Things that make you go WTH?

Hey ya’all…great to see you again!  Hope the summer is treating you right.  We here in Phoenix have had a fairly mild one so far—and we are NOT complaining!  I have no doubt it will catch up to us eventually, but for now the horribly extreme heat seems to be holding off.  And with a chance of rain in the forecast, I’m almost giddy with anticipation--even at 109!

So, I wanted to get something off my chest today—and it aint’ my bra.  (Although now that you mention it, that’s not a bad idea.)  Anyway, what I want to talk about is why…in this age of high tech and online everything…can’t my internet provider manage to get true high-speed service to my home?  And why, for the love of God, doesn’t the person on the phone know that they can’t do it? And while we are wondering all these whys, how freaking hard is it to maintain enough staff to answer the damn phone in less than 45 minutes?!

I literally spent 45 minutes on hold for my local provider (15 minutes less than the freaking IRS!) just to get information on whether or not they could upgrade me to the faster service I’ve seen advertised on TV.  Because I have finally realized that I thought I was getting 12 Mbps, they thought I was getting 7Mbps, and I’m actually getting 1-3Mbps.  Seriously?  Where’s the breakdown?  Because there most certainly is one!  Anyway, I digress…

I hold for what seems like forever, and finally I get a nice young lady who tells me yes, 20Mbps is available in my area.

“Really?  What would that cost me?”

“Oh, there’s no difference in what you are paying.”

Seriously?  And why haven’t they just automatically upgraded me?  Exactly?  Are they afraid I’ll be pissed about getting extra speed?  Yeah, I guess that makes sense now that I think about it.  (NOT)  WTF?

Oh…because they need to sell me a new router.  I get it now.  The limitation is in the last router they sold me.  Got it.  And for only $100, they will be happy to sell me a new one that will upgrade me to 20 Mbps.  Hmmm…  I gotta think about this a while.  I hate it when I call the henhouse and have to talk to the fox.  It’s such a difficult dilemma for me.

Okay, it grates on me like nobody’s business, but these guys are pretty much the only game in town—or at least in my rural area.  So, I call back a week later, hold for 30 minutes more, and finally agree to pay the ransom…er…cost of a new router…oh, and the service call fee.  Now we’re up to about $250 on next month’s bill.  Sigh.  And they didn’t even have to use a gun…I signed up reluctantly, but willingly.  Why?  Because internet service has now become a necessity.  And because in my area, they have a monopoly—which I thought was illegal, but that apparently doesn’t apply to where I live.

Now…the day of installation comes and the technician knocks on my door.  I open it to find a very stressed guy who has the look of bad news on his face.  Sure enough, he opens his mouth and it’s not pretty.  Bottom line is that I’m currently on a very old line that is one of the few in the area that actually works.  Oh, he can do the work that’s been ordered, but the infrastructure in this area is so bad that moving me to the new sort of line will get me higher speeds for about 15 minutes at a time.  Then it will drop me repeatedly throughout the day.  But if I’m online early in the morning and late at night, it’ll probably be okay.

Huh?

Let me see if I have this right…I’m going to pay an extra $150 on my next bill for increased speed and crappy uptime?  How is that an improvement, exactly?

He shrugs.  It isn’t.

I immediately like the guy…he’s one of those honest souls who actually believes in telling the customer the painful truth.  Sort of like a unicorn…you hear stories about them, but have never seen one to the best of your recollection.

So longer story shorter, he can install the new router, move the service to the faster, less reliable line and I will be calling their office the next day threatening to throw tires through their windows.

Or…

I can stay with the service I have and tolerate the slower speeds, stay with the router I have which works fine on the current speeds, he cancels the order and I pay for nothing additional—and my service remains (at least) dependable.

Seems like a no-brainer to me.  “Fast” ain’t worth “won’t work”.

