Anyway, if you are all ready, without further ado her name is…Dun dun dun…

Asterisk Five

That’s right! She will still be written as: *****

However when verbally speaking of her name you hereby have my permission to call her by, Asterisk Five or just Asterisk if you want to go on a first name basis.

You’re welcome.

(someone have the straight jacket handy?)

Reblogged from sunshinefromshadowsdotcom:

Aw shucks. This morning I woke up nauseated and feeling generally sorry for myself. Then I checked my email and saw that the wonderful and talented Jess over at Waiting on a Word had nominated me for the Super Sweet Blogging Award and my day was saved. Sure, I still feel like I could vomit at any moment, but I would be retching with pride.

Read more… 632 more words

BEFORE(please get over the fact that I’m on the toilet and just look at my face already, asshole):

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AFTER:

What do YOU think? Should I continue on the anti-aging wagon OR should I let the shit wear off and wait til I’m a little further past 30? After all..my doctor DID cut me off until August! Ahahahahaha!

Comment below!

GO BUY IT!

Second edition e-book now available on Amazon for the reduced price of $4.99. Paperbacks will be available and listed on 5/30/2013. Stay tuned.

You’re welcome.

MEOW!

SO I figure what better way to showcase their talents (and hot bodies) than a contest! I want YOU all to vote in the comments section on who you think the bigger hottie is and why.

GET ON IT!

Vote from now until Sunday June 2, 2013. I will announce the winner on Monday June 3rd. The winning hottie will get to use the backdrop of my blog to promote their band for two weeks.

My first contestant is:

Marc, the lead singer from band, Root. This long haired-hottie totally encumbers that 1990′s rocker vibe, MEOW:

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My second contestant is:

Carli, the lead singer from the band Bridal Crash. This tattooed chunk of man meat can be seen sporting skinny jeans! DROOL!

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SOOO-ladies and gay men, Which one of these hot young studs would you rather have on top of you? That’s right! Who’s hair do you want to get your fingers stuck in?

For the straight men reading this post, who’s music would you rather download? And…why are you STILL reading this post anyway, that may be a question you should probably ask yourself in the near future.

Let the games begin!!!!!!

This is probably the HOTTEST post I have ever created and I’m not even in it! HA! Okay, one more time…CHECK OUT THESE HUNKS!

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Will it be Marc, the Scottish boy in the Irish band?

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OR
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Will it be Carli the Brit?

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….I have never been more inspired to leave this continent.

PLEASE DON’T FORGET TO SHARE THIS POST AFTER VOTING!!! <3

“It’s not my fault.” the book signing will be taking place at Gatsby Books in Long Beach.

That’s right! Meet the author!

5535 E. Spring St.
Long Beach, CA 90808
(562) 208-5862

Thursday June 13, 2013 at 7pm.

FREE WINE AND DONUTS!!!

Mark your calendars!

Read the story HERE

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If you enjoyed what you just read, become active in the authors warped community:

*Don’t forget to “LIKE” the “It’s Not My Fault.” Facebook page!*

*Leave a comment below*

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As it turns out, there is one thing you gain by losing everything. The power of having nothing left to lose.

It all started roughly 3 months ago on this social network site you may or may not be familiar with, called Facebook. It was Valentine’s Day and I was online feeling sorry for myself and crying over the then 6 month loss of my little Sticky Bun when it happened.

A new message from my old school pal, Grim. This was odd. Though he had accepted my friend request years prior we had never actually chatted. As a matter of fact he never replied to the message I had sent him at the time of the request.

“Did you really go to school with me?” it said

Now let me tell you the first thing about Grim. He is married. Though he is not the first married man I have had a relationship with he is by far the most memorable and I will tell you why.

Within a two-week period, without any physical contact, I had probably one of the most intimate relationships of my life. As a matter of fact, I am completely over Donut. Can you believe that? Neither can I.

I think the next thing Grim said to me was something about how hot I was followed by an obvious attempt to find out if I was single. I found this rather odd considering his marital status and punched on that for a bit. It took a few good tries before he confessed, “She is great, we just haven’t had sex since…”

Ahhh here we go, another one of these.. I must confess, I was bored and lonely and had nothing better to do on such a holiday so I played along. Yes, I am sure I earned this heart-break by going after someone else’s man, but I am not a big believer of monogamy plus the type of relationship I want wouldn’t be considered “traditional” anyway.

I know what you are thinking, and I don’t care. Back to my story:

Grim and I shared the same warped sense of humor, much like I did with Donut. Except where Donut was an insecure mess, Grim was an overly egotistical control freak. I found it damn hot and totally intense. Why pretty much my whole life, I have yearned to have a powerful man control me. Actually, this was the first time it ever came close to happening. I was in!

