Smokin' Seventeen by Janet Evanovich trailer

!: Smokin' Seventeen by Janet Evanovich trailer

Where there's smoke there's fire, and no one knows this better than everyone's favourite bounty hunter... Stephanie Plum is back for her next smokin' hot adventure! In store 21 June 2011.

Smokin' Seventeen by Janet Evanovich trailer

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!: Catalog Sizzling Sixteen 1st (first) edition Text Only coupon

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At my wicked swick sizzling sixteen we sing "My Favorite Things"

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Straight Razors - A History

!: Straight Razors - A History

The Origins of Shaving

Most historians agree that the history of shaving began when human culture began; which would be to say, ancient history. Prior to the invention of steel, ancient people had the use of shells, that could be utilized for tweezers, and volcano glass, which is incidentally among the sharpest materials available. Furthermore, they had pumice stones and also other rocks they were able to use to remove undesired facial hair. Other materials include sharpened shark's teeth, clam shells, and flint. Some tribes still use flint to shave with today. Skip forward to the Bronze Age and Roman times and archaeologists have unearthed examples of very early straight razors These early examples did not have much in common aside from a sharp edge, and they were produced from bronze.

These early razors were sharpened by either sharpening the shells or teeth on other rocks, or in the case of flint and obsidian, through flint knapping. The first bronze and iron razors were sharpened very much the same as modern knives, albeit without the advantage of special guide rods, diamond stones, and the luxuries we take advantage of today. In those days, ancient peoples needed to get by with what they were able to find; which would be to say, the finest "rock" they could find.

The Rise of Steel

Fast forward some more, and our ancestors discovered iron ore. When iron was discovered, so was steel.. Adding carbon to iron, making it red hot, then cooling it quickly hardens the steel; enabling blacksmiths to craft what we know today as steel.

From the invention of steel came newer, sharper, and more durable tools. These new tools included new knives and all manner of sharpened instruments, some peaceful, some made for war. At this point in history, the razor didn't evolve much further from the sharpest tool the local smith could fashion. Such a precise instrument was probably available only to the rich. These early razors were really at most special knives. Of course, straight razors are essentially a specialized knife. Ancient razor sharpening was probably no different from sharpening a knife, although medieval peoples might have found finer stones with which to achieve finer edges. Yet, today's straight razor benefits from one more invention, making it superior to knives.

The Rise of Sheffield

In the mid 18th century, Sheffield, England was the heart of the cutlery industry. Benjamin Huntsman is credited with the invention of the true modern razor. He used a special crucible process to create steel with superior hardness, able to retain a thinner edge. This time period saw the introduction of Sheffield "Silver Steel" called silver steel for its luster and shine, not because it contained any silver. Silver steel was invented by Michael Faraday during the early 1800's. The shine was actually as a result of higher carbon concentration. From that time through the 19th century, the modern razor scales also came into being.

These early razors were sharpened in much the same way as knives. Not much progress happened during this time period. The geometry of these blades is a true wedge. Basically, there was no hollow recess. As a result, these early wedges were sharpened free-hand, exactly the same method used by today's knife enthusiasts.

As the straight razor continued to evolve, Sheffield began experimenting with hollowing out the razor's sides. This was most likely due to aesthetic reasons. Not much attention was given to ensuring the razor grinding was done evenly, nor was much metal removed. These early attempts at adding a hollow grind were certainly also honed free hand; just like a knife and the true wedges produced earlier.

The Modern Razor

After the razor industry got going, it started evolving quickly, eventually creating the straight razor you know today. 1825 saw the first indication of hollow grinding, but it wouldn't be fully developed for another sixty years. By 1900, the straight razor had reached its final evolution. The hollow grind reached its zenith with J.A. Henckels offering not less than sixteen different blade profiles! The march continues to this very day with modern razor smiths using newer and much better tool steels to make tougher and stronger razors. Yet, the major evolution of the open razor ceased with the invention of the double wheel grinder and extra hollow blades. The conclusion of the straight razor came about because of Gillette and their ruthless advertising campaign which stopped the straight razor and brought on an age of consumerism and a new "throw-away" society.

It was the hollow grind that signaled the peak of the straight razor. The hollow grind presented a new and better technique to sharpen a razor. No longer did you have to free hand a razor or use a crude and expensive early honing guide. The honemeister had only to lay the razor flat against the stone. This required much less skill and produced a vastly superior edge. The advantages are obvious. Using a flat honing guide, the razor angle stays consistent through the entire sharpening process. When you hone without a guide, there isn't a guide or reference point to verify that you are using precisely the same angle. But that's not all; the hollow grind offers one more advantage.

