According to an article in Current Biology scientists have discovered that certain varieties of the gene MC1R make people appear two years older than they really are. Well, that explains why I’m only 70 but I look 72.
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I read with interest article on my news feed from Reader's Digest, 9 Subtle Signs You’re in a Toxic Relationship. The article listed these subtle signs:
You're always walking on eggshells You feel a little queasy, or uneasy, around your partner You're always fighting Everything is so dramatic, all the time Your partner wants you all to himself You keep score Your partner stonewalls There’s a constant power tug-of-war game You feel like you 'didn't sign up for this' As usual, the article omitted several subtle signs. As a public service, I list the ten additional signs that you may be in a toxic relationship: Your significant other takes up making pipe bombs for a hobby. You find a receipt for antifreeze but you don’t own a car. Your significant other keeps buying food that has been recalled. Your significant other buys a pit bull and is using your perfume to train it. You discover your significant other is an extraterrestrial. You significant other asks if his/her exes can join you in the bedroom. Your significant other starts having conversations with his AK-47. Your significant other starts paying a lot of attention to your younger sibling. Your significant other doesn’t want you to watch America’s Most Wanted. You discover the picture on your significant other’s passport is entirely different from his face. I hope this helps you evaluate your current relationship. For e-books by me, visit http://smashwords.com/profile/view/monteranderson. Follow me on Twitter at http://twitter.com/monteranderson Follow my blog at http://monteranderson-author.com or http://monteranderson.wordpress.com. The following is an article I wrote for a local contest. It didn’t win but I thought I would share it anyway.
My First Love My first memory of my local library was of its immensity; books neatly arranged endlessly upward, the shadows between the shelves, the rows and rows of bookcases, the whispers of paper wrapped around whispering voices, and... the women. At the end of each school day, my female classmates flowed in different directions. Some went to play sports or to cheer on the school teams while others went to the mall, but the stream of women that most interested me ended up at the library. It’s no wonder this is where I met my first love. I was winding through the library's maze looking at the women when I heard a voice that called to me like a siren. It beguiled me, and so enticed, I sought out the source. When I found it in the history section, I was astounded. There stood a woman of such beauty she seemed to sparkle. She wore robes woven of gold and silver threads and dripping with jewels. Her skin was the darkest tan, unlike any I had ever seen. I couldn’t look away from her almond brown eyes, so large that a man could get lost in them. "Do you know who I am?" she whispered. I shook my head. “I am Cleopatra, Queen of Egypt.” She raised her chin when she said Egypt, as if she expected me to know her. “Great men have loved me in the past -- men like Julius Caesar and Mark Anthony.” I spoke not a word, but as the great men in her time did, I took her in my arms. My hands trembled as I held her. Her perfume was exotic and yet so familiar – hard to describe – like an old friend. Her skin was soft. The seduction was complete; I fell instantly in love. As I drank in her beauty and her scent, her shape changed, and I found myself holding a book, The Early History of Rome by Livy. As I escorted her to the front desk, I heard another voice, cold and scared, say, "You will never love another like you love her, your first love." The hair on my neck stood up. I stopped and turned to see another woman standing before me. She wasn’t beautiful, like Cleopatra, but haggard. She wore a long dress that dragged on the floor with sleeves that hung down below her fingers. Long hair hung around her neck like a serpent. A tall, black hat hid her face from me. "How...how do you know?" She lifted one hand and pointed a gnarly finger at my chest. "Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player, that struts and frets his hour upon the stage, and then is heard no more.” She lifted her large, red eyes and stared into mine. A force beyond description pulled me toward her. Resistance was futile; I fell into her arms. My body shook as she held me. Her skin was cold and clammy with an odor of rotting fish. I was helpless, trapped. Her shape