Balls and Walnuts
more than you ever wanted to know
Category Archives: The Fearful Meme
It’s not me. Really.
| Disorder | Rating |
| Paranoid Personality Disorder: | Very High |
| Schizoid Personality Disorder: | High |
| Schizotypal Personality Disorder: | High |
| Antisocial Personality Disorder: | High |
| Borderline Personality Disorder: | Very High |
| Histrionic Personality Disorder: | Very High |
| Narcissistic Personality Disorder: | Very High |
| Avoidant Personality Disorder: | High |
| Dependent Personality Disorder: | Very High |
| Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder: | High |
— Take the Personality Disorder Test — — Personality Disorder Info — |
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But I’ll bet my sis knows who this is.
D.
Flickr follies, yet again
I can’t say no to a meme. You all know that.
Random Flickr blogging explained. Today’s number: 1835. Click on photos for original sources.
Edited to add: Ack! I can’t stand looking at her anymore. And you have all been sooo polite, not calling me on my poor taste, having confidence that I would do the right thing and boot this skank off the top page. Here she goes. Buh-bye!
More below the cut, if you dare.
SBD: Boys Need Romance
My son has kindly posed for today’s Smart Bitches Day post, but he urges me to tell my readers that he is NOT reading this romance, he is only pretending to do so to make his father happy.
Oh, well. His loss. He’ll miss all the hot sex scenes.
I’m not the kind of guy who obsesses over his past, looking back a week, a month, or twenty years, putting each and every conflict and conversation under a microscope, second-guessing himself, anguishing over mistakes made, paths not taken. That’s just not me.
Much.
Aaack. Who am I kidding? I regret things I did in dreams. When I was five. If I could remember my dirty diapers, I’d probably regret those, too. If only I had held it in a little longer.
When you obsess over the past, sometimes you manage to figure a few things out, but then again, sometimes you spin your wheels for decades. Does any of this help? Maybe. If it keeps you from effing up your life in the present, then yes, it helps.
Recently I had the thought, If only I had read romance in Junior High. Romance could have transformed my adolescence, could have saved me from missed opportunities and botched relationships. But, no. I was reading Robert Heinlein, whose idea of romance went something like this:
Middle-aged male protagonist surrounds himself with beautiful women who hang upon his every word and give him all the sex a man of his brilliance deserves.
Heinlein’s male characters did not model good courting behavior. (I have strong suspicions that most male SF writers of the 60s and 70s were virgins or had to pay for it.) My brother, father, and friends were all atrocious models, too. I needed something different.
I needed Romance.
More nekkid blogging
The Nekkid Challenge is still open, and I’m ashamed to add, Erin and her readers are leaving us in the dust. I can’t get Kate’s mom’s tush out of my head, but the rest of you have not been forthcoming.
Groan. Do I have to do everything around here? Karen, come over here a sec. I need your help.
More nudity below the cut.
Kris never peed in the pool? Yeah, right.
Kris Starr has a fun post this morning — how much are you worth? I’m worth only $160.50, which is pathetic, and at my age I doubt I’ll ever see $200.00. Um, $200.50.
As memes go, this one’s quick and kinda fun. Check it out.
D.
SBD: Woof
For today’s Smart Bitches Day post, I ask the question: what’s up with all the dogs?
A friend and I were getting into it the other day. Or rather, I was getting into it, and she was egging me on. She told me Janet Evanovich had a dog in her stories, and I had that very morning been placed into a tizzy by Jennifer Crusie’s needless introduction of a dog in Welcome to Temptation.
This person went to the bother of assembling a partial list of critter characters. Here’s the Crusie portion of the list:
Crusie, Jennifer – Anyone But You (Fred the Basset hound)
Crusie, Jennifer – Crazy For You (Katie the dog)
Crusie, Jennifer – Getting Rid of Bradley (dog)
Crusie, Jennifer – The Cinderella Deal (Liz the cat)
Crusie, Jennifer – What the Lady Wants (Bob the dog)
and she left out Welcome to Temptation! This dog (in WtT), I’m talking serious left field. As if a light bulb suddenly flickered in Crusie’s brain: “Need . . . more . . . comic relief!”
Listen:
Something furry brushed her leg and she looked down and screamed.
There was an animal there–a big one, it came halfway up to her knee–and it had matted red-brown fur on its barrel-like body and short white legs with little black spots on them, and Sophie had never seen anything like it in her life.
