Tag Archives: bad

Bad Novel Beginnings

14 Sep

These are some of  my failed attempts at writing a novel. I would basically start the story, but somehow write myself  into a corner where I was unable to proceed any further.

It’s too bad five sentences can not be considered a novel.

Bad Story Start One:

The streets were empty, because everyone moved away. Literally, everyone. Not a single person or creature lived in this town anymore. So….yeah. Nothing really happens any more….at all.

Because the town is deserted you see…


To be continued?

Probably not.

My novel about a small town that went bust after the major factory that everyone worked at closed. It was supposed to be about the struggles of the common man and family and doggies.


Bad Story Start Two:

Julie had been studying ballet for 16 years, and now a small trip and fall from the stage had put her in the emergency room. Her ankle was currently in a temporary cast as she waited for the doctor to come in.

He did after just a couple of minutes, although it felt like hours.

“Hi, Julie,” he said. He was rather cute, thought Julie. She had high hopes.

“Well,” said the doctor. “Got some bad news. You will never dance again.”

“Oh,” said Julie and started to cry.

“There’s more,” said the doctor. “We actually have to remove every limb from your body and put you in medically induced coma.”

“What? Why?!” screamed Julie.

“Shhhhh!” said the doctor from the movie, The Human Centipede.

And that’s what they did.

So….well. Julie never danced again…or even woke up.

This novel was supposed to be about the struggles of a ballerina, who hurts herself in chapter one, then works hard through chapters 2-10 to come back to dancing. Then finally in chapter 15, she becomes the star again. I guess I don’t know how the world of ballerinas, doctors, and/or comas work.


Bad Story Start Three:

The End.

This was supposed to be a clever novel written backwards, a la Memento…but as you can see…not a good idea.


Bad Story Start Four:

The Zombies ate everyone. Then they ate each other.

Ooops. My zombie apocalyptic novel should have been drawn out a little more. I just felt like cutting to the chase.


Bad Story Start Five:

Don’t read this story. I only wrote it to get paid.

This is why I shouldn’t drink and try to write novels at the strip clubs.

Or maybe write period. Or maybe I should learn to use periods in my writings. Do stripper’s get periods?

I don’t know.

Where does one buy boob glitter anyway?

I’ve looked at Target for a boob glitter aisle and I just can’t find it. I think it would be hilarious if I went to Target in a V-neck t-shirt while wearing boob glitter on my sexy man pectorals. I would need a murse with a puppy in it to complete the look, but every time I do that, La La steals my puppy. I don’t want to gay out on this, not that there is anything wrong with that, I’m just thinking it would funny.

Does boob glitter and chest hair look sexy together even?

Anyway, new videos every Wednesday, subscribe to my channel by clicking the Subscribe button above.

Oops. Sorry. Been watching a lot of Video Blogs lately. They always say that at the end of the video. I know I’m sort of late to the dance on this video blog thing, but if I didn’t look like if Frankenstein and Cruella De Vil (the Glen Close version) had a baby together, I might consider doing it.

I sort of went off topic as well.

Sorry for that too. This whole post kind of sucked anyway.

Anyway, new postings every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Click the Follow Me button on the upper right to receive this crap in your email…check your spam folder if you don’t see it. 


Twitter Friday Pt 3

23 Mar

The Best Of Twitter This Week. (Actually last week)

And As A Bonus This Week:

I changed this Ad from Facebook:

To this Ad:

Really Bad Poem

7 Sep

I wrote a really bad poem.

It didn’t have much content.

It didn’t rhyme, it didn’t make much sense.

At least it ended with a bang.

The End. Bang.


I wrote a second really bad poem

It was much worst than the first.

But it did almost have a rhyme.

At least it ended with a pajama party.

The End. (Now go get your pajamas.)


I wrote a third really bad poem.

Mostly because no one thought the second one was very funny.

I laughed, so that is all that mattered.

At least this one ended with a surprise.

The End. Surprise.


I wrote a fourth really bad poem.

People thought the third one was predicable.

They decided the second one wasn’t so bad after all.

At least this one ended on an up note. (You get to choose the ending.)