How much wordplay could a wordsmith chuck if a wordsmith could chuck words?

Inappropriate Writer Brain Moments | Lydia Laceby. Thank you Lydia, Debbie & WordPress Press This for allowing us to legally borrow the brilliance of others. With appropriate credit, of course. Too funny to not share!


copyright 2010 Debbie Ridpath Ohi. URL: INKYGIRL.COM

Excuses, alibis and ice cream

The Lisas are always thinking. Maybe too much. Too much thinking, not so muchDisco Ball writing. We twist, we turn. We dodge, we duck. Avoiding writing is all very well, but if we don’t write we may have to clean the sink, or make the beds or something to justify our existence.

So, after a long fallow period filled with excuses, alibis and far too many bowls of ice cream, we blew the digital dust off of our work in progress. We’ve actually-factually been editing the book variously known as HSOTI, Thin Ice, or Reason #47 to Talk on the Phone Five Hours a Day.

Once we started, we remembered that this writing stuff is a real blast. Not wanting to leave you, our loyal, cult-like followers out of the fun, we’re sharing a snippet we just edited. Of course we’ll re-edit next week, and again a month from now, but what the hell.

“The hotel does retro and theme weekends. This month it’s ‘Disco Flashback.’”

“You don’t say?”

“They go all out,” Nils nodded as they entered the lobby pulling their bags behind them.

He couldn’t have been more right. A disco ball was suspended from an already cheesy-looking smoky glass chandelier and there were life-size cutouts of the band Abba and John Travolta in full Saturday Night Fever regalia, on either side of the check-in desk. Yes, Gina thought, I survived the disco-era, but what on earth made Nils think I enjoyed it? And then it hit her: Was this all because she told Nils her youthful fantasies about teen recording heartthrob Andy Gibb the last time they were playing a rousing game of pillow talk?

A slightly dazed Gina let herself be led to a room on the top floor of the six-story building.

“The honeymoon suite,” Nils said, scooping her into his arms and carrying her across the threshold while propping the weighted door open with his foot – no mean feat for most mortal men.

He set her down and turned back for the suitcases. While he placed the bags on the luggage rack, Gina took in the room. The focal point of the room was the giant bed covered in a black satin bedspread and a dozen throw pillows in various shades of purple. The most prominent pillow was in the shape of a giant pair of lips. To one side of the bed there was a heart-shaped hot tub. On the other side was a desk/table and two chairs. The table held a large vase filled with red roses and a bottle of champagne protruding from an ice bucket with two glasses sitting next to it.

“We can order room service, if you’re hungry,” Nils suggested.

Gina was not, but she knew her husband was probably famished. “Sure, that would be fine,” she said, plopping down on the bed. The bed plopped back. “What the…” Gina exclaimed, springing up.

“It’s a waterbed!” Nils grinned.

“Do you think it’s a 1970’s original?” Gina poked warily at the rubbery mattress, finally moving over to one of the desk/table chairs.

“How about popping the cork,” she suggested, trying to remain unfazed.

“Don’t you remember what today is?” Nils prodded, uncorking the bottle.

Gina racked her brain. Obviously she should remember the date. What was it? September fourteenth? Fifteenth? She settled on the fourteenth and still could make no connection. She closed one eye in concentration, but quickly reopened it, recalling how it gave her forehead unbalanced wrinkles.

Nils seemed to take this as some sort of epiphany. “I knew you wouldn’t forget about our second first-date.” He handed her a glass and sat down on the bed, facing her.

“We slept together on our first – second – date?” Surely she couldn’t have forgotten that much.

          Nils smiled. “I wish.”

Awkward mom moment perhaps better left untold?

This one’s for our NJ author pal, TOOL (The Other-Other Lisa).

click for video clip:  Book royalties may go toward kids’ future therapy.


The Lisas have a deep streak of prudery. This is reflected in our namby-pamby shockswearing style. We pat ourselves on the back every time we hold back a real flaming curse word, but there are repercussions. MI Lisa has teenagers who live through the daily horror of her made-up swear words. These include, but are by no leap of the imagination limited to:

  • Buns. It’s short, satisfying to say, and is quickly and easily repeated three times in quick succession. Because all swearing is more satisfying and successful if repeated three times. Preferably with the anger and/or volume increasing on every repetition. (Try it. buns, Buns, BUNS!) If MI Lisa is really agitated it can also be expanded to the inexplicable bunfaces.
  • Equally inexplicable, but oddly gratifying to say, is the similar ratfaces. Sometimes she plays it cool and just goes with the more mainstream rats, but not nearly often enough.
  • Farty fart. Newly added to the MI Lisa Swearing Lexicon, this has the lovely alliteration of the best cursing, but has been roundly, and justifiably, condemned by her children. She tries–she really tries–not to use it.
  • Forsooth. MI Lisa’s latest ‘swearword’. After reading that Henry the VI of England didn’t allow cursing at court and would only use the mild expletives of “Forsooth and forsooth!” or “St. John!” she decided to follow his example.

Next time you stub your toe, or have another driver cut you off–don’t hold back. Take a deep breath and say it out loud. FOR-sooth! You’ll feel better.

What do a cocktail shaker, Spanish naval cap, wedding dress and two alarm clocks have in common?

