Month: November 2012

Commas and overuse

I had an English teacher once whose pet peeve was commas. Well not really commas, but the total misuse of commas..she said that people spread them around like salt from a shaker. In some aspects, she was right. Until that class, I was one of those people, but learning when to use commas was relatively easy if you used her method. I will share her secret with you…

Her secret was to speak the sentence as you write it, and only insert commas where you pause. She went on to say that if you recited the entire sentence and you became winded, you probably didn’t have enough commas. Now writing in her class made us seem like a crowd of nuts, each speaking the sentence as we typed it, but in no time, we were writing great sentences and only using commas where they were needed. To Mrs Darlene Oake, I thank you.


Easiest Job Ever

A client just called. She couldn’t get her Blue-Ray player to work, and thus, her Netflix didn’t work either. She said that she had three or four of her friends attempt to fix the problem, but none of them could figure out what was wrong.

I went to the entertainment unit where she had her Television set and her blue ray player. I noticed a cord hanging next to the power bar, plugged it in, and Voila! everything comes on. She couldn’t believe it. “You are a genius, four people couldn’t figure this out and you bend down and it works. You have to tell me, what did you do different than the others?” She said.

I looked at her, not wanting to insult her or her friend’s intelligence and said “I plugged the cord in Ma’am”

Easy money for sure. The fix was followed by a cup of tea and some home made cookies, and I was on my way home. It was so simple that I didn’t want to charge her, but she insisted on paying me my hourly rate, so $30 was relatively easy to come by tonight.

Customer Support Woes

One of the things I do around here is to offer computer assistance to people who are not computer savy. Charging $30 per hour, there is good money in this little side-business. Yesterday I advised my customer on the purchase of a new PC laptop. Today they asked me to help them with their slow internet.

When I got to their home, I was surprised to find that their ‘high speed’ internet was actually slower than dial-up, and I spent the entire day either on hold with the internet company or waiting for programs to download. Here is what happened:

Customer Service (CC): My name is Bibtwidea (or something like that, couldn’t understand a damn thing she said anyway) how can I help you!

Me: Yes, I am at a client’s home, attempting to set up their Internet, but the modem is not working.

CC: How may I know your name?

Me: WTF? How may you know my name? when I tell you, that’s how

CC: How may I know your name?

me: WTF?

CC: your name sir, what is your name?

me: Ted, call me ted

CC: Okay Tim, what do you need?

me: As I said earlier, the modem isn’t working, my client has no internet service.

CC: Why I talk to you?

me: because the homeowners have no clue about the internet and explaining it to me once should be easier than explaining it to them five times!

CC: okay. there is nothing wrong with modem, problem is you.

me: WTF? Me? did I hear you right? I need help to reset the modem and see if it will work…you brazen philiFUCKINGpino or whatever the hell you are

CC: I have fixed modem while you ramble on. you Canadian people always ramble

me: WTF I said that alot during this call. Now I need to download your internet security program that my client is already paying you $5 per month for. Is this program compatible with Windows 8?

CC: Of course it is, our software is always up to date. follow this link and download the program. There will be a password in your email.

me: That simple? I am afraid!

CC: Is there anything else I can do right now?

me: nope, thanks

I went to the link, (it took forever) and began the download. She promised me that the high speed modem was working properly, but a 180mb file took four hours (READ THAT…4 HOURS) to download.

When the program was downloaded, and after four hours of staring at the screen, a windows error popped across the screen stating that the program was NOT COMPATIBLE with Windows 8!

I was mad enough to fire the computer through the window, but it wasn’t the computer’s fault, it was Bibtwidea’s fault for misinforming me that their software was all up to date.

I called tech support. A nice English speaking lady answered the phone, but immediately transferred me to Tech Support…in EAST INDIA.

TS: My name is BRRRRASHA. How may I know your problem.

me: Oh No, not again! My client is paying for your internet security anti virus program and it is not compatible with Windows 8, how can we fix this?

