Wednesday, December 06, 2006

Read and Vote and Vote!

Today I'm going to switch things around and share the Daily Art Thang first and after that you get to read the fabulicious contest entries and I'll tell you how to vote for your favorite! DAT, taken while on a walk with J: "Silhouette" (clickable if you want to see it larger in a new window) Now on to The Contest! Most of you will know what this is all about, but in case it's your first time here (lately or ever!) read this first so you know what the rules of the contest were. Go ahead, I'll wait. Lalalalalaaaaaa.... Back? Good! Then on to the vote! Here's how the voting will work: 1. I've posted all entries received - three for Contest One and seven for Contest two - anonymously, with just a number assigned to them. If any of these stories included the author's name within the body of the story (and a couple did!) I will substitute "Ms. X" for the name to keep it anonymous. 2. After you read the stories, please vote for your favorite for each contest. So you are allowed two votes total - one for the first contest, one for the second. If you entered, you are (of course!) more than welcome to vote for your own entry or entries! You are also welcome to link to this post on your blog and ask your friends to vote, but I ask that you please don't tell them which story is yours. You just have to trust that they'll have the good taste to like yours best. :-) 3. To vote, send an email with either "contest one" or "contest two" in the subject line and the number of the entry you are voting for in the body of the email. Send it to this address: tansy @ kywirelesscollc.com (remove the spaces on either side of the "@" to make that functional!). I'm asking that you send a separate email for each contest. Kind of a PITA, I know, sorry...but I have separate folders set up to collect votes for each contest and it will make it a thousand times easier on me if y'all send individual votes. Combined ones will make me grumpy. :-) ONLY email votes will count!!! If you merely say what your favorite is in the comments section, it does NOT count as a vote for that story!! 4. Voting will end Saturday night, Dec. 9th, 11:59 PM, US Eastern Standard Time, and winners will be announced here on Monday, Dec. 11th. If there is a tie for either contest, the tie will be broken by the time-honored "pick a name from a hat" method. 5. One final thought before we get to the entries...If you leave comments about the stories here in the comments section, please remember that the lovely, kind, and BRAVE people who wrote these and sent them in for your reading pleasure will be reading what you say about their stories, so be nice! :-) Ok, on to the stories at last... Contest One - the sex stories (Have no fear, these are all PG-rated...well, ok, maybe PG-13) ------------------------------ #1 We met, strangely enough, at the vet’s. I brought my bird named Trixie. Trixie was coughing and losing feathers. Teaching her to say, "Is that a pistol in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?" seemed like a good idea at the time. Turns out that Alan is an old movie buff. He brought his dog, Sam, to the vet’s the same day. Sam had chewed a rubber chicken in half and was suffering a slight digestive problem. Rubber chickens will do that..... Alan is tall, like me, blond hair and blue eyed. Those dreamy, get-lost-inside blue eyes. We met for coffee the next day. One thing lead to another and we were at his house. He lured me there with a promise to watch the "Jump the Shark" episode from Happy Days on DVD. After a cup of Irish coffee, I couldn’t care less what Richie was up to. All I wanted to do was kiss that man. We headed for the bedroom taking clothes off along the way. This is not my usual MO. I like to get to know someone first. It is better to know that they happen to have pink, fur-lined handcuffs in the bedside table, BEFORE, you end up in bed with them on your wrists. (Don’t ask how I found that out!) We spent the afternoon wrapped in his sheets, talking, laughing, and, well, you know. It seems Alan was really happy to see me.

Trixie? She and Sam both recovered. They spend a lot of time together, just like Alan and me. --------------------------------- #2 He came to her window again tonight. His visits had resumed after a long absence. An absence for which she only had herself to blame. He had come to her in silent adoration and she had driven him away with unkind words. But it must be true what they say about absence,for she had thought about him often during that time. And thinking about him made her crazy with a desire she couldn't name. She would stretch out on the bed and roll from side to side. Or she would lie on the floor, and pushing down with her feet, glide her body across the cool tiles. Or she would crouch in anticipation, like a cat in heat. Had he sensed that? Is that why he had started coming around again? But it was different now. HE was different somehow. He had started bringing her things. Strange things. Like last time he brought her a rubber chicken. What was he thinking? Did he really believe he could win her heart with that? (Now if he had brought her that damn noisy bird Trixie that lived down the hall...that would have been a different story!) And the time before that, it had been a pair of pink fur-lined handcuffs. What need did she have for little pink handcuffs? She already had her beloved little pink socks!

