I shared a "Mousetrap" poem with you some months ago. I think. I'm pretty sure. So I wrote a part 2 to the poem.
Our moments have passed and the years have gone by
But still I find I’m intrigued by this Cocksure-ish Cat.
If he would but stay unmarried for the blink of an eye
I’m race him to the bedroom in six seconds flat
But this is a Feline who can’t be alone—
Thus I’m unable to allow him to make me his own.
My virtue has thwarted him time and again
As he sets to convince me it’s inevitable we’ll mate.
How could a passion as ours be considered a sin,
When it’s clear we’ve been marked by the Fickle Finger of Fate?
Oh, he’s persuasive and every glinting look beguiles.
I’m enchanted by the beast of his masculine wiles.
“Take me and kiss me,” he pleads against the curve of my lips;
His caress could cause a nun to recant to her vows.
I find I’m disabled, dishabille, and empty of quips,
Full of “yeses” instead of “back away nows.”
Good thing the faith of Christendom doesn’t depend upon me
For I find I’m ‘tween the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea.
Lies we have bantered, truths we have forsook;
We’re caught in the web we’ve created ourselves.
A tangled romance you’d find nowhere but in a book,
A love bartered in a circle of Hell.
Eternal Hope springs and refuses to wane
When I’m in the embrace of my favorite Bane.
Showing posts with label bad boys. Show all posts
Showing posts with label bad boys. Show all posts
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
Friday, August 10, 2007
Flight of the Innuendo
Admittedly I was a bit depressed to be leaving Virginia and all its fine, fine scenery--and it was a very sad, Paxil popping Hellion who checked onto her flight to Missouri. I had "C" boarding, and I talked to this charming fellow who talked incessantly about the last flight he took that got struck by lightening three times and nearly crashed the plane.
I chose not to sit next to him.
However, since it was Southwest, and it was "general seating", I looked for a place to sit. Around the mid-part of the plane, there were two cute guys sitting, with the seat between them--and being I love cute guys, I asked if I could sit there. The aisle seat one jumped up obligingly and I sat.
They were not chatty. Enter more depression. I was thinking fondly of my Y108 guy...and Mark the Merchant Marine...and I thumbed through my magazine as I was ignored. Finally while up in the air (after I ran out of magazine--damnit), I broke down and talked to the young one on my right. (The guy on my left was very unchatty. I thought, well, maybe he doesn't want to be bothered.) So the young one and I talk for about 15 minutes or so. We get our snack and drink; the guy on my left doesn't even get a drink. How can you not get a drink?
The guy on my left SO doesn't want to chat, he brings out a crossword puzzle to ignore me. So I keep bothering the youngun on my right. Then finally I notice Crossword Guy is struggling...and I see a clue I know. I lean over, run my hand down the section of the page, and say, "This one is 'Grisham'."
He looks at me. I know. I've broken the cardinal rule, right, but I figure, well, screw it. He'll change planes and never have to see me again. "No, really, it's Grisham. See." He does.
"Thank you." He scribbles it in. And then it was on. We worked the crossword puzzle together. I've never had more fun working a game in my life. At the end, we're stuck...and I say, "Well the answers are on 230."
He gives me a horrified look. "We can't CHEAT." You would have thought I asked him to kill somebody.
"Yes, you can."
But we didn't cheat. We finish; we revel in our brilliance...and then because there is another 20 minutes of flight, I say, "Hey, let's start the next one."
"No, that's too hard."
"Oh, come on, what are we going to do for the rest of this flight? We can at least try...and if it's as hard as you say, we'll cheat."
And boy, did we ever cheat! We cheated like four times in as many minutes within the start of the puzzle. I started giggling madly. "OMG, cheating's bad. Once you start cheating, you just can't quit doing it."
Crossword Guy gaped at me. "I can't believe you just said that out loud!"
I laughed again. "I don't care. It's not what it sounds like..."
"I know!..."
And so it was on. The Flight of the Innuendo. We tossed back and forth really bad puns for the rest of the flight...and he decided, once he realized I too was flying to St. Louis he would take the magazine and we'd finish it on the next flight. He followed me off the plane. "I'm keeping close to you. You're the other half of my brain."
I know. I laughed hysterically too at that.
