I Want You, I Need You, I Gotta Have You!

The Hook:

Read this and thank me later, friends.
Michelle is an absolute delight and you won’t be disappointed if you allow yourself to be ensnared in her web.
Go for it!

Originally posted on Lipstick and Laundry:

I don’t remember the date or season, but I remember the feeling.

Elation. Thrill. Anticipation.

I was going to boxing class when my phone dinged with a Twitter message from my new-ish blogger buddy, Christy.

She had an idea and wanted me to be part of it. She’d tested the waters earlier that year at Words for the Weekend and trusted me enough to take things a step further. We traded phone numbers and then she offered me an opportunity to write for her – a series on bravery.  Me! *Gulp. Why me?

Anxiety. Angst. Worry.

After she had talked me off the ledge, we produced a set of stories for her readers that I still treasure. If she hadn’t given me such a safe, and open platform, I would never have spread my wings (got brave!) or met some of my closest friends as a result. A person never…

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The Hook Cracks The Eastern Bloc.

The voice boomed like thunder – over Eastern Europe.

I looked up from the Bell Desk where I was scanning the web working to cast my weary, bloodshot eyes over them: Boris and Natasha… if Boris and Natasha stopped trying.


He was a man-mountain with deep set eyes and a few wisps of hair remaining upon his egg-like head. She was smaller in stature but not personality. Her hear was crimson red and as thick as Kris Jenner. No surprise, she remained in the background while he took center-stage.


I certainly couldn’t argue with Boris, now could I?

ME:  I can certainly take care of that, sir –


ME:  Against my better judgement… yes.

But I wasn’t out of the Black Forest yet.


That did it. The Cold War may have be over but it was time to have some fun.

ME:  Will any car do, sir, or would you like an import?

Needless to say, they… were… not… amused.


They shared the same blank, yet increasingly-angry-expression. Playtime was over.

ME:  Yes… I… will… folks.

Okay, so playtime wasn’t quite over. Come on, you wouldn’t respect me anymore if I gave up too easily, right?

And so my new best friends headed back to their room while I shuddered at the revelries to come. Ten minutes (Canadian time, ‘natch), later, I found myself still shuddering as I knocked on their door.

(Why did I do that?)

The pressboard door opened quickly, the stale air within forced back by the cool hallway air. There he stood: Boris. Shirtless.


His sweaty, ridiculously-hairy Eastern European gut hung over his belt (I can only assume he was wearing a belt), and his chest heaved as though he was plowing a field by hand rather than simply changing his shirt.

BORIS:  (His voice still booming.) OH, IT IS YOU!

ME:  Yes! Aren’t I lucky?


Yes, he pointed to each bag individually. Eleven bags later, he was done.


ME:  Yes, sir, I couldn’t get it in the elevator.

Another comedic failure. I headed back downstairs while Boris and Natasha finished readying themselves for the trip back to the Fatherland. I genuinely had to resist the urge to vomit in the service elevator, that’s how powerful the memory of Shirtless Boris was. I met up with my new friends downstairs where Natasha took center-stage.

NATASHA:  (In a voice that no doubt made Boris proud.) WHERE IS CAR? DID YOU BRING CAR?

I considered poking the bear and setting off an international incident, but I just didn’t have the energy.


Obviously I had a little smartass power to spare.

Natasha actually swooned and wiped her brow in relief. (I guess she assumed the KGB would confiscate the vehicle.)

In the end, Boris not only complimented me on my packing skills, he even tipped me. In rubles.

Well, okay, not quite. He did tip me though. Then he and his partner-in-espionage marriage drove off in search of Moose and Squirrel.

See you in the lobby, comrades…

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Here We Go Again…

It’s early as I write this, but the hotel is by no means quiet. The performers have entered and the literal traveling circus is in full swing.

Crasian tour guides. (Crazy bus tour operators.)

Overworked, exhausted, bewildered bus drivers.

Hundreds of equally bewildered, exhausted bus passengers.

