7 Quotes From Comedians That Would Make Great First Lines of Books

Thinking of writing a book? The first line is important. The first line sets the mood, theme, style, world and should introduce the main conflict. “Amazing Bonus,” if it foreshadows the end. Above all, the first line should hook an agent, a publisher or two and thousands  millions of readers.

Sounds easy.

Image courtesy of Flickr Creative Commons by Reuben Ingber, Some Rights Reserved.
Image courtesy of Flickr Creative Commons by Reuben Ingber, Some Rights Reserved.

To get you started, here are some plagiarized borrowed lines from people that are already famous. I think these would make perfect openings. The famous won’t mind. Probably (<~Not legal advice). Just think of the possibilities…

Kevin Hart

I used to think guns were loud until I dropped the damn shampoo in the shower.

Laura Kightlinger

I have a rule, and that is to never look at somebody’s face while we’re having sex; because, number one, what if I know the guy?

Image via FlickR Creative Commons by Veronica Belmont, Some Rights Reserved.
Image via Flickr Creative Commons by Veronica Belmont, Some Rights Reserved.

Louis CK

I know it’s not popular to say, but I hate balloons.

Betty White

Get at least eight hours of beauty sleep. Nine, if you’re ugly.

Redd Fox

I feel sorry for people who don’t drink or do drugs. Because someday they’re going to be in a hospital bed, dying, and they won’t know why.

via Flickr Creative Commons by Carla de Souza Campos, Some Rights Reserved.
via Flickr Creative Commons by Carla de Souza Campos, Some Rights Reserved.

More Laura Kightlinger

I can’t think of anything worse after a night of drinking than waking up next to someone and not being able to remember their name, or how you met, or why they’re dead.

Dane Cook

When I said I wanted to be a comedian, they all laughed at me. Well, no one’s laughing now.

How To Peddle Porn on Pinterest Without Really Trying

On Friday The Thirteenth, I received an email from Pinterest at 1:18 in the AM. Pinterest removed one of my pins because it “went against,” their policies on sexually explicit or pornographic content.

I deleted it thinking it was a phishing attempt.

Click here to see more information, then call this phone number and have your credit card and bank account numbers available whilst we connect you to someone with an accent thick enough to hold a spoon upright.

 

Pinterest Worldwide HQ
Pinterest Worldwide HQ

But later when I tried to access my Pinterest account (I believe to find what might could be dinner later), I saw a similar message. This time, a warning was added:

Please review all of your pins and boards for sexually explicit images and remove them immediately.

I’m not sure what the worst is that can happen in this scenario. Pinterest suspension? Public ridicule? Jail time?

I fetched the original email from my email provider provided trash-can.

The deleted image was from my California board. Love California. Love everything about it. Want to be California when I grow up. I base stories there in little made up towns up and down the seaside, where no one pays taxes or sits in traffic for hours on end.

The Pinterest po-po gave me the link to the offensive pin. Like I’m going to fall for that and click on it! Double jeopardy much, PINTEREST??

I know my rights.

I can tell the link contains content about the most majestically (sic) trees in the world.

That’s how you know you’ve been punked by someone in a sweaty shirt in a sweaty internet cafe with a God Knows What language to English dictionary opened next to him, drinking shot after shot of some kind of shitty local moonshine, creating links from majestically (sic) trees to pine-on-pecan porn. Bistore!” He shouts and then hits…PIN IT.

His mayhem is shared and I’m the one in trouble.

Innocent me sees an image of a tree and thinks, how nice, and pins it to my California board. Y’all, I don’t even remember doing this.

Now, after seeing the warning, I feel I can’t ignore it. I don’t even want to see what happens if I ignore it. I go through all the pins.

I have almost 2000 pins.

I was pretty diligent on the first ten, reviewing each image, then clicking to see where it lead. Then I got bored. On the last 1,900, I just scanned for the f-word.

I had more f-words in my pins than I care to admit. But now they are all deleted in accordance with the Pinterest Scriptures. I felt pretty clean and good about myself until I remembered some fitness stuff I’d pinned. So I looked at those more closely.

