tongue along her lower lip, relishing the intense flavors that’d been diluted in the ether.

You bastard! roared Queen Win.

“What’s going on?” Dove lifted her head. He took the opportunity to graze on the tender plumpness of her cheek and found it as lushly erotic as her breasts and her ass. Amazing. Something he could publicly fondle without social recrimination. Women were walking, talking sexual miracles.

Another gust of intergalactic hot air.

A boyish mischievousness gurgled in his chest. You can’t see me.

Off with his head!

Playtime over. Not if I get you first.

Frosty silence.

I know where you are, he threatened.

The frigid breeze of her mental exit hit him. Nothing if not childish, she’d flounced off to pout. But she’d be back. With a plan. He knew better than to underestimate her. Or her fiendish henchmen.

“The neighbors must be having a fight,” Dove said. “Gives me an idea.” She nibbled his jaw, raising goose bumps on his arms. He arched his cock against her pussy, sliding his hands underneath her shirt. “We could have make-up sex for them.”

He groaned and imagined her hot, succulent pussy grasping him and sucking him inside, the slide of flesh on flesh, her supple legs around his waist. There wasn’t one thing in the universe he craved more than her body squeezing his, pumping under his. Her breath on his shoulder, her moans in his ears.

Thank God Queen Win’s interruption had come to the rescue. In another minute, his control would’ve irrevocably snapped. Besides, someone else had been watching too. “We can’t.” Her crestfallen expression almost undid him. In a perfect world, he’d deny her nothing. Nothing. “We’re not alone.”

She stiffened. A curtain fluttered to their left. She dropped her head onto his chest and a sigh quaked her body. “Poppy.”

“Yes.”

“Crap.”

He chuckled.

“She’ll tell everyone.”

He laughed.

“You think it’s funny now…” but she giggled too. “Just wait…wait until dinnertime.”

They dissolved in hysteria. His diaphragm contracted like a giant bellows, forcing all the air out of his lungs. Panic overtook him--a sense of drowning. His arms flailed. His chest unlocked and flooded…

Buy it here!

Book Tour Pictures!

Judy, me, Kathy K., Kathleen C. w/ EC bus

Jennifer, me, Liddy, Judy

Me, Liddy (mouth open--what a surprise!), Judy, Cris

Jennifer, Me, Liddy, Judy, Cris (back-Barbara, Kathleen)

Jennifer, Me, Liddy (finally getting what she deserved), Judy, Cris. (back-Kathleen C., Kathy K.)

Next time will somebody please tell me to take my damn purse off??

THANK YOU!

Mrs. Giggles' Verdict is In!!

Man, that was fast. I just sent A Lick and A Promise to her yesterday afternoon. Did she like it? Heehee. Go see for yourself!

A Lick and A Promise--Excerpt One, rated X!

Hours later, dimly aware of the approaching day, lightning bolts flashed her eyeballs under sleep-closed lids. Her body arched and heaved to staccato electrical jolts. Through slitted eyes, she watched herself levitate, then settle back onto the bed, in her room. Everything seemed the same, except instead of twilight creeping through the window blinds, the world was encased in an orange haze.

Powerful arms laced with dark hair came over her from behind. One hand cupped her chin and pulled her head back against an unyielding chest.

“I’ve been trying to get in here to find you,” came a sonorously masculine voice. “I couldn’t, earlier.”

As usual, the warmth of his chest and the strength of his insistent, gentle grip reassured her. “Is it you?”

“Yes.”

She tried to rotate her body, to get up and see him, but her limbs stayed glued to the mattress. The atmosphere around her took on a watery thickness, making every move sluggish and difficult. A familiar image bobbed into her periphery—swarthy skin, a dark curtain of hair. She turned her head to focus on it and, as usual, it turned with her as if orbiting on an invisible spoke, remaining in her field of vision, but just out of direct sight. Confusion coursed through her. “Mark?”

He chuckled low in his throat. The resonant sound pinged off her skin.

Mark? The hurling loser? What was he doing here? Where’s Dream Lover? Her body remained paralyzed, so she stopped struggling. In the interior of her sleep-drugged mind, a little voice told her she had to be dreaming, yet the heat of his hand on her chin, the security of his chest against the back of her head and the erotic effect of his voice on her flesh confirmed this was no ordinary dream. She tried paying careful attention this time.

When the hand released her chin and palmed her neck, its roughened flesh gently sanding hers, her nipples contracted and her cunt announced a five-alarm fire. Definitely no ordinary dream. She writhed and tried to turn into him again, wanting to see him, wanting his hands to move lower, to move everywhere, yet not wanting it if this was Mark.

