Posts Tagged With: Amy Gettinger

Bacon & Chocolate Party Wants You to Head Your Own Federal Department

How often has this happened to you?posterpp

You: Gah! I wish we had enough money to buy yogurt-covered pretzels.
Spouse: We can’t. You have a lousy job.
You: I wish I could find a better one.
Me: Well now you can. With Republican candidates dropping by the wayside, and the Democratic rivals in a fight to the end, the time has come for the Bacon & Chocolate Party to sweep to victory. With his imminent landslide election I, President Paul De Lancey, am going to need lots of help running the government. It’s a big thing. Heck, I hope I don’t get lost in the White House. Hee! Hee!

Anyway, dozens of federal agencies and departments are going to need new secretaries to lead them. Why not claim your spot? The pay is good. You won’t have to do much. Simply promote bacon and chocolate and save our bees. And take naps. Where else can you get paid for taking naps? C’mon, what are you waiting for? Be the first on your block to head a federal department. And don’t forget, we have plum ambassadorships around the world. Simply respond, “I want to head this department and give your name.” You’ll be glad you did.

Note: The following positions are taken.

President: Paul R. De Lancey
Vice President: Candace C. Bowen
Speaker of the House: John Rucker

Agriculture: Launa McNeilly
Avoiding Labor: Stephen Parrish
Crisper: Michelle Hickman
Education: Jan Buckner
Event Organizer: Christine Olewiler
Extraterrestrial Welcoming Committee: Denise Hemphill
Food and Drug: Lee Diogeneia
Health Human Services And Cooking: Shauna Roberts
Interior: Kathi Gorecki Voskuil
State: Mark Kennet
Secret Service: Mike Allsopp
Treasury: Betty Ponterio
Tsar of Holidays: Kathleen Smiley

Ambassadorships:

Cuba: Daphne Anne Humphrey
Fiji: Amy Buckheister Gettinger
Luxembourg: Donna Cavanagh
Switzerland: Elizabeth Dickinson

– Paul R. De LanceyDeLanceyPaul
Future president of the United States of America.

Check out my latest novel, the hilarious apocalyptic thriller, Do Lutheran Hunks Eat Mushrooms? It’s published by HumorOutcasts and is available in paperback or Kindle on amazon.com.

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Categories: Bacon & Chocolate, politics | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Spotlight on Amy Gettinger – Author of “Roll With The Punches”

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Excerpt from Roll with the Punches

Marian poured tea. “So who else wrote something this week?”

“Not me.” Jackie nudged me. “But Rhonda, back to your new long-lunch hottie. How big is his bat? Can I use him for my next hero? Pitcher, catcher, pirate or man about town?”

Yvette smiled up from my book. “Our little Rhonda’s a pirate’s treasure?”

I had to endure patronizing from Yvette now? “Look, there is no he.” I looked to James for support, but the traitor was cozily reading my book over Yvette’s shoulder. I narrowed my eyes at Jackie. “Hey. Has anyone tried the new George Bonner and Jackie Shawn Memorial Tollway yet?”

Grins all around.

I sighed. “Okay. Fine. My long lunches have all been spent in Sports of Call, looking for ska-sheets.”

Crap. I’d almost said skates. I was skirting disaster here. This group knew James played street hockey and roller hockey. What they didn’t know was that I had recently run across my old inline skates from high school, when Harley and I had practiced speed skating against my brothers, who had competed statewide. We’d been good. Now, I’d started doing some outdoor skating practice to fight flab, and it was a blast, just wicked fun. It would be even more fun when James and I went rollerblading at Venice Beach, my dream date. But Venice Beach was a drive. The roller rink was closer, so at Sports of Call, I’d just splurged on a gorgeous new pair of quad roller skates, which were slower but maneuvered better for indoor skating. If this bunch found out about my skating practice or my new skates, they’d kid both James and me to death and surely wreck my chances with him.