Now, what blows my mind is that he says he runs into this all the time in my neighborhood because of the age of the lines.  So why is it that this internet/phone provider can’t flag the accounts in this area and know ahead of time that upgrading is a bad idea?

Or can they?

The Doubting Thomas in me says if Google Maps can take you straight to my front door, why can’t these guys know what homes are in service-challenged areas?  The answer—they can, they just choose not to.  Because just maybe you’ll be stupid enough to buy their new router, pay for the upgraded service and then tolerate the crappy service that results.  Maybe they need those old tires I would be throwing through their windows.  Or perhaps they are counting on crappy service personnel who won’t bother to be honest with the consumer?  For shame!

Well, I (for one) am thankful for the honest man who came to my door today.  Kudos to you, sir, for exceptional and honest customer service.  It’s a sad day when the guy in the field has to clean up after a company’s poor procedures, but THANK YOU for going the extra mile for me! If I had encountered the crappy service that may have resulted from this upgrade, it would have been the end of my relationship with your company because the only thing keeping me there has been the dependable uptime—it sure ain’t the speed of their internet service or the speedy and honest phone support. Mr. Good Serviceman, you deserve a raise for your customer retention program!

Got a good or bad customer service story?  Share it in the comments.  I'd love to hear it!  You know you have one...we all do.

That’s my story, preposterous and peculiar, and I’m stickin’ to it. Hang on tight now, ‘cuz we’re gonna go real, real fast!  

Love ya,

Kayce

Catching Up On Reading....

         Hello, gentle readers!

         I have been so fortunate that I’ve been able to catch up on my reading…something I don’t always get a chance to do. At the place where I’m working, it’s mandatory that one leaves their desk for one hour for lunch. It’s not a suggestion. They really mean it so I’ve been putting that hour to good use.

         I recently read Tessa Dare’s Say Yes to the Marquess and I have to say, I loved it (but then, I always love Tessa Dare’s books…she’s such a fabulous writer!). There’s a cake fight scene that is absolutely delicious. It had me grinning like the Cheshire Cat and laughing out loud (which was a little embarrassing, considering I was in the lunchroom surrounded by people….I will admit, I got a few strange looks, however, it was wonderful when several co-workers asked me what I was reading. I’m so glad I could recommend this author to them…along with many others!)

         Then I read Mary Campisi’s The Seduction of Sophie Seacrest. Ms. Campisi is a new-to-me author, but I loved this story so much, I will be buying up her backlist (now that I have an hour to read each workday!)

         And I’ve just started Teresa Medeiros’s Nobody’s Darling. Now, I’ve read Ms. Medeiros before and I’ve always enjoyed her stories and her style. She’s one of those authors whose command of the language makes one want to sigh, put down the book (or Kindle) for a minute and just absorb that perfectly turned phrase. Wonderful descriptions, excellent dialogue, humor and of course, the passion! What more could any girl ask for?

         What are you reading? Anything to recommend?

Until next time, remember to spread kindness wherever you go.

Marie

WOLF AROUND THE CORNER by Aidee Ladnier with Gift Card Giveaways!

Wolf Around The Corner

By Aidee Ladnier

Aidee is giving away a $5 Amazon GC, $10 Amazon GC, Ebooks from her backlist, print books from her backlist. The winners will be chosen by Rafflecopter. Please use the RaffleCopter below to enter. Don't forget you have a chance to enter every day so be sure to visit all the stops on this tour. You may find those locations here.