TS: Sir, you are mistaken, it works fine with windows 8.

me: obviously it doesn’t, I have the error message in front of me. Get me your supervisor!

TS: Sir, no need for that, just go to this link and download the newly updated program.

Me: the internet connection is too slow, it will take forever

TS: No sir, we updated your connection speed, it is now superfast.

I went to the link and begun the download. This time it was faster, it only took 3 hours to download a 160mb file. I clicked on the install button…

ERROR 153218098930809

I called the customer service dept again, this time mad enough to kill, and I got the same person again (What were the chances?)

me: I don’t care who the hell you are, you told me that the program was compatible, and it isn’t.

TS: Sir, you must have download wrong, it is easy, just click link.

me: Listen here, I am mad enough to invade your country right now! Your program isn’t working. Please transfer me to the business office so that I may cancel payment on your antivirus program…and do it now.

TS: one minute sir.

An english speaking woman appeared on my line. I begged her not to transfer me to India again. She laughed.

Billing Dept (BD): My Name is Thelma. Don’t worry sir, we won’t transfer you. How may I help you?

me: your antivirus isn’t compatible with Windows 8. I tried to download it twice and it doesn’t work.

BD: I could have told you that, a ton of our customers have the same issue with the new OS. I imagine that you want me to remove the program from your bill.

me: Finally someone who listens! Thelma, do you think that maybe you and the tech support department might get together to swap notes? It bothers me when the billing department knows more about tech support than the tech support dept does.

Thelma: Ya, I think you are right sir. If I were you I would download Norton or something.

In a conversation with my client, we discussed the possibility of them changing Internet servers. They are making the call in the morning.

Drivers beware

Here’s proof that we Newfoundlanders are too trusting.

I was just driving up the highway towards my home when I noticed this guy, totally dressed in Camo, and holding an axe. He was hitchhiking. When I drove on past him, he looked confused to why I never gave him a ride. HE HAD AN AXE!

A few other cars passed, and he had the same look on his face. (like what is wrong with you people, haven’t you ever given an axe wielding maniac a ride before) Finally, someone did stop and give him a ride.

Note to drivers: Never, never give a guy with an axe (or any other possible weapon) a ride.


Having just wrote a memoir post about my first car, it got me to thinking of my youth and the friends I had back then. One of my best friends was a geeky nerdy guy named Kevin.

I met Kevin one evening while parked on The Food Center parking lot. This was (and still is) a place where you parked your ride and showed it off, and maybe picked up a few girls and went crusin’.

I was sitting in my ’68 Beaumont, paint job still fresh when this beat up old Toyota rolled into the lot. Propped high in the car was this ‘beatnic’ looking guy with a goofy smile. He was proud to show off his latest ride. I personally wouldn’t have been caught dead in this clunker, but being the car guy that he was, he was proud.

He recognized my car as a rare one and we commenced talking. The guy did know his cars, I will give you that one. Kevin walked with a limp, and when I asked him about it, he admitted to being sort of a klutz. He said that he accidentally drove his Suzuki motorcycle into a large Buick. He said that he went right through the passenger side, drove through the car, left his bike somewhere in the back, and headed straight through the back window of the large car. When he showed me the cuts and scratches on his arms, I believed him. He spoke of this as nothing, and said that the only reason why he was driving this piece of crap was that he accidentally burned his father’s garage down while welding, and this was all he could find to drive. How could I not be friends with a guy like this?

One night Kevin phoned to say that he was coming to town in his dad’s old Chrysler. Sure enough, he wound the beast around a few of the Camaros and Mustangs, doing a burnout while he parked the car. In a storm of rubber and smoke, the biggest ass car I ever seen appeared out of nowhere, with Kevin driving. This car even had seats.

