Lonely Author: My First Pedicure


“You never had a pedicure?” Stunned, my wife and daughter stared at me.

Maybe the Chimp needed to get in touch with his feminine side.

Coming home from my doctor’s appointment, I journeyed into a beauty salon.

To ignore the strange looks from the women I picked up a magazine.  Apparently, Caitlyn Jenner doesn’t feel like a woman anymore.

A tiny Asian woman led me to chair that stood above a tub. Removing my sneakers, socks, and rolling up my jeans, I sank my feet into the warm water.

I could get used to this.

I started clever salon conversation. “Are you excited about the new season of ‘The Voice?’”

The thin woman next to me made awful sounds with her gum as if she learned to chew by watching cattle grazing.

Forget the conversation.

This Chimp knows there’s no greater turn off than a man with crusty nails. So, there wasn’t much for the old lady to do there.

The old lady started rubbing some grating apparatus against my heel. When she moved to the bridge of my foot….

Quickly withdrawing, I yelled, and leapt out of my seat.

The entire salon turned to look at me.

“I’m ticklish.”

Returning my hoof to the old lady, I ignored a room full of shaking heads and rolling eyes.

Biting my lip, she continued on that sweet spot.

At this moment I knew men are the weaker sex; child birth, monthly cramps, pedicures, raising immature husbands.

Women are built to stand excruciating torture.

No wonder why I couldn’t keep a woman. I submitted them to this cruel torture.

Minutes later she massaged my foot with a fragrant cream.  It actually made me a little drowsy.

Two quick taps on my foot.

Some relaxing Oriental massage trick.

Two more taps.

A salon full of women yelled in unison, “She wants the other foot.”

How humiliating.

She painted my toe nails with a clear enamel although a cream colored French manicure may have gone well with my Earth tone eyes.

An hour later, I entered my apartment.

Leaving my shoes and socks on the welcome mat, I stood before my wife and daughter. Then, I truly got in touch with my feminine side.

No one noticed my lovely pedals.

I truly knew how it felt to be a woman; an unappreciated flower.

Alas, getting in touch with my feminine side wasn’t what I thought it would be.

Perhaps, next time I want to get in touch with my feminine side I could get a Brazilian Wax.








If I could

I would tatto her name upon my heart

To match the one

She tattooed upon my soul


Photo is selfie taken yesterday by Allie.

Describe Yourself In One Sentence


To start her Junior year, my daughter had to submit a five page introductory paper describing herself and her life. This past weekend I had a chance to read it.

On page two she had three thick paragraphs, nearly the entire page describing her combative relationship with her mother.

I anxiously rushed to page three imagining I would warrant an entire page. This is what she wrote.

“My father is a strong passionate man with nine herniated disks, but he doesn’t care, he laughs his pains away – actually he laughs all his troubles away.”

That was it. One measly freaking line.

The contrasting descriptions made me think of how descriptions have changed in literature.

Miguel de Cervantes, Victor Hugo, and Jane Austen wrote pages of description. In one of my favorite novels, The Godfather, Mario Puzo used quite bit of description.

In today’s novels, description is kept to a minimum. In screen writing it is almost bare bones.

You read my daughter’s description.

Feel free to take a turn. Describe yourself in one sentence.  Or if you prefer, describe me in one sentence.


Thanks for reading.


Fragments Of Me


When we were young our lives consisted of questions.

The questions we needed answered. The hundreds of questions our parents and teachers asked.

But a ten year old was never meant to have all the answers.

My classmates attended the big party. Stupid me promised to dance with every girl. Boys stood on one side, girls on the other.

My friends taunted me. “Go dance.”

With wobbly knees and sweaty forehead, I tried to look cool.

Then I spotted Lisa Big Boobies Barelli. Oh my, she could fill up a B-cup like no other girl in school.

Ever since kindergarten when she first smiled at me, I knew the other girls didn’t compare. Lisa had all her teeth.

From across the room I admired her.

Who cares if she had rounder cheeks than the other girls?

Lisa had something the skinny girls didn’t have.

She had curves.

Deep breath…..I broke the ice approaching the circle of “cool girls” as they giggled like hyenas.

Unable to speak, I did something that became my signature move. Never inviting her to dance, I took Lisa’s hand and led her to the dance floor.

Everyone watched us dance as I impressed her with witty banter.

She said, “Nice party.”

I replied, “Uh-huh.”

“Are you wearing perfume?”


Even at that early age I knew women preferred a good smelling man. So, I wore my mother’s Chanel #5.

My friends mocked me for dancing with Lisa. I maneuvered us around so she wouldn’t see their hurtful antics.

The boys never understood. Why dance with other girls if I was already dancing with the prettiest one?

“Andrew, there’s so many beautiful girls here with lovely dresses and their hair in pretty curls. You could’ve danced with any of them.”

Then, Lisa asked the terrifying question.  “Why me?”

