100 Words

[annaswirls]

haha!

you saw, I am guessing, the commercial for Girls Gone Wild where they have chicks floating around in zero g in panties (Hmm. I am guessing bras are pretty useless in zero g)

I snorted my seagrams cooler right out my nose, it was pretty damn hilarious...

One last thing…and then follows the platitude, the reason for living, the happy go crappy bullshit that you have come to know and adore. Eat your peas, wipe the seat, too much will make you blind, you know the drill.

Ever read Little Women? The book should be renamed We’re Scared of Our Young Girls. Yes, we have sexual thoughts, we are selfish, we want to draw and ride horses only because we get our rocks off masturbating on their backs. I would like zero gravity to experiment with while French-kissing another.

They should have included that in the book.

 

[clutching_calliope]

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[champagne1982]

Lol, no, I thought I was being original here....haven't seen Girls Gone Wild commercial. I used to get this great show called "Wild On..." though. No zero gravity there, either. Damn.

(Next time share the drinks, you...)

You can still get Wild On on Spike TV. --- yes, it's more than just CSI...

 

[tungtied2u]

Music makes me ageless. Timeless. Frank Sinatra in fedora, martini in one hand, cig in the other singing "I Get a Kick Out of You'. Or the Beatle's send me spinning down to Strawberry Fields in an LSD induced haze, where all I need is LOVE. Meanwhile Sade gives me her sultry coke induced smile, purring "Your Love is King', then things start to swing with the Duke as I get on the A train....music makes the ride so much more enjoyable and my ghosts so much more bearable. Both go with me everywhere.

 

[Tzara]

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[vampiredust]

Am I an alien or something?

I think I must give off negative energy or something. Everytime I walk past people, they stop whatever they're doing and stare at me as if I'm some kind of loon. I know I'm odd but I find it strange behaviour. Women are they worst. Some will cross the road, others will put on their sunglasses. Jeez. Occasionally some people will whisper. I'd like to hear what they're saying one of these days. Maybe it'll be something good, maybe something bad.

Hopefully, they will all stop this strangeness and leave me alone. I feel like an animal.

God that pisses me off

 

[Tzara]

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[flyguy69]

I dreamt this morning about someone I used to work for—I'll call her Joan.

It was one of those dreams. Joan was just a couple years older and I thought she was really hot. So anyway, in this dream we're at the office working late and she asks if I can drive her home because her car is in the shop. I say yes, and you can probably guess the rest.
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You adjusted her timing belt?

 

[EriAliSaa]

Morning After

Seemingly cleaved,
Chiseled from marble,
A great masters work.

The draw so irresistable.
A touch,
Brings a knowing smile.

Cocky bastard.
A kiss,
A taste,
A bite,
A pinch.

It likes,
Who cares.
Thick wavy hair,
Pulling it down,
Bringing it near.

Pretty package.
Pretty empty package.
Adonis in looks,
Worthy of time,
It is not.

Hazy thoughts,
Long ago last night.
Light through a window,
A door,
A farewell.
A pray for forgotfulness.

Small capsule,
Cool liquid,
Sigh.
Die it,
More like it.

Shiny red orb,
Cranberry lips.
Crackling echoes,
Deafing destruction.
Stark white core,
Match of those that exposed it.

Don't you hate the morning after?

 

[EriAliSaa]

Including title I think that is 100 words.

 

[Tzara]

You adjusted her timing belt?

No, just checked her points and spark.

 

[clutching_calliope]

Life According to Mars

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[Tzara]

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[clutching_calliope]

Intersections

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[Tzara]

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[Tzara]

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[Tzara]

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[clutching_calliope]

Excerpt and Exits

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[Tzara]

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[clutching_calliope]

Sexual Harassment

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[Tzara]

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[clutching_calliope]

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[Tzara]

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[clutching_calliope]

The Difference Between Prose and Poetry, Live Action

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[Tzara]

I like Senna’s thread – prose is 90% writer, 10% reader. Which goes to show that as readers we are pretty fucking lazy sitting there with our books and remote controls, fast forwarding through the descriptions that took a writer four days to create, one day for her editor to tear her a new asshole, and another week to rewrite the bastard so you can skip to the ending, find out whodunit.

This thing is only 90 words today. I’m counting on you to fill in the other 10 percent. Lazyass.

Now that is pretty fucking funny, darlin'. My ten words.