I go to the bathroom; I return to call Jackie--and I promptly tell her about Jack, from Colonial Williamsburg. "He was the best thing about this trip!" I gush, because, well, he was. I get off the phone, and Crossword Guy says, "You didn't hear me, did you?" I shook my head. "I'm the best thing to happen to you on this trip." Oh, boy.
"You're the best thing to happen to me today. I was living in the past, you see...what are we going to do now to kill time?"
THEN our flight gets delayed. Yes, Fate says, "Hey flirt with this guy..." and I do...like mad. He buys me some food and a drink. I even spit on him--which I've really got to stop doing to guys. He calls his buddy--and says he'll be late...but he doesn't tell the truth. He doesn't say, "Because our flight has been delayed..." No. He says:
"I met this redhead on the plane." There is a pause as the friend asks a question, and I'm blatantly listening...and Crossword Guy's eyes flick over me in this rake-Once-Over, then he grins and goes, "Yeah." OMG, he just told that guy I was hot! I've never been hot in my life! "Gotta go, I'm busy," he says and hangs up. Then he shares a laugh with me. "That's going to tear him up."
More innuendos. We line up for our flight--because we obviously want to sit together. We're standing next to this cute little chicky-poo who suddenly says, "You guys are so friendly and cute! How long have you been married?"
I know. I laughed hysterically at that too.
Finally after exchanging a look with him, I say, "We're not married. I'm returning from vacation; and he's returning from business. We met on the last flight--I don't even know his name."
Chicky-poo gapes at us. "You're kidding! You guys acted totally married!"
Crossword Guy grins. "I told you my name was George Jetson." I roll my eyes with Chicky-poo.
Then Chicky-poo, Bless Her Heart, says, "Hey, you're Jeff!"--and points to his boarding pass. Yes! Finally!
"And you're Cathy," I say, because I noticed hers earlier...and then I had to reveal my name...which Jeff then made a Stripes reference, in regards to my name. Nice.
So Cathy, Jeff, and I sit in the last row of the plane and finish the crossword...and Jeff & I still flirt...and it's 10 pm (an hour and a half PAST when I was supposed to come in), and...Jeff helps me collect my luggage...well, he takes me to the luggage...and I'm on the phone with my ride...and he bids me farewell. *coughs*
Did I get his number? No. Did I give him my number? No.
I should be taken out and shot. Seriously.
I chose not to sit next to him.
However, since it was Southwest, and it was "general seating", I looked for a place to sit. Around the mid-part of the plane, there were two cute guys sitting, with the seat between them--and being I love cute guys, I asked if I could sit there. The aisle seat one jumped up obligingly and I sat.
They were not chatty. Enter more depression. I was thinking fondly of my Y108 guy...and Mark the Merchant Marine...and I thumbed through my magazine as I was ignored. Finally while up in the air (after I ran out of magazine--damnit), I broke down and talked to the young one on my right. (The guy on my left was very unchatty. I thought, well, maybe he doesn't want to be bothered.) So the young one and I talk for about 15 minutes or so. We get our snack and drink; the guy on my left doesn't even get a drink. How can you not get a drink?
The guy on my left SO doesn't want to chat, he brings out a crossword puzzle to ignore me. So I keep bothering the youngun on my right. Then finally I notice Crossword Guy is struggling...and I see a clue I know. I lean over, run my hand down the section of the page, and say, "This one is 'Grisham'."
He looks at me. I know. I've broken the cardinal rule, right, but I figure, well, screw it. He'll change planes and never have to see me again. "No, really, it's Grisham. See." He does.
"Thank you." He scribbles it in. And then it was on. We worked the crossword puzzle together. I've never had more fun working a game in my life. At the end, we're stuck...and I say, "Well the answers are on 230."
He gives me a horrified look. "We can't CHEAT." You would have thought I asked him to kill somebody.
"Yes, you can."
But we didn't cheat. We finish; we revel in our brilliance...and then because there is another 20 minutes of flight, I say, "Hey, let's start the next one."
"No, that's too hard."
"Oh, come on, what are we going to do for the rest of this flight? We can at least try...and if it's as hard as you say, we'll cheat."
And boy, did we ever cheat! We cheated like four times in as many minutes within the start of the puzzle. I started giggling madly. "OMG, cheating's bad. Once you start cheating, you just can't quit doing it."
Crossword Guy gaped at me. "I can't believe you just said that out loud!"
I laughed again. "I don't care. It's not what it sounds like..."
"I know!..."
