Poor Choice of Words (2)

27 Apr

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Ring of Fire.”

If my memory serves me correctly, I can only offer as a response to this day’s prompt with the following.
The reason it is my only response is, when I heard of this,
I laughed so hard it has burned into my memory and blocks any other possibility.


The estate of Johnny Cash turned down a request from an advertising company
to use one of my personal favourites of his recordings,
“Ring Of Fire”, in an advertising campaign.

The product to be advertised?

A haemorrhoid cream!

Poor Choice of Words (1 of a possible series)

25 Apr

I spotted a gaffe like this in today’s newspaper. It reminded me of this one. As I (at the moment) can’t be bothered getting up and re-finding today’s gaffe, I’m posting this now, and will follow up with today’s one later on. In the meantime…

On Sunday November 9, 2014, Rotorua’s Daily Post newspaper and the NZ Herald both carried this story:

Girl Suffers Serious Injuries After Being Kicked by a Horse
An 8-year old girl in Tauranga who received serious head injuries after being kicked in the head by a horse underwent surgery at Starship Hospital.

A Starship Hospital spokesman said on Sunday the girl was in a stable condition.

(Wonder how her parents felt on reading that.)

How to “Burn” Your Hubby*

24 Apr 1 ready for food to be added

* and destroy kitchen equipment.

A five-part series of instructions…with notes and photographs of evidence

How to “Burn” Hubby p’t 1

  1. Decide to assist in preparing for cooking the evening meal
  2. Choose to prep for cooking the quickest vege option—frozen mixed vegetables
  3. Prep the Pyrex jug
  4. Prep the wax paper ready to be used to cover the veges.
  5. Tear off the roll a square of waxed paper, fold it in four—wax surface inside
  6. Mould it over the base of the jug

1 mould  the wax paper 1 ready for food to be added

7. Place it inside the jug, ready for veges to be added. Place in obvious sight.

How to “Burn” Hubby p’t 2

Leave hubbby to the cooking.

How to “Burn” Hubby p’t 3

  1. Hear hubby rage: “[expletive]! It’s burning!”
  2. Watch hubby burn hand as throws open the microwave door and grabs the smoking jug’s handle
  3. Wait as he waits for it to cool
  4. Watch hubby as he lifts the jug—and the microwave dish is stuck to it.
  5. Watch as he places them onto the plastic cutting board.
  6. Notice the burnt wax paper
  7. Notice he’s right – no veges had been added
  8. Listen to him blaming you for leaving the paper in the jug as if the veges were in there already.
  9. Refrain from pointing out he could have checked, or noticed the light weight of the empty jug.
  10. Decide to eat the meat and potatoes.

How to “Burn” Hubby p’t 4

  1. Listen to the “crackle” as the cooling glass cracks.
  2. Watch hubby struggle to separate the jug from the microwave dish
  3. Watch hubby as he forces to separate the microwave dish from the plastic cutting board
  4. Tell hubby you’re going to take photographs and blog all the instructions, with illustrations
  5. Wait until he’s gone out for a walk and take photographs

Below and right, burnt wax paper, melted Pyrex jug

3 after cooking non-existent food 4 wax paper and jug

Below and right — close up of the melted, crazed Pyrex,
and its size can be seen under the right pic of its off-balanced effect

5 base of jug 6 bubble on the bottom

Below, the melted dimple where hubby placed the lot to cool down.
Below right, the melted dimple in the microwave dish

7 plastic chopping board 8 microwave dish

Close up of the microwave’s new dimple

8a dimple in the dish

Post-event review next morning

  • The “half-bubble”, concave dimple in the dish is cracked—“work-around” until replacement found?
  • Place an inverted pyrex casserole dish upside down over the turnatble centre. Back to stirring and turning over food while cooking.
  • The jug’s swollen crackled “bubble” has crumbled. Jug totally “expletive”
  • The cutting board is “expletive”.
  • Buy replacement turntable dish online and await delivery

How to “Burn” Hubby p’t 5

  1. Blog it, with illustrations.
  2. Include in the blog a Poll “Whose fault was it?”


A:         Your’s — you should have left the jug with the paper cover beside it.

B:         Hubby’s — he should have checked before he baked it all

Readers are welcome to respond ‘A’ or ‘B’ as a Comment.

