About those Werewolves…and a short story (for Sunday)

Don't cross a Werewolf.

Don’t cross a Werewolf.

 

Like my brother Max always says, “I have a dog. Why the Hell would I want to date one?” OK that isn’t his exact words. He says “Why the Hell would I want to fuck one?” I like to at least give the pretense of being polite.

When it comes to the subject of WEREWOLVES  we’re all over the place. We meaning Vampires. By all over the place I mean that we accept them, we live with them and from time to time we’re even friends with them but NEVER are we romantically involved (not that we know of). And of course we don’t have big battles in dark woods or dark caverns with cosplay type costumes. We talk out our problems. Otherwise we’d be like Regular Humans, and heaven forbid we be like them. Of course there might be a little occasional growling or biting but we get over it fast.

What do my readers love? Or maybe the question should be about random readers. The three posts on this blog that get the most traffic are:

1. How to Respond to a Love Letter

2. Taking your teen to a metal concert

3. Halloween Hotties: Werewolves

Yes, Werewolves, right here on the Vampire blog. I’d like to say it is because last Halloween I mentioned Robert McCammon’s smoking hot Werewolf in the book “Wolf’s Hour”. And yes, that is in my top ten favorite books of all times. And I had the HONOR of being picked up by the authors social media. Wow.

Anyway, a year has passed and people still want to hear about Werewolves.

My friend Adam, who is a Werewolf, often complains that people always ask him about Vampires. Go figure. For the longest time Adam didn’t know I was a Vampire and I didn’t know he was a Werewolf. We hid the fact rather well, too well. We could have ended up killing each other, or worse. Anyway…

One evening we talked extensively about his ability to do true shape shifting. He said it was uncomfortable at times and took a toll on the body. He spoke of being part wolf in sort of a far off way.

“You see, Juliette,” he said to me one night over a bottle of wine on a chilly roof top, “I don’t get chilled when I see a wolf. I get chilled when I see a chimpanzee. I’m not so far off in my DNA from them but they look at me with uncomfortable and defiant eyes of something alien that wants to point an accusatory finger at me. When I look at a wolf I see my brother with a shared soul.”

I could see his point and we were drinking. As a Vampire I don’t shape shift. I just make others believe I do. Part of my hunt is in creating an illusions. With Werewolves things can get a bit more real.

Oh and by the way, Werewolf blood tastes like good well aged Bourbon. But you won’t be able to tell unless you’re a Vampire.

I’ll have more later on Werewolves during the month of October. In the meantime I’ll leave you with a little story I’ve posted here before. The night is still young and I have places to go and people to… well you know how it is.

 

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman

 

Lon Chaney looking hot in a suit! Sweetheart stay out from under that full moon!

Lon Chaney looking hot in a suit! Sweetheart stay out from under that full moon!

 

Short Story Sunday:

Grandpa’s Dog

A short story from Marla Todd (featured in the WPaD short story anthology Creepies)

 

“I’m taking him to the vet and having him put down.” Jeff said into the phone.

“No you aren’t.” I said, ready to scream.

“It is cruel to make him suffer like this.”

“He isn’t our dog to put down.” I almost growled at my husband.

“I don’t care. Grandpa will understand. He’s always complaining about how he hates Bruce anyway.”

“The kids will be heartbroken.” I said trying to stall him.

“They’ll understand.”

“What about my mom? She’ll never forgive you.”

“Gretchen, I’m taking Bruce to the vet. I’m sorry.”

“I want to say good-bye.”

“Bruce will understand.” He hung up. Damn him.

Bruce was Grandpa’s dog. He was old. The oldest dog I knew. Jeff thought he was 16. I knew better. Jeff thought Bruce was half wolf and half Alaskan Malamute. I knew he was half Irish. Jeff liked to bake him organic dog treats. I knew Bruce preferred bourbon and prime rib. Jeff thought grandpa was crazy to have such a large dog. I knew Grandpa was half crazy and Jeff was right, it was about the dog, but it didn’t have anything to do with its size.

Once a month I kept the dog for Grandpa, while he “Went to the cabin with his old college buddies.” I hauled the dog to weddings, to funerals, to camping trips and hanging around the house. He’d been there for my college graduation, my wedding, for my kids. My mom had watched the old dog before me. My grandma before her.

Of course Jeff didn’t believe anything my family said about the damn dog. He’d spent years hearing us tell bad jokes and tall tales. It was how we spoke, in stories. I blame it on my Southern parents. Jeff just thinks I’m funny. He tells me I should have my own show on cable. HA HA HA. He thinks my family is quirky and quaint. Right now nothing was funny or quaint.