MEOW!

That’s right! One time I even called Grim a “little bitch” as a joke and he totally flipped out. It was magical. Or should I say “Magickal”? Grim also introduced me to his spirituality of Thelema. This was quite the timing considering I had just started soul-searching of my own.

As a matter of fact he shared all his deep passions with me. He started a private chat room and sent me videos of himself playing guitar and singing. In return I made him private videos of my over-the-top art. We would text all day long and message until the wee hours of the morning. It was almost mystical how I would run into things the following day that related perfectly to our conversations from the night before.

Maybe a day or two into our chats, Grim noticed me starting to pull back and made a comment about how he could tell I was starting to like him. Grim is probably one of the smartest men I have ever known. Also, probably one of the most fucked up. He began to feel insecure too and started to show off some of his work to me in an attempt to impress me. What Grim didn’t get, even though I’m considered a “hot chick” on the outside, I’m not on the inside. There’s not a fake bone in my beautiful, stretch marked body. I could care less about his success.

Unfortunately, what Grim had on the inside did not reflect who he was pretending to be on the outside.

Not at all…but that is an entirely different story.

It was worth it.

Well, much like many of my stories do, it all started one very hung over morning. I needed out of the house and I definitely needed a drink. So, I did what any whore would do when looking to get her buzz on. I called my fellow Fun Girl, Bassten!

Bassten was ready for a day of drinking herself, she just had to finish one of her law school class papers and we would be off. I stumbled my foggy brain into the bathroom, curled my bleach blonde extensions and finger painted my face. Once I looked perfectly whoreish I was on my way.

A half hour later, I parked in front of Bassten’s apartment complex and went to the door to get my friend. She smiled when she saw me.

“Hey *****, look at you! You look amazing!” she lied.
“No I don’t! I feel like shit!” I complained.
“What? You are freakin’ beautiful. How dare you say that about my friend.” she insisted, “Look outside, what a great day. Can you believe this? We live in southern California, everyday is a dream. Are we livin’ the dream or what? I mean come on! How lucky are we’s? ‘Livin’ the dream, it’s no big deal!’”
“I need a drink!”
“I have an apple martini right here!” Bassten said, opening her fridge, “You start on this while I finish up my homework.”
“What? You haven’t finished yet?” This was my day and here Bassten was fogging it up with book work. Did this bitch not understand that I needed her FULL attention?!?

A boring hour later and several downed martinis we were off: to the cantina. There we drank most of the day away. Just as it was starting to get dark we headed out to another bar.

It was shot time!

“Let me buy you ladies a round!” said some random dude in a pair of jeans a preppy t-shirt.

I always like free drinks.

Although he was mostly average and pretty blah, we accepted. This probably was not the best plan because this guy now thought he had bought him self a pass to some pussy.

“Hi, I’m phillip.” he introduced himself, “You ladies come here often?”

What a tool.

“We are ready for another round.” I instructed, rolling my eyes.

Phillip listened and headed back to the bar. At least he was a useful tool.

“Dat guy is a total Douche!” Bassten complained.
“Ya I know, he seems to like you though, and he’s buying us drinks.”
“We need ta get outta here soon. I have class in da mornin’. You Okay to drive? You look pretty fucked up.”
“I’m perfectly fine to drive!” I slurred in response, as I knocked down the chair next to me.

Just then Phillip returned catching the tail end of the conversation, “I would be happy to drive you ladies home,” he offered.
“I can’t leave my car,” I whined.
“I can drive you back in your car and have one of my buddies follow.”

This plan was good enough for me. We all piled into my car and Phillip courteously drove us the few miles to Bassten’s condo. Only one problem, his friends were not following behind. Phillip assured us that his friends would be on their way soon to pick him up and asked if he could wait inside. Bassten reluctantly agreed.

By the time we pulled up to Bassten’s, my buzz was well into overdrive. I didn’t want to go to bed yet! The night was still young. So, I did what any shit faced, drunkard would do in my situation. I grabbed the water sprayer attachment from the sink, stretched out the two foot long hose and started a water fight with my friends. That’s right I put the water on full blast and aimed it right into Bassten’s perfect face!

Bassten screamed.

This was hilarious.

“*****! Turn the water off! You almost got my homework wet! I have been working on that all week!”

Did she just say homework? I was fucking pissed at that homework and all the time it had cost me from my friend earlier. That homework was going down. I reached the hose over and directed it at the pile of papers on the counter. Bassten did not like this. Actually she wanted to kill me. I didn’t care, I already had another idea!

