I was told that shapeshifters and menage was hot right now and the moment I heard that my mind flew to that good old tale when one, two and three of the characters state...someone's been sleeping in my bed. Well, if you know me, you know where my mind went then!
Golden Fox and the Three Behrs is the end result of that little trip down memory lane. This is the buy link... http://tinyurl. com/23d3zl4 (without the space)
Tara, the pampered, blonde bombshell is a witch with a problem. She is hornier than a raging bull named Randy. Her grandmother has a solution...go for a walk in the woods!
The Behr men are from an old sleuth of shapeshifters. Unbeknownst to Tara they have a shrouded cabin in the woods.
As the sun sets ans the shroud falls the fun begins!
I had a blast writing it and hope you enjoy it. I am working on the next Sexy Tale...Little Red Running Shorts. I'll keep you posted on its release date.
Love Jojo xoxox
Showing posts with label funny. Show all posts
Showing posts with label funny. Show all posts
Monday, May 3, 2010
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
A new poem by Pam Ayers
This was sent to me by a lovely 70ish friend and I had to share it
For people that do not know Pam Ayres, she's a celebrity/poet in the U. K.A new poem by Pam Ayres
Oh, I Wish I'd Looked After Me Tits By Pam Ayres
Oh, I wish I'd looked after me dear old knockers, Not flashed them to boys behind the school lockers, Or let them get fondled by randy old dockers, Oh, I wish I'd looked after me tits.
'Cos now I'm much older and gravity's winning. It's Nature's revenge for all that sinning, And those dirty memories are rapidly dimming, Oh, I wish I'd looked after me tits.
'Cos tits can be such troublesome things When they no longer bounce, but dangle and swing. And although they go well with my Bingo wings, I wish I'd looked after me tits.
When they're both long enough to tie up in a bow, When it's not the sweet chariot that swings low, When they're less of a friend and more of a foe, Then I wish I'd looked after me tits.
When I was young I got whistles and hoots, From the men on the site to the men in the suits, Now me nipples get stuck in the zips on me boots, Oh, I wish I'd looked after me tits.
When I was younger I rode bikes and scooters, Cruising around with my favorite suitors. Now the wheels get entangled with my dangling hooters, I wish I'd looked after me tits.
When they follow behind and get trapped in the door, When they're less in the air and more near the floor, When people see less of them rather than more, Oh, I wish I'd looked after me tits.
For people that do not know Pam Ayres, she's a celebrity/poet in the U. K.A new poem by Pam Ayres
Oh, I Wish I'd Looked After Me Tits By Pam Ayres
Oh, I wish I'd looked after me dear old knockers, Not flashed them to boys behind the school lockers, Or let them get fondled by randy old dockers, Oh, I wish I'd looked after me tits.
'Cos now I'm much older and gravity's winning. It's Nature's revenge for all that sinning, And those dirty memories are rapidly dimming, Oh, I wish I'd looked after me tits.
'Cos tits can be such troublesome things When they no longer bounce, but dangle and swing. And although they go well with my Bingo wings, I wish I'd looked after me tits.
When they're both long enough to tie up in a bow, When it's not the sweet chariot that swings low, When they're less of a friend and more of a foe, Then I wish I'd looked after me tits.
When I was young I got whistles and hoots, From the men on the site to the men in the suits, Now me nipples get stuck in the zips on me boots, Oh, I wish I'd looked after me tits.
When I was younger I rode bikes and scooters, Cruising around with my favorite suitors. Now the wheels get entangled with my dangling hooters, I wish I'd looked after me tits.
When they follow behind and get trapped in the door, When they're less in the air and more near the floor, When people see less of them rather than more, Oh, I wish I'd looked after me tits.
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Bar-b-qued Coffee
Okay, so Sunday morning I popped out of bed at a little before 7 and looked outside with amazement. Everything within sight was blanketed in ghostly white mist. We could see the actual movement of the air as the fog billowed and rolled down the street. Add to this the fact that at sometime through the night our township's hydro went down. So we had a very foggy blackout. Really rather eerie when you think about it.
But was that where my mind went? Heck no! It immediately flew to the fact that without hydro, how on earth was I going to make coffee... and how would we stay cool in the 32 degree Celsius (43 with the humidex) day ahead of us?
Well, first things first. I plopped the kettle onto the bar-b-que. No, not on the grill... ours has a very convenient burner off to the side. It blackened the outside of the kettle, but the water boiled perfectly and we had our coffee! YAY!!!
An hour later our eldest showed up with her hubby and son. On went the kettle again and we enjoyed our coffee while watching the fog continue it's speedy retreat. Thoughts of how to survive the heat and humidity flitted through our minds until Charity came up with the perfect solution.