Kevin’s dad was a mechanic, so he always had a ton of cars lying around, so Kevin ‘borrowed’ this one. The thing had a 426 hemi under the hood and went like hell. He asked if I would like to go for a spin (him driving of course) and knowing what a maniac he was (and how clumsy and accident prone he was) I tried to say no. “You don’t trust me? I will take my time, promise!” he said, so I went.

Along the way Kevin noticed one of the guys from the car lot hitching a ride, so he pulled over to pick him up. I jumped from the front seat to the back so that our passenger could get in quick (well the actual truth is that Billy smoked so much he wreaked cigarette smoke and I wanted no part of that awful smell).
Apparently Kevin forgot about his promise to drive slow, he floored the giant and tore through the little community at about 100 mph. Poor Billy was terrified, and so was I. When we got to where Billy wanted to get out, Kevin slammed the brakes on, the car took a 360 spin and we stopped. I thought I was going to vomit. When the guy got out of the car we checked the dash where he held on, and his finger prints were permanently embedded into the dash. I bet that guy never hitched a ride again. I never rode with Kevin again either; I had a life to live.

I never seen my old friend again for a long time. About ten years later he called and asked if I would do the music for his wedding (I work as a wedding dj from time to time) and I did. The wedding went well, and we had a bit of time to talk about old (and crazy) times.

Just last year I worked at the high school here in town. My job was to facilitate different activities for students to partake in during lunch and after school. One of the kids who frequented my office was this thin but very familiar girl named Vicky. She used to spend her time telling stories about her klutzy dad. On this particular occasion, she was telling her friends how her dad accidentally set fire to his brand new pickup truck. She went on to say that just yesterday while he was mowing the lawn, he slipped and accidentally cut off two of his toes with the mower blade. I had to ask.

“Your dad wouldn’t happen  to have a name like Kevin, would he? I asked, totally doubting that I was right.

“Do you know him? He often talks about a guy named Teddy, and how the two of them had all this fun back in the eighties, are you that guy? she asked.

What a coincidence. Who would have thought that my old friend had gone and got married, had a bunch of kids and one of these kids would find her way into my office? She got her dad to give me a call one day, and I must say, somethings never change. He showed up with bandages on all fingers, his arm in a sling, and burn marks on his cheeks. I never even asked.

Me and the girlie magazine

Adolescence is a scary time in a boy’s life. At least it was scary for me. Being raised devout Catholic, we were raised strict. Hell I wasn’t even allowed to watch PG movies, with risk that a half naked body would be seen.

Of course, being a kid of fourteen, I had my ways of seeing things. I remember one day at school seeing a large crowd of my friends gathered around some guys car. We were out for lunch during school and some guy had an old Chevy truck parked near the school. Hanging from his rear view mirror was a picture of a half naked girl with enormous boobs. We all squeezed together so that we could have a good look, and we would have all been late for classes if Sneaky Suzie hadn’t told the nun who was on duty what we were up to. I did miss class, as did ten other kids, as we spent the remainder of the day, and each lunch time for the next two months in detention.

Of course my fascination with naked ladies didn’t stop there. My uncle, he was a rascal. He had this little convenience store up the street and he traded comic books, hunting magazines and you know it, girlie magazines. My aunt would be sitting in the store, cussing at him for reading stuff like that, ‘The Work of the Devil’ she used to say. I was at the store one day shuffling through the ‘comic books’ when I seen it. A naked Nun. The priest at the parish would have burned this book and all the others, and probably permanently banned me from church services for life if he knew that I was gawking at a picture of a naked nun. Of course this gal was anything but a nun, I KNOW they don’t look anything like this, at least Sister Kotex didn’t. I quickly flicked through the magazine to discover that this gal didn’t stay a sister very long, as the habit (I have been told that a ‘habit’ was a nun uniform) was strewn across the floor and there she was, in all her airbrushed glory, lying on a big water bed, legs wide open. All my Catholic upbringing was out the window. I was in love!