By honing the razor with the spine to the stone, the bevel angle changes. It becomes more acute. The lower bevel angle produces a sharper razor. The smaller the bevel angle, the thinner the actual cutting edge, the sharper the tool. The converse is that the more obtuse the edge, the stronger the edge is and the longer it lasts (assuming you cut the same thing exactly the same number of times). Yet, there's a point of diminishing returns. At some point, you cannot reduce the angle further without compromising the edge strength and the overall ability of the razor to keep its sharpness. Steel is not obsidian, it cannot hold an edge that is too thin. Modern studies demonstrate that the vast majority of razors' edges range within the 13° to 17° range. This angle could be changed by free-honing the razor or adding tape or utilizing a honing guide.

Straight Razors - A History

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Bottom of the Ocean Ep.24

!: Bottom of the Ocean Ep.24

Nick-*closes her door* Demi-okay Nick why the fuck are you texting me in all caps like you got some kind of problem Nick-Selena was using my phone and she did that Demi-ok so Selena....whay the hell were you texting me in all caps and what not llike you got some kind of problem Miley-yeah you interupted me and Demi talking about MTV Nick-oooo were you talking about their shows? Miley-yeah so what do you think Nick-i personally think they should fix that Demi-i know maybe start showing musci again...but i did like MTV cribs Nick-i know right Miley-yeah but what about My Super Sweet Sixteen Nick-those girls were spoiled Demi-but you gotta admut it was kinda cool to see what they wanted and all Selena-FOCUS i came here for a reason Nick-Demi,Miley-*jumd* Miley-gosh Selena what is so important that- Demi-you had to barge up in my house then yell at us for Selena-well i-wait is anybody else here? Demi-no my mom is somewhere working to affors this house and Zac is with Kevin Vanessa and I think he said Joe Selena-oh okay good go get a container of water then we'll head up to your room Demi-*confussed just like Miley and Nick*okay?*carefully gets water then takes it up to her room interiorsidea.com it says lexie it says demi) Demi-*sits the water down on the floor and sits on her bed*sooo what now? Selena-watch this*starts moving her hand then the water starts comming out of the container* Miley,Demi and Nick-*shocked*whoa Nick-*realizes something*soo you did that to Joe ...

Bottom of the Ocean Ep.24

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Day of the Damned Horses - A WWI Story

!: Day of the Damned Horses - A WWI Story

((A Day in the battle for Verdun, WWI, 1916) (A Shannon O'Day story))

Chapter One
The War and the Machine Gun Nest

(It is 1964; Shannon O'Day's daughter Cantina is twelve-years old. She is with him for the weekend. They are out at Como Park, sitting along the banks of Como Lake. He often talks about the Great War with her, the one he was in as a young lad, and she always listens, but it is often a repeat, but nonetheless she listens, and today, Saturday, he is talking to her about it, they have cool-aid and hotdogs, sitting on an Indian type blanket in the grass:)

Says Shannon to his daughter, Cantina, "I came, I saw, I concurred, in the Great War..." then paused to look deep into her eyes, to see if she was really attentive, listening, "I was a man alone, like an island in the middle of the sea, entire of itself, like a continent, or part of one, that is how I felt in the war, especially in this one day of battle I had, and I had two days that were special in that 300-day battle-oh, perhaps more, but two that haunt me, one of victory, one of tragedy, both during the Battle for Verdun, in 1916, let me tell you about the first one, I call it 'The Day of the 'Dead Horses.'" (She nods her head yes, up and down slowly, she's heard it before, each time though she gets something new out of it, something he was fearful before of releasing, so she has learned to not show discontent for him bringing it up for the umpteenth time, she knows when he'd dead, gone, these will be her private stockpile photos, of his trying days in battle, ones he only shared with her, and only her.

Cantina knew ever since he had come back from his war-some forty years ago, as Shannon called it, World War One, there was a since of duty that remained in him. As if he should have died, but survived for some reason.

She knows, but she can't put it in words, knows: He sees no hope for victory in the long run for mankind, but finds he can live a full life in the hours God has left him. She knows this has told herself this in so many words, just sitting there talking to her father, thinking but not saying, saying only those things that are pleasing to him, she knows, he doesn't fear death or solitude, never has and he finds love is possible for him in a sense that in that will, his will, he must never hide from death, nor retreat from it, he can live a full life, closely interwoven with it, but remembers the village where he almost lost his life in France, the girl who lost her two boys, and he had to half kill her, she did the other half of the killing. And those horse, those damn dead horses, he remembers them well, and therefore, he feels in life, ever since, he stands alone.

"What are you thinking?" asks Shannon to his daughter.

"The way you might be thinking." She says back to her father, and it actually makes him smile, what daughter would try to understand a man like him, a good and fine daughter, that is who, he confirms this to his second self. "She doesn't judge him," he tells himself. "How funny, everyone else does."