Commended entry to Mapua Literary Festival short story competition

6 Apr

The Moon Disappeared Behind Dark Clouds

{This sentence was required within the story}

The moon disappeared behind dark clouds, leaving the campsite and campers blind–if they’d been awake. Their campfire had been extinguished when they’d been sent to bed. Bringing flashlights, candles or matches had been forbidden, for this was a Teen Intervention camp, three days walk from the nearest highway, along a dusty, gravelly track.
Seven tents had been pitched in a horseshoe-shape, and numbered from the eastern end around to the western, one to seven. Two strangers to each tent, with the Leader Robert D Raingier (pronounced as “Raing-ee-ay” he had emphasized) in tent four at centre of the U. Once Police Special Ops, demoted to Public Service and the beat, he never revealed he had been retired early. His late career expertise with disaffected youth gave him the cred for running this programme for teen shop-lifters, serial home runaways, drug and alcohol abusers … and those who’d learned the best form of defence was attack.
Within the six teens’ tents, all were asleep–oblivious to the blackness outside. Mr Raingier was not–he was lying belly down on his cot facing the pinned-back flap and its opening. Without shifting his stare through the doorway, he reached under the cot and took hold of his night-vision goggles. Putting them on, he’d be able to see if any left their tent, or lit up inside it.
A-hah! In tent seven, a flick of a lighter gave a quick spark and blacked out again.
Inside the tent, two watchful boys were sitting on their cots facing each other. One, Dobbo, was fumbling blindly down in the foot of his sleeping bag, for his pack of fags.
“Don’t light that again!” He hissed, not realising a hiss travels more clearly than does a whisper or even a mutter.
“But can you find them?” His mate Frank was desperate or a smoke.
“Makes no damn difference whether you flick that bloody lighter or not, idiot! It ain’t gonna shine down inter the bag, is it! Ah, gottem.”
“Got what, boys? Tobacco? Mary-jane?” Raingier’s voice was a deathly quiet murmur “Come on out, you hear? And bring it with you. Now.”.
The lads stooped to get through the low entrance, and meekly handed over the lighter and smokes.
“Follow me.”
The boys heard him move away, and stumbled after him, wondering how his step was so silent and confident, whereas they could not see a foot in front of themselves. If they made any sound after tripping, slithering down the slight slope or banging into anything, his quiet voice made a quick “Fft”.
When he stopped they bumped into him and each other. He made no sound to indicate their noise mattered now, and time had passed enough that Dobbo and Frank knew the hollow they were in was some distance from the campsite.
“Don’t move from there.” Raingier moved off some distance by the sounds they heard of a lockbox being opened, things lifted out, and the lid closed again. They both nearly jumped when his next words came, so suddenly close to them again.
“You–this way”
Dobbo found his arm in a vice-like grip. Raingier drew him away from Frank, and suddenly slammed his back against a trunk–rough bark dug into his skin through his light cotton shirt. Suddenly his arms were behind him around the tree, and the rip of a zip-tie slammed his wrists together.
“Dobbo? What was that? You awrigh’?” Frank heard no reply–Dobbo’s mouth was full of peanut butter sandwich with duct tape sealing his lips. “Gawd aw’mighty! You scared me then, ‘Mr Ranger, Sir’!”
Raingier, his arm now with a tight grip on Frank’s arm, said nothing–infuriated as the quotation from the cartoon Yogi Bear always made him feel. He dragged Frank in the opposite direction, still in this blind hollow, but farther from Dobbo. He tied Frank to a trunk, stuffed his mouth with a sandwich and taped it shut before Frank could blink.
The boys heard his near silent tread leaving them alone in the black. Although each writhed to pull their wrists from the zip-locks, they only succeeded in drawing the bindings tighter into their skin. Dobbo realised his skin had been split when he felt blood dripping down his palm, and immediately stopped struggling. He hoped Frank would wake up and not struggle too.
High overhead, a sky breeze scudded clouds away from the moon, just long enough for the boys to be able to glimpse each other across the clearing in the base of the hollow, and to realise they couldn’t see over the top of the slope enclosing them. They imagined each other’s state, having only a dim sight of eyebrows and wide eyes. This was not good, they knew.
– – –
Jacinda in that same momentary gleam caught sight of Raingier walking towards the camp, scanning each tent. She shrank back, seeing his night goggles. Raingier, satisfied none of the teens were awake, slipped into his tent. In moments he was snoring. She sneaked out of her tent and into his–and within a minute had found and lifted his night goggles. Outside, the clouds re-covered the moon. With the goggles on, she headed out in the direction Raingier had come. She had street-sharpened instincts, and glancing from side to side caught a broken branchlet here, a skid there, and before long was standing on the edge of the hollow.

She half walked, half slid down. Knifing through zip-locks, ripping off duct tape, she stepped back as the remaining moosh of the sandwich gag was choked out.
“Jaysis, guys, what the hell was this?”
“Raingier caught us–smokes and lighter.” Frank glanced around, hoping Raingier was well away.
“Relax, he’s snoring like a pig. Jaysis–if this is for smokes, what if he found me knife!”
In another brief moment of light, they saw her eyes slit.
“Don’t worry guys–this won’t happen again…”


No 3-letter Words? No Way…

5 Apr

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Three Letter Words.”

