Me? I'm waiting for a big New York publishing company to discover my writing. It COULD be a while.

http://writefromkaren.com

I didn’t realize, until after I posted these jokes, that ya’ll might think I’m sour on marriage or that maybe things aren’t going well in the whole WFK marriage camp - not so. I mainly posted this entry because I’ve had these jokes in my draft folder since 2006 and I was quite tired of looking at them. I’m on a mission to clean out my draft folder and the rate I’m going? I’ll still be at it in 2010, that’s how large my draft folder is.

At any rate, please don’t take these jokes personally or read too much in them. Everything is fine. I’m not upset with my husband, I love being married and it’s great (work, but great) and I’m a happy camper.

And if I may go one step further … I wonder if jokes like these only damage the marriage institution as a whole? I mean, if we make enough jokes about marriage being bad, won’t we start believing that? Will it start affecting our own marriages? Are reading jokes like these the same as hanging out with a disgruntled divorcée? Or joking with our spouses about getting a divorce? Do jokes like these eventually poison our minds and ultimately our relationships? Or am I reading FAR too much into this sort of thing?

Excerpt from http://writefromkaren.com

I thought it would be interesting to reveal this woman’s life through various flashbacks - she time travels through her memories and I hope the reader realizes that sometimes, it’s necessary to examine the past before taking that first step toward the future.

Thanks for reading.

Moving On (excerpt)

“What the hell is wrong with you kid? It’s a simple concept, one we’ve been working on all night. Are you stupid? Or maybe just retarded? You know what?” the man threw down the expensive calculator and stood up. “I’m done. You’re on your own, but I’ll tell you one thing buster, if you fail math, you’re losing everything, video games, computer, TV, the works. And don’t come crying to me like the baby you are.”

Claudia winced at her desk in the next room. Why did he have to talk to him like that? Why did he have to belittle him and make him feel like an idiot?

She waited for her husband to leave the kitchen before she quietly approached her son. She placed a gentle hand on his shoulder and offered an encouraging smile. “It’s okay honey, you’ll get it. The light bulb just hasn’t come on yet. Maybe you need a tutor? Would that help you?”

Her son sighed and shook his head. “No. I’m just tired. And it’s hard to concentrate when …” he trailed off and Claudia nodded, understanding what he wasn’t saying.

“Are you done with your homework?”

“Yeah.” His shoulders were slumped over and he looked utterly defeated.

Claudia could feel the familiar anger building inside her. She was married to an asshole, no doubt about it. Her husband had always been verbally abusive with her, she supposed she had hoped he would mellow by the time they had had kids.

He hadn’t.

“Okay,” she ran a hand through his hair “Why don’t you take a nice hot shower and relax a bit.”

“Stop coddling the kid, Claudia! He needs to grow up and that won’t happen if you don’t stop mothering him. Now bring me some beer. Make yourself useful for a change. I’m tired and I have an important meeting in the morning.”

The smile she bestowed on her son was strained, but she tried hard not to let him see her distress. The kid had enough problems as it was, he didn’t need to start worrying about her.

“Go on, son.” She gave him a gentle push. Her son gathered up his schoolwork and moved away.

She sighed and counted to ten. She wouldn’t lose her temper, that only made things worse. Even though her husband had never hit her, she knew that if she pushed him too far, he just might start.

She grabbed a beer and dragging her feet, she took it to him.

http://writefromkaren.com

Down and Out

“Oh my GOD, that hurt!” Pam bent over and tucked her hand between her knees.

“I can’t believe you knocked her out cold,” Carrie wailed. She peered down the dark alley nervously biting her lip. “We’re gonna be expelled.” She grabbed Pam by the t-shirt and jerked her upright. “We’re going to be kicked out of school,” her voice was succinct, cold and accusing.

Pam gritted her teeth. Her hand still throbbed too much to formulate coherent thought.

“I can’t believe you punched our teacher, Pam. What the hell? I mean, she was obviously drunk. She didn’t know what she was doing. You stepped off reality, chicka, you’ve crossed over into some dark place. I’m not going down with you. I’m totally not covering for you. When my parents find out …”

“Will. You. Shut. Up.” Pam ground out between teeth that suddenly tasted like chalk. “My freakin’ hand hurts. It feels like someone backed one of those construction rollers over it. Son of a …”

“Shh!” Carrie held up a hand and both girls instantly froze. “Did you hear that?” The area between the two buildings was silent, save for the occasional rustle of leaves and the whoosh of distant tires. “I could have sworn I heard something,”

“You’re freaked out right now, hell, I’M freaked out right about now. I’ve never hit anyone in my life.”

“Shh! There it is again!” Again, both girls simply froze in their positions and listened. Long seconds passed before the soft roll of thunder grumbled in the distance. “It’s going to rain again,” Carrie stated.

“Yeah, being caught out in the rain is one of our major concerns right about now,” Pam said with a snort and took several deep breaths in an effort to control the steady needles of pain now pulsing up her arm. “I could just spit on her,” she said vehemently at the unconscious woman at her feet.

Carrie sighed. “I have to admit, I didn’t want to believe it. I mean, you hear rumors about teachers being a little too friendly or crossing the line with students all the time, but you know, those are usually just rumors. Crap started by kids who are pissed off about a grade or something.”

writefromkaren.com

Hello, and welcome. This blog post is brought to you by the word SHAPE.

Yes ladies and gentlemen, I’ve reached that point in my life, again, where I’m thoroughly disgusted with my body AND my hair. Something must be done. For you see, I’m too stubborn to brood, pout or get depressed. Oh no, whenever I get sick of something, I tend to be the sort of person who gnaws and nibbles at the problem until it turns into a full-fledged wound, and then I have no choice but to take care of it because then it becomes infected, turns an angry shade of blackish-green and …

Well, you get the picture.

I’ve reached this disgusted level a few other times in my life. The last time was a few years ago when I found myself buying larger and larger jeans to accommodate my wide load. Whoa nelly, I put the skids on that when I reached … .when I reached … well, when I reached an unacceptable size, let’s just put it like that, shall we?

So, I joined a gym. And paid a ridiculous amount to get started. Which sort of ticked the hubs off because he was all like, “Why are you doing this? You know you’re not going to use it and it will be a waste of money.”

Now, soft, tolerate chuckle anyone who knows me has GOT to know that saying that to me does nothing but tick me off. And it makes me even that much more determined to prove that person wrong.

Read the rest at http://writefromkaren.com