We packed a cooler full of cold drinks, sandwiches, fruits, and other assorted yummies and headed to Port Burwell. Lake Erie welcomed us with amazing white crested waves, scorching sand and an endless blue sky. Clearly many others had the same idea as us, but we were able to find a relatively quiet spot for our blankets and settled in for the day.
(Now, when Charity tells this next part of the story she makes it sound much worse than it actually was. I stand firmly on my standpoint that I did not in fact sit there and let her nearly drown.) We had two blow up pool chairs that have holes at the foot area. We had spent ages towing them out as far as we dared and letting the waves push, drag and roll us back to the shore. We had done this so many times positioned head to toe, with our arms linked through the foot holes that our arms were exhausted. I had the brilliant idea that if we overlapped the foot holes we could both stick our feet through and would be lock together and save out arms. It worked perfectly... until one enormous wave crashed over us and sent Charity tumbling into the drink. Keep in mind that her feet were tucked into the hole locking us together. when she flew off the chair, one foot slipped out but the other stayed firmly in place with the plastic wrapped tightly around her ankle and mine. From my position on my chair I tugged, twisted and struggled with the clinging plastic as wave after wave rocked us. Charity bobbed up and down, beside and beneath the flailing chair. I knew if I let myself tumble in with her, we would both be stuck.
Charity's yelling went like this..."Mom...blub blub blub. I'm stuck... blub blub blub. Help... blub blub blub. I can't get out... blub blub blub."
My yelling... "I know, I'm trying. Stay still. I don't know what to do!" Of course the whole time I was laughing hysterically, because a) I was panicking and b) it was funny. Eventually we both calmed down enough that I was able to pull my foot out which released hers and she was able to stand and look at me with and expression of absolute disbelief. "I don't know what to do? This is what you say when your child is drowning?"
"Sorry honey. I really am sorry. I am so sorry." Of course I was still laughing so hard all she could think to do was tip me off my chair.
Maybe I really do deserve that certificate she gave me for mother's day when she was six. It claims that I am indeed the worst mommy in the world. But... she still loves me.
But was that where my mind went? Heck no! It immediately flew to the fact that without hydro, how on earth was I going to make coffee... and how would we stay cool in the 32 degree Celsius (43 with the humidex) day ahead of us?
Well, first things first. I plopped the kettle onto the bar-b-que. No, not on the grill... ours has a very convenient burner off to the side. It blackened the outside of the kettle, but the water boiled perfectly and we had our coffee! YAY!!!
An hour later our eldest showed up with her hubby and son. On went the kettle again and we enjoyed our coffee while watching the fog continue it's speedy retreat. Thoughts of how to survive the heat and humidity flitted through our minds until Charity came up with the perfect solution.
We packed a cooler full of cold drinks, sandwiches, fruits, and other assorted yummies and headed to Port Burwell. Lake Erie welcomed us with amazing white crested waves, scorching sand and an endless blue sky. Clearly many others had the same idea as us, but we were able to find a relatively quiet spot for our blankets and settled in for the day.
(Now, when Charity tells this next part of the story she makes it sound much worse than it actually was. I stand firmly on my standpoint that I did not in fact sit there and let her nearly drown.) We had two blow up pool chairs that have holes at the foot area. We had spent ages towing them out as far as we dared and letting the waves push, drag and roll us back to the shore. We had done this so many times positioned head to toe, with our arms linked through the foot holes that our arms were exhausted. I had the brilliant idea that if we overlapped the foot holes we could both stick our feet through and would be lock together and save out arms. It worked perfectly... until one enormous wave crashed over us and sent Charity tumbling into the drink. Keep in mind that her feet were tucked into the hole locking us together. when she flew off the chair, one foot slipped out but the other stayed firmly in place with the plastic wrapped tightly around her ankle and mine. From my position on my chair I tugged, twisted and struggled with the clinging plastic as wave after wave rocked us. Charity bobbed up and down, beside and beneath the flailing chair. I knew if I let myself tumble in with her, we would both be stuck.
Charity's yelling went like this..."Mom...blub blub blub. I'm stuck... blub blub blub. Help... blub blub blub. I can't get out... blub blub blub."
My yelling... "I know, I'm trying. Stay still. I don't know what to do!" Of course the whole time I was laughing hysterically, because a) I was panicking and b) it was funny. Eventually we both calmed down enough that I was able to pull my foot out which released hers and she was able to stand and look at me with and expression of absolute disbelief. "I don't know what to do? This is what you say when your child is drowning?"
"Sorry honey. I really am sorry. I am so sorry." Of course I was still laughing so hard all she could think to do was tip me off my chair.
Maybe I really do deserve that certificate she gave me for mother's day when she was six. It claims that I am indeed the worst mommy in the world. But... she still loves me.
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