I didn’t mind the dog in Crazy for You. That dog was instrumental to the plot; Crusie couldn’t tell Crazy for You without Katie the Dog.
I remember liking Kate’s dog, but I read Somebody Wonderful very early in my romance-reading life. Would I still like the ugly mutt as much today?
Botty must have heard his steps. The scruffy little mutt came careening down the stairs, a misshapen cannonball of a dog. He’d lurked up in the the top floor, probably hiding from the widow.
Mick put down the full basin and bent to scratch the dog’s remaining ear. Botty pushed at his hand with ecstatic wheezing growls.
Kate, you had me at “remaining ear,” and you cinched the deal with “wheezing growls.” Okay, I still love Botty. In a literary universe of ugly mutts, Botty out-uglies all of ’em. Botty is Teh Mutt.
But, what are they doing here, these dogs? Is it a “Must Love Dogs” kinda thing? I hope not, because that movie sucked. Suhhhcked. And the dog in that movie was named Mother Theresa — that’s what I call really reaching for a laugh.
I can understand giving your hero a dog, especially if said hero is the gruff silent type. Gotta show he has a heart, he’s capable of love. And if he can love a flatulent*, one-eared mutt, he’s bound to love our heroine.
But why do Crusie’s heroines need dogs? Except in Crazy for You, of course. That dog made sense.
I admit to placing a cat in my romance, and yes, he’s the heroine’s cat, but he’s only there to pounce on my hero’s balls in the middle of the night. I never bothered to turn the cat into a character. Was that a mistake?
Yes, I know: I have more questions than answers, but You Who Are Wise in this genre will, I’m sure, educate me.
D.
*I don’t remember for certain if Botty was flatulent, but Kate went out of her way to make him disagreeable. If he wasn’t flatulent, he should have been.
Lusty? Me?
Lillian Lust, AKA Raquel Welch, from Bedazzled
Gluttony I can understand. Low wrath? A methodological flaw in the survey. But high lust? Who’d a thunk.
| Greed: | Medium | |
| Gluttony: | High | |
| Wrath: | Low | |
| Sloth: | Medium | |
| Envy: | Very Low | |
| Lust: | Very High | |
| Pride: | Low |
The Seven Deadly Sins Quiz on 4degreez.com
Hat tip to Kris.
D.
To suck and suck not
Corwin checked in with me a week later. That hunk o’ married manflesh rolled his eyes at the patients in Reception, then took me by the elbow and guided me into one of my exam rooms.
“How’s business?”
I leaned on the motorcycle I keep in my exam room and ran my fingers through my hair. “If I have to suck ass fat from another peroxide-blonde fake-titted bimbo, I’m gonna — what? Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Nothing, Dax, nothing at all. Any leads?”
“Not a blessed one.”
He began pawing over my charts, his married eyes lingering over every last full color photo. I felt the blood rush to my head.
Those aren’t trophy ears hanging off my bandolier
Inspired by O’Brien, virally transmitted by Cochrane, I bring you the latest and strangest blog meme (excuse me, Dean — meem):
I am Dax Montana.
I ground my right heel into the dirtbag’s chest and made him eat my muzzle. I brought my left knee up into his groin, not full force, but hard enough to bruise. Figured he’d want something to remember our time together.
He had an eyeful now. I hoped he enjoyed it.
I used the pistol to probe his molars for cavities. “It’s not easy having a high center of gravity,” I said. “In fact, it’s a real handicap. If one of your officers came into the precinct with a broken arm, you wouldn’t stare at the cast, would you?”
He shook his head like a good little dirtbag. Corwin from Homicide chose that moment to poke his head in.
“Chief, do you have the file on Pluto Banks — oh, hi, Dax. Chief been getting randy again?”
“This is our private sexual harassment seminar.” I took out my pistol and wiped the barrel on the Chief’s face. “Which you just passed with flying colors, right?”
“Mm-hm,” Chief Larabell said while trying to look anywhere but at my decolletage.
“Now, why don’t you two tell me about Banks.”
The Chief got to his feet and brushed himself off. “Corwin, brief Montana, will you? I, ah, need to use the bathroom.”
After he left, I wiped my knee with the Chief’s cap. “Look at this. The leather is ruined. I wish that man would learn to control his bladder.”
Our Basket Case winner is . . .
jmc, if you want Basket Case, please email me (azureus at harborside dot com) with your snail mail addie, and I’ll take care of it tomorrow. If you don’t want it, let me know in the comments, and I’ll choose a different winner.
In honor of jmc, I’m gonna do her meme.