Saturday, July 16, 2005


21 August 2004 08:39 EDT | Posted by sass104 floyd and lucy

Sometimes you just feel good. Sometimes great.
It doesn't hit often, so when Lucy felt in the mood to party, even though a private one at that; she chose to do it up nicely. The move to the new house had started two days ago and was now complete. Will was off on a sleepover with his buds, their brains in a frenzy over the latest X-box game. Alone in this charming older house, which she could now call her's, with only half the unpacking done; she stopped for the night. The evening called for a celebration.
A ', look what I've done, aren't I all that!' party.

Lucy dressed out, dressed up and congratulated herself on goals accomplished and dreams fullfilled. Not finding one single friend or even a married friend buddy available on this rainy autumn night, she didn't let that stop her. She planned her own party for one for the night. When the lights blinked out she simply lit candles and moved her elegant dinner to the low coffee table in front of the fireplace. Lighting flashed and Lucy smiled. Nothing seemed to stop her fabulous attitude.
She was happy and the storm wouldn'tt dampen that.

A steak dinner with her favorite wine. This would be fun. She used Will's CD player to add the mood music. Frank's greatest hits would be perfect, she thought, dropping that CD in and punching play. Scanning her new living room, she heard the knock at the front door but stood admiring the charming scene she'd created. On the second knock she twirled and headed into the foyer, satisfied with the idea of a perfect evening ahead of her. Now she only needed to start a small fire in the fireplace for that one last bit of atmosphere.

Lucy opened the door to her new house and presented a pretty picture. In her short black dress she leaned casually against the door frame. She looked ready for a grand evening out or a very romantic evening in.

"Sorry, to bother you, Ma'am.....but we need to check ...your house ....the power lines..."

Floyd seemed confused and lost as he drug his eyes down this woman's sexy little outfit. Where the short hem line stopped, silky black stockings took over down to a pair of high heeled black 'fuck me' pumps. She was short but the legs seemed to go on forever.
It was early enough in the evening to see fairly well and he liked what he saw. The sky was clouding up again yet even in the dusky light he could tell she was cute. Really cute.
"Oh. Sorry." He jerked his eyes back to attention and to her pretty face. "You're on your way out. Well, I can be fast........ But the power outage... you see.." The man in the power company work shirt stood there with a clipboard in his hand, oblivious to the fact that tiny rain drops were starting to fall.

"You can?" Lucy's red lips turned up at the corners, playfully. She twirled a red-gold curl around one finger. Her hair was up piled on her head but several strands were escaping.
The wind ruffling them.
"Ma am?" The toothpick in the man's mouth wiggled in surprise.

"Be fast?" She laughed and realized how silly she sounded. "I'm sorry, I'm goofy tonight. I was attempting a little joke."
"Oh." He paused taking off his working man's power company cap. He stuck it under his arm and raking his hand through his black hair, he grinned. The toothpick stayed put, expertly as his dimples popped out.

"I see. Funny. That was funny."

Lucy blinked. She wondered when the power company had upgraded workers from average Joe to Cary Grant standards. 'Shit!' She thought. 'He's gorgeous. How can that be? '
Thunder rumbled in the distance and the wind picked up.

"Uh. Hmmmm... So what? You need to what? I'm sorry." She tried not to stare.

"OH. Well, the lines to your house...well the lightning... about an hour ago... I'm Floyd, by the way. Let me start over."

He appeared to straighten up and get back to business. "I'm Floyd Thomas. Obviously with the power company and you see the lines ......." He stepped back and pointed indirectly towards several poles on the edge of the street. "Your power's out? The rest of the block is back on. I should see if your whole system's blown ...............but if you're leaving......"

"Oh. No. I'm not going anywhere." Lucy stepped back. "Come in please. Yes I want my power back on. The downstairs box? Is that what you need?"
He came in and the wind slammed the door shut behind him. Slammed into darkness they were standing very close to each other.
It hit the small redhead that she did not know this stranger. Five minutes ago she didn't know he existed. Now they were inches apart and she was thinking about how tall he was. Very tall. She thought if she could see better she might be staring directly into the name, 'Floyd',
embroidered on his work shirt in blue. Both listened to each other breathe, and lord help her, Lucy felt like there were sparks humming and jumping in the air around them.

'Power man indeed.' She thought, stepping back and turning to retreat into the living room.

Floyd swallowed and followed.
Her bottom swaying in front of him and as she reached the candle lit room ahead, he got a better look at said bottom. The weather had turned cooler as the storm had come in, so it surprised him to feel himself breaking into a sweat. The lady of the house pointed towards the kitchen and onward towards the basement door, talking nervously the entire time.
For the life of him he couldn't remember what she'd said once the door had slammed behind him. Something about moving and this being a new house.

"There." She smiled and pointed, untying the apron she'd had around her waist. It was tiny. The apron and the waist.
She was slim and petite. The hair seemed almost too much for her, he thought. The color was striking and he thought he'd never seen a shade that pretty. She glanced up and smiled. No, it was just right, he decided. The hair, the dress and the entire picture was just right.

"Lucy." She said. "I'm Lucy. I'm sorry, I didn't introduce myself either. Lucy Mayfield."

He caught the scent of her perfume.
He smelled her.
"Nice to meet you." He said softly, turned and headed down the stairs, almost at a run. 'Go, Floyd.' he told himself.
'Go quickly and get this fixed and get the hell out of here.' He knew if he didn't he might not be responsible for the safety of little Ms. Lucy Mayfield. She was a doll. He wanted to eat her up. And not fast. No not fast at all.

Lucy watched the man going down the stairs. She backed away and leaned against the wall, fanning herself. What a cute bottom. Long and lanky. And his eyes. "Whoa." She said quietly. "Looking nice, Floyd. Nice.'
What was wrong with her? A repair man? She felt like one of those Penthouse people that write into the magazine. She giggled at her own thoughts and shook her head.

She returned to the living room to eat her meal. And to drink.
She poured herself another glass of wine, vaguely hearing the sounds coming from the basement over Sinatra's smooth voice and the rain outside. By the time she'd finished the glass of wine, she realized she'd only taken two bites of her meal. Leaning forward to cut into her steak again, Lucy gave a start as she caught sight of her power man standing in the doorway to the kitchen.
He was wiping his hands on what looked like a rag and had a dirt smudge on one check.

"I need to go get my tools and then it should just take a few more minutes." He said curtly.

Lucy shook her head as if she agreed, never breaking eye contact with him.

"Eating alone?" He asked, his dark eyebrows lifted.

She nodded.

"Not good. Drinking alone?" He gestured towards the bottle.

Lucy nodded. She didn't trust herself to speak.

"Not good." He smiled. It was a killer. That's what it was. The smile. He did look like a regular Joe until he smiled. Then Rock Hudson popped out.

She felt lucky her mouth didn't pop open and a piece of steak drop out.

"Shall I explain?" His voice was so low she almost didn't catch it.

'You do that.' She thought to herself. 'You explain, big boy.'

end of part one

27 August 2004 00:41 EDT
| Posted by sass104 floyd's all wet.

"You're blown." He said, the smile lingering.

"Excuse me?" Lucy pushed her meal backwards on the little coffee table and stood up.
She brushed her skirt down and glanced back at this man. He was looking downward at her feet, then pulling his eyes up, he hesitated slightly at the cleveage peeking out of the low cut dress.
"Excuse me?" She cleared her throat.

"All your circuits." He blinked. "All blown. I have some new fuses in the van and some wiring. It's a miracle the thing didn't cause a fire. Why did you take off your shoes? One wire is burned in half.... but the rest....fine. I'll just go get what I need." He pointed towards the door and finished wiping his hands.

"What did you say?" Lucy felt she had misunderstood him.

"Your circuits..."
"No. About the shoes?"
Floyd took off his hat and flung that and the towel in a chair by the wall. Starting towards the hall, he grinned as he passed her.