And so on this day, in 1964, in the park, sitting on the Indian blanket, here is the story he tells Cantina, I shall tell it in my own words, as he tried to tell her in his:

Shannon O'Day was making his stand in a trench. He did not like this trench and when he saw it he thought it had a shape of a woman's womb. But he had no choice this was the trench, and he selected it as far away from the German artillery shells could reach as possible. But not as far away as the sound of automatic machine guns reached with their bullets banging away night and day, halting and firing, hesitant, uncertain, and then firing again and again, to give him and his platoon of eleven men a nervous case of being shell-shocked.

There still was snow on the ground, frost for the most part, it had ruined the ground, made it muddy, chilled and hardened at night, when the sun sank, and when the horses came pulling wagons of supplies, jerking, and climbing, and staggering their way through the mud, and snow, hauling equipment, men pulling their bridles, the rains coming over their heads and shoulders, holding the horses by the mane, many had to be shot, and many got shot in the line of battle, and there they lay dead, where they feel, for the flies and the worms and the rats.

The horses sometimes were used for barricades, if the battle took place within the timeframe the carcass was still plump, and not gutted by animals, and even Shannon and his men shot over their bodies on occasions, their burnt hides, laying their hot muzzles on their dead flesh and firing at the enemy instead of within the trench, allowing at times for them to advance, knowing all that was behind them were empty trenches, in particular their one empty trench this day of battle, and so they used these dead horses, fifty shot in one day to advance from one point to another, giving Corporal O'Day an idea, one that could take out that nest of machine-gunners.

This day, this one early spring day, one of 300-days in the Battle for Verdun, in France, once the twelve men had reached the perimeter, of the enemy, within pistol distance, there were several more horses laying dead thereabouts, they had succeeded in stealing foot after foot after foot, to get that close to the enemy, and now behind those several horses they waited until night fall, when their first shooting would start, the enemy not knowing how close they really were, and how many had perished in the previous battle, which none had.

Of the twelve men who had reached the outer rim of the boarder where the enemy had their machineguns, two were wounded, Henry Sanchez and Elmer Boswell. Henry was from New Mexico a young lad of eighteen, and Elmer, was a man from Wisconsin, a son of a baker, he also was eighteen.

Henry had a leg wound, shot twice, in two places. And Elmer had an arm wound. All the men were very thirsty, and the wounds of the men were starting to stiffen, yet Corporal Shannon O'Day, was too close to victory to halt the operation, it must go forward, wounds or not. Henry had told Shannon it was very painful. And this brought on a severe annoyance, and he told the soldier, plainly, "You will have to endure the pain, or take death as your way out, or if you have an aspirin, that might help, whatever you chose, make it quick, and if you can't fight anymore, stay put, and if you can, continue to do as you've been doing, but this is not debatable."

It was no joke, reality, it was the mission first, not the man, and if nausea became deeper and deeper throughout the night for the two soldiers, they were considered no longer usable in battle and therefore, second in priority.

Shannon and his other now capable nine men were spread out likened to the Little Dipper. Using the horses for cover, they simply waited; the horses big like mounds linking the soldiers like baseball bases, from one point to another. Shannon moved on his belly from one horse to the other checking his men to make sure they kept their steel helmets on, a few had bullet holes through them, a few had hammered them out, yet some of the edges were still unsmoothed.

When the shooting started at, 3:00 a.m., and all the helmets had been clapped, you could hear a few of those bullets banging against the helmets, and the heads inside of them swaying, the sounds were death sounds: mouth-draying sounds, spiting sounds, cracking sounds, mechanical sounds, machine-like sounds, desperation sounds, and then a final sound-and throaty voices were no more!

The dryness and fear Shannon had in his mouth, and gut, were on hold, as he looked among the nest for the bodies of the enemy, he had thrown in three grenades, men were laying flat on their faces, arms, torn off, reaching-but reaching unconnected to their bodies, for more machinegun rounds.

Shannon walked among the dead, he wondered said to his second self, "What was their last word inside their head, their last thoughts, or to one another, to the comrade next to him?'

Said Shannon to Henry, as now he had taken the pain, and simply endured it, was still part of the onslaught, standing by his side, "It is better to die on your feet, than on your bellies."

Another man said in back of them, "Why should they die and not us?"

And of course, in days to come, that voice would die, in a trench, but Shannon had no wisdom, or witty words for the older man, older than he by far, so he said not a word. But Shannon O'Day was thinking: it's early now, and soon would be first light, and he could take his men back to the General and tell them, if they didn't already know, the machinegun nest was silenced, and they'd all get a three to seven day pass to Paris or someplace safe, and a good breakfast, and Henry would go home, the war was over for him, and so was it for Elmer. And he'd get two replacements in a week or so.'

