How Do You Know it’s Time to Move?

You know it’s time to pack your trunks into the dirigible and move if. . . .

1. The feral neighborhood children are still playing outside at 11 pm on a school night.

2. The person in the flat next to you has decided she is going to be on British Idol and practices for hours each day . . . only she can’t carry a tune.

3. Your downstairs neighbor chain smokes so much that the fumes billow out of the steam powered generator, cracks in the walls, and from under the water closet.

4. Despite your incredible cleanliness and the amount of ant bait set out, the kitchen is experiencing the third invasion of ants in the last six months.

5. Your pot-smoking neighbor accuses you of calling the police on her. The police supposedly told her you were the one who complained . . . even though you weren’t home that night.

6. The landlord refuses to replace your new icebox because he insists it is works fine, even though everything has de-thawed and is room temperature.

7. One of your evil students sees you walking up to your apartment and now knows where you live.

8. You can hear your downstairs neighbor’s screamo band playing through the walls . . . even when you walk across the street to the rubbish bin.

9. The reason you moved into the shitty apartment, the washer and dryer in the apartment, no longer clean clothes.

10. The dirty, old man neighbor asks you on a date . . . to a strip club.
11. Your neighbors loudly having sex drowns out the sound of you having sex.

Comma Sutra, Literature Positions and Sexy Book Phrases

At Wordstock, a literary and writing event in Portland, Oregon, they featured romance and erotica this year due to the success and hype of "Fifty Shades of Grey." They gave away keepsake buttons with naughty book phrases. Below are Lady Chatterley's three favorites:

In case you can't read the ones below due to the glare, from top to bottom and left to right, they say:
Literary ecstacy
You drive me Wilde
Get Between the Sheets
Hold me like a first edition
Take off your dust jacket and stay awhile
Books satisfy my text life
Fill me like a blank page
I love a man who uses big words
Wanna Faulkner
Vonnegut laid tonight
Let's start a chapter

Though the "red chair" district where Wordstock featured x-rated publishers, books and Rose City Romance Writers along with a few other racy tables was small, they also had an impressively creative and funny gallery with Literature Positions which said:

Polygamy, Virgin, Missionary and Knocked up

A few more:
Flasher, cunnilingus, long and thick, doggy style, comma sutra

Close up of Lady Chatterley's favorite:

Lady Chatterley’s Top Ten Worst First Dates

1. The “gentleman” who twitched the entire time and probably was pinching snuff.

2. The one who arrived to tea at noon reeking of alcohol.

3. The country gentleman who arrived fifteen minutes late smelling of onion breath. (Because Lady Chatterley felt bad for him, she went on a second date in which he arrived an hour late because he had no carriage and was unable to instant telegram because he had no portable personal contraption).

4. The amateur writer who brought his writing even though she requested him not to, subjected her to reading it, and therein exposed himself to her infamous red pen.

5. The poet who brought his love poetry to their first courtship. Ahem, he also was the gentleman who twitched.

6. The man who admitted he cheated on his first wife because EVERYONE cheats, he claimed. (Alright, so Lady Chatterley of the novel isn’t exactly a stranger in that arena. Still, this was real life.)

7. The gentleman who admitted within the first ten minutes of conversation that his mother lost her job as a state nurse for seducing an inmate.

8. The man she couldn’t tell whether she had anything in common with because she did not speak Japanese. . . .He didn’t speak English.

9. The man who didn’t show up. And never returned her instant telegrams or post, or offered any explanation why he didn’t show up.

10. The knave who brought his friend along uninvited.

11. The geezer who lied about his age. He’d said he was in his forties when he was in reality fifty. Being a lawyer, he insisted he was within the realm of fact, as he’d made the claim when he was forty-nine—several weeks before.  (Yes, she should have spotted the silver roots against the black dyed hair but the dim candlelight of the ball where she’d met him had camouflaged wrinkles and gray hair until she met him again for tea.)

12. The man who lied and said he was divorced, but was only separated—and had been for a month.

13. The one who insisted on escorting Lady Chatterley to her carriage and tried to kiss her even though she’d warned him earlier she would not kiss a man on the first date.

Obviously, she had more than ten dreadful dates to speak of. Please feel free to leave your stories here.

Racy Thought of the Day

Technology is ever so versatile. Take the alarm function on the portable instant telegram a.k.a. what some modernists call a "cellular phone." The best way to use this alarm function is to set it on vibrate and place it within one's undergarments for safe keeping. When the alarm goes off, one will wake in the most pleasant way. Think if the other times during the day one needs a wake up call. One can ask her lover to call her at a specific time, say at 3 pm during that staff meeting . . . about three dozen times.

Shall I Compare Thee to a Golden Retriever?

Shall I Compare Thee to a Golden Retriever?

Lady Chatterley thinks not. I once suffered the indignation of being compared to a professor's pet in likeness, in attempt to remember my name.

"Oh, how lustrous and golden your hair is, just like my pet who shares your namesake," said he. "Whenever I see your face, I will think of my dog and will remember your name forever."

Joy. I wonder if he associated the smell of hot, dog breathe and drool with my aspect as well, not to mention piddles on Persian carpets.

One would think such a name as Lady Chatterley would be burned into his brain. One also would think, this gentleman should have learned early on in life the rudeness of comparing a lady to a dog. But truly, that is not the worst of socially inept remarks made by unassuming men.

A man who sat next to me at the theatre once commented when I rose from my chair, "My, I had no idea how short you are! How tall are you?" Possibly upon seeing the shocked indignation on my visage, he amended his statement in an attempt at a half-hearted apology. "You probably tire of hearing such a question. You must be asked that all the time."

"Not at all," I said, my wit coming in a speed that surprised even I. "I am rarely asked such personal questions . . . except by children. And very rude adults."

Dearest reader, never have I so enjoyed humiliating another. Rude, yes, I was. But it was ever so satisfying to speak one's mind as freely as one might in, well, a romance novel. Surely I am not alone. There must be others on this interweb who have relished in a miracle of wit that came from the muse of indignation. If so, I invite you to share your experiences here.

Racy Thought of the Day

A noble lady can converse in the virtual chat parlor at her Personal Contraption (PC) in her undergarments--or less if she desires--without anyone else on the interweb having knowledge of her attire, or lack of. Unless, of course, she has forgotten to turn off her chatcamera. Ahem. Oh my!