Who wants to play?
Seeing how I have no news to speak of that I believe is worth sharing (I think my therapist is even tiring of me: When you sit down, in tears, saying you can do nothing except think of the one horrible thing happening in your life and you ask her to help you find a way to refocus so it's not monopolizing your brain and giving you anxiety attacks, and she says, "Try not to think about it, " perhaps it's time to reassess), I've decided we're going to play a little game.
I'm going to start a story and you're going to keep it going. I'm sure you've all played this before, but since I'm having anxiety attacks, I can't possibly finish it. More important, I think that, together, we can write the most scintillating tale of love, betrayal, adventure and questionable sartorial decisions ever recorded.
So, whoever takes on the next chain of events, make sure you end it at an intriguing point so the next genius reader can take a stab at it. I can't wait to read what you come up with ...
Here we go:
*****
It was a cool 64 degrees outside, and despite that and the fact that skin-burning raindrops had begun to drizzle onto her front porch, dotting it with acid-tinged steam, Jessica Simpson hiked up her very favorite yellow striped tube dress, glossed her lips with cherry-infused gloss, fluffed her golden mane, and waited by the door for her ride. Daisy, her Maltipoo, barked at her strap-wrapped ankles, clawing at her espadrilles in warning not to go outside, but Jessica paid Daisy no mind.
"Shoo," she said, wiggling her dog free. "I know what you're trying to do, and it's not gonna work. Today is gonna be the best day ever."
Within seconds, Jessica heard a honk in her driveway ("Daisy, did you sneeze?" she asked the apoplectic boutiquedog, before realizing the sound came from the waiting SUV). She squared her shoulders, grabbed her tent-size leather Louis Vuitton monogrammed umbrella, and stepped outside.
"One, two, three, four, milk does a body good," Jessica chanted to herself as she skipped between raindrops and dove into the car. She collapsed her umbrella, smoothed out her dress, and sighed.
"I know, I know. Don't say it," she said to her driver.
"I don't mean to give you a hard time," he said, "but you promised you would
*****
Your turn! Fun! Right? Fun ... ?
Please play with me ...
I'm going to start a story and you're going to keep it going. I'm sure you've all played this before, but since I'm having anxiety attacks, I can't possibly finish it. More important, I think that, together, we can write the most scintillating tale of love, betrayal, adventure and questionable sartorial decisions ever recorded.
So, whoever takes on the next chain of events, make sure you end it at an intriguing point so the next genius reader can take a stab at it. I can't wait to read what you come up with ...
Here we go:
*****
It was a cool 64 degrees outside, and despite that and the fact that skin-burning raindrops had begun to drizzle onto her front porch, dotting it with acid-tinged steam, Jessica Simpson hiked up her very favorite yellow striped tube dress, glossed her lips with cherry-infused gloss, fluffed her golden mane, and waited by the door for her ride. Daisy, her Maltipoo, barked at her strap-wrapped ankles, clawing at her espadrilles in warning not to go outside, but Jessica paid Daisy no mind.
"Shoo," she said, wiggling her dog free. "I know what you're trying to do, and it's not gonna work. Today is gonna be the best day ever."
Within seconds, Jessica heard a honk in her driveway ("Daisy, did you sneeze?" she asked the apoplectic boutiquedog, before realizing the sound came from the waiting SUV). She squared her shoulders, grabbed her tent-size leather Louis Vuitton monogrammed umbrella, and stepped outside.
"One, two, three, four, milk does a body good," Jessica chanted to herself as she skipped between raindrops and dove into the car. She collapsed her umbrella, smoothed out her dress, and sighed.
"I know, I know. Don't say it," she said to her driver.
"I don't mean to give you a hard time," he said, "but you promised you would
*****
Your turn! Fun! Right? Fun ... ?
Please play with me ...
Labels: meta-blog, pop culture, randomness
posted by Marla at 4:37 PM
8 Comments:
"stick to your new year's resolution and continue with your GED classes. I know it's tough lovey, especially the reading comprehension class, but we're all rooting for you to kick Tyra Banks' ass on celebrity jepoardy. I think this would really help."
"Oooooh, eyyyee know," Jessica whined to her driver, "but I can't miss tonight. I mean, it's the---"
SOURCE awards tonight and I have this whole thing planned out where T-Pain & I
(i'm a friend of stace & really enjoy reading your blog, btw.... :)
Wow. You both really kicked it up a notch. I love where you're going with it ... I mean, the Source Awards. Celebrity Jeopardy. T-Pain. Genius.
Let's continue:
*****
sing a duet of 'Islands in the Stream,' except that I rap the Dolly Parts and he warbles the Kenny Rogers parts all country-like, so we can show we have range. I really think it's going to change music as we know it. I hope my boobs look OK in my dress, because that will help me rap."
The driver sighs. "Ms. Simpson," he says, "I was thinking that, instead, you and I could
... head off to that function downtown at the Pizza Hut. Remember, today you have your "Fan Appreciation" party. I mean, those 40 people not only paid to see "Blonde Ambition" but they also sat through it. Throughout the whole thing."
Twirling a ringlet in her hair she excitedly replied, "OMG! Did Mr. Hut actually return my phone calls!"
With slight trepidation the driver replied, "Well, no. Not exactly. But thankfully enough we were able to make a reservation and got the best table. Your fans are really going to be rewarded for their loyalty! I think if we handle this just right they may even go see "Major Movie Star" too. No expense has been spared - the staff has been making extra Pizza Poppers all night long!"
Twirling her hair even faster, "Yeah, you know, like I really think that once people see the range I have, as a serious actress and as the artist that I am..."
As she continues to warble on the driver suddenly feigns an interset in an upcoming STOP sign and doesn't hear the rest. Something about Oscars and Gone With The Wind 2.
Moments later Jessica jumps up from her seat in the back of the SUV and shoves a piece of paper into the driver's console. He peers down to look at it and smiles.
Proudly Jessica says, "Don't think I didn't forget to have my daddy sign my consent form to go outside of the house. He signed it last night after our Jessica and Daddy nap time. I'm so glad that I'm so independent now, Nick NEVER let me out of the house by myself before. My daddy trusts me. Like, a lot!" And then she sits back in the comfort of her leather seat and smiles out the window.
Meanwhile, at the same time, hundreds of miles away in Hollywood, Ashlee finally wakes up and rolls out of bed after a long night of dancing on tables and wreaking havoc at local McDonald's restaurants. She shoves the covers over onto a still snoring Pete and heads off to the bathroom. On the way there she stumbles over a 3foot high mountain of black hoodies and Ed Hardy jeans and sets up at her make-up table. After shoving aside 14 sticks of Black Kohl eyeliner and 3 tubes of masacara (most of them belonging to Pete), she stares into her mirror.
Now more awake she peers into the mirror and dreamily smiles (lips closed, head turned to compliment her profile, chin down... the lighting in perfect) and thinks to herself, "Mirror mirror on the wall..."
Ho. Lee. Crap.
BRILLIANT. At first it was the Pizza Poppers, and then it was the Jessica and Daddy Nap Time, but then you took it to Ed Hardy hoodies and I just throw my hands up in gratitude and adoration. Never did I think the story would go to Ed Hardy hoodies. I salute you.
Well done.
You all should write my blog.
Whoops. I mean Ed Hardy jeans. Black hoodies. The whole thing mixed up in my head as a wardrobe of greatness. You know what I mean.
It's my pleasure to delight you.
to continue the story..."Mirror mirror on the wall, daddy's taking ME to the purity ball. Yay!!!
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