Many, many ass-shots. Women in panties or hot pants leaning over their kitchen counters and balcony railings, as one does. I got rid of those too.

 

Stop! In the Name of Love

I feel like the sheriff will knock on my door any minute with a, “mind if I poke around, ma’am?” and he will push open the door without waiting for my answer, clutching a copy of the state’s obscenity law.

“Excuse me,” I say, hitching up my yoga pants. “But I’m in the middle of a squat challenge.”

The sheriff peers over my shoulder at my laptop.

“I see that. You don’t mind if my deputy and I help a little filly with her work-out.”

Woo-Hoooo! He and his deputy tear off their breakaway brown, work trousers and fling their mirrored aviators across the room.

 

The Pinterest Blacklist

Obviously, I’m on some kind of list. Some kind of offensive pinners’ list. I should lay low until there’s turnover at Pinterest and the new people forget to check The List.

“What list?” Someone will ask.
“I dunno. We used to check The List every morning. I never knew why. The person in charge of it has retired.”
“It must not have been important. Pitch it.”

That’s right, Pinterest. We’ll just forget the whole thing. Shh. Sleepy time now.

Are You There Judy? It’s Me, Jen.

With summer almost upon us, I must prepare for the season by compiling my TBR list. I like to keep books in every room of my house, in each bag or purse, in the cars and next to most of my appliances. This way, if I ever have a moment where my eyes are not supposed to be on something else, like children or the stove, I can scan the immediate area for a book and squeeze off a scene or chapter before something else needs my attention. I get quite a lot of reading done this way.

Of course, nothing beats a long, leisurely read, but I only get those on birthdays and anniversaries. Any other day and I’m too laden with guilt to enjoy what I’m reading. If I wait until night, I’m lucky to get one cheek under the sheet before I’m dead to the world.

Shhh, I'm trying to sleep.
Shhh, I’m trying to sleep.

I asked my friends for suggestions for the TBR pile. Boy, there are some good ones:

All the Light We Cannot See

Bossypants

The Good Lord Bird

The Boys in the Boat: Nine Americans and Their Epic Quest for Gold at the 1936 Berlin Olympics

I just mailed this one to mom: The Midnight Assassin: Panic, Scandal, and the Hunt for America’s First Serial Killer

It looked so chilling I also sent along this blanket:

 

Brrr. My mom and I love anything about serial killers!

Then there’s this terrific list from Publishers Weekly.

I think the TBR mountain is coming along nicely.

One of my friends asked me what was my favorite summer read. That’s easy.

Look at the cover! A beach, waves, straw hats. Adirondack chairs! That’s how you know you have a summer read winner. Can’t go wrong with a cover of Adirondack chairs.

I have to read this book every summer. It’s about two friends who grow up together. One is from a wealthy family and one is from a working class family. IT’S SO GOOD. And chock full of WTF moments like when the girls discover their “power,” buzzing from between their legs or how Caitlin doesn’t bathe for an entire summer. Crazy. But it’s so good that you don’t even skip a beat to think about how weird that is until the end when your endorphins are pumping and you look up to focus on the wall across the room and then you think, “did Caitlin really just make out with the movie star renting down the street from her after he paid her for babysitting his kids while he took his movie star wife out to dinner?”

Yes. Yes, she did. Caitlin’s the rich one.

Judy Blume is my favorite all-time writer. From Super-Fudge to Wifey, I’ve read ’em all. I’ve learned a lot about life and, ahem, other things from reading her books. Forever immediately comes to mind.

Did you know that maxi pads used to come with little belts that you wore around your waist? That was way before my time. But, weird, right? Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret was all about it.

Sadly, Ms. Blume (my favorite all-time writer) is coming to my town and I didn’t hear about it until it was too late. All the tickets sold in hours. I wish she would bottle her writing mojo and send it to me as an apology for not personally reaching out to her number one fan (me) regarding her visit to my city.