He looked around carefully, looked in back of him at the dead horses, in front of him at the machineguns, he looked at the mud where he had crawled, at the bodies he had killed, not one of his men died today, just two wounded, but this was a good day-he felt, he knew there would be worse.

Chapter Two
Rest and Recuperation in Borges

Shannon had went to Paris, for his rest and recuperation, then right onto Burgos, Belgium, for the rest of his seven day leave from the war, it had seemed to him that from now on, after that killing of several men in the machinegun bunker now everyone he passed or talked to, anyone, one and all, he met, or saw, recognized him as the face of the man who killed the seven Germans, that he had a specific face and name, and that each person knew he'd be in Belgium, floating down the cannel in a boat, looking at the old houses, the tower, the square. On second thought-he knew this to be a mental if not physical impossibility, a trick of the mind, a stress from the war, the battle, that war was destroying him, a certain quality in him anyhow, that people like him, had gotten, but even sharper than him, debilitating. He told himself, "When I go home, I'll have to fix myself, learn how to deal with people again, talk to them," he meant, not react to them, but act by them.

As he walked along the cannel, and in the square the days he was there, pacing almost unnoticing the people around him as if he was a pigeon in the air, just sailing away, the horses came back to haunt him, the arbitrary shooting, the appearance of the body parts separated from the bodies, he was blank, expressionless, person. Each moment was a new moment a bizarre moment, he was trying to pretend to the people around him he was not involved with the war, that he was someone free of the war, never heard the name, World at War, thinking instead of someone whose destination and goal in life was higher than that, higher than allowing one man one day, start a war between two countries, and pull in the rest of the world, and the rest of the world followed like blind working ants building an anthill, and all these countries miles and miles away, and the spirit of war, having legs, walked and stretched its way down every side street and road in every town and village and city in the world.

He didn't know these scares would last decade to decade, penetrating his daily life, habits, he didn't realize then when he got out of the war, he'd be out of the world, out of a life, perhaps his mind betrayed him, the war was fatal to him, he would increase his drinking, it was a healer, and he just couldn't find anything better.

Chapter Three
The Crossroads Restaurant

Shannon got hungry, and went to a nearby shell of a restaurant, it was in-between two crossroads-shaped like 'y' and the restaurant was in-between the 'y'; inside there was a hearth ablaze, with thick and colorful flames, and the crackling of the dry wood echoed in each ear, it was warm and cozy, he sat close to it.

The guesthouse provided an oilcloth-covered table, with an oil lamp in the middle of it. He ate alone, the guests had vanished, the room looked empty, the plate of food was all eaten, sauerkraut, with a sizzling steak, and corn from a can, and some biscuits, a cup of dark coffee. A few wood embers floated by his table, he spoke casual to the waitress, light conversation, and idly he remained looking out the window.

He spread his legs to warm his inner thighs, the kitchen light went off, he spoke inattentively, "I suppose you'll be closing for a spell," he said.

"Just for clean up, we'll open back up in two hours," said the waitress.

Shannon asked her to speak a little louder, there was a ringing in his ears, he had become a little deaf from all the gun firing, and artillery; consequently, her having to speak launder, triggered something inside of him, a immobility, a guardedness, he held his breath, looked about as if he was searching for the enemy.

"Are you okay, sir?" asked the waitress.

Shannon's side was to the fire, something beyond just stillness had overcome him, then he pulled himself back together, his voice had remained the same, "I' fine, fine," he reassured her.

"You just sit on where you are mister," said the waitress, "I'll cleanup around you, no need to move."

Shannon nodded his head in thanks, and his mind shifted, as if he was taking a nap with his eyes open, he remembered drinking in the cornfields with his older brother Gus, he'd fall to sleep on the ground, wake up in the mornings, have a feeling the earth itself sucked all the living protean out of his bones, it was as if the ground had arms, and was trying to pull him down into its depths, before his time, but the alcohol would make him pass out and that is where he laid, and that is where he got a full sleep nonetheless-well, not a full sleep, no drunk does, but a dead sleep, not like when he was in the trenches, he could never get a good nights sleep or full sleep, and when he did wakeup from his sporadic sleep in those mud and fly infested trenches, he never knew were he was, thought he was at home, in the cornfields, in his brother's house, everyplace but where he really was. So that is why he had gotten a hotel room the first day he was in Burgos, and that is why he was thinking about the cornfields, he was thinking about the places he got the best sleep-or at least a full sleep, and now he had learned to appreciate a good full sleep, one of the great gifts of God-is a good night's sleep, he murmured, and the waitress now sweeping around him, heard him, and knew-right then and there, he was not a tourist, he was a soldier of the Great War.