And so it was on. The Flight of the Innuendo. We tossed back and forth really bad puns for the rest of the flight...and he decided, once he realized I too was flying to St. Louis he would take the magazine and we'd finish it on the next flight. He followed me off the plane. "I'm keeping close to you. You're the other half of my brain."
I know. I laughed hysterically too at that.
I go to the bathroom; I return to call Jackie--and I promptly tell her about Jack, from Colonial Williamsburg. "He was the best thing about this trip!" I gush, because, well, he was. I get off the phone, and Crossword Guy says, "You didn't hear me, did you?" I shook my head. "I'm the best thing to happen to you on this trip." Oh, boy.
"You're the best thing to happen to me today. I was living in the past, you see...what are we going to do now to kill time?"
THEN our flight gets delayed. Yes, Fate says, "Hey flirt with this guy..." and I do...like mad. He buys me some food and a drink. I even spit on him--which I've really got to stop doing to guys. He calls his buddy--and says he'll be late...but he doesn't tell the truth. He doesn't say, "Because our flight has been delayed..." No. He says:
"I met this redhead on the plane." There is a pause as the friend asks a question, and I'm blatantly listening...and Crossword Guy's eyes flick over me in this rake-Once-Over, then he grins and goes, "Yeah." OMG, he just told that guy I was hot! I've never been hot in my life! "Gotta go, I'm busy," he says and hangs up. Then he shares a laugh with me. "That's going to tear him up."
More innuendos. We line up for our flight--because we obviously want to sit together. We're standing next to this cute little chicky-poo who suddenly says, "You guys are so friendly and cute! How long have you been married?"
I know. I laughed hysterically at that too.
Finally after exchanging a look with him, I say, "We're not married. I'm returning from vacation; and he's returning from business. We met on the last flight--I don't even know his name."
Chicky-poo gapes at us. "You're kidding! You guys acted totally married!"
Crossword Guy grins. "I told you my name was George Jetson." I roll my eyes with Chicky-poo.
Then Chicky-poo, Bless Her Heart, says, "Hey, you're Jeff!"--and points to his boarding pass. Yes! Finally!
"And you're Cathy," I say, because I noticed hers earlier...and then I had to reveal my name...which Jeff then made a Stripes reference, in regards to my name. Nice.
So Cathy, Jeff, and I sit in the last row of the plane and finish the crossword...and Jeff & I still flirt...and it's 10 pm (an hour and a half PAST when I was supposed to come in), and...Jeff helps me collect my luggage...well, he takes me to the luggage...and I'm on the phone with my ride...and he bids me farewell. *coughs*
Did I get his number? No. Did I give him my number? No.
I should be taken out and shot. Seriously.
Sunday, August 05, 2007
P.S. Weekend Update
I am *so* drunk.
How many of my stories have started with these infamous four words? Not nearly enough. It's 2:45 am, and I've had at least 4 rum runners (none of which I paid for), and I have to say:
1. I love Merchant Marines. *rebel yell* Go, sailors!
2. I love 108 FM. I think there was a "point" something too, but devil if I remember what his shirt said. I wasn't faced that way when we danced. *cough* Yes, danced. Damn, he was pretty. Dark eyes with killer lashes; short dark hair; cute, cute, cute!
3. Yeah, for the Vin Diesel look alike. Hell, it might have been Vin...but if so, he wasn't nearly as persuasive as 108 Guy. (NOT that was 108 Guy was totally persuasive. You can take the girl out of the church, but you can't take the church out of the girl. *pause* Damnit. Because if you COULD....)
4. I could swear I had four offers this evening. *moue pout* Yes, there was a blonde. He said his name was Chris...not that I believe anyone, really, let's be real, who gives their real name? Okay, I did, but I'd had a BUNCH of rum runners and I'm from several states over. Like they'll Google me. Ha! Merchant Marine guy had to ask me my name for a second time. *tsk, tsk* (He was multi-tasking.)
This was the best bar ever! Bar Norfolk! The line was long; the rum runners were crap, but fuck, did I have a blast! Buy me another round!
Listen to 108. He rocked. I mean, cute little Jack guy from Williamburg was HOT, but this one definitely gave him a run for his money. *thinks hard* *continues thinking hard*
Yeah, they were both damned hot. They are going in novels as soon as I sober up.
Enjoy this incriminating evidence while it lasts. I'll delete it as soon as I sober up.