Oh to hey [1] with it–this post is going to be all [2] about three-letter words. Of course fellow challenge-takers will have had [3] problems , or fun, trying to avoid the [4] very words we first learned to read, write right?

Remember those stories? Something like…

See [5] Joe [6]

See Sue [7]

See Joe run [8]

See Sue run

See the dog [9]

See the dog run

See Sue run

See Joe and [10] the dog run

See Mum [11]

See Mum hug [12] Joe

See Mum hug Sue

See the dog try [13] and hug [14] Mum

Hmmm, this could head in an awkward direction; stopping that now [15].

It’s [16] now [17] fairly obvious how [18] young we were when the 3-letter word became part of our [19] literacy,

so no wonder how hard is was [20] to try [21] and get [22] the job [23] done.

3-letter words are [24] the links between the “bigger” words we learned, simply vecause they gave the teacher the opportunity to teach us the sounds of the written word. We all recall the blackboard lists with words following the same sound pattern – if we had [25] not  [26], we would not have been able to enjoy Dr Seuss, I bet [27]

bat, cat, fat, hat, mat, pat, rat, sat, vat    |     bun, fun, gun, nun, pun, run, sun

bad, dad, lad, mad, pad, sad                  |      etc [50], etc, etc,

Get it?


Since when is a 3-letter word offensive?

4 Apr

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Three Letter Words.”

An entire post, without using three letter words.
Really? I could understand “An entire post, without using four letter words”.
Somehow, I didn’t know there were offensive three-letter words…
My education in that ‘school of life’ seems to have been somewhat deficient!

I cannot even think of a single offensive, rude, crude or rough three-letter word.. Where do I find these armaments in one’s vocabulary of insults? Is there an Internet site that lists them? Probably. However, this family’s Internet Service Provider screens every website address before letting it download to computers here, so I won’t be able to investigate by that channel. What about an Ebook? From where could I purchase a copy of “Vulgar Three-Letter Words”? If, that is, it exists. Which I doubt.

Whoever is able to tell me a source of such an educational treasure, please leave a comment below to tell me what it is? Also, where I will be able to purchase or download it from? Thanks, y’all!


Walk the Line — Two responses

29 Mar

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “I Walk the Line.”

The first thought came on seeing firstly only the title. We’ve all listened to Johnny Cash singing this. If any of us haven’t, we should.  In the early seventies I remember a parody. Forgive missing lines here, but ..

  • “I keep my close watch on these pants of mine, I keep my eyes wide open all the time, I keep my pants up with a length of twine. Honey if you’re mine, Please pull the twine”
  • Another verse had Johnny keeping his pants up with a length of cord, and ended “Honey, if you’re bored, Just pull the cord.”

Second response… More inline with (aw shucks, folks) the theme’s concept: “Have you got a code you live by? What are the principles or set of values you actively apply in your life?”

All these from my Dad’s influence, and as I read them through, I see many which come from and fit into thirty-odd years of enjoying teaching success (following mum’s career example)…

  • Walk a mile in their shoes
  • If you can’t say something nice, say nothing at all
  • Do as you would be done by
  • Guard the innocent, arm the victim, teach the growing person *
  • Help those in need
  • Speak for those who cannot
  • Those you bring into your home are yours forever
  • Honour those who have earned honour
  • Stay true to yourself

* I was going to write ‘the ignorant’ or ‘the illiterate’ –but both sound so derogatory and judgemental that I paraphrased as “growing person”, to protect the innocent.

Brownie points for those who recall what radio show used that as part of their weekly intro.


Who, What, When, Where, How & Why

Paper Road Press

Books from beyond the beaten track

Chronicles of an Anglo Swiss

Welcome to the Anglo Swiss World

Ireland, Multiple Sclerosis & Me

Right now I’m having amnesia and deja vu at the same time — I think I’ve forgotten this before.


Not bad for a fat girl


More Than Just Books And Reviews

Plaisted Publishing House & Claire Plaisted - Indie Author

Have your Indie Book formatted and ready to publish. Or read book by new Indie Authors

Sarah Warburton

-all beautiful golden sunflowers inside-Allen Ginsberg


She is blonde, some say she is funny, she now wants to write her bestseller

New London Writers

We publish fiction, non-fiction, commentary, poetry and reviews



River of Life Flows

Looking back only to reflect....

Savvy Writers & e-Books online

Writing & Publishing, e-Books & Book Marketing


Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 151 other followers