"Your shoes. I liked them." His voice was deep and low as she could have sworn he leaned in towards her ear as he passed. She frowned and looked at her stockinged toes. She wiggled them.

"Wait!" Lucy turned and went after him. "This is an old house....and well, I just moved in. Do you think we should be fiddling with the electricity and wires and..."

He pulled to a stop.

She ran into his back, she was following so closly. She tettered backwards and would have fallen if he hadn't reached out and grabbed her. On her tip toes, swaying, his hands holding onto her forearms, she thought he actually pulled her closer.
Up against the Floyd emblem.
"Oops...err.." She realized how stupid she sounded.
"But, I'm good." He said. "The best. Don't worry ............You OK?"
Balanced, she unpried his hands from her arms. "It's just..."
"Just what? I'll have you up and running in no time. You can enjoy your little 'alone' party." He was almost sneering but with a tiny smile on his face she could tell he was joking.

"Look, I was celebrating moving into the house."

"OK." The repair man opened the front door to a wild wind.
"Celebrating alone." She peeked around his tall form.
Actually celebrating the fact I bought this house....ON MY own...alone."
"You'd better hurry. That storm isn't waiting."
"OK." He said and hurried out the door.
Lucy watched him go. She went back into the living room and started the fire in the fireplace. Or tried.

She heard the front door swing wide and looked backwards towards the hall doorway. Floyd appeared with his tools. He was soaked. At least his shirt and his hair were soaked. He shook like a dog and set his tool box down.
The sight of Lucy, leaning over at the fireplace made him shiver more. He pulled the wet shirt off, leaving only a grey under shirt on. He shook his head and raked his fingers through his wet hair.

Her bottom was sticking upwards, pointing straight at him. The look she gave him, casually looking over her shoulder, seemed inviting. But how was he to know? Was this little woman feeling the same as he was? She licked her lips and frowned.

end of part two

28 August 2004 23:44 EDT
| Posted by sass104 floyd's hungry

'OK, now, I can't take much more.' Floyd thought to himself. He was wet, shivering from more than the chilly rain and sporting a huge woody, full throttle by this stage.

"I can't do this." Lucy said pitifully.

"Where's your husband?" Floyd asked suddenly.
"Hopefully, no where near here." Lucy stood up and Floyd's face fell a bit.
"I'm divorced." Lucy explained quickly.
"Oh. So where's your date? You weren't serious about being alone tonight."

"Of course I am. But can you...?" She paused and stepped towards him. "The fire. And your shirt. Here give me that." She reached for the wet garment. "I'll.....well I can't put it in the dryer. I'll hang it by the fire if we can get one started. And why wouldn't I be serious?"
Standing beside him, taking the shirt from his hand, Floyd knew he was in serious trouble as she looked up at him, her blue eyes wide, innocent and cute.
"Because you're gorgeous." It jumped out of his mouth before he knew it.

She blushed and looked away, backing up.
"Sure." She laughed. "Right, right, right. And where is Mrs. Power Company?"
"No where near." He said.

He cleared his throat. "Divorced as well. Actually I'm new to this neighborhood as well." He proceeded to tell her he'd only recently moved to town and taken an older house on the lake, just like this house Lucy had bought. "I thought I'd come home, move back to the country so to speak. I'm not just a power company worker bee, see. I write..."

"And I read." Lucy smiled at him. "Wow. Small world."
He grinned sheepishly. "No, well...I'm trying to be a writer.."
"And working for the power company..?" She pulled a chair around close to the fireplace and drapped his shirt on the back.
"Gotta eat. Until the great American novel is finished. Something I've always done well. Electrical work. My dad had a business here in town for years and I learned most of it there. R.D. Electrical. You may have heard of it."

"No." Lucy admitted. "I'm not from here originally. My husband grew up here and well after the divorce I stayed. I felt my son needed some security. No big changes."

"So, your son is here?" He asked and raked his wet hair back with one hand.

"Wrong again. He's at a sleep-over."

Floyd couldn't help a small grin. "OK, so now that that's established." He shook his head as if to come to attention.
"I'll start that fire and I do hope you realize, I'm not going anywhere soon. It's flooding out there. Happens with downpours like this around the lake."

Lucy went to the window and studied the water rushing along the road in the front of the house.
"Oh! That was fast. We'll be alright won't we? And you can get the power fixed, right?"
She jumped when his voice sounded over her right shoulder.
"Oh, we'll be just fine." He touched her shoulder lightly.

Lucy closed her eyes. The tiny spot he touched felt hot. This man had far too much masculine magnetism for comfort. He was sexy. Just downright hot. She was shocked she felt so much so quickly.
"Look." She twirled around to him.
His chest in the tee-shirt, a bit damp and a bit too close. He didn't move back nor step away from her.
"I don't know if this is appropriate."
She whispered it. As if the wind had been knocked out of her.

"What is?" He had a mouth made for kissing. She stared at his bottom lip. His beard looked way past five o'clock. Some men that were dark with black hair had that thing. The stubble that was dark and even after shaving started showing an early shadow. His nose was big but somehow fit his face nicely. Lucy let her eyes sweep up to his. They were black. Dark brown chocolate and drinking her in as if he wanted her. Badly.
They were warm, they were inviting.
Frank sang on somewhere in the background and if asked, Lucy couldn't possibly have named the song title.
His hand came up and still damp he let his thumb trace her top lip. Not appropriately at all.
He had the other hand dug deep in his pants pocket. Casually and with a familiarity that wasn't his to claim, he rubbed her lip back and forth.
Her tongue came out on it's own free will and licking her lip, she tasted his thumb as well.
Eyes locked, Lucy let that taste of him and his scent sweep over her. The guy smell. That mixed with the fresh rain.
His nostrils flared as he took a deep breath.
He pulled his other hand out and pushed her hair back on one side, studying it as he did. He tucked it behind one delicate ear. Her hair was soft. Her skin was stunning. She seemed golden and glowing in the dusk and the candle light. And she smelled like heaven.
A mix of peaches and a soft flowery scent.

"I'm hungry." He said in his deep raspy voice.

"Oh." Softly, the tiny remark eased out of Lucy's open mouth.
That was all she could manage.
He was taking her by surprise. The entire evening was turning into a strange event for her. It was gettin' wacky. In her mind she knew she should be offering the man some food to eat, yet she stood frozen, in front of him. Her brought his hand down to her chin and held it as he lowered his mouth towards hers. He kissed her. If it could be called a kiss. His lips came down to touch hers, but instead of plowing ahead he rested them there, withdrew and then came back. He nibbled, his lips playing with hers as he talked.
Softly, barely loud enough for Lucy to hear, he talked.

"I want to taste you." He said and she sucked in her breath with another tiny, "Oh!"

"And, not fast by any means." He nibbled and pecked a kiss or two, "No, I want to take it very slow, starting with your lips, and then your mouth...and then..." Floyd bent lower and let his lips wander down her neck his hand on her waist coming upward. Lucy found her hands coming up onto his shoulders and one hand trailed along to the wet hair at the back of his neck. Her eyes closed. She wrapped a strand of hair around one finger.
She felt his beard rubbing against the tender skin at the top of her dress.
"I want to taste every inch of you, sweetheart."
His hand ran lightly across the front of her dress heading towards the top button. It passed over one nipple on it's way and Lucy felt a shock wave run through her body, straight down to her 'do-dah' and back again.

"WHOA!" The redhead's eyes flew open. Her hands bulked into fists. She pushed him back roughly. Stepping away from Floyd and the window she gasped at him wide-eyed.
"Shit!" she said and straightened her dress. "Good lord!" Lucy tried to clear her brain.
He stood and stared back as if he was just seeing her. He seemed just as surprised.
Standing taller, he ran the hand through the hair again and cleared his throat.

"Shall I light that fire?" He asked with a confused look on his face.

