Archive for the ‘venting’ Category

Washing Machine

Posted: June 25, 2019 in authors, comedian, comedy, facebook, female comic, Helpless, humor, love yourself, massage, perfectly imperfect, venting
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I wrote this in 2014 for a friend going through some stuff. Today this felt like something I needed to hear
Don’t lose hope especially on the days that seem hopeless.
Life is messy.
You will be the lone article of clothing in a wash machine. A single sock…being agitated, rinsed, and spun. You will feel beaten, turned upside down, and inside out.
You will find a rhythm.
You will find a routine.
You will adapt.
You may not be as productive as you have been. Mr./Ms I need to do this or that
You will find a routine.
Just a warning.
When your routine gets comfortable the wash machine will start again.
Once again you will adapt.
Lather. Rinse. Repeat.
You will find time for your passion. Even if it is snippets. It may even help keep you sane.
Keep the hope. This may all be for nothing.
Take care of yourself. That is important.
DON’T STOP LAUGHING.
DON’T FEEL BAD FOR LAUGHING.

Heartbreak

Posted: September 15, 2018 in amazon, authors, facebook, indies, Uncategorized, venting, writing
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Heartbreak

 

One always hopes that they will experience a soul shattering experience, alone. Well, I should say that one really hopes to never experience a soul shattering experience.

It isn’t detrimental. You will come out of it, gasping for air and clutching for purchase at any available surface, but you will be genetically altered for all other experiences to come.

You won’t want to be alone in your suffering forever, but in that one moment, when you realize your world has been flipped over and turned inside out, you will.

Unfortunately, a moment like this can happen in a very public manner.

People most likely will be present when you stumble into this exact moment.

You may even receive a voicemail explaining how sorry someone was and they could feel the shattering of your soul as your heart broke. They might even provide a blow by blow of the exact moment as seen through their eyes.

You’ll listen to this voicemail while refilling your diet Pepsi, and vodka. You’ll watch the tepid soda widdle down the ice cubes. You will almost smile at the words coming out of your phone, almost.

A person declaring they could feel your heartbreak.

Ha!

The almost formed smile, will feel foreign on your face. The muscles will crack from the strain of lifting up the sides of your mouth. You’ll have a hysterical thought that you will never be able to smile organically again.

How could someone feel your emotions, at the exact moment you went numb?

Maybe, it was some residual instinct left over from the caveman times. When a member of a tribe experienced something they were unable to handle, the other members siphoned off the emotions making it less to bear for the suffering member.

You hope they keep it, you think to yourself as you wash down a sleeping pill with your vodka laced Pepsi. It isn’t a suicide kick, you just want to ensure that your body stays numb just a little longer.

Your tribes-members seem to already be getting tired of hefting the load they had siphoned from you, and start to release it back to you. Like a rubber band more emotions would hit you, springing on you unexpectedly while knocking the breath out of your lungs.

You lay down, and rub your palm over the spot where your heart beat. You picture it pumping away with less enthusiasm, and wondering when it would get the spring back in its mechanics. Atrium, ventricle, lungs, atrium, ventricle, body. Forcing blood through you, knowing something was off, but doing its job none the less.

My cocky stance

Posted: May 11, 2018 in #Romance, amazon, authors, book blog, book lovers, branding, cocky, cockygate, facebook, goodreads, indies, rebel, venting
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So I waited. My two cents are mine, and really what the fuck can you buy with two cents?

At first I was going to write something awful and demeaning toward the cocky author. Something along the lines of…

Get me some syrup because I smell a major twat waffle. Mrs Cocky maybe you should stop writing and go teach victim 101. Where of course the space would limited as your ego would encompass most of the room.

But I didn’t write that. What good would that do? I mean it would make me feel better but this would just be another chapter in her victim text book.

So instead….

Let’s talk about branding. No let’s talk about books and specifically genres.

Stay with me there is a point to be made.

I will admit on my kindle there are way too many titles that include the words Highlander, Earl, Duke, pirate and many more historical romance verbiage. Historical romance is my jam. I love reading stories outside the genre’s I write.