Chapter Four
Anyplace will do

Shannon O'Day was really not much different in battle than out of the battle in that he never did much hiding or luring about, with his behavior, perhaps unseen and unheard as if he was a space invader, and could be an animal as in their natural habitat like a coyote or a wolf, after his prey, and when he attacked he was not concealed any longer, not crouching behind those dead horses, after hours of discomfort-laying against those smelly decomposing, horses, whose shapes were no longer shapes of horses, infinitesimal insects from the horses crawling from the dead to the living, like crossing over on continuant to another. These were the thoughts going through his head as the waitress mopped the floor, and he stared into the flicker flames of the hearth. A little jealous the waitress never had to face such uncertainties that soldiers had to, but happy for her at the same time. She was pretty, he noticed as she walked by the light shinning through the window, near the corner of the room. He had finished his meal, and was now drinking a beer, with his feet propped on a stool, that was left by the hearth for someone to sit on and feed the fire with dray wood.

He didn't need to be shot at anymore, he could sense, almost feel the whizzing by of bullets, just daydreaming where he was, he could hear them like a bees shooting and buzzing by his ears, it was all invisible to the eye, soaring sounds of invisibility; beyond the woman sat a man counting the morning's and noon's receipts-thinking hurriedly, as if the doors would soon be opened again for the early afternoon rush, to dinner rush. He didn't need to say anything, he just ordered a third beer, and watched and listened and gazed at the legs of the young and pretty waitress. He hadn't moved from his chair, not once.

The waitress looked at Shannon, trying to figure out his age, figuring him to be twenty or twenty one, not sixteen or seventeen, she was twenty-three, and she had seen many a soldier come through those doors, and sho enough he was a soldier, and she knew had she been through war, she wouldn't have much left neither, that what she'd want is just what he was wanting, a warm corner someplace, a quiet someplace for a little while. And she left him to himself.

No: 412 (6-9-2009).

Day of the Damned Horses - A WWI Story

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BuyTV Episode 215, Top 10 in Books Countdown

!: BuyTV Episode 215, Top 10 in Books Countdown

The Top Ten Books Countdown features the hottest books of the week. Catch up on the hottest books of the season.

BuyTV Episode 215, Top 10 in Books Countdown

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4 Hot Spots in a Woman's Body Which Can Drive Her Wild When Stimulated! You Must Know This

!: 4 Hot Spots in a Woman's Body Which Can Drive Her Wild When Stimulated! You Must Know This

Unlike men, a woman needs enough foreplay to get her started for a wild ride in bed. She won't simply see a nude man and go crazy in bed. A man needs to stimulate her most sensuous parts to see her turn into a wild tigress. There are several sensitive parts in a woman's body that can stimulate her instantly.

Here are the 4 hot spots in a woman's body which can drive her wild when stimulated....

Other than relaxing and triggering her mind these are the parts that can make her go wild like never before.

Ear is one such sensitive spot which if stimulated can generate the heat in her. There are several nerves ending at the ears making it sensitive. On kissing her ears passionately and rightly you can make her moan.

Lips is the best spot to experiment with your kissing. Woman love kissing, and what could be the best place then lips to try some locks. You can surprise her every time with a different way of kissing. Be passionate then kiss slowly or try various types of kisses.

The neck is one of most sensuous spots of a woman's body. Both men and woman love it. A woman can experience a great pleasure when kissed on the neck. Kiss, suck or lick her neck and you can feel her go mad in your arms.

The back of a woman is often overlooked; this area is sensitive enough to drive her wild. There are several nerve endings there; you can trigger them by giving her a nice massage. The massage will help her de-stress and increase the blood flow.

If you explore, there are several hot spots in a woman's body apart from the ones you know like the g-spot and clitoris, which can make her go wild if stimulated properly. Use your fingers and tongue to explore her body. Her moaning is a sign that you have hit the right spot.

4 Hot Spots in a Woman's Body Which Can Drive Her Wild When Stimulated! You Must Know This

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Stephanie Plum 10 Book Set: Hot Six/Seven Up/Hard Eight/To the Nines/Ten Big Ones/Eleven on Top/Twelve Sharp/Lean Mean Thirteen/Fearless Fourteen/Finger Lickin' Fifteen/Sizzling Sixteen

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10 books in the Stephanie Plum series by Janet Evanovich. Books 6 through 15. Hardcovers. Publications dates are from 2000 to 2009.

Ashley Bunk Bed

Catholic School-Girl Performance Art

!: Catholic School-Girl Performance Art

"This will be FUN!" Sister Cabrini says with mega-wattage goodness that makes Hello Kitty look like a Visigoth--energizing the anarchist neurons in my sixteen-year old brain.

In her front-row seat, Mary Alice Margaret stops polishing her rosary beads and shoots up her hand. "Ooo, Ooo, Sister! Let me help!"