“Yeah, sheets,” I said, decisively.

“Sheets for him? Scarlet silk or black satin?” Jackie drawled, mistaking my blush for an admission of guilt.

“Us library nerds sleep on parchment,” I said. “Uh. Care to read some pages, George?”

“Rhonda, you don’t go to Sports of Call for sheets,” Marian said.

I checked my watch. “Look, if no one else wrote anything new, I’ll see ya.” I rose and started to push past Jackie, who blocked my way.

“But you might go there to visit a boyfriend,” Jackie trilled. “Is he that guy at the ski counter? Or a mountain climber? No. I know. A surfer. Smoking hot in a Speedo with washboard abs. With your lifesaving skills, Rhonda, you could administer CPR daily.”

George sang under his breath, “Help me, Rhonda.”

Jackie chimed in. “Help, help me …”

Rhonda!” they all yelled at the tops of their lungs. My lips could have pressed pennies as the whole group broke into a bawdy Beach Boys cacophony, even James joining in, completely off-key. Only Yvette stayed mum, frown lines deepening in her forehead as she kept reading my magnum opus.

Oh, to hell with my short skirt. I hoisted a knee to crawl right over Jackie just as Yvette broke in, in piercing tones. “Excuse me! Sit down, Rhonda! This is exactly why this group needs a leader.”

The group ignored her, singing even louder.

Yvette yelled, “Has anyone read the new Reynard Jackson book, Memory Wars?”

Jackson was a reclusive genius who had rocketed to the bestseller list three years before, with four new titles out per year since then. His whereabouts were a state secret. His work was slick, predictable, shallow, uneven, and unaccountably beloved by millions of readers.

I sat down and squinched my eyes shut. If I didn’t look at the group, maybe they’d all stop bawling at me to get her out of their hearts.

Over their cackles and bawls, Yvette shrilled, “People! This is disturbing. I read constantly for my job, but this is really bad.” She pointed at my manuscript like it was rat droppings.

“Could we get a muzzle for her?” I said to Jackie, who elbowed me hard.

The room sullenly quieted down. This woman was such a wet blanket.

Yvette smiled in triumph. “You see, I’ve already read this exact story. Last week. In a published work. The chubby strawberry-blond main character here?” She held up my manuscript. “Well, Reynard Jackson’s latest protagonist is a chubby strawberry-blond—”

“Oh, strawberry-blond characters are a dime a dozen,” George said, still feeling his oats. “And Rhonda always writes ’em chubby … Takes one to know—Ouch!”

Marian of the steel-toed pumps smiled.

Yvette slammed my manuscript down on the table. “But wait. Jackson’s strawberry-blonde neuroscientist, Dr. Amelia Steele, discovers a memory serum that will cure not only her great aunt’s Alzheimer’s, but also her handsome, shell-shocked army captain with amnesia who can only be saved by knowing the truth about his dark past.”

I looked up, my stomach sinking.

She went on. “Dr. Steele and Captain Russell Bonner work against an evil drug company, Sinbad Pharmaceuticals. It sells expensive anti-Alzheimer’s drugs and will stop at nothing to keep Dr. Steele’s permanent cure for the disease off the market. The heroes nearly get killed in the process of saving old people’s memories everywhere.”

Silence in the room.

Jackie looked sick. “Oh, my God. If you change the names, that’s Rhonda’s book!”

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Author bio

Amy Gettinger, once a part-time community college ESL instructor, lives and writes in her dream house in Orange County, California underneath a eucalyptus windrow full of parrots and crows with her husband and her two piteous poodles. For fun, she walks the beach cliff path at Laguna Beach. She also writes and produces Reader’s Theater plays for nonagenarians in a local assisted living facility. Her blog Raucous Eucalyptus, Piteous Poodles, is at amygettinger.com.

Her book is available on Amazon.

 

 

Categories: book reviews and excerpts | Tags: , , , | 2 Comments

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