The titles are a combination of those words. The earl highlander, the pirate Duke so on so on. I pick the books because they are in the genre I like to read. A lot of times it’s based on the title, because it lets me know what genre it’s in.

Now with the word cocky an image of an alpha male comes to mind. A cocky male who’s most likely is going to be a jerk. One who has slept with a ton of women and thinks he is Gods gift. He’ll meet a chick he fights with and in the end they will find they can’t be without each other. This is a genre MANY people like to read. The alpha male is one most women want to conquer. Why not read how others have done it.

Why stop at one book? Why not read them all?

When readers who enjoy the alpha male romance see the words ALPHA COCKY DICKSLINGER they know what they are in for. And if they enjoy them they want more

And this may come as a shock but readers can read more than one book. WHAT? NO! REALLY?

And readers will read what they like. I will admit I don’t just read historical romance I branch out, but I know what genres I like. And that’s what I spend my money on

I read more than one author. AND SURPRISE SUR-FUCKING-PRISE most readers do as well. Especially avid readers. So unless our favorite author is publishing a book a day, because let’s face it people can devour a shit ton of books readers will need to read other authors.

Why would you want to alienate authors from your genre? This doesn’t make sense.

I write rock’n’roll romances. My books are pretty far between each other (sorry. I promise Van and Jesse are coming) Why would I as an author not want my readers to read other rocknroll books?

Keep my readers immersed in the world of rockstars while waiting for the next JackholeSseries. Have them excited for my book by reading other rocknroll books and seeing what my characters get onto as opposed to other rockstars.

I don’t question my readers loyalty to the JackholeS if they read other rocknroll books. And I don’t think my readers are silly enough to buy a rockstar book and think it’s mine because of the title. I give my readers more mental credit. Also I don’t own them and would never think to tell them what they can and cannot read.

Also Amazon has this nifty little feature called the “read the sample”

This feature allows a potential reader free access to the first 10% of a book. At the end of the 10% the potential reader is given the option to pass the pay wall. They can decide if they want to pay and become a reader or they can pass and go onto another title. The reader has no loyalty to the book. And much to my chagrin Amazon also gives a reader an option to return the book for a refund before a specific amount of time with no questions asked.

With this any reader has the option to access a book. And just in case they did get confused because there was an innocuous word in the title. They can return it or not pass they pay wall.

This whole thing makes no sense. I’m not saying I don’t want my book to be the best rocknroll romance. Of course I want it to hit NYTBS list, but I’m not going to practice shady business to get there. I have enough faith in my books that they can make it there on there own without destroy anyone else in the process.

Also I would never talk bad about another book in my genre because different options are the spice of life. I wrote this post in 2016

https://itsjoysworld.net/2014/09/28/cant-we-all-just-get-along/

And I still feel the same.

So Cocky author suck on this cocky post. I hope you get over yourself and eat crow. Or should I say cocky.

My Me Too joke got me too’d

Posted: April 3, 2018 in #metoo, comedian, comedy, comedy store, female comic, Hollywood, humor, love yourself, stand up comedy, venting
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night-vintage-music-bokeh.jpgIt recently came to my attention that myself and another comic are in fact using the same me too joke.

Because this person has a bigger career and they did it on TV they’ve claimed it. And that’s….Hollywood.

They beat me in the equivalent of, I licked it it’s mine.

And through this whole thing all I could think is, damn I wish they would have jerked off in front of me and came on my face. It would have hurt less.

Now, I will go on the comedy record and say, I’m not accusing this person of stealing. It was a very easy set up and punchline. Butt fuck (two t’s on that butt) it hurt.

This is my goodbye to that joke. I refuse to be labeled a hack by using others jokes.I just hope my tongue is quicker next time

Happy Thanksgiving

Posted: November 24, 2016 in #Romance, authors, comedian, comedy, humor, love yourself, rebel, stand up comedy, venting
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This will be a hodgepodge post. I’m sitting here waiting for the next batch of whoopie pies to cook, and I started to think about tomorrow. Really think about what I’m thankful for, and the answer that came to me was so damn cliche. 

I’m thankful for my family and friends. But this year I’m super, uber, ginormously thankful for my mom.