I felt the universe collapsing on me. Boys laughed. Girls gave me dirty looks. Now, I had to answer this….

How much pressure could one ten year old take?

Searching for infinite wisdom, I gazed into her big blue eyes and whispered. “Why not?”

The lights dimmed.

A love song came on.

Lisa gave me a bear hug and kissed my cheek.

Thankfully, the darkness cloaked my confusion.

That ten year old boy learned so much that night.

He learned about having the courage to be the first.

He learned to go after the girl he wanted, no matter what anyone else thought.

And dancing cheek to cheek…

He learned some questions are meant to be answered by asking another question.


Photo of myself taken by friend of the family.

Between Your Legs

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Between Your Legs

I removed your silky panty
found myself face to face
with the promised land
a place of virginity lost
evaporating innocence
and childhood left behind

The place where old lovers
heartlessly came and went
Baby they never deserved her
this gift you share with me
forget those faceless names
cause I live for here and now

A place different from others
cause it’s the home of ecstasy
my paradise between your legs
she and I will enjoy a snug fit
as I worship your little treasure
a place I wish to live and die


Photo borrowed from Pinterest


Living With Lonely Author


Imagine Lonely Author is single, you and I are starting a relationship…..yeah I want to brush your hair, paint your toe nails, meet your friends, watch TV and movies with you, massage your feet, take you shoe shopping, BLAH, BLAH, BLAH…

No, it’s not all bananas and roses…

To be fair and balanced, here is a list of the complaints from old girlfriends, wives, and Allie.

1- Chimp loves to spoon. Not a problem? Well, I have a bad sinus problem so I SNORE. To give you an idea, while on a long distance flight to visit a girlfriend a stewardess woke me up because “my snoring scared the other passengers.”
2- Flirting. Last year prior to my surgery, with Allie standing by my side, I invited a nurse to go bowling with us after surgery. (If you’re the jealous type you have to let me know, so I can tone it down).
3- This may bother some ladies; I need a tissue to watch some movies. Seriously, did Leo have to the die in the freezing water?? Couldn’t Kate scoot over just a bit?  Bitch.
4- Disorganized work space.
5- I help with ALL chores, including laundry, but I hate folding. Don’t ask me to fold. Also if I pull a t-shirt from the bottom of the drawer where you left everything neatly folded, good chance it won’t be as neat as you left it.
6- I talk to myself to rehearse dialogue. Done it in the street, on the train, etc.  I’ve received many smacks from butterflies (including my daughter) for doing so.
7- This drives me absolutely insane. Serious conversations & dinner dates are cell phone-less. I need eye contact. You can blog, text, DM, Facebook, or twitter your booty off, but I refuse to talk to the back of your phone.
8- Overprotective (not in that clingy creepy way). You have all the freedom in the world to go out as often as you want with whomever you want. Chimp is secure enough to not fret about that. But he will worry about your safety.
9- I worry. Years ago, I lost my parents (my only family). I don’t want to lose anyone else.
10- At bedtime, before my head touches the pillow, I’m asleep. So any question you ask will be answered with a LOUD – See number 1.
11- I need time for blogging & writing.
12- I remove your shoes. Please respect this.
12- Terrible at saving.
14- Will jump at anyone who says anything bad about you. Back when I had a Facebook page, a cousin once said something hurtful to Allie about how an outfit fit her. I responded with several nasty comments that ripped her cousin to shreds. I have no mercy with bullies or anyone who attacks someone’s insecurities.
15- When we go out I need to see you wear lipstick or gloss whatever you prefer. (Make up is up to you).






Entering the quiet house, a thunderous silence greeted Lisa.

She flipped through her mail. As usual, the only men who remembered her were named Bill, utility and cable.

Finding her usual spot on the couch, she unpinned her hair, letting it cascade onto her delicate shoulders.

Reaching for her shoes, she remembered him. If he were here he would remove them, like he always did. That would be followed by a soothing rub and perhaps a loving kiss on her toes.

She sighed.

Hours later she lay deep in her recliner; wrapped in her thick white bathrobe. A diet coke and remote rested in her lap.

An annoying commercial interrupted the programming.

Her gaze fell upon her uncovered pale feet in desperate need of a pedicure.

She wondered what he would be doing if he were here right now. She smiled. She knew the answer. Painting her toe nails or massaging her tired feet.

No doubt, he would shower her with attention.

When he first spoke of his connection to her feet, she laughed and called him a stupid ape. She remembered his stupid grin when he called her Cinderella.

Then, came the days she actually envied her feet.

Now she missed the damn chimp.


A Few Notes:

The inspiration for this came from prior conversations with old girl friends and a recent one with my daughter’s mother.

The being referred to as an “ape/chimp” actually started with my high school sweetheart.

Please note: My butterflies have always bestowed the pleasure of shoe removal on moi.

It’s easy to make this chimp happy.