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Archive for July, 2011

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Lady Lynda decided the next step to complete in order to get on with her nationwide etiquette tour was to pick an agent for it.
Now the major question was how to do it. It was essential for her interview men and women to be her agent.
She thought bemusedly would she show an affinity, that is a natural attraction
to any of the interviewees. She gasped not that kind of affinity. Seymour
Toze would remain persistently her true paramour.

Her problem was how to tactfully tell the others not hired.She felt completely befuddled and beleaguered. The one technique she
would use was tact. She reminded herself that tact was an essential part of etiquette.
She would tell everyone she interviewed that they were good people.

Lady Lynda firmly resolved herself to find the best agent she could for her
nationwide “Lady Lynda’s “Get Set Etiquette” tour”. The man or woman
fortunate enough to be chosen she would insist would obey her rules. They’d
include the following: Number one Be completely trustworthy. Whoever was hired would
sign a pledge of confidentiality. There would be no information divulged to anyone
except her permission. That would be especially true
before a stop on the tour. There was nothing like suspense to build up the interest of the crowds. Most important
the concerned woman picked would never be rude. If they ever
talked sharply being interviewed she would politely lead them to the door
She would never lower her standards. She would live up to being Lady LydaBeing charismatic was a major plus but
not a necessity. She didn’t need charisma with Seymour Toze her beau.
A certain charm would be a delight though.

Lady Lynda consulted her favorite reference book. Namely her telephone directory.
She flipped through the pages until she found agent agencies. Much to her chagrin many of the phone numbers were either disconnect or were
busy. She sighed as she thought of how she would need to make a concerted
effort to sustain her effort.

Now The self atyled manners madam persevered. With each call she told herself
she was getting closer to her goal. He or she was there somewhere.
Post is by Lynda Appell

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This is not the Blood Wedding by Garcia Lorca. And this is Auntie Carol. Lady Lynda and Seymour Toze also chose to “take the plunge” so to speak with me and my man, Herman Sherman. A duel wedding, what could have been more festive on the day of St. Stephen’s Feast, the 26th of December? Oh, so jolly, mistletoe and holly. We had our priest dress up as Santa to promote a Christmas Theme. Lady Lynda and Seymour Toze were somewhat miffed at the Christmas theme both being Jewish. But in the end they relented when I told them we would, at a later date, participate in a Jewish wedding with them (Mazeltov).

I had mixed feelings about my wedding to my marvelous, Herman Sherman. Could I truly give myself up to passion like the heroines in my Barbara Cartland novels? And could on trust the veracity of someone who lived in a pink house and drove a pink car. But on the other hand, I still got that tingly feeling in the nether regions when Seymour pressed up against me with, I deign to say it, his hardness. I even think I had an idea of what he looked like down there as I once took the tiniest peak at a PlayGirl spread, but not enough to memorize all the details, silly. Lady Lynda says they look like Kielbasa sausage and in regretable instances, vienna sausages. I can just imagine how she knows but not “by going all the way.” But sitll it is hanky panky and I disapprove. No good Christian woman has this knowlege! Well, she is Jewish, after all, and still a virgin, as am I.

We, of course, had civil ceremonies at city hall, and I remember whispering in Lady Lynda’s ear, “My word, how will these people ever reproduce!” It was uncharitable and not worhty of me. Though I did say it. They resembled extras out of a Bela Lagosi film. Crossed eyes, low brows, sunken chins and five-hundred pound fat ladies in spandex. It remained to be seen how any man could ever even reach their “woman’s flower”. But, I must say it takes all kinds to make a world. Yet, Sacre Bleu, how will her husband ever reach her!! How?

Our wedding was SPLENDID, in a word. We were married in a grape vineyard at Lady Lynda’s estate in Bryn Athyn. Concord grapes formed an arch above us and with pieces of bright tuquoise sky shining through. And we said the traditional vows of love, honor, and obey as a wife’s duty is first to her blessed husband. It was truly God’s bounty and of course, it goes without saying, our dresses were lace from Vera, our favorite designer, and our jewels, emeralds and diamonds were dripping from our ears and necks like rain from a thunder storm. We were a trifle naughty with our low cut bodices and of course, our dresses were similiar as we consider ourselves, “Sisters”. The men wore Armani tuxes with gold cumberbuns and neck ties. Of course my Herman, with his high fashion face outshone Seymour. That is not to say Seymour is not a fine specimen. Everywhere were the colors of red and green, gold and silver. And the priest, God bless him, had an actual long, white beard.

Let me get to the moment of truth. When we got to the part where I gave my assent, my knees buckled and Herman had to support me with both arms while Lynda remained steadfast. Strong emotions,and obsenities always me feel faint.Then I had a horrid thought what if I felt faint during “the act”. Would that be necrophilia if he kept on and did his “business?” Sacre Bleu, and heavens,no. I had all these thoughts whizzing through my mind at the speed of light. I could tell Lady Lynda was holding her own and it was Seynour who was flushed a bright magenta pink, and he put his hand on her derriere when the priest enjoined us to kiss each other. That Seymour Toze is a real sex fiend and will probably want poor Lynda to satisfy his animal urges several times a day. Poor Girl! I planned to do “the act” every other day kind of like those blinking Christmas tree lights. There is such a thing as too much of a good thing, and besides, frequent sex is known to cause schizophrenia in women. Never eat a whole box of chocolates at once, my darlings.

Also, my Herman requires more than most men and he says he will teach me how to satisfy his female
persona, Emma Enigma. I can’t say I relish it but a woman is a man’s helpmate first, and her own woman, second. But never be too eager or your man will think you’re a tramp. Play pillow games with him to arouse his interest for a man is a hunter, after all. Though this is naughty, I quote the great Mae West,
“A good man is hard to find and a hard man is good to find.”