About Wolf Around the Corner:

Frank’s family taught him that his wolf was dangerous, unwanted. Now his best friend’s brother wants him in bed and on stage. But giving into his wolf’s need for love could risk the quiet life Frank has created for himself—and his heart. Settled in the small town of Waycroft Falls, Frank is content to be a lone wolf among the white picket fences and dollar book bins until he finds himself sniffing his best friend’s brother. Tom smells like hot apple pie and his Broadway smile has Frank lolling his tongue. But when the visiting actor learns Frank’s secret and plies him with hot kisses to get him to star in his play, Frank can’t help but wonder if Tom is only acting. Tom ran away from family obligations to be a Broadway star. If he could make it there, he could make it anywhere…but he didn’t. Trudging home to Waycroft Falls to open his sister’s new performance space brings him face to face with a werewolf—a werewolf that would be perfect for Tom’s shoestring production of Beauty and the Beast. Staying in Tiny Town USA would be worth it if he can somehow convince the sexy wolf to expose his furry condition on stage and howl privately in Tom’s bed. Wolf Around The Corner, a paranormal semi-finalist in Passionate Ink’s 2017 Sexy Scribbles Contest, is a full-length fairytale romance with a side of wolf shifter. If you like your romance with gorgeous men, humor, and small town magic, you’ll love Wolf Around the Corner! Buy your copy now and settle in to watch the drama unfold! Genre: M/M Paranormal Shifter Contemporary  
Buy Links: Amazon  | B&N | iBooks | Kobo | Smashwords | 24Symbols | Indigo | Angus & Robertson | Mondadori ~*~*~*~*~*~  