Bridal GownIf you said “Tom Cruise” you may be right. It really sounds like a Tom Cruise movie montage, doesn’t it? However if you guessed, “what 1Lisa bought at a garage sale this past weekend,” you would be a winner. You might also be a stalker, but we’re cool with that.

You see, 1Lisa fancies herself an American Picker. She comes from a long line of…well, let’s face it, hoarders. Seized in the grip that “somebody,” “someday” might need “something,” hoarders find it difficult to throw out anything of value. And nowadays almost anything can have value. But who would have dreamed a semi-lucrative career in the import/export business would manifest itself in the form of an empty lighter fluid can?

It all began a couple of years ago when 1Lisa’s mother encouraged her to explore the entrepreneurial side of ebay. Already deeply entrenched and skilled in the dark arts of bidding and buying, Lisa said, “no thanks, I’m good.” After a bit of cajoling, ego boosting and various other jedi mind tricks her mother picked up on a recent visit to Korea, Lisa finally consented to give selling a try. What did she have to lose, after all? And there was everything to gain: great wealth and the prospect that she would not have to help shlep all her parents crap around (again) should they move (again).

So she and her father started their vast empire with an empty lighter fluid can. It was however, not just any empty lighter fluid can. It was a vintage empty lighter fluid can. And those of you well versed in the lingo of the ‘bay know “vintage” means big $$$. Or it just means “old crap.” One man’s trash and all that. Anyway, as you can probably guess there was a huge bidding war for said vintage can and we made a million dollars and retired to Pensacola the-end. Except not really. Pensacola isn’t what it used to be and we only made ten bucks — but seriously, who would pay $10 for an empty tin can?! Somebody. Somewhere. And so the chase goes on. Unfortunately for 1Lisa’s husband the wedding dress is her size (if she loses 80 or 90 lbs and undergoes excess skin removal), so she just might have to keep it. Along with the framed photo of Secretariat, the signed Ice ashtrayCapades program and the nifty keen Las Vegas casino ashtray. I mean, you never know what Rat-Pack celebrity might have snuffed his stubs in that tray? With the magic combination of vintage and provenance, heck that thing could be worth tens of dollars. To somebody. Somewhere.

*1Lisa is not divulging her identity or location at the risk of being audited by the IRS, but suffice to say garage sales in Michigan in April are more rare than snow in Florida. 1Lisas is already hiding her vast book royalties in an offshore account, while TOL (The Other Lisa) keeps hers in her underwear drawers (plural).

Stay-at-Home Moms/Stay-at-Home Dads Mystery Books and Housewives Mystery Books: The Cozy Mystery List Blog

Woman Looking Through Magnifying GlassWhat a neat blog. You can bet we will be ‘investigating’ it!

Stay-at-Home Moms & Stay-at-Home Dads Mystery Books &/or Housewives Mystery Books: — The Cozy Mystery List Blog.

Something Like That

Hamster Getting a Workout on Spinning WheelOnly 84 days past the normal time for making a New Year’s resolution, The Lisas have decided to jump on the healthy train and become a better and healthier us! NO, we have decided to hijack the darned train! We will replace our previous mottos of “Never let the bastards win” and “Never do today what you an put off until tomorrow” with “No pain, no gain” and “A moment on the lips means a lifetime on the hips”. Hot rivulets of sweat will pour down our faces as we try for just one more set of reps. Post-workouts, neon yellow sports drinks will be greedily gulped. Our plates will be a shining rainbow of healthy food choices.

Or, we will simply try to eat more oatmeal. Yes, perhaps oatmeal is the way to go. We hear that a big bowl of oatmeal can do a heck of a lot of good. And all that gym stuff would be tricky. We’d have the horror of shopping for gym clothes, the horror of the world seeing us in yoga pants, the drive to the gym, the sticky floors of the odiferous locker rooms and the actual discomfort of the exercise itself. It would be so much easier to pop a bowl of oatmeal in the microwave. In fact the next health study we read will very likely being one stating that nothing in the word could do more good than starting the morning with that big bowl of oats, and to hell with the rest of the day!

MI Lisa is not only on board the oatmeal train, she is the bandanna-bedecked engineer tooting the oatmeal whistle! “All aboard, FL Lisa,” she gaily calls. FL Lisa spurns the very idea of oatmeal, even if it has delicious dried cherries in it which makes it just exactly (except not really) like eating cherry pie.

cherry pie“Tastes like cherry pie you say?” FL Lisa asks with more than a hint of skepticism.
“Just like. Except not really.”
“Move the Oatmeal Express along. I’m staying at the station.”
“You’ll be sorry when I’ve lost weight and feel great,” MI Lisa chastises.
“I though my credo was ‘never do today what you can put off until tomorrow,’ but now I’m leaning toward ‘fat and happy beats skinny cherry pie oatmeal – except not really’”
“Perhaps it’s best to mix it up from time to time. A soft boiled egg would be nice.”
“French toast is good this time of year.”
“A Belgian waffle might be too decadent?”
“But not for brunch.”
“Brunch it is then!” MI Lisa sounds ever more cheerful.
“With a side of cherry oatmeal?”
“With a side of butter and syrup!”
“What are friends for?” FL Lisa asks.
“Sabotaging diets, obviously.”
“Maybe tomorrow. Pass the whipped cream.”