"That would be redundant." Lucy replied and took a step backwards........

end of part four

12 April 2005 22:52 EDT | Posted by sass104 just for

She needed to think.
Hard to do with this hunk standing a few inches away, watching her.
"Look, I'll see what's to eat in the kitchen. No power,... remember? ...for another steak,... but I do have another baked potato and some salad......"
She trailed off and moved into the kitchen.

Floyd smiled and began working on that fire.
He really hadn't meant to jump her like that. He had been carried away. But for some reason all this seemed promising. He thought Ms. Lucy was scruptious.
"She wants me." He said to himself and the fresh fire, as he fanned it to a steady build.
His grin was one of complete confidence.

"Yeah, .....she wants me."


Floyd ate. He felt better.
He supposed it was time to go "fix" the power now, but he was enjoying the wine and the woman. She made him laugh and was proving to be interesting company.

"You did not!" She said smirking.
"Did, too. And it wasn't easy, let me tell you." He laughed. "Hiding that fact from the football team."
" You haven't got a talented bone in your body. At least for something like that." Lucy felt sure about this.
"I'll prove it." He jumped to his feet and stood over Lucy. He reached down for her hands and pulled her up.

In classic Fred Astaire style he took her in his arms and began dancing with her in front of the fire. Floyd had told Lucy that he had taken ballet in his younger years. His sister had owned the local ballet school and had forced him to, because there always seemed a need for a male partner.

He wrapped one long arm around her and holding her close, proceeded to dance like an expert.
Better than Lucy herself could dance. She followed as best she could and allowed it. At this point she thought she just might let this man get away with anything. But she was smart. Smart enough to know that this man was a rogue and a charmer. She knew how to play these sorts.
At least she thought she did until about 5:25 earlier this evening.
Until the wine had gone to her head.
Until these arms wrapped around her.

"Er, Mr.Th....Floyd...I..."

"Hush." He said. "Let's not worry, debate or talk things through. Don't over-anaylze and don't ruin the moment. For God's sake, woman..." He pulled back and she looked up at him in the light from the fireplace and the candles.
"Let's be what we are. A man and a woman. Attracted to each other."
Lucy blinked.
She realized she barely knew him and what she was doing was idiotic.
She stared at his eyes and soaked in both the sound of Frank and the sight, smell and feel of Floyd.

"......Those fingers in my hair
That sly come hither stare
That strips my conscience bare
It's witchcraft.
And I've got no defense for it,
The heat is too intense for it.
What good would common sense for it do?"

'I give, Frank.' She thought in her wine filled mind......' I give. I have no defense for it.'
She tucked her head into his chest. He was so tall, the top of her head didn't even reach to his shoulders. But she felt safe and secure and well handled.
She could trust him couldn't she?

"....Cause it's witchcraft,
Wicked witchcraft,
And although I know it's strictly taboo
When you arouse the need in me,
My heart says yes indeed in me,
Proceed with what your leading me to..."

He kissed her then. One large hand came up and held the back of her head, cradled securely. No friendly little kiss as before. This was full of the fire and the fury. Lucy thought she had been kissed before. She had not. Not like this. He was such a good kisser. His tongue invaded her mouth with force and then settled down, playing with hers.
Back and forth, gently and wet. She lost herself in his kiss, melting into his mouth, meeting his passion with her own. A conversation with no words.
The communication was there, no denying it.

This kiss ended with Lucy flat her back on the sofa. Both of them with half their clothes on and half off. She came through this sex-space-time continuum and opened her eyes to this gorgeous man looming over her with his pants in the process of unzipping.

'Er, Luce! The utility man is about to ravish you.' She told herself. Time to stop this and slow down. No. Time to stop this.

"No, wait." She tried to sit up.

Floyd, power man that he was, stared at her and suddenly realized this might not be happening for them. It might be ending right here. The chance of a lifetime. The perfect sordid, magical, all out "hot-as-hell" night of sex. He couldn't take that. He wanted this woman.
'No, this IS going to happen.' Floyd decided for himself.
'God help me, but this is something I feel I have to do. Hope she feels the same later.'

Reaching up to the top of the sofa, his hand closed around one of the thin flexible wires he'd brought inside. Diving downward to Lucy and meeting her as she tried to struggle up, he pushed her back down.
His arms reaching around her back. His mouth to her ear.
"Stop, baby." He called on all the knowledge he'd learned about women. Being thirty-eight and an extremely good looking man, there was a lotta' knowledge.

"Listen to me, sugar. Listen. OK?" He asked, nice as pie.
"What? What?" She relaxed and enjoyed the feeling of his weight, his hardness pressing downwards on her. She had to admit she was hot for this guy.
"I have a feeling we are crazy about each other." He whispered in the sexiest voice she'd heard lately. "I have a feeling we are going to see alot of each other." He took an earlobe in between his teeth.

"Oh, well......"
"So you will?" He asked in her ear again.
His arms around her and his hands fumbling with hers.

"What?" Lucy groaned as he kneed her legs apart. "...what?"
He was rushing her. She knew that. This whole evening had been rushed. But that didn't mean it wasn't hot.
Yes, they did have a very strong attraction to each other, still she knew they should back off. Things like this never worked out well. People didn't actually jump each other on first sight. Except of course in Penthouse.

Floyd stood back up on his knees and stared down at her. God she was gorgeous.
Her dress was unbuttoned and both breasts were straining to topple over and out of the black lace bra. The very long legs were still stockinged and lead up to a garter belt with matching black lace panties peeking out. Her red hair was tossled and curled down around one breast. His eyes took all this in and he sucked in his breath.

Lucy realized suddenly that he had tied her hands behind her back. She struggled, stopped and frowned up at him.

"I don't think so." She growled, staring at his chest. His shirt was unbuttoned and she could see the line of black hair disappearing into his pants. Right at the spot where the unzipping had begun.

"Oh, yes." He grinned happily.

"Oh, no, Floyd." She knew it was time to panic. Alone in her house with this man she didn't know.

He brought his hands up and flipped one garter belt glasp open.

"I'm serious." She warned.

"I am too." He answered and pulled her panties down and off.

Then he played with her.
Paying no attention to her growls and wiggling attempts to escape, he pulled her breasts up, out and rubbed the tender nipples. Teased them back and forth under his rough thumbs. Lightly he drew them up and leaned in to lick one and then the other, until Lucy's protests grew weaker.
"" She whispered with her eyes half closed. "This shouldn't......"
One hand ran downward and his long fingers dipped into her.
And she was damp, proving to him that even though she was saying no, her body was against her. Embarrased that she was so ready for this stranger, Lucy's eyes closed. His head on her chest, she bent her nose down and buried it into his black head of hair. It was so soft, tickling her nose, it smelling like Floyd.

And Floyd smelled good.
Damn good.


"This isn't right..........please stop." Lucy said softly.

"This isn't?" Floyd asked gently.

He dragged his long fingers out and upwards between her outstretched legs, watching himself and what he was doing at the same time. He took her tiny hard-as-a-rock muscle between his fingers and rubbed back and forth.

Lucy knew she'd lost.
It was all stardust from this point on. How could she fight this? The sound of the rain, the storm, and Sinatra. The candlelight and the fire. The wine and this man's long extremely dexterous fingers.
She might have had a chance, a slim chance, but some ......... if it hadn't been for his voice.
"This is right, Luce. You know it is. That's it baby."
He brought his lips up to hers and continued. "This is going to happen. Just give in to it, sweetie. Relax."
" god." Lucy whispered.
"Do you want me?" Floyd's voice was deeper, rougher.
Did she moan? She didn't know.

"Say you do." He ordered in a tone that made Lucy know he was as aroused as she.
His fingers broke loose and suddenly he was above her. Lucy wanted to scream, as his fingers left her. Her eyes opened and she watched him unzip and pull himself out. His penis coming forward to touch her, lightly, teasing. Settling in this spot over her, nudging her soft entrance, Floyd raised his eyes up.