She sighed. And now here he was at her window tonight with the strangest, and,in her opinion,most useless offering of all. A “Happy Days” DVD. The one with the episode of the Fonz on water skis. She sighed again. She had always thought he was a pretty cool cat. Kinda funky. But now, he was ...well..he was just bizarre!!! She was going to have to tell him it was over between them. She tried to let him down as easily as she could. “You've really jumped the shark with this one, sweetie!” she said. Her words echoed in her head as he disappeared into the darkness. Jumped the shark...shark...shark... SHARK! The word hit her hard. FISH!!! YUM!!! ------------------------------------- #3 Deb missed Jon. He’d been gone all week for work and was due home tonight. If she could just come up with something, she could concentrate on making a wonderful welcome home dinner for him. Deb was a comedy writer for SNL and had been trying to convince Jon she wanted to be a serious writer. But to look at her now, with the pink fur-lined handcuffs and rubber chicken on the couch beside her, and DVD of the “Jump the Shark” episode from “Happy Days” beginning for what seemed like the hundredth time, she was still clueless for material for the opening sketch they needed for their guest host this week. She’d exchanged her pajamas for an old flannel shirt and shorts this morning and spent the day watching that episode so many times that her parrot, Trixie, was beginning to recite bits of dialog. There was a knock on her door; Jon was back early! Deb threw a pillow over the chicken and handcuffs and paused the DVD then rushed to the door to let him in. The door was barely shut when his snowy coat hit the floor. Lips locked, they inched toward the couch. Slowly, Jon unbuttoned the top button on her flannel shirt; this signaled a change in their relationship as he lowered her down onto the couch. He reached beneath her to pull the pillow from under her, only to have the chicken and handcuffs tumble to the floor. From his position over her he looked from the floor to the picture of Fonzie frozen on the TV screen and back to her face. He just smiled and, as he reached for the handcuffs, Trixie said, “Aaaaay. Cool.”

******************************** Contest Two - the excuses --------------------------------- #1 I had just finished typing up the sex scene you requested, and as it was set in the 1940s, of curse (oops, I meant course) I was using my beautiful old Smith Corona portable typewriter. Just as I hit the last key, Captain Jack Sparrow burst in bearing gifts, and by gifts I mean a pair of pink fur-lined handcuffs he'd picked up in Tortuga...said he traded a keg of rum for them, but knowing the good Captain, it was more probably a quite nearly empty glass he'd traded...along with that "shiver my timbers" grin of his. So the story was put aside for the time being, while we ensured the handcuffs 1) fit and 2) worked properly...and they most certainly did! We promptly fell asleep and when I awoke, I made the following discoveries: Captain Jack was gone, there was a rubber chicken, a shark & a Fonzie doll in his place, a DVD was playing in my VCR (I believe it was a Happy Days episode, where the Fonz is water skiing), and Trixie, my bird, was out of her cage and had a big evil grin on her lil beak. I got up, put on some coffee, and wandered over to the typewriter to take the page I'd typed the sex scene on out. To my horror, there were splotches of bird poop, completely hardened and covering most of the page. When I tried to pry it off, the letters underneath were gone, whole sentences of letters. This, of course, explains why Trixie was grinning. Damn that bird! ------------------------------ #2 I had every intention of writing a sex scene. I even found some pink fluffy handcuffs at our party store, because I thought a playful night of fooling around would give me fresh ideas. The best laid plans.. While I was shopping, I forgot to turn the oven down, so the object of the planned fun and games arrived home to dried-out casserole. He was particularly grumpy about it, made disparaging remarks about being forced to eat rubber chicken for dinner. So. off to a shaky start, amorous feelings were diminishing fast. However, not deterred easily, I slunk off to slip into a skimpy robe that l use when I need to bring out the big guns! How was I to know that at this moment my cat was hopping through the window with the neighbor's parrot, Trixie, clenched in his jaws? The neighbor followed, screeching louder than Trixie, and she only stopped when her eyes fell on me, leaping around in the famous little number, trying to save the unimpressed bird. Retrieving her pet, she backed out of the door with bulging eyes. I was hoping the beloved would see the funny side of this, but no, he gave me an ear-bashing about humiliating him in front of the neighborhood. We plunked down on the couch, flicking half-heartedly through the channels..nothing! So we put on our DVD of old Happy Days episodes, and as the Fonz found himself riding the shark, I was mumbling to myself that I would rather be doing that than riding this mean tempered old man next to me. I sat down at my keyboard with every