Excerpt:  The first thing he always did was take a large lungful of air. It reoriented him to the outside. His animal cataloged the smells—car exhaust, grass, tree pollen, and wait, a mouse skittering in the Dumpster out back. Frank’s urge to run built. He circled the apartments, looking for the storm drain near the landscaping wall. Inside him, his animal wiggled in excitement at the prospect of being freed. Frank shucked his clothes behind the wall and tucked them into the shelter of the pipe, out of view. Then he shifted, his hands lengthening, hair sprouting, and muzzle growing. His point of view shortened, now three feet from the ground as he blinked through the eyes of his wolflike animal. Frank couldn’t stand still any longer. He sprang into the woods. Frank ran, crashing through the underbrush and into the darkening shelter of the trees. He leaped over a shrub, felt the give of a sapling as he plowed through the brushwood. The animals and birds quieted at his loud, headlong dash, knowing he wasn’t of the forest, only disguised and playing at being a creature of the wood. His paws skidded on a pile of old leaves. Frank almost lost his balance as he skipped up and over a fallen log. Around him, the scents of the forest all pushed in on him. Here a whiff of mold, there an astringent sniff of decay, everywhere the menthol of evergreen sap and wild herbs growing scattered on the forest floor. Dry twigs snapped beneath his paws. His tongue lolled from his mouth, the fresh taste of the woods painting the back of his throat. The sun dipped below the horizon, the sky inking the tops of the trees. And Frank ran on until his limbs stopped, shaky and trembling. He collapsed onto a blanket of pine needles and leaves, moss and fungi cradling him as he panted. As he caught his breath, the sounds of the woods lapped back around him. Insects and birds first. A harsh caw from a crow shrieked a hundred yards to his right. The chirp of a cricket sawed a few feet away. The rat-a-tat of a woodpecker echoed above. And the still of twilight calmed him. When he’d rested enough that his legs would support him again, Frank began the slow jog back to the apartments, letting his nose guide him through the darkening visibility of the woods. He could smell Mrs. Reynolds’s nighttime cocoa, and Mr. Reynolds’s liniment that stank of capsaicin. The lighted windows of the apartment building led him the last few feet, and he scurried up to the storm drain. But his clothes weren’t there. The sky darkened into night. Frank knew Mrs. Anderson was out, but he could try to get the elderly Reynolds couple to buzz him inside. And hope they didn’t ask why he was naked trotting up the stairs. Or he could stay in wolf form without a tag, which meant a night outside running from animal control and/or dodging every human that would mistake him for a stray dog. Or wait, a third option. There was an oak that almost reached the ledge of his apartment window on the second floor. He never bothered to lock the window. Frank shifted back to human and sprinted across the yard. He leaped for the lower boughs of the tree, grunting as the bark dug into the flesh of his palms. Frank swung himself up to straddle a branch, regretting it as the rough wood scraped his thighs. He crouched in the tree, awkwardly trying to shield his more delicate parts from the smaller whiplike twigs. He skirted around the trunk, grimacing as a low branch brushed a little too close to his groin. There. He was now on the side that faced the apartment house. Frank balanced upright, his arms pinwheeling until he caught another branch higher up to steady himself. The leaves around him shivered on their stalks, the rustling loud. Please don’t let Mrs. Reynolds look out her window. Using the taller branch as a guide, Frank placed one bare foot in front of the other and inched away from the security of the trunk. The limb beneath his feet shook as his weight tested its strength. He slid a foot farther out on the branch. It dipped, the leaves at the tip brushing against the side of his window. Just a few feet more. An ominous crack sounded beneath him, and Frank froze. The branch popped again. It wouldn’t hold. He could make a jump for it. Frank swallowed hard. He should make a jump for it. Frank jumped. And missed the house, falling into the azalea bushes. Just as his hunky new neighbor from across the hall walked out of the apartment building and down the front steps. Frank had seen Tom in the hall that morning, carrying boxes. Trying to be neighborly, Frank had introduced himself and offered to help. Tom had turned Frank down but flashed the whitest, most even teeth at him. Frank had seen nothing whiter outside of a movie theater big screen. They’d exchanged pleasantries, commented on the weather, and then gone their separate ways. Or rather, that was what Frank wished had happened. What went down was: “Need help?” Frank barely got the words out when his new neighbor turned in the doorway. Frank froze. God, the man was gorgeous. “Naw, man. I got it.” Tom shifted the box in his arms to hold out his hand. “I’m Tom Davidson.” Frank wiped a clammy hand on his jeans and shook Tom’s hand. “Hot.” And Frank knew his mouth had disclosed the exact thing his brain was thinking. Idiot. Who said that to a guy he’d just met? A guy like Tom already knew he was hot. Tom tilted his head as if he hadn’t heard Frank right. “Yeah. The