“Let’s go streaking!” I shouted.

Faster than the sting from a popped blister on a herpe it happened.

My shirt was flung off and so was my bra. I hightailed it out of the apartment while removing my pants. I discarded them as well, before once again, flinging my panties out of my hand like a rubber band. Fully naked, I ran down those dark streets with my body fat flopping up and down bouncing off itself.

“Livin’ the dream! Wahooooo! YAY! OWE! The dream! YIppee!” my voice echoed down the empty streets.

Once I realized I was all alone it wasn’t as much fun anymore. I walked around the neighborhood one more time and collected my clothes. After I had retrieved my grass stained belongings, I could see Bassten’s lights were now off in her apartment.

Bored and lonely I decided to go home. I crawled into my car and was just about to put my key in the ignition when it happened.

Lights.

Two patrol cars pulled up next to me. An old, fat officer got out and approached my window.

“Step out of the car please.” he instructed.

“Why?” I asked, hesitant to obey.

“We received a call that someone was running around the neighborhood nude. Was that you?”

“No! That wasn’t me,” I said exiting the car.

The police officer looked down at my legs.

“Why are your pants inside out, then?” he asked, obviously not believing me.

“Oh, I am staying the night at my friend’s house here. I threw them on in a hurry to come out and look for my cell phone,” I lied.

He still didn’t believe me.

“Which apartment?”

“112,” I told him.

“Okay. I will go knock on the door and if that’s really your friend and she can confirm your story I will let you go.”

PHEW! I was saved.

A minute later the officer returned, “Give me your hands,” he instructed.

“What?” I yelled out in shock.

“The man who answered said he doesn’t know you. You are being arrested for indecent exposure.”

“The man? That’s my friend Bassten’s pl…..”

Oh snap! Phillip! That prick! I wasn’t going down that easy. I needed a plan.

“Officer, I find you really attractive. I would love to go out sometime!” I lied.

“That’s not going to work, mam.”

Damn it!

I cried the entire way down town. They took my picture and locked me up in the drunk tank until sunrise. Finally, I was released. I left the holding cell almost blinded by the makeup that was covering my contact lenses from my tears. Once on the street, I realized I had no clue where I was at. In my five-inch heels, swollen eyes, now-dread-locked hair, halter top with out a bra and my jeans right-side-out, I headed west. At least I think I did.

It was like doing the walk of shame, only minus a strangers load in your crotch.

The road was very hilly, I did not have my phone on me nor my purse. Just a copy of my mug shot and my car keys. I had no idea where Bassten lived from the police station, all I could remember was her street name. I am sure I frightened many morning joggers when asking them for directions. My face and neck were rapidly reddening with sun burn.

It was almost 3 hours later when I found my car and I had never been so happy in my life. I wasn’t even this happy after that last time I lost it.

Then, right there, just a few feet from it were my panties, in a ball. Quickly I reached down and grabbed them before putting them into my pocket.

Once home I got onto the computer and immediately messaged Red. She laughed for probably an hour before coming over to rescue me with Taco Bell.

As it turned out, Bassten never even heard the police knock on her door that night and had just assumed I was sleeping it off in my car. Phillip was not a gentlemen and thought that by having me out of the picture he would have a chance with Bassten. He was not lucky that night, Bassten gave him a blanket and instructed him to sleep on the couch before going into her bedroom and locking the door. When she awoke the next morning he was gone.

Her homework never did dry out and she had to re-do the entire paper before turning it in late.

She didn’t talk to me for a month.

AND now that you have read my dumb story feel free to go drool over Marc like I am! Enjoy!

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If you enjoyed what you just read, become active in the authors warped community:

*Don’t forget to “LIKE” the “It’s Not My Fault.” Facebook page!*

*Leave a comment below*

*Buy the Book!*

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*Stay updated on Google+*

Singing.

Not just any singing, but the off-key bellowing to the beat of an African drum.

What the hell?

I opened the door to my stairway and ventured down to the once vacant apartment below. The door was opened and inside was a black man with a dog.

“Why, hello!” he said once he saw me just standing there blankly staring at him.
“Oh. Hi, I’m *****. You must be my new neighbor, welcome.”
“Thank you!” the man said, “I am Benny B.”
“Would you like to come up for a drink, Benny B?” I asked him.
“Sure.”

Benny B was the blackest man with the whitest voice I had ever heard.

Happily, he followed us upstairs and joined our party only stopping at the top of the stairway, curious with what he was seeing.

“What the hell is THAT?” he asked me, pointing.

