This is probably just envy talking, but there is a small part of me that is glad I am not rich.
Granted, it’s not a LARGE part, because I relish in daydreaming (and asking others) about having an endless supply of money. 392 more words
Anyone who’s read a few of my older posts will know that, over the summer, I finished a draft of my mystery, tentatively titled They Called Her La Llorona. 359 more words
This is number 99, yo! I was sitting here thinking of what I was going to do for these last couple arbitrarily designated posts. Number 100 is going to be something kind of personal, so I figured that I’d do something I’ve wanted to do for a while on this post. 1,157 more words
Pickup Artistry is the process of manipulating women into putting out through use of bullshit and a wing-man. The process involves buying drinks for a woman, lying to her, exploiting her vulnerabilities and having a group of meat-heads run interference on her annoying friends who have the unmitigated gall to try to protect their drunk friend from potential rapists. 1,098 more words
With Miss P we knew her name instantly. Well, there was one false start, where I had settled on a name–Alexa–that just wasn’t right. Funny to think, because back then I think we were set on Lexington/Lex for a boy, and so I tried to switch that up to a girl’s name, but it was just too cerebral and not right. 674 more words