Eyeball to eyeball he held them both there.
"Say it baby. What do you want?" He brushed back and forth.

She groaned.
"Stop it."

"Stop what?" Floyd frowned as if he were completely mystified. "What's wrong? Is there something you want, baby? Tell me."


"................Makes me stop just before I begin,
'Cause I've got you under my skin
Yes, I've got you under my skin."

"Oh,oh!" Lucy was trying to form words, but her thoughts weren't reaching her lips.

"Say yes, Luce." Floyd whispered softly nibbling at her lips.

"Yes." she sighed and knew it could easily turn to begging. Luckily she wasn't reduced to that. The power man drove forward and plunged into her.

The hardness, the strength and the energy of each thrust. 'Not called a power-man for nothin'.' flashed through Lucy's mind before she lost herself completely. She tried to met him and then just gave in and enjoyed every second of it.

At some point they both wound up on the floor in front of the fireplace. The lovely soft rug she had selected for the living room proved to be more than comfortable. Not that they were paying attention to such things.
Clinging to each other and struggling for gulps of air, Lucy noticed her hands were free. She wrapped her arms around this man's sweet neck and shivered.

"Are you cold?" he asked, concerned.

"No." Lucy mumbled sinking her nose in his shoulder.
Floyd pulled her to his chest and rolled over so this small woman was on top of him. He sighed and let his head fall back on the rug. The fire crackled and a deep laugh rumbled through his chest.

"What?" Lucy raised her head and looked down into his eyes. her curls brushing his bare chest.

"Remind me never to call on the power company when we need help."

"Shut up!" Lucy punched his shoulder but still couldn't hide her small smile. She rolled off of him and giggled.

"You go down, baby." Floyd sat up and leaned over her. He ran a hand through his hair, now wet and sweaty. "You go down fast! What a sweet little slut!"

"Shut up!" she blushed and hid her face.

He pulled her small hands down and stared at her pink checks. Still grinning from ear to ear, he waited. She was so cute and funny. He was a lucky man.

Lucy opened her eyes and yawned. "Where'd you get the shirt, Floyd?" She reached up and brushed his damp hair back on one side.

"Will and I. When we took all those old clothes to the Goodwill, ...the other day." he looked into the fire. "I quess I should go put the fuses back now, huh?"

Lucy stood up in the dark room with only the dying firelight glowing. She reached her hand downward to her husband.

"No way! Let's find our way to the bedroom in the dark."

He allowed himself to be pulled up. Standing and wrapping one hand around her waist he followed.

"Next time I want the French maid and the millionaire. I like being the millionaire." He yawned now.

Just as they reached the doorway into the hall he stopped her. "Oh wait." he said releasing her hand.

"What?" Lucy turned and watched him searching around in his bundle of clothes on the floor. Raising up he stuck something in his mouth and came back to his tiny wife.
He grabbed her waist and jerked her forward.
Grinning widely and clinching an object between his teeth, he said. "Toothpicks. Didn't know you were so hot for them baby."

the end
all rights reserved 2005

Monday, July 11, 2005

edgar frog

8 August 2004 01:22 EDT | Posted by sass104 my secret love, edgar and what was the fuck was Marisa doing?

Edgar Frog may replace Rance...Swear to God, I've been reading his past posts..
Once you get past the disgustingness.....

he is a very, very funny man

2001-08-15 - 12:42 a.m.

Next door to my apartment complex is a Nazi boot camp disguised as a daycare center for toddlers. Now, I can never see this place too great, and I've never actually seen kids playing out there, but from about 6:oo a.m. on, the sounds of screaming, laughing children echo through the passageways of our apartments. The little snot-nosed brats wake me up every morning with their high-pitched squeals, god bless the cute little bastards.

I'm not 100% up to speed on the physics of sound waves, or how sound scientifically bounces off things, but somehow my window is in a direct line of fire to the soundwaves from the daycare playground. But, my window is wholly on the other side of the building, and probably about 50 yards away from the playground. So, the soundwaves must bounce in a perfect geometric pattern to get to my window, like an 8-ball sinking into a corner pocket after bouncing off the cushions a few times. But, almost more annoying than the children's screams is the sound of the adult supervisors who yell into bullhorns at the children. I can never see what's going on, but I can always hear the adults yelling at the kids through their goddamned bullhorns. "Michael, stay away from that fence," "Jamie, don't touch that."

They really use bullhorns.
I imagine the adult supervisors probably being fat, quadriplegic cripples who just sit in wheelchairs, unable to move. So bullhorns are their only way to get the kids' attention.

But, this morning I heard the strangest thing I've ever heard an adult yell to one of the children. It was an adult lady who yelled it, and I quote:

"Marisa, that's not how you ride a tire swing!"

It got me thinking.

How do you ride a tire swing? What's the proper way? I mean, it's acceptable to spin on it, it's acceptable to go back and forth on it. I even looked on the internet for Tire Swing Riding Instructions and found none. Few would disagree that spinning on a tire swing is not improper. They are designed to spin. A back-and-forth motion is certainly proper as well, hence the word "swing".

So, what the fuck was Marisa doing?
She must have been neither spinning nor swinging. Well, what then?! I can't even begin to imagine what Marisa's hyperactive ass was doing. So, I began thinking of what the "wrong" way to ride a tire swing could be, and there aren't many wrong ways. Tire swings are kind of limitless.

What the fuck kind of kid is Marisa to neither spin nor swing anyways? She's going to grow up to be a biker whore, I just know it.....with her reckless attitude. She must have been snorting some fat lines of coke before daycare this morning, and completely abusing the tire swing during her delirious powder-high.

Marisa must've been ass-naked straddling the chain of the tire swing with her thighs, like a 5-year-old pole dancer, or possibly cramming her little body into the hollow middle area of the tire and trying to shake the tire from within.
Marisa, Marisa, Marisa......there are rules in life, young lady!

Personally, I think Marisa is a gang-banger.

Just a theory.

Or maybe she's just retarded.

original sass August 2004

20 August 2004 01:12 EDT | Posted by sass104 cartwheels

Aside from doing cartwheels I doubt Rance and the AS would like one of my tales. They don't involve vampires or snipers or whale seeking wild men. They are silly. They are sassy. But sometimes sorta' sexy.. But I may try to think about the color black and guns and cars...or gum and toliet paper.
Rance appears peaked....sad....tired.... cyber-circles under his eyes from comment reading.
He needs a home cooked meal and a neck rub I think. If I could get inside and rub that gray matter I'd do that as well.


PS: I fear for the November results as well. Gosh darn these ARE dog days...


17 August 2004 10:42 EDT | Posted by sass104 polka nots

Group hug in the dog days....I may pull a Mary Tyler Moore here and have a last show. Or not. I'd say I was going fishin' but you'd know I was lying. Let's just say I might sit this out. Wait and see which way the fur flys. Unless Rance rides up on his white steed and sweeps in to save all his dear damselles and his 'damned if we do and damned if we don't' fellow rancers......
this isn't looking good. I doubt anyone will hack in to take my blog over so I'm just letting it lie.
Lay here. Not lie...., although that word could be used here somewhere, I'm sure.
So, I'm just waiting and watching the spider fold into itself.

The repro man or not? (actually that's a pretty good fit!) One of the two and a half men or not?
A mighty duck, a not so private dick, a drowned goose of a gus, Bingo the Monkey and lions and
tigers and bears, oh no! (And I still haven't forgotten the accordion music
and the polka. What was up with that, RD?) My, my you boys can mix it up.
Taking my printed out copies of Edgar Frog and the original Rance blogs..... and I'm gonna' be sitting over here in the shade.