He dodged her again, playfully bobbing in and out of her line-of-sight while his fingertips got intimate with every inch of her throat. Then he reached far over her, his chest hair tickling her nose, and stroked her naked thigh, applying enough pressure to keep her locked down, but tenderly enough so she knew she could escape if she could just make her damn legs work.

Too bad she couldn’t. Too bad. Just too. Damn. Bad. Everything about him felt familiar, sounded familiar and did familiarly incendiary things to her body. If, for some psychological reason, she’d personified him and that person happened to resemble Mark, then so what? Mark was pretty darn hot. Just go with it.

Her lips relaxed and opened slightly. She slicked her tongue across them and when his chest expanded from a deep breath and came nearer to her face, she licked it too.

He didn’t pause to confirm the invitation. Just seized his opportunity and swept a hot wet tongue across her stomach, sucking bits of flesh into his open mouth, nibbling their edges and moving on for more. “So hungry,” he groaned. “So hungry for this. For you.”

“Me too,” she gasped. Hungry all right. Starved being the better word. Not necessarily for him, whoever he was. For a real lover. A sober lover. Still, this wasn’t so bad.

He leaned over her even further, forming a canopy with his lean, muscular body, and his engorged cock poked her nape. His fingers danced along the closed petals of her center and she sensed the heated closeness of his mouth to her pussy. Magically, her legs spread open without any signal from her brain. Amazing, she thought, and giggled.

The giggle turned into a gasp as he scooped his arms under her ass and hoisted her hips to his lips. Without further fanfare, he nudged her labia open with his nose and began furiously sucking and licking.

Smokin’ heat billowed up from her cunt and spread through her thighs and legs, invigorating them enough for her to raise them and coil them around his shoulders, pinning him to her pussy. Her heels pounded against the smooth, solid wall of his back. He slurped and moaned against her tingling flesh, making satisfied animal sounds that vibrated into her pelvic bones. Within seconds, every bone in her body began singing his personal pleasure song and the beat reverberated into her organs and veins until the bliss twisted into a keening melody of need.

The desire to fill herself with him overwhelmed her and she grabbed his hips to lift them and dislodge his cock from the back of her neck. It popped over her face and into her mouth like a heat seeking, guided missile and she eagerly swallowed his length, desperate for its fullness in her throat, the velvety texture against her taste buds and some measure of control.

He groaned and pumped his hips, fucking her mouth, yet never letting go of her pussy. In her mind’s eye, she broke free and watched them sixty-nining. The deliciously carnal vision of herself getting eaten caused her pussy to gasp and gush. He pulled his face off her and gazed into the milky pool, licking his lips in anticipation. Bringing his hands out from under her ass, he gently spread her labia, flicking the tip of his tongue into the tender center of her cunt.

The hot, soft point of his tongue probed every sensitive crevice, popping in and out and swirling around as if dancing to a pornographic Hokey Pokey.

You put your tongue in, you take your tongue out, you put your tongue in and you twirl it all about…

Buy it here!

A Lick and A Promise!

Buy it here!

I'm going to be posting some X-rated and some PG excerpts throughout the week. Check back often!

Thursday Threesome

Here are three of my favorite Bugs Bunny episodes. Pop the corn and enjoy!

Little Red Riding Rabbit:



Water, Water Every Hare: (Monsters are such interesting people...)



Rabbit Seasoning:

Of Woodworking and Animation

Some of you might be familiar with the exquisite woodwork of George Nakashima. My webmaster, Rob Winters, has quite a few pieces in his home, inherited from his mother who collected many wonderful, forward-thinking artworks over her lifetime. The Nakashima legacy is now being carried on by George's daughter, and at the James Michener Museum in Doylestown, PA, there's a Nakashima reading room she designed.


But that's not what I'm gonna write about today.

The other day at work, a gentleman was signing for his car and I was handling his paperwork. He wore a T-shirt and jeans -- kinda shabby, actually. But around his neck was a heavy silver box chain, and on that chain hung an exquisite charm that caught my eye.

I'm a Bugs Bunny fan from way back. But more than just a fan of Bugs, I'm a Warner Bros. fangrrl as well. If I got to chose any dream job in the world, it would've been on the back lots of WB, brainstorming those clever, classic cartoons. I'd give almost anything, except perhaps my children...well...hmmm...there are days..., to have been a part of that scene.


So when I spotted his unique, sterling charm -- a perfectly rendered, incredibly detailed representation of that obnoxious Road Runner -- I had to comment on it. I'd never seen anything like it and told him that I knew he didn't pick that up at the WB store in the mall.

The man smiled and told me his mother had been a friend of Chuck Jones, and that these charms had been specially made as gifts for WB employees. As a child, he had admired it and had been given one by Mrs. Jones who "had it lying around." Yeah. Lying around.