“Oh, that’s Gertrude, my mannequin. I keep her there to scare off burglars,” I said. I had bought the stupid thing years prior from a stranger for $10. What can I say? I like weird shit.

After a few hours, my new neighbor pulled out a pipe and offered us some hash. We all sat around my glass table and had a little pow wow.

I stood up to pour myself another gallon of grape poison when it happened.

BONK!

Benny B’s head fell face-first, flat onto the table, he was out cold.

“Oh, my god!” Shelly screamed, “That dude is dead!”

Lana went running over and grabbed Benny’s wrist. There was still a pulse. I reached my hand out in front of his face and could feel his breath.

“He’s fine, Shelly,” I said, “Obviously, he is a light weight!”

Both gals agreed with my observation and we all had a good laugh at my new neighbors expense. Three chicks could out party this guy. What a pussy!

We left Benny there pretty much all evening. More friends came and went. We all continued to hang out around the man like he wasn’t even there. Eventually, a small puddle of drool started to form under his mouth.

It had began to get late, the sun was close to rising and I wanted my apartment back, but still Benny wasn’t coming to. He was snoring along on my breakfast nook.

“Ugh you guys,” I complained, “Benny really needs to go home! I’m tired.”
“Just leave him there,” Lana suggested.
“No way, Lana! I don’t know this dude! He could be a rapist! Seriously, he needs to go home!”
With that I reached my arm under Bennys left pit, “Help me you whores!” I screamed.

Lana grabbed Benny under his right arm and together we lifted him up. We dragged him to the stair way as Shelly opened the door up for us. Benny B was a lot heavier than we had anticipated or perhaps, we were a lot drunker.

Faster than the regret from fucking a hooker without a condom, it happened.

Simultaneously, Lana and I lost both of our grips on Benny and he went flailing face first down the flight of stairs. I lunged towards his feet but it was too late. We just stood there and watched in horror as Benny’s face thumped down each new step. In the fall, he took out Gertrude. There were black and white body parts bouncing everywhere. When he finally reached the bottom, his body was stopped by the door. His head hit so hard that it shattered the glass in the frame. Shards of glass flew all over him creating tiny cuts.

It was like a firework display of blood. When it was all over, it looked like we had dismembered a zebra.

“Oh my God, Lana! You killed Benny!” I screamed, half upset but still half laughing.
“Shit!” she yelled. The three of us went running down the steps. I slipped on a plastic hand and landed on Benny’s back.

Shelly helped me up as Lana grabbed Benny’s wrist. Still a pulse. Phew!

“Let’s get him in his apartment and to bed,” Shelly advised us.
“Grab his legs, Shelly! I don’t want to drop him again!” I screamed.

The three of us had Benny stretched out, mid-air, by his limbs, I reached over and opened the door to his apartment.

All I saw next was a mound of black fur flying towards me.

WHAM!

Benny’s dog jumped on top of me. The force knocked us all to the ground. I could hear Benny’s head “clunk” as it hit the pavement below.

“Get this fucking dog off of me!” I screamed.

Shelly kicked him hard in his face with her five-inch platform boot. That bitch was powerful, for a stick figure! The dog shreaked before cowering back inside the apartment.

Eventually, we managed to drag Benny’s bleeding body back inside and placed him in his bed, just barely. That’s when I made mention of the ever-bleeding cuts covering his limp and swelling body to my friends.

Though, he was still breathing, his chest was moving up and down and he was wheezing a little.

“What are we going to do about all this blood?” Lana asked me, looking concerned.

We needed a plan.

Quickly, I ran into the bathroom and came out with a roll of toilet paper. I gave a few torn squares to both of my friends.

“Like this!” I said proudly, pulling off tiny bits of the ass tissue and applying them to Benny’s wounds like he was the victim of a bad shave.

After about five minutes we had dressed all of Benny’s sores. He looked like a confetti-ed mummy.

Perfect.

There was just one thing missing. Benny B looked lonely in his bed all alone and half dead. I decided that he could use a cuddle buddy, that’s right!

A lady.

In a rage of drunken laughter, I went back to my stairwell and retrieved the larger pieces of Gertrude. I was too toasted to reassemble her so I placed the bloodied mannequin limbs in his bed, all around his slowly chilling body. When I was sure he was cozy, I covered him up with his blanket and tucked the corners into the mattress. Snug as a bug in a rug.

I am a very nurturing person.

Shelly made sure to lock his apartment door, securely, behind us.

It was about one in the afternoon the next day, when I finally awoke. My friends were gone and I had the headache from hell. I reached over to my nightstand, grabbed a bottle of water and began chugging. As I was consuming my life juice, bits and pieces of the night began flashing into my brain.