Ya'll have at it.
(dog days of august..good fit)




12 August 2004 16:30 EDT
| Posted by sass104 edgar
Are you stalking me?
Cause that would be super!
More later. I'm sure I can talk the gals of Rance into following me over for a taste of Edgar. While we're making our Rance signs.



10 August 2004 10:23 EDT
| Posted by sass104 a blog-in

Wow. What a fabulous idea. I need me some Rance. I don't know about you guys. We've been polite and all but I don't think a "quickie" rant would be too much to ask. Do ya'll?

I think we should protest. Everyone say they are going to vote for Bush unless we get a piece from Rance? Not exactly a blackmail scheme. Just a protest. Peacefully. A blog -in.
Either that or it's the worst idea I've ever had.
Thoughts guys?
I volunteer to make the signs.



9 August 2004 21:18 EDT | Posted by sass104 my second guest bloggette ahhhhhh venice!

From Venice: Another classy sassy lady who knows her Rance.
Day in the Life of Joe Republican By John Gray, Cincinnati, Ohio

Joe gets up at 6:00am to prepare his morning coffee. He fills his pot full of good clean drinking water because some liberal fought for minimum water quality standards. He takes his daily medication with his first swallow of coffee. His medications are safe to take because some liberal fought to insure their safety and work as advertised.

All but $10.00 of his medications are paid for by his employers medical plan because some liberal union workers fought their employers for paid medical insurance, now Joe gets it too. He prepares his morning breakfast, bacon and eggs this day. Joe's bacon is safe to eat because some liberal fought for laws to regulate the meat packing industry.
Joe takes his morning shower reaching for his shampoo; His bottle is properly labeled with every ingredient and the amount of its contents because some liberal fought for his right to know what he was putting on his body and how much it contained. Joe dresses, walks outside and takes a deep breath. The air he breathes is clean because some tree hugging liberal
fought for laws to stop industries from polluting our air. He walks to the subway station for his government subsidized ride to work; it saves him considerable money in parking and transportation fees. You see, some liberal fought for affordable public transportation, which gives everyone the opportunity to be a contributor.

Joe begins his work day; he has a good job with excellent pay, medicals benefits, retirement, paid holidays and vacation because some liberal union members fought and died for these working standards. Joe's employer pays these standards because Joe's employer doesn't want his employees to call the union. If Joe is hurt on the job or becomes unemployed he'll get a
worker compensation or unemployment check because some Liberal didn't
think he should lose his home because of his temporary misfortune.

Its noon time, Joe needs to make a Bank Deposit so he can pay some bills. Joe's deposit is federally insured by the FSLIC because some liberal wanted to protect Joe's money from unscrupulous bankers who ruined the banking system before the depression.

Joe has to pay his Fannie Mae underwritten Mortgage and his below market federal student loan because some stupid liberal decided that Joe and the government would be better off if he was educated and earned more money over his life-time.
Joe is home from work, he plans to visit his father this evening at his farm home in the country. He gets in his car for the drive to dads; his car is among the safest in the world because some liberal fought for car safety standards. He arrives at his boyhood home. He was the third generation to live in the house financed by Farmers Home Administration because bankers
didn't want to make rural loans. The house didn't have electric until some big government liberal stuck his nose where it didn't belong and demanded rural electrification. (Those rural Republican's would still be sitting in the dark!)

He is happy to see his dad who is now retired. His dad lives on Social Security and his union pension because some liberal made sure he could take care of himself so Joe wouldn't have to. After his visit with dad he gets back in his car for the ride home.

He turns on a radio talk show, the host's keeps saying that liberals are bad and conservatives are good. (He doesn't tell Joe that his beloved Republicans have fought against every protection and benefit Joe enjoys throughout his day) Joe agrees, "We don't need those big government
liberals ruining our lives; .......after all, I'm a self made man who believes everyone should take care of themselves, just like I have".


4 August 2004 00:09 EDT | Posted by sass104 cincygirl my first guest bloggette

Hello, this one goes out to all those thinker's out there, thought those of
you who read Rance might enjoy this.

It started out innocently enough. I began to think at parties now and then -- to loosen up. Inevitably, though, one thought led to another, and soon I was more than just a social thinker. I began to think alone -- "to relax," I told myself -- but I knew it wasn't true. Thinking became
more and more important to me, and finally I was thinking all the time.

That was when things began to sour at home. One evening I had turned off the TV and asked my wife about the meaning of life. She spent that night at her mother's.
I began to think on the job. I knew that thinking and employment don't mix, but I couldn't stop myself. I began to avoid friends at lunchtime so I could read Thoreau and Kafka. I would return to the office dizzied and confused, asking, "What is it exactly we are doing here?"
One day the boss called me in. He said, "Listen, I like you, and it hurts me to say this, but your thinking has become a real problem. If you don't stop thinking on the job, you'll have to find another job." This gave me a lot to think about.

I came home early after my conversation with the boss. "Honey," I confessed, "I've been thinking ...." "I know you've been thinking," she said, "and I want a divorce!"

"But honey, surely it's not that serious."

"It is serious," she said, lower lip aquiver. "You think as much as college professors, and college professors don't make any money, so if you keep on thinking, we won't have any money!"

"That's a faulty syllogism," I said impatiently. She exploded in tears of rage and frustration, but I was in no mood to deal with the emotional drama.

"I'm going to the library," I snarled as I stomped out the door. I headed for the library, in the mood for some Nietzsche. I roared into the parking lot with NPR on the radio and ran up to the big glass doors... They didn't open. The library was closed. To this day, I believe that a Higher Power was looking out for me that night.

As I sank to the ground, clawing at the unfeeling glass, whimpering for Zarathustra, a poster caught my eye. "Friend, is heavy thinking ruining your life?" it asked. You probably recognize that line. It comes from the standard Thinker's Anonymous poster. Which is why I am what I am today: a recovering thinker. I never miss a TA meeting.
At each meeting we watch a non-educational video; last week it was "Porky's." Then we share experiences about how we avoided thinking since the last meeting. I still have my job, and things are a lot better at home. Life just seemed... easier, somehow, as soon as I stopped thinking. I think the road to recovery is nearly complete for me.

Today, I registered to vote............ as a Republican.



7 August 2004 06:17 EDT | Posted by sass104 pete
I heard about him before I met him.

Let's call him Peter Piper. I would have followed him anywhere and did many times.
In college, I traveled in a huge circle of friends that were fun, smart and wildly amusing. Upper class semi-rich kids that were suddenly "God-D--- Independents." It was before Aids, before marriages and kids, mortages and before our brains were fully developed and it was great. Everyone seemed interesting. There were characters everywhere you looked. From Big Joe, who was big; that's all, he was just big, huge really. To Carl the Drug Dealer, who looked like Bazooka Joe and come to think of it, I don't think I ever really saw his face, which is probably in my best interest.
Everyone seemed to tie a tag on themselves, sort of like the wild wild west. You know that time in life where it seems everyone knows everyone else. We were single, young and at the "partyingest" university in the South, as Playboy magazine called it. It was a very wild time.

And there was no one crazier than "Crazy Piper", as they called him. By some distant cousin's sister's friend or whatever, I had befriended a girl, (let's call her Dottie), and we had developed a nice relationship. She was a Miss Alabama finalist and loved LSD. Swear to God. She would take off the white goves and the apple-green linen dress, pull on her blue jeans (neatly pressed, but still jeans) and take about any drug she could find. She had a steady who had been high school President and a big football star, yet for some reason he never was around. I imagined him to be a jock and thought the term "Crazy Piper" meant he would throw kegs off balconeys into swimming pools or some such popular college activity. We all had our "boyfriends" but nothing that silly would have slowed any of us down.
I had a steady for four years of college.
That had nothing to do with Piper and I. Nothing what-so-ever. Like I said, it was a wild time.
The Pink House had a poker game going non-stop for most of my freshman year. Were there gorgeous man around? That's what the pink house was all about. Gorgeous young men and even prettier young Southern women. Women instead of belles, because this group had read "Our Bodies, Ourselves." Not all had understood it, true, but at least they put forth the image well. We knew who Gloria Steinman was even if our big sisters had to tell us. I'd say the Pink House was the Fraternity of The Buckingham Nicks. I was busy trying to explain the rules of poker to my best friend Pat, while we played with Monkey and Debbie, on one fine spring afternoon.
She claimed not to understand; threw her cards in and we waited for a new player.
He arrived shortly, in all his glory and my life would never return be the same.