temperatures are a little warm for this time of year.” Frank didn’t dare correct him and kept his mouth shut, afraid he’d say something worse. “Okay, well then, see you around, Frank.” Tom chuckled and continued into his apartment. Meanwhile Frank beat it down the stairs, unsure how he managed not to walk into traffic as his mind ran over the exchange fail again and again. So yeah. That was the less than stellar first impression he’d given Tom this morning. And now Frank followed that up by hunkering down naked in the azalea bushes. “Are you okay?” The gleam from the safety light caught Tom’s dark gold hair as he tilted his head to peer over the shrubs. The shadows sank into his chiseled cheekbones. He looked like a brooding movie star ready to sweep a celluloid damsel off her feet. Too bad Frank was a naked man trying to keep from exposing himself. Frank crouched down farther, making himself as small as possible, hoping the azalea’s pink blooms would distract Tom from looking at his hairy backside. “I’m fine.” “Are you sure?” Tom leaned closer. “Are you… Do you have any clothes on?” Frank racked his brain for some reason he’d be naked and hiding in the bushes. “Um, I, uh, just got out of the shower, and I leaned too far out my window.” “Oh my God. Did you fall from that height?” Tom glanced up to the second floor, to Frank’s closed window and then back down. “Do you need an ambulance?” Frank sighed. This conversation was only getting worse. Cupping his hands over his privates, Frank rose from behind the bushes. “I’m okay. Just need to get back inside. I have a hidden key if you can get me past the front security door.” Tom’s eyes widened when Frank stood. Frank winced, sure he looked like one long scrape covered in leaves. He blew at the hair in his eyes. A twig dangled, caught in an auburn strand, but Frank was unwilling to expose himself to yank it out. “Sure. Sure.” Tom fumbled for his key and opened the door. Frank half hopped over the acorns and chestnut burrs to slide past Tom. Tom wrinkled his nose as Frank passed. Good old wet dog smell. It always clung to him after a run in the woods. Frank took the stairs two at a time to escape. After a shower and shave—why did going furry always lead to needing a shave? The rest of his hair receded. Why didn’t his beard?—Frank spent thirty minutes in front of his bathroom mirror, trying to psych himself up to knock on Tom’s door and invite him over the next day for coffee or to watch football. He scratched behind an ear, feeling the healing scab from a graze he’d gotten when he’d fallen into the azalea bushes. Staring at his reflection, he tried to look earnest and approachable. He could do this. He had game. “Hey, I know you don’t know many people in town, and I’m a loser, but would you like to spend time with me?” Frank made a face at himself. Probably shouldn’t label yourself as a loser. “Yo, you want to watch football? No, how about basketball? Baseball? No? What about Mexican wrestlers?” Oh God, what if Tom doesn’t like sports? “I ordered two large pizzas by mistake tonight, and I could use some help, or I’ll be gorging on pepperoni for a week.” Lame. Frank’s own gaunt features stared back at him from the mirror. Who was he kidding? He’d always be the guy who lost the genetic lottery and ended up with the family curse. Galen’s syndrome was rare, only affecting about one in 2,000, but well-known enough that most people had at least heard of it. The Greek surgeon Galen had coined the word lycanthropy to explain the shape-shifting curse that traveled down through a family tree. Like most recessive gene disorders, it only manifested when two genes were passed down to a child, leading early scholars to think the afflicted had been re-cursed or spared for a generation due to divine providence. It was only with modern medicine that curses were found to be attached to DNA, breaking and molding chromosomes like magical radiation. But despite better understanding of the disorder, the stigma remained, not helped by the occasional local television feature linking the disorder to werewolf mythology. All Frank knew was the recessive curse gene made him even more different from his family. He’d already been pushing it when he came out as gay. Turning into a wolf at sixteen had been…well, more than his father and stepmother could handle. She wanted to protect the kids, she told him. He loved his half siblings, didn’t he? It wasn’t safe to have a wild animal around children. It had gutted him. They turned him out of his own home. He’d been angry. He’d done something stupid, lashing out, snapping at his sister Robbie. It still hurt, remembering the tears on his baby sister’s face, her eyes wide and scared. Of him. It was then he knew his stepmother had been right. Dangerous animals didn’t belong in a family. So he’d left, traveling all the way across the state until he landed in Waycroft Falls. It had been hard that first year. There were a lot of adult things he still hadn’t figured out. Like how to ask out a guy who he hadn’t known his whole life. Moving from one small town to another had been a bad idea. Frank bonked his head against the mirror, gazing down into the white porcelain sink. He rubbed at a stray hair that clung to the side. But on the plus side, small towns meant he rarely needed a car. And he could shift and run if he needed. He should take his clothes with him ~*~*~*~*~*~ 