My uncle peered over, he knew what I was up to. Why else did all the kids spend their summer days searching for ‘comics’ only to be really looking at the girlie books in my uncle’s store?

“You want a loan of the book? I can do that, won’t even tell your mom! But for the love of God and all that is holy, don’t let her catch you with it, she will disown me as a brother and probably castrate me, and nobody knows what she will do to you!” he warned. I always loved my uncle.

I tucked the magazine into the front of my pants, pulled my t-shirt over the top and headed home for the safety and privacy of my room. There I could actually get a good look at the book, and not feel all guilty like I did at the store.

I hoped that when I got home, mom wouldn’t be there. I knew she had some shopping to do, so I casually strolled into the front room of the house, and then made a quick beeline for my room. On my way there I passed my mom, who was only now getting ready to go to town.

“Why you in a hurry? Why are you walking funny?” she asked, the woman with no idea that the rolled up book had fallen further down my pants, and actually down my leg. I must have looked like a robot, walking with stiff legs, praying that the book didn’t fall out my pants leg. Stupid Bell Bottoms.

“Nothing Mom, not feeling well, think I will go for a nap!” I lied.

“A nap? On a nice day like this? You sure you are alright? You sure have been acting weird lately!” she quipped. All of a sudden I had this weird feeling that somehow she seen right through me, and right through the not so well hidden magazine that featured a naked nun on the cover. I was going to hell and my momma was gonna send me there…after a good lacing across the ass that is!

She didn’t say anything else, she went on her way and I continued to my room.
I took out my prize possession and just when I began reading (well not really reading, I didn’t bring this book home to read it, I was more interested in the pictures and the naked ladies to actually read. Why the hell did they put stories in those books anyway?) when just then the door slams open.

“Whatchareadin” he asks.

My little brother was in inquisitive one. “Hey, why is there a nakid lady on the cover?” he continued.

Being seven years older than my brother gave me an advantage in this one.

“This is what is called Biology, I have to take biology this fall in school, I was just brushin’ up on my biology” I lied, this time beginning to feel horns start to grow on my head.

“Wow, I am telling mom that I want to take B-logy too!” he said, his excitement growing.

“Nope, you can’t tell mom. The school said that Biology is a big secret that only 14 year olds should know about. The principal said that seven year olds will get the strap if they are caught learnin’ about such things!” I advised, all the time only thinking of him and not of what mom will do to me if he tells.

“Why don’t you go play, I got some ‘studying’ to do” I asked.

He went outside to play with all his friends, the ones who usually drove me crazy and bugged the hell outta me. Then I got down to some serious ‘lookin’. This was amazing. Not a blemish, those women were perfect. And they were kissin’ each other. That part was a little gross, but given the fact that I have never laid eyes on anything like this, I felt like I had to go on. I felt like Christopher Columbus when he explored the new world. Then I heard mom  come in.

“Teddy, can you go and bring in the groceries for me? I am beat after all that shopping!” she said.

Quickly, I took the book and tried hiding it. “Can’t put it under the mattress, that’s the first place she will look, can’t hide it in my sock drawer, another bad place.” I thought. Then I thought of it, the perfect place. I took my old Monopoly game down  from the top of the closet, and removing the playing board and the little cardboard box that contained the playing pieces, I slid my forbidden treasure to the bottom of the box and replaced all the parts. I made sure that the game was put back exactly where it was, not even a piece of dust out of place and headed down the hall to help mom.

When supper was over, I lied about having a headache and returned to my room. When I was sure my little brother was not in the room, I quickly grabbed the monopoly game and proceeded to take it apart. When I got to the bottom of the box I grabbed the magazine and returned to my bed, anxious to look at the nakid ladies again. Startled and amazed, I threw the magazine to the floor. A sickening feeling came over me, and I almost vomited. I looked to the floor, hoping to see my naked nun look back at me when I saw it.