If you keep up with my posts you’ll know that my mom had a stroke this year. Out of the blue, and so sudden it knocked me down. I never ever thought something would happen to her. She is the strongest person I know. 

If you didn’t figure it out, I’m a huge ball of anxiety with a heaping side of neurotic. Every night, I go over what I’m going to do the next day. When my day is thrown off or doesn’t go according to plan I have a HARD time adjusting. Change freaks me out. Things I can’t control freak me out.

Now that I’ve confessed that you can imagine how much my world went into a tailspin when my mom, my rock, had a stroke. I hadn’t even thought to plan that would happen. 

My mom always has a way of going with the flow. To this day and beyond I wish I could be more like her. She is amazing. She never seemed to have anything faze her. Why couldn’t I have inherited that gene?

Even with all my weird and sometimes (all the time) over exaggeration my mom accepted me. I never worried about her love faltering, even on my worst of freak outs. The thought of losing her tore me up inside. I couldn’t lose the one person that truly understands me. Who won’t turn away from me because my brain never stops and I want everything to work out the way I created it in my imagination. Who understands my need to stress about the most minute thing. 

Yes, I know that sounds selfish. I don’t care she’s mine. 

When my mom was in the hospital her sisters were there. My mom has 6 sisters and 2 brothers. Even with some strain they were there for me when it counted. And for that I’m thankful. My aunts kept saying that it could be worse and she was lucky she pulled through ( there was some religious talk, but I’m glossing over that because I don’t want that argument. We do not see eye to eye on that, but I digress.) I know they werw trying to make me feel better, but I didn’t want to hear it. I wanted my mom safe and healthy. I didn’t need this scarr to appreciate her. My mom is my best friend. Hell, look at my Halestorm posts. I’ve taken my mom to two concerts. We have so much fun together.  When we see each other we stay up until all hours in the morning talking. Het stroke was just a cruel twist that I could have happily lived without.

I’ve been feeling like I’m on the verge of going insane since August 23. She had to have surgery again yesterday. I didn’t know about it until my dad told me as she wad going into the OR. Talk about throwing my whole day off its axis. They added more coils andd another stint, and she is doing amazing, but…IT WASN’T PLANNED…

So this rant was just to show how thankful I am to have my mom. I wouldn’t have survived with another mom. She is my soul mate. She was supposed to guide me through this life, and I still need her.

Now because I don’t need anyone butthurt ….

I’m also very thankful for…..

my dad. He is the best grandpa I could ask for. He gave me my crazy brain. I realized this even more when we were up all night in the ICU while my mom slept doing crossword puzzles.

My brother for hugging me when I wanted to scream

Johnboy for being the best hubby ever. He is seriously the most supportive person in the whole world. When I told him about the books and comedy he pushed me to do it. I could keep going. He is the best.

My boys for driving me crazy and making me proud. They taught me so much. Especially how to go with the flow. I’m still trying to learn. They make me laugh and I adore them 

My second set of parents. They have helped and supported me. I can’t express how much they mean to me. They have given me a safe place to become myself, and my successes could not have happened without them.

My sisters for being there for me. For letting me pretend I’m a rebel and standing behind me being the true rebels. 

My niece. They are amazing. I wish I could have been as strong as they are when I was their age. They are going to make this world a better place with their strength 

My nephews for showing me there will be good men in this world. They will make someone so happy and I know they will help me with my book characters.

My friends. They have been so supportive also. I can’t believe how many people I have in my corner. 

Thank you everyone.

 Hug your loved ones tight and let them know you love them….

DIARY FROM FACEBOOK JAIL

Posted: November 3, 2016 in #Romance, amazon, authors, comedian, comedy, facebook, facebook jail, facebook live, humor, love yourself, rebel, venting
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This is a my story of how I ended up in Facebook Jail. I didn’t realize how many people have similar stories, but this is mine.

Let’s start from the beginning….

I met Mr. Facebook years ago. I was a stunned by Mr. Facebook’s good looks. His dazzling blue eyes (get it? Facebook’s logo is blue)and his immense social media presence. I wanted to be a part of Mr. Facebook’s tribe so I timidly joined in.