When Helene fingers her pearls at the neck of her French-blue uniform and whispers "F-Wad Toady" my laughter explodes like Krakatoa. And nothing says 'Batter-Up' to a nun like untimely laughter in class.

"Praise Jesus we have a volunteer!' Sister exclaims. "Alright my pretty maids march ye to the foyer in a row."

St. Elizabeth's Girls Priory sits atop a hundred acre verdant hill, the impenetrable brick fortress of our totally hot virginity thrown up against the sky like a come-hither sigh. A winding snake of side road slithers up to the entrance like boys sneaking a peek under your skirt.

The foyer is a cavernous white marble meat-locker. At the back is a floating grand double staircase in front of a three story glass wall over-looking a lushly terraced rose garden, a not so nuanced architectural leitmotif for marching up to Heaven's Gate. But for now, Sister Cabrini has unwittingly set the stage for Girls Gone Wild performance art.

She pauses at the bottom of the staircase, young, beautiful, slim, vibrantly alive, with the pure white hands of a corpse, waiting for the record player that I roll out of the AV closet and plug-in. Sister floats over to it in head-to-toe black habit, and selects practice music.

"Girls. Girls! Young ladies!" Sister says in her perfectly modulated voice. She waits another moment for quiet, and then claps her hands, "Alright, Enchanted Flowers of our Existence, pipe down." She runs through her spiel.

Next Friday night is the Father-Daughter Dance, our fathers will wait in the foyer with corsages. Daughters will be on the second floor. As our name is called we're to descend with impeccable posture, our hands folded waist high, and our chins and eyes up like some proud but wistful Jane Austin heroine scouring the horizon for our next good deed. Many of us will be test-driving our first pair of high heels down these two long flights of slippery marble stairs, which Sister insists we navigate down the center and without looking down. In the foyer, each father will pin a corsage on his daughter, she will take his arm, and they will promenade to the dance like God meant it to be. We are going to practice our descent so it's as sleek as lip-gloss for the night of the dance.

"Since Suzanne has so graciously volunteered we will start with her."

"Please let the Sky God suck-me up now," I say in Helene's ear hoping she'll get the giggle and by default be made the first to go, forestalling my death by 1,000 humiliations. She's close to bursting, but needs something stronger to push her over the edge. Sister sends me up the stairs, and so help me, starts the music, "These Foolish Things Remind Me of You," I look over the balcony at Helene who is micro-millimeters away from splitting internal organs.

"Alright Suzanne, dear. Head up. Up like a swan. Up. Up. That's our darling girl. Eyes up. Lets see those lovely blue eyes. Hands folded like a Virgin Saint. Alright, pause there dear at the top while I restart the music." She's over at the record player with her head down, so I Can-Can my skirt towards Helene who is by now biting a hole through her check. "You know girls, Suzanne means "Lily" and doesn't she look like a graceful, fragrant Casablanca Lily."

I'm thinking...just throw yourself down to bleed-out on the marble stairs or at least get a concussion to get out of this. Helene is doubled-over and poised to blow like a Yellowstone geyser.

Sister Cabrini is setting the needle on the record when the priory secretary comes out and whispers to her, "Alright Suzanne, you go ahead and demonstrate until I get back." The music starts.

The foyer is an echo chamber and if I can get the girls laughing they'll be heard, but I can't be seen from the school office. I start vamping down like a stripper. Crossing slowly from one side of the staircase to the other. Grabbing the stair rail seductively, posing, and shimmying at different parts to the music. Being as salacious as a girl in a Catholic school uniform can be. Lick my finger, touch it to my bottom and make a sizzling sound.

"You came, you saw, you conquered me
When you did that to me I knew somehow this had to be."

Oh yeah, they're laughing now. So I put it in high gear with more bumps and grinds than a carnival ride. Helene's biting her lip off. A few more moves and she will transformed into a freaking hyena.

"Two lovers on the street who walk like dreamers
Oh how the ghost of you clings, These foolish things
Remind me of you"

They're ready, right on the edge, I'm half way down, and kick-it like the Rockettes. Who doesn't like a flash of white cotton panties? So pure, and yet not. An entire vernacular, a symposium on irony.

"How strange, how sweet, to find you still
These things are dear to me
They seem to bring you so near to me."

That's it. They're gone. It's Stratospheric Hilarity and Sister Cabrini is out like a shot hunting culprits and taking names. I assume the Lily pose and stand innocently waiting for Helene to be pressed into practicing the waltz with Sister, who suddenly looks past me up the stairs, "Brother Bernard, do you know who started this?" She asks.

He starts down, I hear the tap-tap-tappity of his earnest shoes coming down but don't glance back at the young gorgeous priest we all pant for in our dreams. He passes me "Nice job, Lily."

Mary Alice Margaret's hand pops up, "Ooo, Ooo, Sister, it was Suzanne and Helene. As usual."