Remember now, the look of the attractive male that was considered hot, was shabby blue jeans, and the long Dan Folgelburg hair. Maybe a blue jean shirt and burkenstocks as well. I can't really remember, maybe because I always hated that look, but it certainly was not what walked into the Pink House that day.
Cowboy boots, a cowboy hat and with his blue jeans cut off at the knees, Peter Piper didn't even look like a college student. It was the first time I'd seen anyone wear a "scrubs" shirt that had no connection to the medical profession what-so-ever. He wore glasses and had no hair. Well, he had some then, but there was definately an Elton John thing happening. His hair was red and I'd never liked red-heads. On the plus side, the man had a smile to kill for and a great body.
He was smoking a cigar.
I was doomed.

Grinning from ear-to ear, he slapped Monkey on the back and ordered himself to be dealt a hand. He sat, placed his cigar in an ashtray and pulled out the largest wad of money I had ever seen on a person under the age of 30. Afternoon turned into night and I learned how to play poker for the first time in my life. I also learned I cared not a whiff for the Dan Folgelburg look. It was the brains, baby.

This was the funniest man I had ever met. He was smart.
And miracles of miracles the man actually understood my jokes. Nobody else ever got my dry wit. They would usually stare at me blankly and then maybe laugh 20 seconds later. And usually they were just being polite. Of course that was also, due to the amount of funny cigarettes that had been passed around. I got his obscure and hilarious references to books, film, the game of poker and anything else under the sun he came out with. He had read Vonnegut.
Most boys I knew thought that was some sort of new fishing lure.

We were never introduced, although Monkey and he were long time friends it seemed.
When he left and Pat and I were on the way out the door to return dorm side, I paused and asked Monkey.
"Who was that?"
"You don't know who that was?" he chuckled.
"That was Pete. Pete Piper."

I was smitten with a good friend's man. It would last for six years. Until I married, my children's father.
No, that's not true. I still love him. Always will.

(to be continued)

8 August 2004 06:17 EDT
| Posted by sass104 more pete

People thought he was crazy because they didn't understand half of the things he said. Yes, he did wild and strange things, but it really was the simple fact ......they didn't get him at all. Again, during the funny cigarette stage it was difficult to grasp things for a lot of folks.
But I got Pete.
Boy did I get Pete.
At parties and large gatherings during that Spring, we ran into each other. Dottie was thrilled I had finally met Peter and he was surprised to find I was her buddy she had told him about. Of course he knew my boyfriend. Everyone knew everyone, remember.
Still it seemed somehow during any evening we two would wind up sitting by each other. I couldn't resist seeking him out just to listen. I think he was more interested in my boobs. But I also laughed at his jokes, or at least smiled behind my hand while he manipulated another innocent stoner into trying to contemplate the true meaning of life. Anyone who has read Edgar Frog will know what I'm talking about.
In fact I wouldn't be a bit surprised if Edgar was not in fact, my long lost love. Same rythmn, same style. Obnoxious and hilarious.

He was hated.
He only behaved enough to just barely be included in the gang.
I loved him. Couldn't get enough. But the situation?
What to do, what to do? And my friends? They would die if they knew how I felt about "Crazy Piper." After-all, didn't I have just the cutest boyfriend on campus? Yes I did. Was he boring? Yes he was.
You know the type. Can be seen at any function with him. Behaves well and mixes freely with all types. And you guys think you are the only ones that "use". Women use men in other less obvious ways.

"We are surrounded by unsurmountable possibilities." Pogo.

This is framed above my desk even now. My zen. Pogo zen. What I've come to realize has reverberated through-out my life many times over. Ahhhhh, the missed opportnities. The things that could have been. Did Pete and I miss our opportunity?
Hell, no. I wasn't going to let this one get past me.
But how to handle it? How to have a "thing" without messing with the balance of that social status and the world we were both involved in?

The answer.

Spring break in Fort Walton! But of course!
We were on a road we would travel for quite a few years. But at that time we simply thought we were headed for the beach.


original sass June and July 2004

31 July 2004 00:41 EDT | Posted by sass104 elvis has entered the chat room

Chat room somewhere between Boston, New Orleans, Los Angeles, and Heaven.

S: OK, so what's going on?
R: Nuthin'
S: This should make for an interesting evening.
R: No, it's just well, nothin's ....
R: Well, nothing's as I thought it would be.
S: As in..............?
R: The world. Life. Politics. People. Places. Things. Writing. Reading. Blogging. The joie de vie..all been said...
S: Now it has.
R: What?
S: You've given up. Given in. Sold out. Turned In...

R: I didn't mean.........
S: No wait, wait............ Cashed in. Checked Out.
R: Turned in. Tuned out. Dropped out. Rounded it off....
S. Ejaculated. Shot your wad. Ended up. The well's run dry............
R: Wait. Back up....., Sass. "Shot your wad?"
S: Sorry, been reading too much of Pepito...

God: Well, don't do that Sass! Thou shall not and all that 'rigg-a-may-roll'!
S: Oh, my....well, you!!! Sorry. Didn't know you were dropping in.
G: It's OK. But do go on...
R: Yeah right. Like we can talk now.
G: You were saying you've giving up.
R: Or it could be a dry spell....
G: Ah, yes, another of my petty little inventions.The writer's block. The dry spell.
S: But you also created hope, inspiration......a kick in the back side...
G: Yes I did. But this one here....he's used a lot up you know....always wanting the next buzz.
R: Hey!!!!!
G: It's true. You gonna' tell Me, I'M wrong?

R: No.
S: PPsssstt....Say, "No, Sir." Rance....
R: He can hear you, Sass.
S: Oh.
G: You two, kill me. There couldn't possibly be "nothing" left to write about. Expound upon. Look at that convention that just happened.
S: Yeah, but it looks like.............Rance here......he is just worn down.
G: Bull feathers! It's just starting. Think I would have created a world in which there was an end to things?
R: Actually, no, I don't.
G: See.
R: I'd love to. That's the prob, Mr. Big. I'm having that problem. Seeing.
S: Seeing what?
R: Anything new to rant about. Expound upon.
G: (sighs loudly) You need something to shake you up boy.
R: Exactly!
G: Hold on. I'll be right back.

S: Are we on hold with God?
R: Bizarre.
S: You know Rance, I've never had the opportunity to tell you how I feel about you. What attracts me....
R: Huh?
S: It's the never-ending quest for the next buzz. The inquisitive mind. Open-ended and needing always to investigate, with humor, self-depricating, intelligent yet crabby.......
R: You find crabby attractive?
S: On you, I do. Of course that smile......
R: Sass! Don't get
S: Maybe that could be your next quest...
R: What?
S: Me! You ass! You are also so damn male.
R: Well, I'm just.....uhhh.....

Elvis: You are just what slugger? An idiot?

R and S: Jeezuh H. Christ in a hand bucket!!!!

E: No, he was busy. I'm the best the big guy could round up....
G: Take it easy on him E. I brought you around to help him out.
R: Hey. I didn't mean to cause a ruckus.
E: Well, the 'super-celebrity' whinning was sorta' floating upwards you know, man?



29 July 2004 13:28 EDT | Posted by sass104 kissing kerrys

The truth is stranger than fictional anonymous blogger tales!
From the Defamer:
Stars at the convention.