About the Author:  Aidee Ladnier, an award-winning author of speculative fiction, believes that adventure is around every corner. In pursuit of new experiences she's worked as a magician’s assistant, been a beauty pageant contestant, ridden in hot air balloons, produced independent movies, hiked up a volcano, and is a proud citizen scientist. A lover of genre fiction, Aidee's perfect romance has a little science fiction, fantasy, mystery, or the paranormal thrown in to add a zing.  
Social Links:   
Website: http://www.aideeladnier.com/ 
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6570769.Aidee_Ladnier  
Amazon: amazon.com/author/aideeladnier 
Tumblr: http://aideemoi.tumblr.com/ 
Pinterest: http://pinterest.com/aideelad/  
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Giveaway and Preorder

As I was walking through a farmers market over the weekend I stumbled upon a used book store selling mystery bags of romance books. How fun! Of course I had to buy a couple. I wonder what adventure or steamy encounter is inside. But that's for you to discover! You can have two chances to win. Comment on this post for one chance to win. And then head over to my Facebook post for another chance. A winner will be picked on Wednesday morning (6/13/18), so hurry. Each bag has two books inside.

And while you are moseying around the internet, take a look at the preorder for Last Hand, the conclusion of the Nadia Wolf story. It'll be epic. 8.10.18.

https://www.nicolettepierce.com/books/last-hand/

Nadia Wolf returns to Las Vegas, knowing her bad luck will return as soon as the plane lands. While Caleb is quite talented at keeping her mind off nearly everything, not even he can stop a past threat that continues to plague them. One by one her friends begin to disappear. When Caleb vanishes next, she fights to find him and the others before time runs out and all is lost.

https://www.nicolettepierce.com/books/

Falling the the Highlander by Lynsay Sands

How could I not pick a historical romance after watching Meghan and Harry tie the knot!

I knew I would flip the pages fast when I picked Sands’ novel. 

Murine was sent to England from her home in Scotland to live under the guardianship of her half-brother after her parents died.  That’s fishy from the start.

And worse yet, the half-brother does not treat her with respect or concern.  He’d rather sell her for a horse or less.

Dougall, a handsome and fearless Scot, finds this out when he and his brothers bring horses for the half-brother to buy. 

The purchase fails because of lack of money, and the Scots leave.

Murine has had it with the horrible treatment stowed upon her and escapes the same night the Scots leave.  She leaves riding Henry, her cow.

The Scots catch up to her quickly and do the honorable thing by helping her escape the wretched life she lives.

When she reveals her background, Dougall makes it his obligation to protect her.  Murine’s background is quite astounding and she wants to go back to it.

Dougall thinks marriage to him will solve Murine’s problem, but what a maze they must go through to avoid all the traps.

Only love and determination will save them and keep them together and I’m sure there’s a lot of that!

Happy reading,

Dawn

VENGEANCE IS MINE by Kat Henry Doran with a Chance at a Giveaway!

Vengeance Is Mine

 a contemporary romantic trilogy 

by Kat Henry Doran

Kat Henry Doran has put together an incredible list of prizes for this tour. They are just beautiful! Please use the RaffleCopter below to enter. Join us on an exciting tour of great blogs to read more about Vengeance Is Mine, interviews, and guest posts. Remember you may enter every day for a chance to win the prizes. You may find the list of tour location here and you will also find pictures of the prizes here too. 

Blurb: Ever think about going back to study hall to face down the school bully? The mean girls? The brainless jocks who made your life a pure misery? For Dru Horvath, gypsy orphan turned Pulitzer Prize winning photo-journalist; Rafe Archangeli, Scourge of Summerville who now heads a multi-million dollar trust; and Fiona “Fat Aggie” Thorpe who recreated herself into an A-list model with her own A-list agency, the opportunity to exact revenge is too good to pass up. Will they find the vengeance they crave? Or something more valuable? Buy Links:

• Amazon Print
• Amazon Kindle
• Amazon CA 
• Amazon UK 
• Amazon DE 
• Amazon ES 
• Amazon FR  
• Amazon IT

Excerpt: “Tough way to find out about the other woman.” “Other woman, hell,” Dru groused. “The assistant was some young stud from Tommy's gym with abs to die for.” With that. she side-stepped him and reached for the knob on the bathroom door. Fast on his feet, Rory's counter move brought them nose to nose. “Play much poker, Horvath?” “I don't know what you mean.” “Before you started trash talking the cheating ex-husband, your face lit up like the Fourth of July. That tells me you've got something stashed in the tote. Until you let me look inside, it stays out here.” Clutching the canvas tote to her chest, she sneered, “The only thing in here is my outfit for tonight's event. If you think I'd go naked, one of us is a couple fries short of a happy meal.” His response came in the form of another gimme motion with those thick, blunt fingers. “How about I close my eyes if I encounter any lacy unmentionables?” “As if.” She knew the instant he found the back-up phone. The screw-you look morphed into a smirk. “It's not smart to mess with Homeland Security, sweetie. Those guys eat small rodents for breakfast.”