We know the drill. Into the office. We're sitting on the chairs outside Mother Superior's door. Helene mimics a high pitched whine, "Ooo, Ooo, Sister, it was Suzanne and Helene as usual."

"This will be FUN!" I reply.

It's over. We're on the floor.

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Review of Two Popular Mystery Series

!: Review of Two Popular Mystery Series

What can I say? Janet Evanovich's mystery series with Stephanie Plum is a guilty pleasure. Her books are always a fast read with at least two or three rip-roaring belly laughs and a few chuckles. What makes those laughs so worthwhile is the way they sneak up on you with impeccable comedic timing. I'm not a Lucille Ball fan, but I can't help but think of her, when I read the cartoonish antics of bail bonds woman, Stephanie Plum.

This time in Sizzling Sixteen cousin Vinnie, who owns the bail bond business, gets into financial trouble and Plum and Lulu, her ex-prostitute sidekick, has to "bail" him out. Popular repeat characters include funeral attendee Grandma Mazur, office manager Connie and Mooner, who now owns a motor home. Of course, boyfriends Ranger (rhymes with danger) and Morelli make steamy appearances. All in all it is another fun romp. Be careful about reading these in the library. You never know when you will spontaneously erupt with guffaws.

Marcia Muller takes an interesting approach to her next book in the Sharon McCone series called Locked In. Sharon is shot and her body becomes a locked room. She can't speak or move, but there is nothing wrong with her reasoning abilities. Like Rex Stout's Nero Wolfe, all the information, on who might have been involved with the shooting, is fed to McCone through her staff and spouse, Hy Ripinsky, as she lies in the hospital. We appreciate McCone's vital role of bringing her staff together, as they start to follow some parallel lines of inquiry without keeping each other informed.

Focusing on the puzzle of who shot her, McCone perseveres, as her body deteriorates. We follow the clues through the eyes of her investigators. This is an interesting twist and a way to see the main character, through the perspective of those we have met over the past twenty-eight book series. It is like a singer paying homage to the various virtuoso musicians in a band and letting them each do a solo performance.

Muller once again focuses on her characters and the mystery at hand with little room for emotional hijinks. At times it is difficult to warm up to Muller's McCone, because she has little room for sentiment or descriptive detail in her pursuit of a mystery's solution. Muller's books in other words are plot driven. But like an old friend, I always look forward to spending a few hours with her to keep her company during her next exploit.

Review of Two Popular Mystery Series

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Once aloft a Star - Celebrity kiss and acquaint stories

!: Once aloft a Star - Celebrity kiss and acquaint stories

Read the book that has Hollywood's ears buzzing. Peggy's cast of sexy celebrity lovers makes for a sizzling read. Written with taste and heart, you will not want to put this one down. go to www.onceuponastarthebook.com for more info

Once aloft a Star - Celebrity kiss and acquaint stories

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Book Review: Sizzling Sixteen Janet Evanovich

Book Review: Sizzling Sixteen Janet Evanovich Tube. Duration : 4.10 Mins.

This book is like all their others. Cars blow up, murder, mud, grandmother, Morelli, Ranger, dinner with mom, etc.

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High Anxiety

!1: Now is the time High Anxiety Order Today!

Nice Design by :Over All Rating Reviews : Great Deal : $3.97Date Created :Apr 08, 2011 19:48:26

Readers will go crazy for the latest Kate Holly case...

Kate Holly needs a temporary secretary. Amanda Davis is a competent worker with a friendly personality and-after altering her hairstyle and fashion sense to identically match Kate's-more issues than a lifetime subscription to Psychology Today.

• Nutcase
• What Looks Like Crazy
• Trouble in High Heels
• Troublemaker Book 1: Alex Barnaby Series 3
• Troublemaker: A Barnaby and Hooker Graphic Novel, Book 2

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Sound of Music Karaoke

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When I sing badly we Swick Sizzling Sixteen "My Favorite Things"

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Austin De Lone Reworks Bands

When I was a teenager, I saw All the bands play at London venues like Middle Earth in Covent garden and at Implosion events at the Roundhouse, which was originally a steam engineer heal shed. I used to think nothing of finding first rate acts like the late Tim Buckley, the Pink Floyd and Soft machine play in such intimate settings. Jeff Dexter used to be the clubs' enigmatic disc jockey, and was the gregarious host at all times.

I used to be crazy about West Coast rock at the time, but although the Grateful Dead ensemble was one of my favourites, they were one act I never got to see in the flesh. I was fortunate to see Jefferson Airplane and the Doors play at the Roundhouse though (when I was a toddler, of course!). If I remember correctly (!), Jefferson Airplane had top billing but of policy Jim Morrison stole the show.

