I shat myself on the train. I’m not saying I was on my way to some big-time job and lost my bottle. And I wasn’t scared or nothing; it wasn’t that kind of shitting myself. I mean I actually shat my pants; I couldn’t believe it.
Author Archive | Jackie Bateman
I can’t wait to meet you. Wow. You must a celebrity, or at least an incredibly successful pioneer; not just any old bod is important and rich enough to have a pair of stone entranceway lions outside their own home.
I smashed someone’s face in today. It all started because of those bastard letters made out of wood, make to look like distressed metal. They don’t spell anything – they’re just giant single letters and people put one or two of them on their wall – or worse, they lean them on a shelf. If […]
We recently asked writers and poets of every ilk to help us prove to the world that a rose by any other name is still a rose, even if it is misspelled and grammatically incorrect. A number of writers penned into us, rewriting and bastardizing a Shakespearean play as if it were originally conceived on […]
The yoga instructor put her fingers in my bottom; I didn’t know what to think. She was older, with overly long grey hair, and she should not have been wearing turquoise tights. But at first she seemed so calm and understanding, her head tilted to one side when she smiled at us, like she was […]