BETSY LERNER'S WITTY ADVICE TO WRITERS

Besides being a top notch writer, Betsy has a sense of humor. She soon had me laughing with her straight shooter commentary. Although, as I delved deeper into "The Forest for the Trees," I thought, you're supposed to be mentally unstable in some form to be a writer, willing to cut off body parts to draw attention to yourself and your book was my take. Her vast experience led me to believe she worked in a mental institution, but I know better. Now, I can offer her a reprieve from the everyday rigors for I am as normal as they come, imagine the possiblilties. Enjoyed the book and the wit it took to make the subject points sink in.

TIM ON THE BEACH WITH HIS NEPHEWS

UNBRIDLED PASSION

The story begins the day I saw her. I knew I had to have her. And it's true what they say, love knocked me off my feet and left me breathless, but so did a swift kick to the gut from one of her well placed hooves. As I lay there, hurt and helpless, I knew I had to get right back up, because there were still chores that had to be done, she's not going to feed herself or clean her own stall.

WHO SAID ALL THE GOOD ONES ARE TAKEN?

Friends tell you not to settle, that if you wait long enough, Mr. Right will come along. But what if he doesn't? Feeling a little desperate, you give online dating a try. After all, the Internet should be able to fix you up with someone who shares the same interests as you, (or at least claims to for the sole purpose of getting laid.) Meanwhile, you have hit it off with one guy in particular and have even spoken over the phone. By now, you're picturing the perfect date, so you decide to meet in person. Instead of meeting you halfway, he asks you to drive across the state because his car is in the shop. At this point, you would drive across the country if you had to. Full of wonderful expectations, you arrive at the restaurant where he is waiting for you. Judging by the expression on his face, he is rather pleased with your appearance. You, on the other hand, are a little put off because his online photo must have been taken several years back, when he still had all of his teeth, (a deal breaker for sure.) You order the cheapest thing on the menu so as not to feel obligated. Suddenly, the two of you find yourselves at a loss for words, (hard to believe since you never ran out of topics in your e-mails back and forth to one another.) When it's time to go, he walks you to your car. You try to put as much distance between him as you can by jumping in your car and closing the door. You do, however, make the mistake of rolling your window down. This gives him  the opportunity he's looking for. He bends over and leans into you for the "goodnight kiss." You back away and begin coughing and continue coughing when he asks you if he can call you again. You tell him no and then explain to him why you can't give him a ride home either.  

A PRIVATE MATTER

One of my female friends from high school and her husband were in the woods cutting firewood when Sandy, (not her real name) had to relieve herself. After alertly surveying the area around her, she chose what she thought to be the perfect spot. Feeling completely at ease, she pulled down her pants and squatted down like a wormy dog dragging its butt. It was at that moment when she realized she wasn't alone. A man in a deer stand peered down from above her. "I have never been so embarassed in my entire life," Sandy later told me, "but then, the man let one rip. When the ensuing noise made it over to where my husband was, he thought it was me, so he belted out, "She's a lady. Whoa, Whoa, Whoa, she's a lady, and the lady is mine!" "At which point, I pulled up my pants and told my husband we were leaving. I've never been back to those woods since."  

THE ONE FINGER SALUTE

Hey you, the guy in the car blasting along at eighty miles an hour in a drug induced stupor with your muffler dragging behind, why are you giving me the finger? If only you knew about the large array of rules and regulations a truck driver must strickly adhere to, maybe then you wouldn't be so rude. Our license now cost $300.00 or more by the time we pay for a physical, fingerprints, drug test, and all the special endorsements required to be a professional driver. The amount of hours we work, or the hours we can work are regulated by the federal government. Our blood acohol content level is so low that I fear antibacterial soap will send it over the limit. The latest rules now fine the driver both monetarily and with points on our license for minor infractions involving the conditions of our equipment. Companies who run junk are no longer held responsible for their own equipment, sounds fair, doesn't it? So, the next time you see me on the road, go ahead and wave...but please...use all five of your fingers.

 

BLOGGED DOWN

This blog thing is akin to sitting atop a wild bronc, in that, my pageviews have seen their fair share of ups and downs. When I first started blogging I tended to be a little longwinded. Okay, so this is my first rodeo, but I didn't want anyone to think I was lazy. From now on, I'll keep it short and sweet.   Figuratively speaking, however, it should take you at least eight seconds to read it.