Somebody (Mom, I know it was Mom, or maybe the blessed lord) found my magazine and replaced it with a ‘Sainte-Anne de Beaupre’ magazine. Sainte Anne magazines were books handed out by our church, and featured stories from Catholic churches across the land. On the cover was a nun, but she wasn’t nakid, and she was nothing like the big boobed blonde who lay on the big water bed, instead she was all holy and sacred.

My secret was out, but the worst thing was that mom never mentioned anything about it. My uncle was practically banned from the house for months, but mom eventually forgave him. He got a laugh at how sneaky I was, and said that I reminded him of himself at my age.

We were sitting down for a chat yesterday, when my lady pointed out that any day now she expected our little guy to begin asking sex questions. Mom surprised me when she said that I figured the stuff out myself by reading girlie magazines. Even at 49 years old, I began to blush. “How do you know that?” I asked.

“Let’s just say a little bird told me. He said that maybe some little boy was hiding magazines in the bottom of a monopoly game. I fixed that by replacing the book with a church book.” she confessed. “I never punished you, I knew that the shock of seeing a church book instead of that horrible book…(with a naked nun at that!) would scare you straight. It worked, I never seen another book like that in the house….until your brother was fourteen, but he was much more clever…and sneaky.” she added.

My lady laughed and I turned even redder. Ah Childhood…I miss it sometimes….


The Car

When I was sixteen, I bought my first car. An old man from town parted with his pride and joy, a 1968 Pontiac Beaumont. For those who are not familiar with the name, the Beaumont was essentially a Chevelle with a GTO interior, a split grill, and a few cosmetic changes. Unknown to me at the time, the cars were of limited production, and given the fact that we Canadians suffer from harsh winters, not many of those cars made it very far without rusting out.

I read today how a car identical to the one I had sold at a Barret-Jackson auction for over $26,000. The car was restored with a new engine and tires. At the time of purchase, the car I bought for $350 was actually in better condition that the one at the auction.

The old man who originally owned the car had the entire interior covered with see-through vinyl. He had the floors covered in the stuff as well, with tape holding the edges closed so that salt and water didn’t find its way into the interior. Of course being a kid, I removed all that plastic. My ass stuck to the stuff in summer, and in winter…my ass froze. The black Naugahyde vinyl wasn’t much warmer, but at least I wasn’t sliding from side to side whenever I made a turn.
Although I sold the car years ago, I still have some great memories of the car. Being a teenager with your own car was something special back then, and with the 283 four speed, I was king shit, or at least I thought I was at the time. Girls liked my car, which I customized with a set of old Cragar five spoke rims I picked up at a swap meet. I always had the back seat filled with girls, and no matter how nerdy I may have been, they just loved cruising in the car.

The car’s paint was beginning to flake when I bought it, so a friend of mine who had his own garage opted to paint it for me. We laid on a few coats of sky blue metallic, and digging around his garage we found some gold metal flake clear coat and he laid the stuff over the blue paint. Hey, this was the early eighties, and back then gold metal flake clear coat was cool.

I used the car winter and summer. The wide 60 series bias tires were like skis, and often I felt like I was skiing across our snow covered roads.

One evening, while bringing a girlfriend home, the car took a slide on a sharp turn. I headed directly into the oncoming car, which was sliding as well, and on my side of the road. I remember jumping from the car, not worrying about my health, but for the health of my beloved car. The front grill was smashed in. His car wasn’t even hurt, and even if it was, it was only a damn k-car.

We both went to the local police detachment and reported the accident. He was  a local businessman from the area and I was a dumb kid. Of course they didn’t believe my story. I had to pay for his damage, and then fix my own car.

This was when I discovered how rare that car was. It was impossible to find a grill anywhere in Canada, and since the car was only produced in Canada, there were no grills in the states either. Remember, this was decades prior to computers, internet or ebay, so word of mouth, a phone book and luck was the only way to find anything. I had no luck.

