Monday Mayhem – Watch out world edition

Psst. My buddy, Jennifer Johnson, is here today, and I believe she’s been spending too much time staring into her belly button. Be nice. Nod, smile, back away from the crazy lady, and be sure to leave a comment so she won’t come after you.

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Words.

I have a love hate relationship with words. Words are a lot like the tasty morsel in the Kong toy. Me? I’m the dog who spends fourteen hours trying to manipulate that morsel out of the tortuous plastic device. People who know me well, and even not so well, except for my transparent intolerance for sloppy word use on Facebook realize nothing sets me off more than the taunt with an overused or misused word or phrase.

Some of these may include but are certainly not limited to: literally, uber, nemesis, opaque, or random.

So, I guess word misuse is my torment. My pleasure is the rich hues found in the definition of a word. I like to Google words my eighth grade teacher taught me to see what images I find. This is probably my best friend’s fault because she had this running joke about someone’s picture being in the dictionary next to [place your favorite insulting adjective here]. It only took me a couple of times looking up ‘gullible’ or ‘idiotic’ before I figured out what she was doing.

But I digress.

I’m amazed at the variety the Internet ascribes to any particular word. Take for instance,

Kerfluffle. It’s such a happy word. Somewhat whimsical in its triple *f* composition, and the hint of one definition by its first syllable which is then turned on its ear by the last two syllables. Can anyone be depressed when pronouncing it? Can anyone’s paradigm not be shifted by the orderliness of its disorderly definition?

And yet what a plethora of pictures appear with the search engine.

Such as:

or

Or

That guy made a great Ming, did he not? I wasn’t too enamored with Flash, but this guy rocked in a creepy evil villain sort of way.

And he’s who Google says looks like *kerfluffle*. Ming and pie and some chicks in a bedroom Man, you gotta love the Internet in its ability to search and assign meaning to anything because somebody blogged about it and found a pretty or provocative picture.

And there were many other pictures as well. Kentucky Fried Chicken. Beans. Badger. Paddle, and of course the requisite cute cat picture with the misspelled words. I mean, honestly, haven’t we beaten the dead horse enough with this cheezburger cat nonsense? What is wrong with people?

What does it mean anyway? And that whole texting the dog thing. It’s funny and all, but dogs have paws. They couldn’t possibly manipulate a phone to send texts.

My dog has no sense of anything except his enjoyment in eating, peeing, and sniffing. That’s his life. My kids try to make him look at pictures in books, watch TV, and even listen to me over the telephone when I was gone recently on a business trip. The dog doesn’t enjoy any of these things. He runs away from the children when they walk in the room. Though he’s a pretty good dog as far as dogs go, he has bitten them on more than one occasion because he’s tired of all the crap they put him through. In fact, tonight each kid had part of the dog in their hands pulling him like he was a slinky as they argued over whose bed he was going to sleep in.

It was, I believe, quite a kerfluffle.

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Jennifer Johnson needs more time to navel gaze. She writes contemporary romance and has written five full length novels with three publishers. She has also had short stories published in four anthologies from Turquoise Morning Press. Her book, Rescuing Riley, the sequel to Rescue Me, will be released in October of this year from Turquoise Morning.

Find out more about her at

Website: http://booksbyjenniferjohnson.com

Blog: http://jennfrancesca.blogspot.com/

Amazon author page: http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B002BMJ58I

 

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Monday Mayhem – Tombstone Edition

Fodder and I have some interesting conversations while riding in the car. Just last week I promised him I’d try to work the word ‘cocksmith’ into his eulogy. That led to a discussion on what we would have engraved on a tombstone. Here’s what I settled on for the love of my life:

Here lies Mr. Mags – beloved husband, father, and one damn fine piece of ass.

He was pleased.

What do you want on your tombstone? Tickle my funny bone and you might just win a little prize. Ready? Go!

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Monday Mayhem – Duranies Rock On!

I’m on vacation this week (which means I am busy typing and editing), so I asked my good friend and fellow Duran Duran junkie, Karen Booth, to stop by and talk to you about her smokin’ hot new release. Check it out here:

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If it wasn’t for the pesky brunette vs. blonde thing, I might make a guess that Margaret and I were separated at birth. We are both Midwest girls, both writers, lured to the South by our husbands. Margaret and I also share an adolescent love that never managed to go away, a vaguely unhealthy preoccupation with Duran Duran.

When I first befriended Margaret and found out she is also a Duranie, my only thought was this: “She’s so awesome. We could be such good friends. As long as she’s a Simon girl. If she’s a JT girl, this might not go well.” Ah, silly me. Of course Margaret had to be a JT girl (John Taylor for those not up to speed on Duran Duran vernacular). Dammit.

Alas, Margaret and I have learned to set aside our friendly JT rivalry. Neither of us will bad-mouth the other in his presence. We would never send him disparaging tweets. If we happen to show him a slightly unflattering picture of the other person, that’s purely by accident. Besides, he’s a rock star, he’s bigger than life. Surely there’s plenty of him for Margaret and I to share.

My brand new (smoking hot, if I do say so myself) book, Love My Way, comes complete with a hunky-on-the-outside and sweet-and-geeky on-the-inside rock star named Peter. He’s dead-set on snagging my heroine, Katie, but she isn’t ready to risk her heart for a rock star and she definitely isn’t willing to share. So, I want to know which rock star you want all to yourself, the one you aren’t willing to share. One responder will win an e-copy of Love My Way!

Love My Way

After her fiancé penned a “Dear Katie” letter, Kate Stillman vowed she’d never give a man more than one night. Free from emotional entanglements, she’s had some hot one-night stands, her heart has stayed off-limits and her photography career has skyrocketed. It’s the perfect plan until a Miami getaway brings her face-to-face with Peter Barrett.

Hunky rocker Peter has been pursuing Katie from afar ever since she photographed his band. In the flesh, it’s clear it was more than flirtation. Katie gives in to their sizzling chemistry, thinking Peter will appreciate her one-night rule. Instead, he balks and extends an invitation for a second night of pure abandon, an offer too tempting to refuse.

When they part, Katie realizes her rule protected her heart only too well. Time away from Peter leaves her wanting him more. Every steamy late-night phone call makes her wonder if she can love again. But when Peter returns and her trust is tested, Katie must overcome her past to learn that love her way was never the way at all.

Buy now at: Ellora’s Cave, Amazon, All Romance e-Books

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