HOLY SHIT!

I threw on my robe and ran down stairs to check on my neighbor. His lights were still off, I began knocking on his door. His dog started growling at me but Benny didn’t answer. Continuously, I pounded away for a good fifteen minutes (just like I wish a man would do to me). Finally, I tried the door handle…DAMN THAT SHELLY! It was still locked.

I stumbled back up to my apartment and discovered, on my table, the piece of paper that Benny had used to write his phone number on for me earlier in the evening. The numbers were half smeared off from his drool. Still, I could make them out. I picked up my phone and dialed, no answer. I called again. Probably, I called seven hundred times. Nothing.

OMG!

We killed Benny! I was going to prison!

I tried calling him some more, still no answer. I debated leaving him a voice mail but I didn’t want to leave evidence for the police…GERTRUDE! She was still in his apartment!

In a panick, I picked up my phone and dialed Shelly, “Shelly, I think we killed Benny!”
“What? We didn’t kill anyone you stupid, crazy cunt. I’m sleeping.”

CLICK

Bitch hung up on me, I dialed again, it went straight to voice mail. She had turned off her phone! I decided to call Lana, Shelly would pay for this later.

“Hello?” Lana answered.
“Oh my God, Lana! Benny isn’t answering his door!”
“What? Who?”
“Benny! The guy we almost killed last night! I think we killed him, Lana! I think he is dead!”
“What?”
“When he fell down the stairs!”
There was silence followed by soft giggling, “Oh, ya. I forgot all about that. I bet he’s hurting today.”
“This isn’t funny! We are going to prison for murder!”
“Oh Honey, he was alive when we left him. I am sure he is just sleeping it off,” Lana assured me.
“No Lana! I went down and pounded on his door! I have been calling him all morning!”
“Calm down, *****. Everything will be OK. I have to go, I’m driving.”
“NO YOU CANT GO! You have to come over and help me…”

CLICK

Great, I was on my own.

I closed all the blinds in my apartment, poured myself a shot and prayed. I prayed all day long even though I don’t believe in Jebus. Benny never came out. I debated calling the police or an ambulance but then I knew for sure they would know it was me.

Two days came and passed and still no view of Benny nor any changes in his door or curtains. I was sitting alone at night drinking just waiting for the smell of Benny’s rotting corpse to make its way upstairs.

Finally, on the third day there was a knock on my door. It was the police, I just knew it. I debated trying to escape out the back but had seen enough TV to know that my apartment was already surrounded. With wine in hand I opened my front door to surrender.

It was Benny.

Scraped, scabbed and with knots on his forehead, even, he had bruises. I didn’t even know that black people could get bruises. I grabbed him and hugged him as tight as I could, never in my life had I been so happy to see someone. Not even the ice cream man. There he was, my prison savior.

“I am so glad you are okay, Benny! I have been knocking and calling you for days.”
“Ya, I heard you but I have had the worst migraine. What the hell happened to me? I couldn’t get out of bed for days and I even had to call out of work. I feel like I fell down a flight of stairs.”

“Oh Benny, I have no idea! You might have! You smoked that shit and then went crazy. We all tried to get you to lay down but you insisted on going home. There was a loud crash but by the time I checked you were already gone. I almost called you an ambulance, but I wasn’t sure if they would take your insurance,” I lied.

“I’m so glad that you didn’t! I think I tried to shave my body because I was covered in cuts and I even put little pieces of toilet paper all over myself.”

“No way Benny, that’s scary!” I said, pretending shock.

“I will never smoke that hash again, I bought it off a new dealer. Wont use him again for sure. Anyway, I need to get going. I just wanted to apologize to you. That’s not the way I usually behave and I’m ashamed for my actions.”

“Oh, no problem, Benny! No hard feelings at all. You are welcome back anytime!”

“Thank you. I appreciate it. It’s gonna be a little while before I drink again, you can believe that,” Benny promised.

We both laughed as I escorted my new friend out. Just as he was walking away he turned back to me, “There is just one part I can’t understand.”

“What’s that, Benny B?”

“Your mannequin was in bed with me,” he confessed.

“I don’t know Benny, you were quite insistent on taking her for some reason…” I lied, choking back raging laughter.

“Please don’t tell anyone about that, okay. I promise I’m not some kind of pervert.”

I winked at him, “It’s our little secret.”

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If you enjoyed what you just read, become active in the authors warped community:

*Don’t forget to “LIKE” the “It’s Not My Fault.” Facebook page!*

*Leave a comment below*

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