transformed, and I found myself holding the play, Macbeth. Again, the seduction was complete; I fell in love with Shakespeare. At first, I was overjoyed. Then I realized I found these books by chance, or rather, they called out to me. How would I ever find more? What was I to do? Was it possible to have two loves? With a lady under each arm, I made my way to the front desk. The librarian informed me the library online website had a listing of all the books in the library. It was like Match.com for bibliophiles. She said that I could look at several books quickly, similar to speed dating. When I selected a book, I could reserve it, and it would meet me at the library when I was ready. I could not believe my ears. Why hadn’t I discovered this sooner? Where has this system been all my life? It was a match made in heaven. I think that if I already didn’t have two love affairs going on, I would have asked the librarian to marry me on the spot. That is how I met my first love and my second love at the library. THE END For e-books by me, visit http://smashwords.com/profile/view/monteranderson. Follow me on Twitter at http://twitter.com/monteranderson Follow my blog at http://monteranderson-author.com or http://monteranderson.wordpress.com. Nudity is now more accepted on TV than ever, according to an article from New York. New TV shows are using nudity to draw in viewers. The Dating Naked series is one example of the new trend. Then there’s Discovery's Naked and Afraid and TLC's real estate show, Buying Naked. Of course, the genitalia are blurred out, along with female breasts. Perhaps they should block out some male breasts. There’s also Naked Vegas, Skin Wars, and Naked Castaway.
I hate to complain but these aren’t the shows we, the American public, want to watch about naked people. Here is my recommended list of the next shows that should be naked:
I’m not one to buck a hot trend. From now on, I’ll blog naked, and I don’t mean the “naked truth.” People can read my blog and imagine the rest. Sorry, no pictures or videos. I’ll have to keep my blog short, because my nudity upsets my greyhound. For e-books by me, visit http://smashwords.com/profile/view/monteranderson. Follow me on Twitter at http://twitter.com/monteranderson Follow my blog at http://monteranderson-author.com or http://monteranderson.wordpress.com. I had two greyhounds, Prada and Groovy or maybe they had me. They taught me a great deal about life - lessons that apply to people as well. Sadly, Grove died in December. I miss her. Prada is getting old but otherwise seems healthy. She’s still teaching me how to live. Here’s what I’ve learned from my Greyhounds: 1. They have taught me that the best love is unconditional. They never ask how much money I earn or how famous I am. They just love me the way I am and want me to love them. Pass it on. 2. My greyhounds were always glad to see me no matter how long or short I’ve been gone. Prada’s still that way. We should treat each other the same way. She gets excited when I walk into the room. When is the last time you got excited when your significant other walked into the room? 3. Prada and Groovy were always nice to each other and very affectionate -- usually. They were very diffident in personality and temperament, but they tolerated each other. They didn’t carry grudges and they didn’t stay mad for very long. The world should learn how to do that. 4. Greyhounds have boundaries. For example, Prada has her own bed and she hides treats there. If Groovy tried to lie down or steal a treat, Prada would clearly let her know to back off. People have boundaries too. We all have a favorite chair or coffee mug or desk. We should honor those boundaries: less drama that way. 5. They looked out for each other. If one of them was injured and had to wear one of those neck collars to keep from licking the wound, the other one would lick it for her. People should do that; lick each other’s wounds. I don’t mean in a physical sense but mentally. It would help healing whatever hurts. 6. All greyhounds like to be petted or stroked. Don’t we all? We should all stroked each other by saying something nice or complementing each other - often. 7. Greyhounds don’t bark much. They can if there is danger or they want to warn us. Now days with all the social media, it seems people do a lot of excessive barking. We should learn to bark and complain less. All that excessive barking and complaining just creates tension and seldom solves anything. Give it a rest. 8. Even as old as Prada is, she still likes to run and play. We should all exercise at whatever age. You are never too old to play. 9. If I hurt their feelings, they would find a way to get even. They would find my shoe, a belt or a slipper and tear it up. People are the same way. If you hurt someone, they’ll get revenge when you least expect it so make amends. 