Sizzling Sixteen

Back then, I used to (wear a new Biba outfit a week) and hung out with a lot of musicians. Everybody on the London 'scene' seemed to be heavily complicated with the Music Industry. It must have been a long time ago, because "Lemmy", who is best known as the founding member of the heavy metal band Motörhead used to be good finding in those days. I used to hang out backstage at rock concerts (like "Blind Faith") in Hyde Park, and saw American artistes like Janis Joplin achieve at the Royal Albert hall. Jimi Hendrix, whom I witnessed devour his guitar any times, once tried to run me over in his car on the Zebra Crossing at Marble Arch!

Austin De Lone Reworks Bands

!1: Now is the time Wicked Appetite Order Today!

Nice Design by :Over All Rating Reviews : Great Deal : $5.45Date Created :Mar 20, 2011 13:28:21

Life in Marblehead has had a pleasant predictability, until Diesel arrives. Rumor has it that a collection of priceless ancient relics representing the Seven Deadly Sins have made their way to Boston’s North Shore. Partnered with pastry chef Lizzie Tucker, Diesel bullies and charms his way through historic Salem to track them down—and his criminal mastermind cousin Gerewulf Grimorie. The black-haired, black-hearted Wulf is on the hunt for the relic representing gluttony. Caught in a race against time, Diesel and Lizzie soon find out that more isn’t always better, as they battle Wulf and the first of the deadly sins.

With delectable characters and non-stop thrills that have made Janet Evanovich a household name, Wicked Appetite will leave you hungry for more.

• Sizzling Sixteen (Stephanie Plum)
• Troublemaker Book 1: Alex Barnaby Series 3
• Between the Plums
• Troublemaker: A Barnaby and Hooker Graphic Novel, Book 2
• Motor Mouth (Alex Barnaby Series #2)

I used to be so crazy about West Coast rock, one of my biggest fantasies was to marry an American rock star and live in San Francisco. It didn't happen, but my sister Lesley did marry the legendary and versatile musician called Austin de Lone, who currently lives in Mill Valley. He was 'gonged' with a "Milley" award in 2007 for bringing national and international honour to Mill Valley. He's a killer keyboard player, and also reworks bands as well as being a composer, songwriter, and producer. (He also helps organise advantage concerts in the name of Richard de Lone, his Prader-Willi Syndrome son).

Austin ("Audie" is his nickname) started the pub rock movement in England during the early Seventies with his legendary band, "Eggs Over Easy", and has worked and played with Everybody in the Music Industry, together with rocksters like Huey Lewis, Bruce Springsteen, David Crosby, Lightening Hopkins, Nick Lowe, Commander Cody, Loudoun Wainwright, Boz Scaggs, Howard Tate and Elvis Costello to name just a few. He is the only musician I know now, so it was a huge treat to hang out in Mill Valley during Christmas and the New Year and listen to his pulsating sounds.

I now very rarely see live music in London (there aren't that many cosy rock venues left now), so it was a satisfaction to see Austin and his talented daughter Caroline de Lone achieve while I was there. On New Year's Eve, we saw one of Austin's groups, the tight "Austin de Lone's Soul Blues Extravaganza" play at the beautiful non-profit Throckmorton Theatre. Guest artistes included the great Dan Hicks (of Dan Hicks and the Hot Licks), a raunchy blues singer called Lisa Kindred, the juvenile Lorin Rowan (of the Rowan brothers), and the charismatic Caroline de Lone. Will Durst's Big Fat Year End Kiss Off Comedy Show who opened the act were hilarious.

'Los Angeles is hell frozen over,' was one of their many laugh out loud wisecracks.

I also, caught Bonnie Raitt and Caroline (again) guest at the Mabel John show (after she left Motown, she was the director of the Raelettes, who backed Ray Charles), plus her magical musician son, Paul Collins also at the Throckmorton Theatre. Caroline is only sixteen (going on seventeen), but she is a natural performer with a belting big voice. Bonnie Raitt predicts she will do very well with her singing career. Praise indeed!

Other highlights of my action-packed holiday included a visit to George Lucas's lot in San Francisco (he lives in Mill Valley alongside all the old West Coast rock stars), and an intoxicating visit to Francis Coppola's Rubicon Winery in Napa Valley. I loved the film memorabilia upstairs which included antiquated magic lanterns. I had an piquant time, but the most confident thing about my trip was getting a sizzling idea for a rock 'n' roll screenplay. If it ever gets the green light, there are sufficient musicians in Mill Valley to contribute the score!

Austin De Lone Reworks BandsBook - Sizzling Sixteen: Stephanie Plum Novel Tube. Duration : 5.03 Mins.

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Book - The Girl Who Played with Fire

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Book - Sizzling Sixteen: Stephanie Plum Novel

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