Cougar rock wives carrying their medium-sized dogs in from the street.

Drunken Alpha males.

Hungover corporate drones.

Spent half-dressed hookers.

They’re all here, kids. And they need attending to. But before I go…

The next chapter of the ongoing literary saga of my life is up on Wattpad for your perusal. You know the drill. Click. Read. Be amazed. (Hopefully.)

Here Are Your Keys, But Before You Go To Your Room…

Enjoy, my friends.

See you in the lobby, kids…


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The Hook Finally Gets It Up.

My second book on Wattpad, that is.

Get your minds out of the gutter, people.

To be clear, the intro and first chapter are available now. I’ll be rolling out regular installments at random intervals. To suggest the road to publishing my second book in any form or platform has been bumpy is to suggest Donald Trump doesn’t like Mexican food.

I’m not the world’s most tech-savvy bellman (I just figured out how to program my VCR), and so I’ve had far too many issues with Wattpad to recount here, but just like in the bedroom, I got the job done eventually.

You can peruse my mind-blowing intro by clicking on the link below. (You’re giggling because I said “blowing”, aren’t you?)

The Bellman Chronicles Episode Two: The Phantom Bellman Intro


Or, if you prefer to skip the foreplay and get right to the main event (the ladies know what I’m talkin’ about, sadly), you can click below and get right to the heart of my grey matter.

Chapter One: SEX!

And finally, here’s chapter two. You’re welcome.

Welcome. Please, Enter Freely And Of Your Own Free Will.

All right, kids, I’m out. I have a hard of bellman labor ahead of me. (You buying that?) See you in the lobby, Wattpad readers…

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Be A Lamb, Will You, And Read This?

My Dear Friends – And Ned Hickson:  I am in need of literary guinea pigs. Guess who gets the job?

Let me know what you think of this small sample of my next book, which by the way, I will begin releasing for free (so if it’s a helluva deal), on Wattpad soon.


As an added bonus, you get the benefit of my boundless “wisdom”.

On dating:

“These days, if you don’t wake up in a hotel bathtub missing a kidney? You’re doing all right.”

On celebrity guests who don’t tip:

“I don’t care how nice they are, if they stiff me, I’m telling TMZ I saw them abusing a monkey at IKEA.”


See you in the lobby – and Wattpad – kids…

image4Ned, while “reading” my first book…

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Nothing Gets Past The Hook…


Just brought in luggage for a young lady of questionable morals. (Seriously, she would’ve charmed Charlie Sheen in an instant.) I’m assuming she blew her entire clothes budget on the room, as she was barely dressed. My Spidey Hook-Sense was tingling like a Kardashian in front of a camera, so I assumed she was a hooker.

Then she offered to pay me with her mouth.

Now I’m 48% certain.

See you in the lobby, kids…

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A Post-Con Report And Other Musings.

Well, it’s all over but the crying and the clean up.

No, I’m not referring to my latest carnal escapade. (That would crash the internet into a gazillion pieces.) I am referring to the Summer of 2015, which has evaporated into memory, leaving behind fond memories, sore muscles, blog posts yet to be written, and of course, Fan Expo Canada 2015.

I had an atomic blast at this year’s Expo, so much so that, quite frankly, I’m knackered! Of course, the fact that the Summer of 2015 was one of the busiest I’ve seen in years hasn’t helped matters.

But I’ve managed to summon enough power to cobble together a post-con report for our good friends at Pulp Nation.


Hopefully that holds you until I manage to write another post for my own site. Truthfully, I’m in a strange place these days. (And I don’t mean Jersey.) I’m carrying on with my life after losing Dad, but it hasn’t been easy.

I sometimes feel guilty for feeling happy.

I feel like it’s wrong to be able to venture into the outside world for outings like Fan Expo or Murdoch Mysteries Fan Day without having to make sure Dad is all right.

But I do it anyway. It is a cold, hard truth but an undeniable one: life goes on.

See you in the lobby, kids…

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