Wanting to be in the Facebook family I hastily checked the, I Agree, button on the large contract that was thrust in my face. Admittedly, I didn’t read the fine details on Mr. Facebook’s firm rules of conduct. Even if I did I would have still signed on.

Mr. Facebook lured me in. Asking me about my day. Asking me what I was thinking. He encouraged me to share pictures of my loved ones, of my ups and downs, and allowed me to connect with people in his tribe so easily it was mind boggling.

Throughout our relationship I started to notice that Mr. Facebook had some dominant tendencies. There were times he would hide my pictures and my posts. He also was known to hide my friends posts from me as well. It started to get really fishy when Mr. Facebook asked me for money in order to show my posts to the people who would enjoy them the most.

Mr. Facebook isn’t alone in his reign of control. He employees ugly smelly trolls to search for things that Mr. Facebook would deem wrong in his pristine little community.

On Halloween I felt the full extent of Mr. Facebook’s wrath. I posted a picture of a weenie dressed as a ghost.

 

No longer was I in Mr. Facebook’s good graces. No longer did he want to know what was on my mind.I was summoned into Mr. Facebook’s lair to receive my sentence. His right hand man pulled me into the room and threw me on the floor scoffing at me in disgust. I’m not positive, but I think Mr. Facebook’s henchman’s name was the notorious Grammar Nazi.

Mr. Facebook came in wearing low slung jeans and no shirt (a la Christian Grey style) The troll that turned me in was lurking in the shadows to remain anonymous. Only their putrid smell was present.

“What should we do with her?” Grammar Nazi hissed kicking me with his steel-toed boot.

“It was just a joke. The weenie was covered. There are worse posts than that. Hell, look at the nasty political posts, and pictures of abused animals,” I cried wheezing on the floor.

“Silence,” Mr. Facebook roared. “Solitary confinement for four days.”

I opened my mouth to fight for my right to publish what I wanted to on my own account. To explain I was a grown woman that had grown out of time-out. Before anything could leave my mouth, Grammar Nazi stuffed a ball gag in it.

I was hefted up and dragged down a dark dank hall kicking and screaming. I heard Mr. Facebook and the troll cackling over my gurgled cries.

Grammar Nazi pulled me through a cement room where women of all shapes and sizes were pressed against the wall throwing him the evil eye. A single light bulb hung in the middle of the damp room. Before being thrown into a tiny room in the corner, Grammar Nazi wrapped my wrists in thick black tape behind my back. He forcefully pushed me into the little room and locked the door, telling me he would be back in four days.

Tears raced down my face, running around the ball gag. The salt coating my tongue.

“Psst, don’t cry doll,” a woman whispered to me.

Even though I was locked in a little room, I was still able to see the people surrounding me. My eyes locked on a woman with a sad smile trying to soothe me.

“We’re all in here because we did something to piss off Mr. Facebook. I’m Sydnee by the way.”

My eyes looked down at her trying to figure out what she did wrong. She must have been able to read my face, because you answered my silent question.

“I liked too many things. Mr. Facebook took away my ability to like anything for three days. I get my thumbs back tomorrow.”

My eyes widened in horror when I she raised her hands up so I could see them, and noticed her thumbs were taped to her hands.

“It’s not so bad. I could have been, Greta.” She pointed to a woman trapped behind a glass partition. Her hands were pressed against the glass as she stared longingly at the women in the room. “Greta,joined too many groups too fast for Mr. Facebook’s liking. She can’t join a group for seven days. Poor girl.”

The woman shook her head as she pointed at another lady leaning against the wall. “That’s Susan.”

The woman Sydnee was pointing at raised her hand in a wave. Half of her fingers were taped down at the knuckles, her thumbs visible.

“Susan posted too many posts for her book. Mr. Facebook took away her ability to post. She can still like things and comment on others posts.”

My mind spun as I looked around at the women stuck in the jail cell. There were so many all of them stifled in different ways, because they did something to anger Mr. Facebook.

Now as I sit here in Mr. Facebook’s jail. I watch other people post pictures and jokes and have no means of communicating with them.

Be CAUTIOUS of Mr. Facebook’s rules, or you can end up in jail.
AND

BEWARE OF THE TROLLS. THEY LURK ABOUT EVERYWHERE………