Posted on February 25, 2010
Banned!
I have been banned from eBay. Not formally or anything, but Brittany has made it clear that I am to never again click on the shiny ‘Place Bid’ button that beckons me with its siren’s song from across the glittering wires of the Interwebs. Apparently, or so my lovely wife claims, my insatiable desire to win at all things great and small would eventually lead to our eventual and inevitable financial ruin, should I ever be allowed to participate in another online auction ever again. I’m sure I don’t know what she’s talking about, however, because to my way of thinking, a little healthy competition is good for the soul. Take, for instance, my first (and last) experience with an online auction that took place a couple of weeks ago: Read More
Posted on February 18, 2010
Rules, Rules, Rules
The regular publishing schedule here at Coquetting Tarradiddles is pretty simple: two new essays each week, with one released on Tuesday and the other on Thursday. It doesn’t sound like a difficult thing to manage and, truth be told, it really isn’t. However, every so often Life meets up with Fate over a game of cards in the back room of some celestial speakeasy where anthropomorphized representations of the human condition get together to eat ambrosia and figure out clever ways to screw with mortals, and their little omnipotent games of chance almost always result in Interesting Times for us regular schmoes. Read More
Posted on February 10, 2010
The Incredible, Inedible Egg
Earlier this month, Brittany and I were almost killed by rancid chicken menstruations. Ok, maybe rancid is a bit too strong of a word, but using a term like “bad eggs” to describe what we ate late one night as a midnight breakfast doesn’t come anywhere near to balancing out the digestive misery that soon followed. The eggs themselves looked fine, they didn’t smell bad and, since I throw enough spices into my scrambled eggs to take down either a large cocker spaniel or small rhinoceros, they didn’t even taste bad. However, shortly after finishing our delicious breakfast-for-dinner, the wife and I spent the rest of the night attempting to battle the unseen eldritch forces of a gastrointestinal Dunwich Horror as we passed each other in the hallway, going to and coming from the bathroom – or, as it came to be known on that fateful night, the Necronomiconal gateway to the Dungeon Dimensions. It wasn’t pretty. Read More
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