Then we had the reception on the spacious lawn with Japanese lanturns strung about and gold fish swimming in the opulant pond in back of the house. A giant 30 foot Christmas tree with bubble ornaments and Italian lights glimmered in the night air and a fifties band serenaded the guests with songs such as “The One-Eyed, One Armed, Flying Purple People Eater” and “Who Put the Bop in the Bop Shoe Bop”, etc. Our song, “Earth Angel” came on as did Lynda’s, “Blue Velvet” by Bobby Darren. I noticed a giant topiary of two jack rabbits, deign I say it, fornicating on the side of the dance floor. Seymour’s idea, no doubt. It greatly offended me but I said nothing for we had stars in our eyes and rice in our hair and all seemed to be God’s plan.

The gift table strained with opulant abundance and many, many sealed envelopes. Probably enough to feed Africa for years. Dame Largesse definitely attended our party. I shan’t tell you what we did in bed for I would need a passle of medical charts and an encyclopedia to describe what we did, Herman and I. And as Lady Lynda is wont to say, “A Lady Never Tells.”

CAROL ANN writer of Poems of Thunder (Noire & Whimsy) @ Amazon, &Barnes &Noble.com

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Lady Lynda decided to take a break from planning to interview for her agent for her nationwide "The Vital Importance of Proper Etiquette" tour. She blithely began to remember on the universal clubs that her beau invented. He was rather inventive she thought bemusedly. With much candor he created these organizations that literally everybody belongs to. I fondly remember the first one was the birthday suit club. This was quite facile to be member of. The only requirement was / is to wear one's birthday suit under one's clothes. The singular exception was if one was in a clothing optional facility or dare I say it nudist camp. Oh how I'm blushing. I do recall though how Seymour and I did do the hanky panky at the Avalon Resort in Paw Paw W.Va. Hmmm telling name as his paws all over me. I dare say. I wonder who can he be. Hmmm someone to should I say to watch over me. I was so proud of my paramour when he nobly suggested how there could be world peace when leaders of no matter what politics, ethnicty, relgion, etc would realize we are all members of the birthday suit club. I still remember how he literally stayed up the entire night with his ingenius idea for world peace. The second group he came up with is the and I must warn my dear readers, on the vulgar side. Its the bathroom goers assn. For third world nations I suppose it would be the elimination society. Yes it is truly universal. Next third a very cardinal note is the needs to be understood club. Fourth is the mistake makers assn. This one is truly one where everyone belongs to. Fifth is I'm only human. Sixth is theI'm not perfect club. Seventh is I can't do more than my best club. Eigth is I need food and non alcoholic beverages to live club. Eighth is the Within twenty four hours I need enough sleep to get through the day okay. Tenth is I need every once in a while to see a doctor. and tenth is the. Gee what is the tenth. I'm wondering what it could be. Any suggestions here?
Post was written by me, Lynda Appell

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Greetings from me, the Black Ochid. I have just had my bath and the cold waters of the shower left pink pricks on my ivory tits. I shall take my daily ten mile run up the moutain and then I shall unburden my soul to you. I love the way the air scorches through my lungs and I like the slight burning pain in my legs as I run full speed along my path. I glitter with life. Ah, to be a healthy animal is divine.

As you know, I am immortal and have seen a million sunsets. Red sun hurtling across the sky to fall into the purple orchid of the night. How miraculous this is. God’s bounty on earth. Then fruit for breakfast, lush green grapes, apples, watermelon, strawberries, and one slice of good, brown earthen bread.

Life is fine as long as you don’t weaken. People break under the weight of their own dreams and expectations. It is not true that you may have whatever you want in life. The key is you must try to have whatever you want and never stop trying. The glory is in the path not the destination. Our God, most powerful casts one’s fate or if you should be a gypsy, you think that person is Saint Sara.

Strength may be learned but not conferred and in spite of this, we must try to create ourselves: we are our own canvass. If the canvass is blank through laziness, lassitude, timidity or fear it is our own fault. Be vivid, Ye Mortals, and never let anyone dilute you or feed on you.

Those who come to remake you are, in themselves, flawed. They seek other minds they can conquer, for they know not themselves. There comes to each person one who would feed on your soul. These people, the envious and the evil, must be overcome with maximum thrust. They are spiritual vampires. Each person must have his own light within and not try to extinquish the light within another through envy or malice.

It’s a jealous world, when one is gifted. To be gifted is to be as a child, open, trusting, and generous with life. Most mortals are not accutely aware how fragile and how short are their lives. How precious.They devote themselves to manipualting others while Our God in heaven has set the metronome to stop ticking in a sudden, disdainful moment.

Manipulate not, speak the truth, and withold it if it might damamge some other weakened souls. Never feed on the weak and the lost. Ye are a vulture on a shit wagon if Ye do so. Seek out your equals, those who love life. Seek out the strong and help the weak if you can.

Only hurt those who have harmed you. Don’t slaughter the lambs just because you like the sight of blood. Life is difficult for the gifted: they inspire envy. Yet always Do Unto Others as our Lord dictates.

My life is like a beautiful jar of honey and I shall shower it down on those whom I love for I am The Black Orchid and I treasure this life. A man’s love must exceed his grasp. Ah, Glorious, Glorious Life. Bring it, Lord, for I shall abide, and survive though your lessons may be harsh. Chaio, Darlings!
Written by Carol Ann, author of Poems of Thunder (Noire & Whimsy) @ Amazon & Barnes & Noble.com

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