We chatted for a long time about our favorite cartoons and trivia, how Bugs Bunny got his name, how they got the idea for the dog Max in How The Grinch Stole Christmas. I told him about this coffee table book I had called Fifty Years and One Gray Hare and how the animators and writers had an elaborate alarm system set up in their shack so that when studio honchos approached, they'd be warned to stop the ridiculous and hilarious brainstorming sessions and "look busy" at their drafting tables, and how Leon Schlessinger was the inspiration for Daffy Duck's voice and though he had a lisp himself, never caught on. Fun stuff! But it never occurred to me to ask this gentleman how his mother knew Chuck Jones. I'm such an idiot that way. Go ahead and make fun. The children already have.

But you're probably smarter than me and have it figured out already. As soon as the gentleman shook my hand and left, my co-workers surrounded me and said "Don't you know who that was?"

Me: *blank look* "No, but he had a really cool charm."

Them: "That was Ken Nakashima."

So this week at work I've confiscated a counterfeit $50 bill, fielded policemen looking for a hit-n-run driver with plates from my dealership, held a rare and glorious piece of jewelry once owned by one of my heroes, and shook the hand of a world famous, master woodworker. Oh, and I have a book coming out.

Does life get any better than this?

Scurrilous Rumors and Furry Shorts

So I'm back from spending the weekend at various booksignings with some of my fellow EC authors.

Liddy Midnight, Jennifer Dunne, Tara Nina, Judy Mays , and Cris Anson.

This was my first EC "tour" outside of the mass signings of RTs past, and as ya'll know already, they rolled out the bus for us! First let me say it's an eyecatcher. It acts as a giant billboard outside the bookstore and fans can take a look inside and pick up souvenier T-shirts and such. It's pretty impressive and I wished we were all travelling in it, rock star style. But, alas, we were left to trail along in an Ellora's Convoy from location to location -- a small detail that shocked our many fans and groupies (such as Renee).

Moving on to the booksellers. Talk about royal treatment! These ladies went the extra mile to make us feel honored, comfortable, fed and hydrated -- even scurrying around the mall to get that diva, Liddy Midnight, her double-half-caf-lo-fat-latte with pineapple twist. I couldn't believe she'd torture those saintly booksellers by ordering such a high maintenance beverage. But well, that's Liddy. More on her later.

So, as happens, when you let a half dozen erorom authors loose in a store, hijinks ensue. Were it not for moi, the Voice of Reason and Keeper of Notes, God only knows what they'd have gotten into --probably all the furry shorts, travelling pants and manly splendors -- especially that diva, Liddy.

More on her later.

By the third signing, Saturday night, we were seated in an L-shape at the store entrance and slap happy from the sugary cakes Renee (our stalker) drugged us with. All part of her evil plan to get our autographs on everything from her T-shirts to her...well, I don't know and I didn't ask. Perhaps her furry shorts!

But even through the slap happy, my ears were keen and my eyes observant. You can learn alot about your fellow authors just by listening. So here's some dish. Below are actual, uncut and uncensored snippets of conversation from the ladies of EC. Remember, what you read here stays here:

Liddy and Jennifer slept together, but Jennifer doesn't remember who she slept with! Can you believe it?? Guess Liddy isn't all that and a piece of cake after all. Hehe. Anyway, Judy followed Jennifer to bed and Liddy didn't let Judy out of bed Sunday morning. Maybe it's because Jennifer has fuzzy cleavage. Don't ask me. It could just be that Liddy is a snot.

I couldn't agree more!

So then Liddy said Judy is hot and that Liddy can come anytime. But Liddy has double Ds and, unfortunately, Judy likes butts. Hehe. Likes them so much, in fact, that even though Tara shares her double As, Judy checks her cleavage at the door.

Liddy, who never shuts up, said Tara is too young for her. Tara ignored Liddy, as usual, because Tara likes to suck and Liddy stuffs and swallows! Of course they're never going to get along. D'oh. However, Jennifer sucks krill, so maybe there's a match there, especially since Jennifer is good with her feet up and does it with Tara's book, AND Jennifer is the four-hour-orgasm girl.

Hmmm.

What else. What else? Oh yeah. Cris pees her pants, Kathy Kulig undresses in public, and Judy had to keep fanning herself behind the curtain. Some group, eh?

I can see ya'll's wheels turning. With all this dirty, smutty behavior going on, where was I? What did these gutter snipes have to say about me?

Well.

WELL...

After that rhymes-with-runt, Liddy, called me a ho, nobody would sleep with me!

And for this, she will never be forgiven.

In fact, this...

this means war...