10. Sarcasm is wasted on pets and people. It is the cruelest form of humor and best left alone. I’m bad about this, but I try. 11. Prada taught me to appreciate the simple things in life. She needs exercises and so do I, so I take her for walks. Actually, she takes me for a walk. She likes to stop and smell the roses. And the rocks. And the trees. And the flowers. The simple things in life. I’m a mission-oriented person and sometimes get annoyed at this behavior. I just want to finish the walk. I tell her, “It is just a rock, girl.” At the same time, I envy her. She has that rare ability to find simply, everyday things fascinating and interesting. She lives in the moment and enjoys every second of life. She’s like a child in that sense. We grownups have lost that fascination with the simple things of life and living in the moment. We’re so focused on the future that we’ve forgotten how to live in the movement. I want to be like Prada. I want to be able to take her for a walk and say, “Wow! Look, Prada! A rock! How fascinating! Let’s stop and enjoy it.” I’m working on it. For e-books by me, visit http://smashwords.com/profile/view/monteranderson. Follow me on Twitter at http://twitter.com/monteranderson Follow my blog at http://monteranderson-author.com or http://monteranderson.wordpress.com. Angelina allowed herself a small snicker as the focus of her ire came down for breakfast. God I hate him, she thought. Look at that idiot. Little does he know that I am going to kill him next week. I can’t stand the sight of him.
“Good morning, dear,” Ravi said as he poured himself a cup of coffee. “How’d you sleep last night?” I wish she died in her sleep. That would make everything easier, he thought. I have to kill her next week. He sat down at the table opposite her. Angelina handed Ravi the half-and-half. “Fine. And you?” Ravi blew on the surface of his coffee, a habit that Angelina found extremely annoying, and took one sip. Blood began to drip from his nostrils. As he reached up to touch his face, foam began to pour out of his mouth. He looked at Angelina with those narrow beady eyes as his head hit the table with a thud. Then his head rolled off the table, across the kitchen floor and into the dog’s dish where Peppy, the greyhound, began to lick his face. “Like a baby.” Ravi grabbed the bagel knife, reached across the table and stabbed Angelina’s hand, pinning it to the table. Pulling a pistol from the back of his waistband, he shot Angelina between the eyes. He smiled as the back of her head blew out like a smashed watermelon. Blood spouted out the top of her head and down onto the flannel nightgown that he hated. “Do you have plans this weekend?” “No, not really.” Angelina poured another cup of coffee. Yes, you bastard, Angelina thought. While you’re banging your slutty mistress across town, I have to buy some antifreeze for your coffee. Then I have to stop off at the gun shop and pick up the pistol that has been on hold while my background check is in progress. I also want to find your old hunting knife. “Me neither.” Ravi sipped his coffee again. I wish I had a slutty mistress across town so I could spend the day banging her while you waste money on another facial. He finished his coffee and stood up. “Well, I am going to get dressed and do some yard work.” “You do that, dear. I think I’ll go into town and get a facial.” What an idiot. He is worth millions but wears the same pair of underwear for years. I can’t wait to kill him. “Have fun. Pick up something for dinner.” As Ravi walked out of the kitchen, the kitchen exploded in a ball of fire. Apparently, someone left the gas on in the oven. “Ciao,” Angelina answered. As Ravi reached the top of the stairs, the top step gave way. He grabbed the railing and that also gave way. He fell over the side and landed on his head in the living room. His eyes were open and glued to the TV. The thought of it made Angelina smile. “Angie, I can’t find my lucky underwear.” What a bitch. I bet she threw them out. “I threw them out, dear. I’ll buy you some new ones while I’m in town.” I gotta kill him next week. Ravi shook his head. I have gotta kill her next week. THE END For e-books by me, visit http://smashwords.com/profile/view/monteranderson. Follow me on Twitter at http://twitter.com/monteranderson Follow my blog at http://monteranderson-author.com or http://monteranderson.wordpress.com. “Heads, we get married; tails, we break up.”