Dad and I modified an old Chevelle grill to fit the car, and although we did our best and Dad found it looked great, it just wasn’t the same. I lost interest in the car. I decided to sell the car. I put a sale sign on it and in just three hours a guy came to buy the car. I wanted two grand for the car, but after a bit of haggling, I let it go for $15oo. At the time I thought I did pretty good. I purchased the car for $350, drove it for three years, met lots of girls, and then sold it for $1500. Good thing I didn’t know how much I could have gotten for it some thirty plus years later or I would have never sold it. I had access to my grandfather’s barn, a few bales of hay would have kept the old car in great condition….

oh well…hindsight 20/20 I guess. Still wish I had it though! Maybe when I win the lottery I look up the ad, maybe the car is still available.

photo courtesy of

Mystery Date

Billy: Is Myra there?

Voice on phone (VOP): Speaking

Billy: You remember me? We spoke at the grocery store, you gave me your number, you wanted me to call you.

VOP: I don’t remember, but lately I have been forgetting things, and since we have an unlisted number, I must have given you my number.

The voice sounded a lot like the girl in the supermarket, but there was something different, something refined. The voice sounded even more sexy than Billy remembered, and since meeting Myra, all he could think about was this innocent looking, blonde beauty. The girl was unspoiled by the hood she grew up in, untainted and pure. That’s why Billy worked so hard to score with this one. He knew that at 21 years old, she wasn’t going to be available long, so he acted fast. How fast you ask? He only spoke to her half an hour ago, she was probably hoping he would call, but half an hour? Bet he sounded real desperate.

Billy: I can drop by in an hour or so, pick you up, we go for soda, hows that sound?

VOP: Soda? Wow, it’s been awhile, but you sound like a nice boy, so okay, let’s go! Can you give me a bit more time, how about you pick me up at ten, or is that past your bedtime…tee hee.

Billy: Aw Shucks, that is sort of late, but curfew isn’t until eleven, okay, I can do it.

VOP: see you then baby!

Billy didn’t get many dates. In this town, the hot babes were already spoken for by the time they were seventeen, but at 24 years old, he certainly wasn’t interested in jail bait, he liked his women a bit more experienced.

At seven, he called Myra just so he could hear her voice again. Billy was amazed at how different she sounded on the phone, and he wanted to hear more.

Billy: I bet you are prettying yourself up as we speak.

VOP: What the hell? Who is this?

Billy: We spoke earlier today, you agreed to meet at ten this evening for sodas.

VOP: Who is this? I didn’t speak to anyone!

Billy: Hey, maybe I got the wrong number, you don’t sound the same. Is this Myra? The girl from Food Acres? We spoke this afternoon, you remember me?

VOP: I remember talking to you at the market, but not on the phone.

Myra began to worry. “Not again, she can’t keep doing this to me, and not with this boy, he is mine, I worked hard to reel him in, she can’t have this one, no way!” she thought.

Billy: Look, I don’t know what is going on. I am set for a date at ten this evening. You said you would go, c’mon, let’s go.

VOP:  How about you come by right now and we go out? I know this great spot where we can be alone.

Billy thought about it and accepted. He was so anxious to see her again. He loved the way she walked, the way she spoke, most of all he loved her innocence. He was so inexperienced with woman, he worried that he may not be worthy of her.

Billy drove his Chevy up the road to 113 Lonesome Blvd, the address that was given to him by Myra earlier that day. He jumped out of the car, ran to the door and rang the doorbell.

Just when he began to worry that he had arrived at the wrong address, the door slowly creaked open. A tall shapely woman with a tight black dress opened the door. “Yes, can I help you?”

Billy: I was looking to talk to Myra. We agreed to go out tonight. Can you get her for me?

Tall Shapely woman (TSW): My heaven’s, you are early. I am not ready yet.

Billy looked at the woman in front of him. This definitely was not Myra, but she was beautiful. He would gladly trade a date with an innocent looking chick like Myra for a chance with this woman, this Cougar! Besides, where was he actually going to get with Myra on the first date? Maybe a kiss, this woman? For sure she would put out, he could tell.