I raced home from the studio. I’m a photographer, mostly editorial, corporate portraits, product photos. Good thing I’m the owner of the business, otherwise I’d never deal with my husband, my children and Grandpa’s damn dog. I would have had the dog with me today but he was too stiff to climb into the car by himself and at 125 pounds I didn’t feel like lifting him today.

Jeff was still at home. I parked blocking the driveway. Thank God the kids were still in school. I have never been so angry with anyone in my entire life. I barged through the door yelling at my husband. “All I asked you to do was check in on him for me at lunch time and you decided to kill him. Well for once in your life listen to me…”

I yelling stopped when I saw Jeff. He had a towel around his hand. He was bleeding.

“The old guy bit me when I was trying to get him out of the house.” he said with a shrug of his shoulder.

I saw Bruce poke his old white muzzle around the corner.

“Why the hell did you have to bite him?” I yelled at the dog. Bruce tucked his tail and cowered. His ribs stuck out from his sides. He looked ancient and pathetic.

Jeff reached out to scratch the dog behind his ear. “Don’t yell at him. It’s like he sensed what I was going to do. Poor old guy was scared.”

“Don’t touch him.” I yelled. I looked at the wound on Jeff’s hand. It was clean. I went back to the dog. “Damn you, after all I’ve done for you.” Bruce looked at me with glassy brown eyes and shook, tail still between his legs.

Jeff put his arms around me “Gretch, don’t get mad at the dog. “

“You don’t understand,” I gasped.

“He’s old and scared.” Jeff said stroking my hair with his good hand. “You know dear, all that dog hears is “Bruce, blah blah blah. Blah blah blah”. He laughed and gave me a quick hug.

I pulled away. “He’s a werewolf.”

“Oh Honey, don’t call him that. He’s just an old arthritic dog. Poor old guy.” He leaned down to touch noses with the dog. Bruce licked Jeff’s face and thumped his tail on the floor. “You aren’t a werewolf are you old guy? You’re just a prince in disguise. You think she’ll give you a kiss?” Jeff started to make kissy noises.

I thought I was going to throw up.

“There’s a reason why we never see Grandpa and Bruce together.” I growled. They’re the same animal. Bruce isn’t 16, he’s 85. ”

Jeff took a deep breath. “I’m not going to put him down. We’ll wait till Grandpa gets home and discuss it with him. Werewolves. That’s a good one. So when you work at night does that mean you’re a vampire?” he laughed again. “You can bite my neck anytime.” He kissed my neck.

I backed away feeling the panic rushing up inside my body. “Jeff, it’s true and now….”

I couldn’t say the words. Now my husband was going to become a werewolf and I’d have one more old dog to take care of.

 

old dog

 

Damned Warlocks – Summer, Love, Dr. Who and Ancient Vampires

“Come now. Please come now,” said the quiet voice of the ancient Vampire on the end of the line.

Tellias had called. “What is it?” I asked knowing it could be anything. And I mean anything.

“I’m afraid I’m going to lose Eleora. She is slipping away.”

Elora his love of the past 2,000 or so years. My heart sank. My head spun. I grabbed my purse and drove through the orchards along the river to their farmhouse.

Tellias waited in the dusk on the front porch of the Queen Ann style Victorian. He wore a white Mexican wedding shirt and orange shorts in the summer heat. His long white blonde hair was pulled back. He didn’t look like that classic Vampire but who does these days? Nobody really.

“Where is she?” I asked as I bounded up the porch steps.

He took my hands in his long cool fingers. A look of panic came over his face. “He has come back for her. I know he has come back.”

“Who?” I asked.

“Dr. What.”

“Excuse me? You mean Dr. Who?”

“Who? That insufferable Warlock. Like Dr. What that character who keeps coming back reincarnated or whatever. The guy with the bow tie. I don’t know. I never watch the damn show.”

“Dr. Who.” I thought of the guy on that BBC show.

“What?” Tellias asked.

“His name is Dr. Who, not Dr. What. Dr. Who. The one who changes in a phone booth like Superman, only he isn’t… I don’t know what he is. I don’t know the show but I know who you’re talking about.”

“Oh. Well, no matter what they call him I don’t want him here.” Tellias started to raise his voice.

Well, now that we’re all throughly confused and my head is spinning more than normal. Abbot and Costello are done with their routine for now.

As ethereally handsome and beautiful Tellias is, Eleora is lovely in a way that any male of any kind easily falls in love with her. From John their handsome 60 something neighbor to Vampires to Werewolves and Warlocks and whatever… men tend to fall in love with the lovely and simple Eleora. Unfortunately Tellias lets it get the best of him. While I don’t think she has ever strayed I do believe there have been close calls.