Love, Hellion
How many of my stories have started with these infamous four words? Not nearly enough. It's 2:45 am, and I've had at least 4 rum runners (none of which I paid for), and I have to say:
1. I love Merchant Marines. *rebel yell* Go, sailors!
2. I love 108 FM. I think there was a "point" something too, but devil if I remember what his shirt said. I wasn't faced that way when we danced. *cough* Yes, danced. Damn, he was pretty. Dark eyes with killer lashes; short dark hair; cute, cute, cute!
3. Yeah, for the Vin Diesel look alike. Hell, it might have been Vin...but if so, he wasn't nearly as persuasive as 108 Guy. (NOT that was 108 Guy was totally persuasive. You can take the girl out of the church, but you can't take the church out of the girl. *pause* Damnit. Because if you COULD....)
4. I could swear I had four offers this evening. *moue pout* Yes, there was a blonde. He said his name was Chris...not that I believe anyone, really, let's be real, who gives their real name? Okay, I did, but I'd had a BUNCH of rum runners and I'm from several states over. Like they'll Google me. Ha! Merchant Marine guy had to ask me my name for a second time. *tsk, tsk* (He was multi-tasking.)
This was the best bar ever! Bar Norfolk! The line was long; the rum runners were crap, but fuck, did I have a blast! Buy me another round!
Listen to 108. He rocked. I mean, cute little Jack guy from Williamburg was HOT, but this one definitely gave him a run for his money. *thinks hard* *continues thinking hard*
Yeah, they were both damned hot. They are going in novels as soon as I sober up.
Enjoy this incriminating evidence while it lasts. I'll delete it as soon as I sober up.
Love, Hellion
Wednesday, July 18, 2007
Continuation of Yesterday's Obsession
2 1/2 days until Harry's Fate is revealed. I had a long, exhaustive talk with the UPS guy about it. I think he's relieved he is not delivering my book on Saturday. Well, he might be sorry; I'll most likely kiss whoever delivers it.
Because Terri has no idea of the HAWTNESS of the characters we're talking about, I thought I'd post a few pictures. Seriously, the woman should obsess more like normal folk.
Here is a pic of Lucius Malfoy, or as I suspect my normally very practical friend is calling him in her mind: Lucious. I think there might a bit of the S&M about her and she doesn't know it, what with her fascination of his bitchy expression and big stick.
Me, I'm no better. I have a fascination with men old enough to have technically fathered me. *sighs* Or ones I could have almost given birth to. It's creepy in either direction.
Sirius Black:
But admittedly I preferred Gary Oldman in The Scarlett Letter:
Yeah, I think he's far hotter here too...but this was about 10 years ago. Give the guy some slack.
And then there is Snape. Not only does Alan Rickman have that delicious growl and snotty way of speaking, but...well, there's not really a but...the voice is truly enough, but the heavy-lidded eyelids that make you think of bedroom-matters even as he's obviously sneering at you is too delicious to pass up.
And because I couldn't resist, mate, I will include this final Snape shot I found on the net:
So...does this help the "jumpable" question from below? Oh, and I didn't include pics of Harry and Ron because all their pictures looked incestuous in comparison with these guys.
Because Terri has no idea of the HAWTNESS of the characters we're talking about, I thought I'd post a few pictures. Seriously, the woman should obsess more like normal folk.
Here is a pic of Lucius Malfoy, or as I suspect my normally very practical friend is calling him in her mind: Lucious. I think there might a bit of the S&M about her and she doesn't know it, what with her fascination of his bitchy expression and big stick.
Me, I'm no better. I have a fascination with men old enough to have technically fathered me. *sighs* Or ones I could have almost given birth to. It's creepy in either direction.
Sirius Black:
But admittedly I preferred Gary Oldman in The Scarlett Letter:
Yeah, I think he's far hotter here too...but this was about 10 years ago. Give the guy some slack.
And then there is Snape. Not only does Alan Rickman have that delicious growl and snotty way of speaking, but...well, there's not really a but...the voice is truly enough, but the heavy-lidded eyelids that make you think of bedroom-matters even as he's obviously sneering at you is too delicious to pass up.
And because I couldn't resist, mate, I will include this final Snape shot I found on the net:
So...does this help the "jumpable" question from below? Oh, and I didn't include pics of Harry and Ron because all their pictures looked incestuous in comparison with these guys.
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