“Maybe if I try a direct approach, she will either go to bed with me or kick me out, and if she kicks me out, I always have Myra to fall back on, and the way Myra looks, she is a heck of a plan b!” he thought, hornily.

Billy: You certainly look ready to me, ready to fuck that is!

The shapely woman looked the boy over, from head to toe and decided to take him in. He wasn’t hard to convince, as he rushed into the door, and somehow found the way straight to the bedroom.

Billy found himself in a giant bedroom, the largest bed he had ever seen. He jumped on the bed, awaiting his mysterious ‘date’.

When the tall sexy lady came into the room, she quickly dropped the dress she had been wearing. Standing there in her bra and panties, she took control of the room and of Billy, who may have been cocky when he entered her room, but by now he was beginning to show his inexperience.

“Get on the bed, lock your wrists into the shackles while I bind your feet” she said. For some reason, Billy did what she said, never questioning her even once. This night was far from the one he had planned but what the hell?

Once Billy was bound to the bed, the lady made her move, straddling the young man and taking a long hard bite from his neck. He tried to get away, but guided by hormones, he somehow wanted to finish this.

“Hey, too rough, I am not into rough!” he said, almost whimpering.

“Shut up weakling, you aren’t going anywhere!” she said.

“Who are you? You aren’t Myra, you can’t be!” he said.

Just then, she began to shake. As if she was convulsing, her entire body began to quiver, and moments her entire appearance began to change. Her body, which appeared to be that of a forty something woman began to tighten and she took the look of a much younger, more beautiful woman known to Billy as Myra. Her voice softened, and she looked surprised to find Billy under her, bound by the hands and feet, unable to move.

“It happened again! I knew it! She took another one! Damn her, damn my crazy mother!” She said, obviously confused and angry. Billy looked up to discover that although he went nowhere, the woman on top of him changed into the woman he had met at the supermarket.

When Myra’s body began shaking again, Billy seen images of both Myra and her mother, and of other women, all beautiful and very sexy. Billy didn’t really care who ended up on him, since they were all beautiful, he would take any of them. He obviously wasn’t in this for a relationship, just for some sex, some experience; and he was certainly getting an experience.

As poor Myra’s body changed from one to another, the shaking finally stopped, only to reveal the latest person. This person was not the sexy but innocent Myra, it was definitely not her cougar mother, and it wasn’t even the ten or fifteen blondes and redheads who magically appeared in front of him.Gone was the shapely body, the taunt breasts, the perfect ass, replaced by a short, curly haired person wearing a tight shirt and short shorts. When he heard the person on top of him speak, he fought to be released, this time screaming for his life.

“Live it Baby!” the voice said. ” I am no longer sweatin’ to the oldies, I got me a young hottie!”

Billy began screaming, writhing, wriggling, doing anything to break free, but the shackles were just too tight. The worst part was that Billy recognized the voice. He had heard the voice on his grandmother’s television many times. The person who now straddled Billy was none other than


…….Richard Simmons.

Billy was now hurting and very very confused. First he had a sexy cougar seduce him, then she changed into a beautiful girl who he had always dreamed of, and then she changed into this…person. Unable to move, and stripped almost naked by the tall woman, he was unable to move.

“I am tired of sweatin’ to the oldies, now I want to sweat to a newbie!” said the incredibly popular  gay man who sat on top of the bound and now naked Billy Everett, the horny young man who thought he finally met the woman of his dreams. Unfortunately for Billy, this persona did not change to anyone else.

Moral of this story? you tell me~

The Interview

In this week’s segment of ‘Who the Hell Are You?” we feature an up and coming blogger known as SnB. SnB’s blog started out as a mostly biographical site, but as of late, the blog began to feature works of fiction that …let’s just say, are not for the faint of heart. In an effort to better understand the blogger, we got SnB here in our studio, and he has agreed to provide some answers. Stay tuned…

Ted: First, let me introduce our guest. Ladies and gentlemen, meet SnB. SnB, I have to say, you are one handsome devil.