Judy nearly spit out a mouth full of her cosmopolitan when she laughed. If that remark came from a boyfriend, she might have been angry but coming from a total stranger, she thought it was the funniest pick-up line she had ever heard. She was sitting alone in this popular bar, and this was not the first line of the evening that she had heard, but it was intriguing. It got her attention. She turned on her bar stool toward the stranger. “What?” she shouted above the din of the bar. In a slightly louder voice, the stranger leaned in and started to repeat his remark. “I said...” Judy cut him off. “No, no. I heard what you said. What do you mean?” The good-looking stranger smiled. “Well, that is where all these relationships are heading, right? You meet someone and down the road, you either break up or get married. I am just trying to save time. Heads, we get married; tails, we break up.” “Wait! Wait!” Judy said with a grin. “If those are my only choices, I have to have a name.” “No, that just makes breaking up that much harder. It’s easier if we don’t know each other’s name.” “Yes, but what if it turns up heads and we get married? I have to decide if I like your name, right?” “No. You can keep your name, if you like, or you can hyphenate the names. It’s your call.” Judy smiled. “No deal. I have to have a first name at least.” “Okay, my first name is Bob.” Judy stuck out her hand. “Hello, Bob. I’m Judy. Nice to meet you." Bob shook Judy’s hand. “Now that that’s out of the way, let’s flip the coin.” Judy poked a finger into Bob’s chest. “No. No. No. I have some questions first.” “Trust me, Judy. The less we know about each other, the easier it will be to break up.” “Look! Either I get to ask some questions or no coin toss.” Bob thought about it for a few seconds. “Okay, we each get three questions. You first.” Judy took a deep breath. “Question number one; do you want kids?" Bob’s eyes lit up. “Oh, yes! I love kids. Next question.” Judy laughed. “Question number two; where would we live?” “Wherever you like. I’d even be willing to live near your family.” “Well, that’s good. Now the last question; does this line get you many dates?” Bob, laughed and shook his head. “Actually, this is the first time I have tried it.” Judy nodded in agreement. “I thought so. Now you ask three questions.” Bob thought for a minute. “Okay, here goes. What’s your favorite color?” “What! Of all the important details you need to know before we get married, and the top of your list is my favorite color. Why?” “If we do get married, I will bring you a rose every day in your favorite color.” “Well, lucky for you, it’s red.” “Very well. My next question is; what’s your favorite type of food?’ “Italian. Why?” “If we get married, I will take you out for Italian every Friday.” Judy grinned. “Sounds good. Last question?” “My last question is; how am I doing so far?” Judy nodded. “Actually, not too bad. Flip the coin.” Bob flipped the coin up, but Judy intercepted it before Bob could catch it. She slapped it on the back of her other hand and removed her top hand to reveal heads. Then she picked up the coin and turned it over. “Really, Bob? A two headed coin?” “I, I, I just wanted to increase my odds. How did you know?” Judy smiled. “Let’s just say that this is not my first rodeo. How about we flip to see where you will take me for dinner? Heads for Italian and heads for Italian.” Bob smiled. “Okay.” Judy flipped the coin and caught it. Without looking at it, she slipped it into her pocket. “Italian it is.” “Can I have my coin back?” Judy laughed as she hooked her arm in his and headed for the door. “Don’t push your luck.” THE END For e-books by me, visit http://smashwords.com/profile/view/monteranderson. Follow me on Twitter at http://twitter.com/monteranderson Follow my blog at http://monteranderson-author.com or http://monteranderson.wordpress.com. I read with interest and article by Maria Ward from Vogue on my news feed. The article was 7 Job Interview Tips Everyone Needs to Know. Ms. Ward listed these seven tips:
1. Do Your Homework 2. Practice, Practice, Practice 3. Approach Digital Differently (Skype interviews) 4. Look and Feel Your Best 5. Make a Fabulous Entrance 6. Demonstrate Confidence Beyond Body Language 7. Make a Fabulous Exit As usual whenever writers make these lists, there are several tips omitted. As public service, I will provide those missing tips here; 1. Don’t talk about your fraternity or sorority. I have blogged about this before. If your fraternity or sorority hasn’t been in the news recently for some stupid stunt, it will be. Best not to mention it until after you’re hired. 2. Don’t mention your Facebook page unless you’ve sanitized it. The same goes for Twitter, Google+, YouTube, Instagram, and Tumblr. Remember that really funny video of a drunk you falling into a wedding cake? Yeah, your interviewer doesn’t need to know about it. 3. Don’t render the Nazi salute. The same goes for fancy handshakes like the hand jive, high fives and Boy Scouts/Cub Scouts/Girl Scouts secret handshakes. 4. Don’ mention how many people you slept with at your previous employer. The truth is… no one cares. 5. Don’t push on the pull door. As you approach a door, determine if it is a push or pull door and act accordingly. It’s a test of your intelligence. 6. Don’t wear your Superman/Super girl T-shirt under your white shirt. The interviewer may not be a fan. 7. Do remember how to exit the building. This tip is similar to the push/pull door tip. People will notice if you exit the interview and then wander aimless around the building trying to get out; not a good impression. 8. Do use the restroom before your hours long interview. Asking permission to go pee is simply PPPP (Piss poor prior planning). 9. Do remember where you parked your car. You don’t want to hang around the parking lot looking lost. 10. Do wear pants/skirt during your Skype interview. I know that the camera shows only the torso, but accidents do happen. If you remember these tips, you’ll be sure to land a job. God Luck. For e-books by me, visit http://smashwords.com/profile/view/monteranderson. Follow me on Twitter at http://twitter.com/monteranderson Follow my blog at http://monteranderson-author.com or http://monteranderson.wordpress.com. I know I’ve post this before, but I love it. Here is a short story on how to become a bestselling author, How to be a Bestselling Dead Author.
Joe Regan was a writer. His suicide note was not his best piece of work. It simply read, “Fair well cruel world.” Joe took all the sleeping pills and sat down in his recliner. When he opened his eyes again, he was looking into the face of his agent, Bernie Blackwell. Bernie smiled and brushed back Joe’s hair. “Hey.” “Hey. Oh, my head hurts.” Joe looked around. “Where am I?” “You are in St. Thomas Hospital. I found you and called 911. The doctors pumped your stomach. You’ve been in a coma for five days, man.” “Oh. I don’t know if I should thank you or not. I just wanted to die.” “I know, man. I found your note. Why did you do it?” Joe smiled. “You’re my agent. I think you know why. My novel has been rejected by 45 publishers and I haven’t earned a dime in three years.” Bernie chuckled. “It’s 47 publishers now. I didn’t get a chance to tell you about the last two. However, while you were in a coma, I’ve been busy. I posted your suicide note on a few key social media websites and wrote what a tragedy it was since your novel’s so great.” “My suicide note? I didn’t say much in my note.” Bernie smiled. “Yeah, well, I sort of rewrote it. I also went ahead and published the e-book version of your novel. It’s going viral. We sold over 10,000 copies in four days. We now have offers from three publishers. I think if you had died, your novel would make the best sellers’ list.” “Lucky me! I have to nearly kill myself for my novel to sell.” “Joe, what do you expect? You wrote a romance novel about gay pygmies living in San Francisco-not a great genre. Anyway, since you really don’t want to live, would you consider killing yourself? It would mean a lot to me. I could help.” “What! My novel is finally published and you want me to kill myself? Are you crazy?” Bernie shrugged his shoulders. “No big deal. Come on, get up. I brought a wheelchair. I’m taking you out of here.” He handed Joe a glass of water and some pills. “Here, take these.” Joe took the pills with the water. With Bernie’s