Author Bio: Legal nurse consultant, victim advocate, sexual assault nurse examiner Kat Henry Doran and her alter ego, Veronica Lynch, has been there and done that--many times over. She often travels to the wilds of Northern New York State, witnessing the wonders of mother nature at her best. From the shores of Lake Ontario and the Saint Lawrence River to the historic Adirondack and Catskill Mountains, she creates stories featuring strong women and the men who love them. When not writing, she can be found lashed to one of her sewing machines--or chauffeuring the four brightest stars in her life: Meredith and Ashlin, Owen and Kieran.  
For more information on Kat and Veronica, go to:

• Email: WildWomenAuthors@gmail.com
• Blog:WildWomenAuthorsx2.blogspot.com
• Goodreads: Goodreads.com/author/show/2905614.Kat_Henry_Doran
• Facebook: Facebook.com/WildWomenAuthors
• Amazon: amazon.com/Kat-Henry-Doran/e/BO1M5861P7
• Pinterest: Pinterest.com/KatHenryDoran
• Twitter: @Kathenrydoran1

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Dear Kayce!

HUGE THANKS to The WRANGLER Horse and Rodeo News for their permission to re-post this column originally written for their publication.

Hi. I’m Kayce Lassiter, and I’m tickled as a coyote in the hen house to be here, where we’ll examine the questions that are burning a hole in your heart. We’ve all had our hearts soar with love, only to crash to the ground in a burning pile of rubble when something went wonky.  Join me for my advice to the love-torn. 

Mares:  My boyfriend complains that I spend more time with my horse than with him.  What can I do to make him happy?

I’m torn. Does your man have a valid point? If you are spending more time with your horse, I gotta ask why. I love horses, but they’re not my first choice to keep me warm on a cold winter night. Girlie, you know how to fix this.  When you get the evil eye that says, “I’m feeling neglected,” you just take his hand and lead him up the stairs.  Men are not that complicated. A little country lovin’ fixes most anything.  Dinner’s late or cold?  Lovin’ fixes that.  You flirted a little too much with the waiter at dinner?  Love him up.  Your mother’s coming for a month?  Honey, I’m not a miracle worker. Nuthin’ fixes that. You just gotta power through it.  On the flip-side…if you prefer a horse over your man, it’s time to put that bronc up wet. You don’t love him. Move on. Get yourself a real cowboy—one with a horse of his own—‘cuz a real cowboy is never threatened by a horse.  Just sayin…

Studs:  I have my eye on a gal who won’t give me the time of day. How do I get her attention?

Seriously? Are you a stud or a dud? It ain’t rocket science. If you like her, tell her. Walk up to her in a clean shirt and smellin’ good (maybe with a nice, unwilted flower that you didn’t steal from her flower bed) and say, “Hey, filly, wanna get rowdy?” Okay, don’t do that…she’ll crush that flower against your forehead like a smoked cigarette. If you approach her with confidence and a sweet compliment, your chances will soar—unless you say something stupid about how her eyes or her loins remind you of your horse! So, come up with something nice to say, and just do it. Waitin’ gets you nuthin’…which is exactly what you’ve already got. Like gets like, and brass gets brass. If you want the brass ring, you gotta grow a set of brass ones. On the flip-side…if you can’t man-up enough for the direct approach, go for the desperate friend (remember, like gets like), or get used to keeping Playboy magazines in the bathroom. Again, not rocket science.

That’s my story, loving and looney, and I’m stickin’ to it.  Hang on tight now, ‘cuz we’re gonna go real, real fast!

Love ya,

Kayce

If there are any questions you would like to see addressed in this column in the future, post them in the comments of this post.  Or you can Email or Messenger them to me at one of the links below.

               Email:  KayceLassiter@outlook.com

               Facebook:  https://www.facebook.com/kayce.lassiter

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