SnB: Thanks Ted, you aren’t so bad yourself, but if you are hitting on me, I am as straight as a prairie highway, so let’s don’t go there!

Ted: No worries, I am straight as well, but I just can’t help notice that we resemble each other.

SnB: Whatever, you only wish to be as handsome as I am.

Ted: Er…okay, back to the interview. Snb…do you mind if I call you Sights?

SinB: snb will do, keeps things simple, you know?

Ted: Okay snb. How about you tell the studio audience a little about yourself. When were you born, how did you grow up, a little background info?

SnB:  I am not much of a talker, I would much rather write, but since I am here in front of the camera, I will give it my best shot. I was born in a small office in a college, mostly out of my parent’s curiosity. Back then I was pretty fed up with city life and I longed for a simpler way of life, one where I could be free to write whenever I wanted to.

As a child I wrote about the simple things, a cup of tea in the woods, a grandparent I missed, bullies, etc.; but as I grew older, my true creativity was found, and the works you have read as of late began to grow in my mind.

Ted: What is the biggest challenge as a writer?

SnB: My biggest challenge is keeping things real. For example, in a few of my latest works, the basis for the stories is the truth.

Ted: Are you saying that you actually knew a Keisha?

SnB: I did meet a woman named Keisha, I cannot deny that one, but it went nowhere like the story, but the basis for the story did come from the truth.

Ted: Wow, so you are into S&M?

SnB: I didn’t say that, what I said was that I met a woman named Keisha who told me of her secret desires of being a submissive. The rest of the story unfolded in my mind. There was nothing other than a conversation with the woman.

Ted: Sure, I believe you (winking)

Ted: What about your latest story, The Chain? Is that one based on a true story? Is this somehow connected to your past?

SnB: The Chain is based on a true story, that’s why it is taking so long to write. The story is not mine however; I grew up in a loving family, but that doesn’t mean that I didn’t see things, things that left an impression in my mind, a longing to tell the story so that people can see the truth.

Ted: Back to ‘The Chain’, you knew the characters?

SnB: I know ‘of’ the characters. The challenge in this piece is keeping the story far enough away from the truth to make it fiction, but keeping the story close to the truth to make it believable. Like I said, that’s why it is taking me a while to tell the story, I am waiting for things to fold out in real life, then I base my story on the circumstances. It’s not easy.

Ted: What is your goal in telling a story like this?

The goal of the story is to let people know that things aren’t always what they seem. The people that we respect are not always so respectful when doors are closed. Who can say whether our politicians, lawyers, principals, even law enforcement officers are not actually the Tom’s, Jim’s and Andrew’s that are in the story? Like the old song goes, ‘No One knows what goes on behind closed doors’.

Ted: Wow, I suppose that does make sense. How many more installments do you see in the story?

SnB: In staying close to reality, I would say that there are more than three more installments of the story, but the end may surprise a few people.

Ted: is that a hint to how the story will end?

SnB: no hints, I am waiting for the end as well.

Ted: The end of what?

SnB: haven’t you been listening? The end of “The Chain”.
Can we change the subject?

Ted: Okay. I noticed that you changed the entire look of your WordPress blog. Is there a reason for that?

SnB: Yes. Since my writing style has been steadily evolving, swinging from happy to sad to downright scary, I felt that the lovely backwoods background didn’t really fit into what I am trying to do here. I wanted the background and the theme to represent that change. As for the stone background, I wanted my readers to remember where I came from…a place known  as ‘The Rock’.

Ted: I gotta ask,  all through the interview something keeps bugging me about you, have we met before, you look very familiar.

SnB: Will you leave that alone? You look nothing like me. You wish you looked like me. I am done!

Ted: but…but..