help, he got into the wheelchair. Bernie wheeled Joe out of ICU and headed for the elevators. Bernie pushed the up call button for the elevator. “Where are you taking me?” “Don’t worry about it. I am taking you to the tenth floor. The second elevator is out of service. I should be able to open the doors there.” “Bernie, I don’t feel so good. What were those pills?” ” Sleeping pills.” “I took four. Am I supposed to take that many?” “No, man. You’re supposed to take only one every 12 hours.” “Won’t that kill me?” “No. It’ll make you comatose. In your condition, you won’t notice that the elevator’s not there. The fall from the tenth floor will kill you.” “But Bernie, I don’t want to die any more. I want to live.” “Listen, man. I’m telling you. If you die, we’ll make the best sellers’ list. We’ll be able to negotiate a big contract. We’ll attract more talented writers.” “We? I’ll be dead.” The elevator arrived and Bernie pushed the wheelchair inside and pushed the tenth floor button. “Well, yeah,” said Bernie. “Quit thinking about yourself for once. Did you even consider me? This is my big break. When I post your next suicide note, I’ll sell a million copies of your novel. Plus, I am sure I can get a six figure advance for your next novel.” "My next novel? I never wrote a second novel.” “It will be found among your things after your death.” “Bernie, don’t do this. I don’t want to die.” “Quit being selfish! Close your eyes now and rest. It’ll all be over in a few minutes. You are going to be a bestselling author. Congratulations.” THE END For e-books by me, visit http://smashwords.com/profile/view/monteranderson. Follow me on Twitter at http://twitter.com/monteranderson Follow my blog at http://monteranderson-author.com or http://monteranderson.wordpress.com.  According to the Chicago AP, former U.S. House Speaker Dennis Hastert has agreed to pay $3.5 million to the victim of his sex-abuse. He still hasn’t been sentenced. Rumor has it he may also undergo “Intensive Rehabilitation Therapy” commonly used by politicians and celebrities. I was able to obtain from a confidential source a copy of the “Intense Therapy” that Dennis Hasbert may undertake. The program is known as Bogus and Unauthentic Legalized Larceny and Spurious Hypocritical Intense Therapy (BULL SH*T). This intense therapy is for one week. Sunday Mixer
Join in a mixer for all attendees Sunday night at 7 PM until? Meet the instructors and fellow politicians who have fallen from grace. Open bar and free marijuana tasting (not yet available in all states). Monday Session How to Hold a Press Conference. Learn how to deny charges without using the telltale signs for lying. Learn how to say “intense therapy” with a straight face. Learn how to pronounce new words like “paparazzi”. Panel discussion with panelists Bob Filner, Anthony Weiner, Eliot Spitzer, Alex Baldwin and Arnold Schwarzenegger. Tuesdays Session Sex-Abuse 101. Learn how to pay hush money without leaving a paper trail. Included are proven methods to avoid blackmail and getting caught. Wednesday Sessions Recreational Drugs for the Whole Family. Learn the proper way to use a bong. Thursday Sessions Stings are my Favorite Things. Learn to identify a sting operation. Learn the best hiding places for your drugs. Learn how to avoid a body cavity search. Friday Sessions Yes, You Can Be Re-elected. Instructor - Mark Sanford, re-elected Congressman for South Carolina. Closing Ceremony: Graduation ceremony for those who have not dropped out of the program, been removed from office or arrested. For e-books by me, visit http://smashwords.com/profile/view/monteranderson. Follow me on Twitter at http://twitter.com/monteranderson Follow my blog at http://monteranderson-author.com or http://monteranderson.wordpress.com. |
AuthorMonte is the author of 8 e-books: 3 novels, 3 non-fiction, 1 collection of short stories, and 1 novelette. Buy Monte's e-books:
The Register cliff Rapist The Clone Murders, Archimedes of Syracuse: Leonardo da Vinci's Mentor, Leadership for New Managers: Book Two FREE E-BOOKS: Angels and Gargoyles LINKS linkedin.com twitter.com brandyourself.com Archives
March 2018
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