intention of writing a sex scene, but not a saucy thought popped into my mind, and I realized I would need the mental equivalent of female Viagra to make this article happen... ----------------------------- #3 Deb, Ms. X will not be writing you a sex scene involving a rubber chicken, a pair of pink fur-lined handcuffs, a bird named Trixie, and a DVD of the Happy Days "Jump the Shark" episode. She was right there with you, thinking how much she would enjoy that postcard, until reading the list of required words. She's pretty sure she could get one hot enough and still reasonably clean with anything playing on the DVD in the background, including the "Jump the Shark" Happy Days episode. It's a bit harder to tune out a bird, especially one named Trixie, when you have two characters getting it on, but it's doable. And what's not to love about pink, fur-lined handcuffs? They are pink, soft and fuzzy, and if a burglar breaks in on the middle of the sex scene, can be put to a secondary practical purpose. No, it was the rubber chicken that was the deal breaker. Rubber chickens remind Ms. X of her father, who played many practical jokes that involved rubber chickens. (Helpful Hint: The proper preparation of a rubber chicken for any prank is to first fill it with baby powder, which can also be sexy - the powder, not the chicken full of powder, that is.) And thinking of dear old dad shut down Ms. X's sex scene creativity in less than the proverbial heart beat. She's now busily scrubbing some unwanted images from her mental processes. Therefore, please excuse Ms. X from writing a sex scene for your contest. Respectfully, Ms. X's totally traumatized subconscious -------------------------- #4 My coworkers were dancing on their desks and imbibing in “holiday cheer” Friday afternoon. Instead, I was sitting at my own desk using my work computer to write my DebR sex scene when my drunk boss entered my cube armed with mistletoe. When I tried to dodge his advances, he made a grab for my arm and the next thing I knew he had joined our wrists with pink fur-lined handcuffs. I let out a bloodcurdling scream which prompted a coworker to call 911. When the paddy wagon came, my boss and I (still cuffed together) were hauled off to jail where we were stashed in the drunk tank with a man dressed as a pirate with a parrot he called Trixie duct taped to his shoulder and a businessman from Peoria who kept asking me if I was Rachael Ray. After the booking sergeant and his buddies finished making crap out of the “Jump the Shark” episode of “Happy Days” they were watching when we were brought in, they finally unlocked the fur-lined cuffs and let me go when I proved that I hadn’t had anything to drink and was a victim of circumstance. By the time I returned to the office, I was met at the door by a security guard who escorted me to my cubicle, where I found my computer wiped clean and my personal belongings and a misguided rubber chicken leftover from the holiday party packed into a cardboard box on my desk. The office manager had found my sex scene and told me I was not to return. I didn’t have a chance to e-mail the sex scene home so, sadly, I will be unable to participate in our contest. -------------------------- #5 Actually I was all ready to sit down and write this wonderful love scene. But, it has been a hell of a week. The kids are just driving me crazy. Just yesterday I came home from work to find our seven-year-old Lizzie handcuffed to the bed with a pair of pink fur-lined handcuffs. I freaked out. Seems Johnny, who is seven-years-old and lives next door is the one who was doing the handcuffing. In my sternest voice I told him to uncuff my daughter immediately and no I did not want to know what his mommy and daddy did when mommy had on the handcuffs. I always wondered about them! Julianne, who has now become a teenager, has suddenly developed an interest in the old "Happy Days" and seems to think that the "Jump the Shark" episode is okay for her to watch twenty-four hours a day. But, you know what they are like when they are teenagers. There is just no way to control them. Adam decided he would try out his science experiment in my oven. Have you ever smelled a burned rubber chicken? I spent hours trying to get the smell out of the house and damn near froze my butt off because I had to leave the windows open for two days. Oh, but the best was Clyde came home from a business trip this week and it seems he won a bird named Trixie in a poker game. Of course, he arrived about the time the pastor showed up to see how we were doing. Pastor James looked at the bird and said, "Oh, what a lovely parrot, you are!" to which Trixie replied, "Oh, fuck a duck!" Honey, I never realized Pastor James had false teeth until I saw them on my carpet. I know all this isn't a great excuse, but, I am just exhausted and I don't think I could think of a sex scene if I tried. Your friend, Ms. X(2) ---------------------------------- #6 I was SO SO going to write the sex story (though mine would be closer to an nc-17, I think, than a pg rating). so, here's what happened...this morning as I went to write the story, I realized I needed to get some food for the peacock. Trixie was (and still