"Really, the horny stars don't have to look beyond the genetic walls of the Kerry family. Affleck's been spotted getting friendly with Vanessa (who "kissed the actor twice in a box at the convention Monday night and 'he didn't resist,' a witness tells us," say R&M.) And John Cusack, wet dream of the Say Anything generation, was caught kissing Alexandra Kerry. With both daughters busy, John better lock up his wife before Alec Baldwin pounds some Spanish Fly and hits the convention floor."

All the Rance (?) men running around. Funny, they didn't mention George Clooney and Owen Wilson chasing Hilary around the convention floor.



24 July 2004 02:26 EDT | Posted by sass104 chasing sass
(Pardon the construction. I'm redecorating again and working with some images. Images of class. Sassy class. Neat photos.........Just ignore what's happening to the pages.)

Well, where does the time go?
It's hard enough keepin' up this blog o' mine much less trailing along behind Rubber Duckie and his mud flaps and Gus and his whale searching crew.
Canuck made a comment about me and about Rance's identity.
I have never known Rance's ID and still do not. I still don't know where that idea came from. That I had some kind of inside track. I have always stated from day one, that I did not know Rance's identity.
I was only sure about who I thought he was and/or still is. Reguardless, it doesn't truly matter.
Our Rance has proved to be quite the entertainer, a stellar mind with a nasty little sense of humor and a heart o' gold. (although he does try to hide it.)
He's a corker alright.
One thing I like. It's the journey not the ending. The thrill of the mystery. Something about keeping the wanting alive and the glow all a'charming and mysterious. If the A-list man I think that Rance is, isn't Rance after all, I must say.......shame on you. You should have done this.
You should have been Rance. You should have thought of this scheme. It's right up your alley. Your kind of artistic experiment. Your kind of wickedness and decadent laughs. Dig deep and give it all you got. Be completely open to anything with a sure-fire confidence and good common sense to round it out.

Rance has taught me a few very nice lessons. Sorta' like that professor you always hated in college and later realized he was the best teacher you ever had.
"I am forever changed by who you are and what you've meant to me..."
I know, I know...the Ben Affleck speech from Chasing Amy. I still don't think Ben is Rance. Although I will admit I love Ben. Always have. I think he is hilarious and very cute.
But not Rance.
And for now I'll use that speech.
From Sass to Rance.



21 July 2004 21:37 EDT | Posted by sass104 a rouse by any other name.

Let's get back to blogging. Leave Rance alone. The fish won't bite through all this ruckus.
Being an itty-bitty celebrity in my home town, (although unaware of it, until these episodes stirred that idea up), I can sympathize with this celebrity ranting. I suppose I was unaware of how many folks had actually purchased my art pieces, even though they have been selling fairly well for years. I'd just never thought about it. Didn't think of people out there looking at my work and having this image of me or feeling anything about me.

One day this summer I was standing in one of my shops and from seemingly no-where, a gal flew at me and enthusiastically threw her arms around my neck. Nearly knocked me into a plate glass window. Then with her Southern cheerleading spirit she proceded to 'sis-boom-bah' about how much she loved my work. At the top of her lungs. Not that I didn't apprciate it. I did. I do.
She just scared the crap out of me.
She left the shop with her husband and young child and walking away looking like a normal person. Three more times something like that has happened.... times when I didn't expect it. Yes I have talked to many nice people at shows and such and I suppose I've been ready for them. In other words, promotion of a product is expected.
But these other 'fan attacks'? Creepy. Something about people getting into your space. Their hands around your neck. Were these people, normally people I would have liked?
Probably not. I can't think of one of my close friends that routinely jump in to hug someone they don't even know. I can't imagine what it would be like to have, well a lot more of those types headed straight at you all the time, everywhere you went. But maybe it's just good taste, .... manners that are lacking.
Maybe they REALLY, REALLY like my work.
Anyway. I can see it. Scary.
No matter who the person is, I'd rather get to know them first, before attacking.

But requardless of all that, it got me thinking about being a truly BIG, big 'sleb'.
Bodyguards and all. How scary is that? I don't know. I don't get it. Maybe I value privacy more than others. Or maybe I'm too stand-offish. I wouldn't do something like that.
Does being a fan mean you are a normal person until the object of your 'fannage' appears and stirs it all up for you?
Is everyone a 'fan' of something or someone? I'll bet that's true. I'll bet everyone has something that could make them squeal like a cheerleader. I'll bet Rance is a fan of some big sports figure or something.....shrimp, maybe?
If some of the readers here knew the location of that basement, would they be clawing to get in?
Wait a minute.
If that's true then what would I do when confronted with my big piece o' shrimp?
Interesting? I say, I wouldn't act like an idiot.
I suppose I'd start a blog.



Later 20 July 2004 13:25 EDT | Posted by sass104 a mini mess

As close as I can get to an explanation...Sorry, I above all else should understand...being teased with bits of info. I discovered this last night and emailed captainhoof. I never saw this post.
----- Original Message -----
From: sass
To: captainhoof
Sent: Tuesday, July 20, 2004 12:42 AM
Subject: the sass shit
I am very, very, VERY...sorry....I have just now found this old post you made on the old Edna Openshaw blog.....This is Tuesday July 20th.

Wednesday, 30 June 2004 - 12:52 PM EDT
Name: Captain Hoof
E-Mail: captainhoof
Sass, this Captain Hoof, appointed your Public Defender by Rance on your case. From what I've seen so far, I admire your methodry-- and Rance loves your writing by the way. We want to clear your name (pseudonymic though it may be). Just one question re: evidence
that earlier this year you posted on the Rance blog under the name babygirlcrow. Did you? If so all you're guilty of is "hutzpah." Just need to know.
No doubt you'll assume this e-mail address is just a bogus one posted by your adversaries. Please reply under the name "sass" with a simple "yes" or "no" via the Rance blog comment board, and your reply will not be posted.

I have been totally in the dark about this issue.
Through all of this, I never saw this one post. I'm so sorry. I have nothing but the admiration for Rance and his writings. And the Adminstration Staff 'aint too bad either.
Later, Sass, Edna or whatever the hell you want to call me.

So you see they did explain it to me. And I never seeing that post, well acted like a sassy ass.
I'm sure Rance has his reasons for going fishing. I felt part of it was the "soap opera" goings-on that happened. It drove me bananas.......(I'm sure it did Rance as well) ...all because it was never explained to me, I hate it that I caused more static, simply because I missed their post.
I'm sitting back on this bank and restin'........ my line in the water.



PS: NO Canuck..., I don't think Rance is Mini-Me.
PPS: I never once posted as babygirlcrow anywhere at any point in time......
now.....THE END!


20 July 2004 01:53 EDT
| Posted by sass104 oops
I have just now...
I have just discovered a piece of evidence that explains to me a tad about the sass-gate brawl. I have nothing but bad and sad feelings that I might have been the reason behind Rance ducking for cover. I hope not. My heartfelt apologies.



19 July 2004 20:45 EDT | Posted by sass104 where do you buy the damn bait?

I guess I'm off to fish as well. I have always hated fishing, damn it Rance.
Why that? Couldn't you have picked swimming with the sharks? Maybe you've had enough of that. Sass will remain open until further notice. All loyal Rance readers and writers are welcome. Please comment anything or anytime you'd like. I'll post it.
In reading so many blogs these last few months I've noticed one thing. They've all been saying...
"Well, blogs are just so OVER."

I didn't know that. Maybe Rance is simply following what's " in " for now.
Funny, I never thought of him as a "follower". More like a blazing white-hot star, forging ahead against all odds. On his own path. Fun, wasn't it?
Hmmmm, Rance under covers? Sorry, I just can't help myself. It's all your fault, Rance.
Why'd you have to be so damn good?


