Okay so here’s the backstory on this little… geez, I don’t even know what to call this mess. I mean there’s only one chapter to it so it’s a one shot, but it’s not like anything I’ve ever written before. In fact, it wasn’t even my idea. So there’s your summary, kind of, for what […]
No not the one you should get once a year to make sure you’re sans crotch crickets and crotch fruit. But those pesky other cuntbugs that interfere in the private lives of our beloved celebmates.
Of course without them we wouldn’t have those great day-in-the-life pics but at what cost? I personally got sick to my stomach at all the photos I do/did have that are pap shots or personal ones pilfered from a relatives site of Alexander Skarsgard. I’m not on my soap box to tell you how to live it just made me uncomfortable at the sheer amount. Of all the photo shoots he’s done in the past and present and all of his movies I have screen shots from, it only made up 25% of over 8,000 pics. So I dumped them and I don’t ‘like’ them anymore and try hard not to comment (but c’mon the rain guys) and make it a point to scroll past them.
I’m wondering your thoughts on the subject? Wondering how it would feel if someone had personal pics of me or my kids.
And ladies it’s just curiosity and publicly stating that yes I am addicted to that man’s fine ass 😘💞.
P.S. Thank you World Of Skarsgard for the awesome pic from a red carpet event. Love you WOS 😘💖
I know I never post anything but this is important. If any of you wonderful people have me on alert and have read this beautiful story please contact Justwanderingneverlost and show her your support. Please thank you 😘💋💋💋💋💋
Eric let out a frustrated sigh again as he looked at his list of
prospective interior designers. The first had
been an annoying unnatural red-head that was
so snobby and unprofessional that she
laughed in his face when he described what
he wanted for his bar Arlene Fowler of C&L
Studio had pictures cut out of magazines as
her portfolio. The second hit on him the
whole 20 minute meeting while she slutted
up a poor cousin version of Sharon Stone in
that movie. Her ‘professional’ attire
consisted of a barely-there skirt and
practically open blouse which screamed
desperate, not naughty office. She was on the
down side of ageing, maybe late forties, with
a bad Cheetos colored streaky bottle tan. She
had no prior work to show me, I think it was
a store front for prostitution: Dawn Greene
Parlor Designs more like $10 handy’s and
$20 happy ending’s. The last had been a real
estate company that had a side division for
staging houses to be sold and final design
walk through with pre-existing furniture
and such in place. Sort of like re-arranging
someone’s furniture, feng sui and shit like
that. I thought I was shit out of luck till I ran
into a willowy brunette coming back from a
“Hi can I help you find your new home?” she
smiled at me.
“Humm….oh sorry what was that?”
“Hi I’m Aude. Adrianna Quinn realtor and
freelance interior decorator here at
Pumphrey and Ball Interiors. Can I help
you?” she winked and licked her plump
shiny pink lips and I groaned.
I’m so not into getting involved right now.
She was sexy and sweet and I haven’t gotten
laid in 3 years. If I just fuck her then work
with her it will be awkward and I don’t do
one nighters or flings as a rule.
I learned my lesson with Felicia in college.
I’m just not a hit and quit type. She fucked
with my head, stringing me along while
fucking my friends and it was humiliating.
Nope just stick with your plan Northman. I’ve
got a deadline. I’ve got to focus and I’ve got a
shit load of money, not just mine, riding on
I smile back and I’m about to reply when I
catch a glimmer from her left hand holding
the coffee caddie. What the fuck is with all
these women in this city itching to get
scratched. She’s wearing a ring for God sakes!
I so do not want to call Pam and have her
send Miriam from NY. I’m on a beer budget
and that gluttonous viper lives on carbonated
Oh she’s staring me. “Hello, Eric Northman. I
was wondering if you could refer me to an
interior design company. I’ve struck out all
over Shreveport so far. No one seems to get
the style I’m envisioning for my bar. ”
“Ah… sure. It’s slim pickings in these parts
and NOLA offers restoration mostly. What are
you trying to achieve. Wine bar, Jazz
collective, cocktails, maybe a lawyers club?”
Huh? This sounds promising. She
motions me inside the automatic doors to a
small showroom with desks off to one side
and a small cubicle to back. Like a tiny bank
slash furniture store.
” Just a bar were you can enjoy good music,
good drinks, great atmosphere whether you
be lawyer, businessman, truck driver, school
teacher or small town neighbors. Everyone’s
“Wow tall order. People round here don’t
socialize to much. You have city folk,
in..Shreveport, Monroe, Bossier and then
country folk, Bon Temps, Hot Shot, Maynard.
It’s either sawdust and beer or snooty wine
and cocktails.” She taps her chin thinking.
This is not sounding good.
“That’s why Shreveport needs a place like
mine. Why Louisiana needs a place like mine.
We are all Louisiana no matter were we hail
from. It will work.” I was getting desperate.
I i wanted this as local as I can be. All
building materials, marketing, liquor, beer
,food all from Louisiana.” I pleaded.
She smiled a great big smile.
“Come with me. I know just who can do this”
She grabbed my arm and we walked about 5
blocks from her office to an old book store.
“Go on go inside and look. Tell me how this
place makes you feel.”
Well here goes nothing. A design store front
for prostitution and now a bookstore that
I walk in and am blown away. instead of
bookshelves it’s wall to wall repurposed
fireplace mantels of all sizes. The columns
aged wood fit in to vintage book vibe. Several
small reading areas are set up with
re-upholstered antique furniture. Small stools
and side tables spread about topped with
wrought iron lamps, the shades made of old
newspapers from different local newspapers
around the state. The floor is all reclaimed
wood. Beautiful and fitting for this place. A
picture hanging by the door catches my eye
while I’m leaving. It’s a small 5×8 black and
white photo of two young men and a little
boy standing by a barn. The placard reads
I walk out smiling and hug Aude. I’m elated
it’s exactly what I’m looking for.
She looks bewildered but smiles awkwardly
and I thank her again. She totally changed my
impression of her, for the better.
We head back to her office were she gives me
the address, her card and I’m off.
It’s not till I reach the interstate that I notice
there is no phone number to make an
appointment. I pull out my phone and call
Aude to ask for it. She tells me its ‘word of
mouth’ only. No appointments. Just show up
and someone will be there. Oh and to keep
an eye out for a giant wooden hummingbird.
That’s my turn off when I get to Bon Temps.
Well back woods here I come.