is!) screaming her fool head off as only peacocks can truly do. CPS is going to come at any moment thinking I am physically harming a child. yeah yeah, she needs food. what's a girl to do. I realized that my fabulous pink and fuzzy handcuffs HAD to come off. I couldn't very well go to the store with the handcuffs dangling from one of my wrists, now could I? I mean, I KNOW people in this town. rob had managed to abscond with HIS copy of the special key and he'd neglected to tell me where the extra was. so, off to the phone I went. rob had no IDEA where the extra set was. he hears Trixie hollering in the background. he even started feeling a little bad about leaving me in this predicament. He called me back just a few minutes ago and asked if I'd found it. nope. still nothing. where ARE they? At this point, I figure it's just as likely that they're in the inside that upidstay shark that the fonz had to jump over in what was probably one of THE lamest episodes of Happy Days ever (what was rob THINKING when he bought that DVD?) as it is that they're in the house somewhere. because my house is rarely spic and span, finding them is proving.ahem.difficult. and because I'm frantic about the lost key, there is no way that I can get in the mood to write a fabulous sex scene. the only thing that in my head that I can write down is some nonsense about a rubber chicken - now really, how sexy is THAT? so clearly, I can't do it. it would be in bad taste. and my handcuffs keep knocking on the keyboard. so sorry. -Ms. X (3) ps - I really have well and truly lost my keys and it's just about killing me! ---------------------------- #7 The Best of Intentions By Ms. X (4) Working away late one night on my first novel, I paused and stretched my weary arms in the air and rolled my neck to loosen the tight muscles.My heroine had just had a scathing and witty exchange with the handsome young stud of a police detective. The electricity was in the flowing between their catty barbs and the underlying chemistry between the two was boiling to the surface. This would be an excellent point for a steamy sex scene, but could I really pull this off? Did a Bible study leader and Sunday school teacher really have it in her to write something realistic? I settled into the computer and stared at the screen. Nothing. I opened another document and started typing random words to use in the scene. “Rapturous, quivering, milky . . .” I felt a little bit of bile in the back of my throat. Good grief, this wasn’t a trashy romance novel. Hmmm . . . how to write a classy, mature, really authentic sex scene? I decided to look for some inspiration. Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. I flipped through our DVD collection. Fantasia – fireworks, but not the right kind. The Little Mermaid – well the girl could wear a seashell bra and carry it off. The Best of Happy Days – The Fonz. Now there was some smoldering sexy. Flipping to the back cover the picture of the Fonz on water-skis made me chuckle. Nothing like “jumpin’ the shark” to suck the sexy out of a leather jacketed icon. Giving up on the DVDs, I decided to flip on the television to see if inspiration was waiting somewhere on cable TV. On the first channel – one of the gazillion Law and Order series’. “Detective – are you telling me the only witness to this murder is the owner’s bird” “Trixie, Your Honor. Her name is Trixie.” Hmmm – is it too late to introduce a slut named Trixie into the storyline? Make a note of that. She could cause problems for the happy couple – IF I CAN EVER GET THEM TOGETHER!!! Change the channel. Oh wait, this looks promising. Nip Tuck – soft core porn on basic cable. Perfect! Wow, that Christian Troy is a sexy guy. But wait a minute, what is he doing? What is that in his hand? Oh my . . .is that. . .a rubber chicken? (The gag reflex automatically starts to fire again and I have no desire to revisit the dinner I choked down earlier in the evening.) I snatched up the remote and turned off the TV. Now it was time for the big guns. Sneaking into my bedroom and moving with all the stealth and silence I could muster as not to wake up Brad, I opened my lingerie drawer and reached to the back for a small white box. Inside, was a gift from my bridal shower, some friend of my mom’s thought it was such a clever and kinky gift - pink fur-lined handcuffs. I never told my husband about them thinking I’d never have a use for such a thing. But low and behold, they might be just the talisman this gal needed to get some steamy inspiration. I laid them on the desk and stared at them for ages. Picking them up, I twirled them around a few times. I wonder how these things work? Click. Crap. Well, you can probably guess the rest. The sex scene never got written, and my husband couldn’t stop laughing as he drove me to the locksmith the next morning to have my fuzzy pink handcuffs removed from my hands. The characters will have to wait for the blush to clear from my face before I can get back to their potential for some – er – resolution. ---------------------------- And that's it, y'all! Time to email in those votes. Remember, you get one per contest. :-)

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