16 July 2004 20:49 EDT | Posted by sass104 a clash

Should he stay or should he go..
Don't worry Brookside. Something about posting my pigue in my sassy blog, helped immensely.
For real. Try it. Hey, this venting shit really works! And yet as the sauce settles we are confronted with the resignation of Rance. Or the sorta' slidin' over to the side of Rance. What to do, if he leaves? Don't rightly know.

Let's ask the Clash.

Always tease tease tease
You're happy when I'm on my knees
One day is fine, next is black
So if you want me off your back
Well come on and let me know
Should I stay or should I go?

Should I stay or should I go now?
Should I stay or should I go now?
If I go there will be trouble
An' if I stay it will be double
So come on and let me know

This indecision's bugging me
If you don't want me, set me free
Exactly who'm I'm supposed to be
Don't you know which clothes even fit me?
Come on and let me know
Should I cool it or should I blow?

They don't seem to know either.

Maybe during the weekend, Rance will decide. I think he knows what I'd like. I want Rance. All the time, open all hours, served up fresh and grilled just the way I like it.



14 July 2004 21:18 EDT | Posted by sass104 damn

Damn it! He topped me again.


13 July 2004 09:42 EDT | Posted by sass104 revenge
Jake was dying.
His wife Becky was maintaining a vigil by his side. She held his fragile hand in the weak light, tears running down her face. Her praying woke him from his slumber. He looked up, pale lips moving slightly.
"Becky, my darling," he whispered.
"Hush my love," she said. "Rest, don't talk."
He was insistent. "Becky," he said in his tired voice, "I have something that I must confess."
"It's not important now," replied the weeping
Becky. "Everything is all right. Go to sleep now."
"No, no. I must die in peace, Becky. I...I...I..... slept with your sister, your best friend, her best
friend, and your mother."

"I know honey," whispered Becky, "just let the poison work."


12 July 2004 20:15 EDT
| Posted by sass104 psycho

That's a rather curious subject to bring up at this conjucture in time. I don't do revenge. It's as Ken said. A happy life is revenge enough. Besides bad karma, begets bad karma, and begets more and more bad karma. Of course that may have been what I've been lacking all along. The ability to think up these things and therefore at a lose to recognize them when they are aimed at you. Maybe I should take another look at those dumb blonde jokes.
Back later. After everyone at the Rance site has their fill of plotting and scheming and goes on to other things.



Adam Curry's weblog
Tuesday, July 6, 2004

the pen is mightier than the sword
I bumped into a disturbing trend while home sick today, browsing more bloggage than usual. Now that self publishing is widely available, we need to reacquaint ourselves with the power of the written word. Edward George Earle Lytton Bulwer-Lytton coined the phrase: "Beneath the rule of men entirely great, The pen is mightier than the sword."

Particularly the distributed pen. I've been on the receiving end of animosity and untruth and the results were hurtful and harmful, to some extent beyond repair. Granted these cases were in newspapers, so circulation was probably higher than your average weblog. All it took was a sugestive line by a 'journalist' who said I was being investigated for deducting personal trips as a business expense.
It was a rumour that he didn't care to check carefully. This front page story resulted in, ofcourse, a tax audit that has been ongoing for the past 2 years, and several instances where I was told people wouldn't do business with me because of my 'tax problem'.
Naturally I've used the power of my own written word to combat this, a very tiring excercise indeed.

Take care of what you say and how you say it. Sometimes even linking to a story can be perceived as an endorsement of that as truth or fact. And don't think that weblogs have less power than 'official' publications, you don't need to have thousands of readers. All it takes is one person to start the flow and the rest is exponential.

And so I hope one day someone will point to my quote and realise the lessons we learned at the beginning of the blogosphere:
There are no secrets, only information you don't yet have.

On that note, I apologize for calling anyone a psycho. Even if they are one.



8 July 2004 20:14 EDT
| Posted by sass104

An early quote by Rance: "A way to get people to do what I want them to do is at the top of my list of things to invent." (Or something similiar. You think I'm going back through six frigging months?) Babe, you have invented it, recieved the patent and it's been copyrited, months ago.

Quote from Rance: July 7 2004 : "Many people have commented that they love this continuing cat fight." ...............Right....

Quote from Sass, today, July 8 2004. "I really don't know who Rance is, but over here at Doofus, we know one thing. He's quite the little entertainer."
(Ms. Sass was lead away at that point, apparently over-come with tears and a broken heart.)


7 July 2004 19:13 EDT
| Posted by sass104 nuns

Rance and his nuns.
I will take a tip from Pepito and write a blog for me. I have been waiting for the end results of this mad, mad whatever it's been and still not having heard anything, well I'm ready to end this from my end.
Here's a quote from someone I admire.
"......... if you try to get people to retract things, or you defend yourself, you just sound crazy, and feed the story anyway."

I feel I have sounded as such and do apologize to all the Rance and Sass readers, for any part I have played in this epic drama. If I could explain to any of you what really happened I would. But I still have no clue. Seems ridiculously silly to me at this point.
So here's to a new chapter of reading Rance and responding. I will be back writing as well unless I am banished to a nunnery, shortly.

You know that's a thought. Could this have been a subversive plot by Rance to get many of his "ladies" run off to that nunnery where even now as we blog, the web cam is being secretly set up in the showers?



6 July 2004 02:22 EDT
| Posted by sass104 get out of town!
Someone sent me this

Kiss and Tell for a Sex Blogger
Yes, even the Oz reports from Gawker Blogs
The Australian>Blogger Jessica Cutler - known in the US capital by her nom de plume "Washingtonienne" - has signed a lucrative
book deal with HyperionDisney, to write a novel, the company said today. The publishing house declined to disclose the amount of
the book deal, but her agent, Michael Carlisle told The New York Times that said the price was in the "substantial six figures."
Washington-based internet gossip column "Wonkette" reported today that the book contract with Hyperion went for $US300,000



1 July 2004 23:51 EDT
| Posted by sass104 a sassy fourth
No, no, no Rance.
Move the attention AWAY from Sass. ..................A-W-A-Y
(Not towards her!)
Will Sass be spending the Fourth with Rance or the Special Prosecutor or the Administrative Staff or Dr Vunklemeef and Marla X.(Jeesuz Christ Marla! I'll skoot over...Sit by me and Everett!)
WHAT IS The critical question? Is it, "Baby do you want your ribs barbequed now or after we go skinny dipping?"
And who is this special Prosecutor? Gus Openshaw?
Am I proud to be an America?
Well, when you take into account our work with Krispie Kremes, Robert Duvall, "air- brush" makeup, Marc Jacobs, Cary Grant and Roseland Russell in 'His Girl Friday', Jimmy Choo shoes, the Stephanie Plum books, Kathryn Hepburn, Dorothy Parker, and "Catch 22".
I'd have to say yes.
On the justice system. I'll reserve my opinon until next week. After-all, what I might say might be held against me. And how many times can one say, "It's not me! Why does everyone always think it's me?"

Et tu, Rance.

And for you out there, who are taking this WAY WAY too seriously. Go, go go spend some time with your families on this holiday weekend. Please...
I'm sure we'll all be back after the hot, sweaty, "fire-works" filled weekend.
With matching barbequed ribs, lightly sunburned.


14 June 2004 18:20 EDT | Posted by sass104 rance and his boxers

Less Sass, More Rance, please.......I have enjoyed ranting about Rance.
But I'm in the mood for a little less Sass and more Rance please.
One thing I noticed. In one of the first posts of Rance he specifically states that he is always asked about who he knows that are famous...Paris, Britney and somewhere in there he says...Ben and Matt.
Funny no one's noticed that before.....such detectives...I don't think I want this to be our Rance:
although I do approve of the boxers



11 June 2004 00:58 EDT | Posted by sass104 to delete or not to delete

I started this blog at some point early in 2004. There was a terrible "blog-fight" with trolls. It was strange and has since passed us by. I am deleting all the posts concerning this and will continue as before....


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