Perhaps, I could find her hotel. This is a small city. There are only about half a dozen I’d need to steal a maid’s uniform for call. Then I would just simply camp out in the lobby and wait for her to come down. I know what she looks like because I have pictures of her wallpapered all over one wall of my office. I have even attached my face on  her body on some of them so it looks like we are one person. So cute. Try it. It’s one of my Pinterest Boards. Then we could have coffee together and talk like the old friends I think we are. If she doesn’t want to do that, then I’ll have coffee and talk to her through the top of the trunk of my car.

KIDDING.

Totally kidding. Would. Not. Do. That.

So…where were we?

Yes. Send me your reading suggestions. Thanks, that’d be great.

Milk, Milk, Lemonade

All I wanted to do was laundry. Mountains of it, because of a weekend getaway. A getaway with not much time for internetting or emailing or streaming. I was out of the loop, for like, two days.

My energy level lagged a little. I  had a vacation hangover, so I thought I would find some upbeat music to make the unpacking pass. Beyonce popped in my head. I think because she trended on Twitter and Facebook as I checked them after hours in the wilds of Southern Ohio. I also received several emails about her (not from her, so I deleted them). I wouldn’t say I was in the Beyhive, but I like her music and have been known to sing along to, “Survivor,” once or twice. Loudly.

So Spotify apologized for not having Lemonade yet but assured me they were working on it. I’d never seen a message like this before on Spotify. Usually, they are trying to get me to upgrade to a paid subscription (they don’t know how cheap I am). But considering I didn’t even know Lemonade existed, I wasn’t too disappointed.

 

Beyonce Is Dirty And Needs A Bath

Shuffle the Beyonce playlist? Don’t mind if I do.

I’m thinking, “Best Thing I Never Had,” or “Irreplaceable.” “Single Ladies,” would be nice.

I got, “Drunk In Love.”

Explicit version.

The Spotify explicit version.

Which sounds like the normal explicit version, except for a bonus Jay Z rap.

Did he just say he impregnated his bride’s mouth?? Why, yes he did.

He said a bunch of other things too, but I can’t put them in this post because my mother will read it. She may be the only one too, so I need to hold onto her.

After I picked myself up off the floor, I actually listened to the song.

It was dirty. No two ways about it. I mean, I already knew what it was about, but I didn’t know WHAT IT WAS ABOUT. Mostly, because I can’t understand it.

Surfboarding – Thought that was a coastal recreational pastime.

Cigar’s on ice? Use this ashtray, otherwise, the paper will get soggy and won’t stay lit properly.

Drinking watermelon…I love fruit based smoothies! Pass one here 🙂

A young friend of mine explained. Surfboarding and grinding on wood. Well, that’s about the actual act of lovemaking, Jen. Grow up.

Cigar’s on ice is a term for a sexually frustrated male human being. Obvs.

Drinking watermelon. Watermelon has seeds. THINK ABOUT IT. Semen??

 

I’m A Mayon

I’m no prude. Remember the Berlin song from the 80s? “Sex (I’m A)?

Please, please, please watch the video, and then come back.

That was dirty, but they spelled it out for us in the song lyrics. Then they provided some weird visual cues for us, in case we were still unclear.

We start, in the video, with entering a woman’s red lipsticked mouth and then we travel through a tunnel. There is a dude with make-up pawing a mannequin. Some hot kissing and hugging action reflected in a shattered mirror, 80s style.

Um, a big buffet? Lots of food and cutting of big roasts and that sort of thing. Oysters and grapes.

We end with Terri Nunn and the dude with the Revlon blush-on, bumping into each other at a party, both of them with their cigars on the ice. They clutch each other with delight because they are about to go SURFBOARDING.

Ah, THAT was music, kids! All dirty and filthy. A clearly stated message.

Frankly, Beyonce and Jay Z just confuse me.

UPDATE: Rumor is Jay Z may be getting his wood ground somewheres else. I hope they work it out because he does like to look at her fatty.