Tellias brought me into the back parlor where Eleora and the Warlock sat under some large fans that once in a Caribbean plantation. The Warlock was stunning in the most fashionable of summer suits, sans the jacket, his silver hair thick and just brushing his shoulders. He looked all the bit of a leading man of the silver screen. Why are these guys always so damned good looking?

The Warlock looked at me with an intense disdain filled glare (Warlocks do that – another reason I dislike them.) “You’ve been under the weather Juliette. Odd for a Vampire. A little vertigo or perhaps…” I could hear a bit of old Welsh in his accent masked by the deep baritone of his voice.

“I’m fine.” I said. I am a bit under the weather with a mysterious head spinning but resent the invasion of my privacy.

“Are you fine? Are you really?”

I ignored him, least I tell him to shut the fuck up or rip his neck out.

I took a deep breath knowing that he is harmless. I know he has been a good friend to Eleora over the centuries. It is a friendship others of my kind (Vampires) have a difficult time understanding, like my friendships with humans and Werewolves.

That said, I wanted to tell him to go back to Halloween Town or wherever he’d come from. I could stand John, the neighbor who’d known the Eleora and Tellias since he was a child. John was a real friend. But the Warlock was a different kind of creature, one who morphed and lived like a lie for centuries, conjuring up new forms for his spirit to pass to. He always looked the same to me but yet different. I have to admit it really creeps me out. Yeah, I’m a Vampire but a lot of things creep me out, Warlocks being one of them.

My head spun for some unknown reason so I went upstairs to one of the lavish bedrooms and sank into a soft bed. I couldn’t stand, but I had to get up. I’m a mom. I have responsibilities. I take care of everyone. I have things to do. But I was suddenly suspended into a spinning world where I couldn’t see straight or stand without feeling as if I was going to fall. Maybe I just needed fresh blood. I don’t know what it was. But like I said, I’m the mom so this shouldn’t be happening.

I could hear them talking downstairs. I thought of when I was a child in this same room listening in on the adults talking downstairs. I’d hear things and store away the information into the drawers of my brain only to take them out later when needed. Some things are still jammed back behind those dusty drawers forgotten and lost, waiting to be taken out one day.

I heard the door opened and expected Tellias. It was the Warlock. I sat up, fangs ready.

“Stop. She was mine first. She was mine before he came from Rome.”

“She was never yours.” I said. “She was always his. It was set in time before you were ever born.” I don’t know why I said that. Maybe from being in the mindset of writing romance stories… anyway…

He just looked at me as if I was crazy or that I was right.  “You make me uneasy Warlock. Go away before I steal your soul and turn you into a husk of your former existence.” There again, I just spat out the words. I couldn’t wait to get home and tell my husband what I’d said.

He left and I slept for another five or six yours. In the meantime Tellias called my husband and the Warlock left.

Eleora danced around and sang as if nothing had happened out of the ordinary. I swear, she has become so simple minded that I’m surprised Tellias hasn’t gone insane. But then again, when one is in love for a long long long time those things don’t matter. You love the person you are with and the person you used to be with.

So shall we all start to countdown to Halloween? That is easy when almost every single day is Halloween.

I shall continue to rest with the sounds of the baseball games on the TV and the quiet snoring of my calico cat.

I’ll call Tellias later to see if he is alright. I know he is, for today he and his love are alone.

So anyway, yes, Halloween. It will be here soon. Get ready and please, be careful of witching kinds of folk.

Oh right, one more thing. For the best witching story read “Young Goodman Brown” by Nathaniel Hawthorne. It is a wonderful classic tale that will give you the creeps and the chills and make you smile because it is so beautifully written.

 

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman

Metaphysical musings and a visit from the ghost…or what creeps out a vampire part 348.

This afternoon as I drove to pick Clara up from school I passed the tattoo shop where last year a man beat his wife to death with a baseball bat. I can’t get the image of the police tape and the morgue van out of my head.

One of the two main streets in our neck of the woods is an unfortunate but interesting blend of auto repair shops, bars, an abundance of tattoo parlors, small restaurants, a newspaper, pizza places, recycle shacks, self storage, fishing supply stores and a dive rock and roll bar and of course a Wal-Mart. In the early mornings the recycle guys are out picking cans and bottles. The homeless people are waking up. The donut shops are opening. The area is semi rural still so there are a lot of places to set up a hobo camp. Most of them are mentally ill. I have no idea where they came from. Back behind it all are nice neighborhoods that don’t have anything to do with the main street, or at least pretend not to. Or we just laugh about it and call it “character.” A little WT character if you ask me. Oh well.

Someone once described this small stretch of road to me as “quaint” and “small town.” It is the next community over where the shops are nicer and the violent crime rate is higher. Go figure. 

I’m not in a “I hate people” mood today, because despite the rampant ignorance and violence and hate in most parts of the world most people here are OK. I have to admit that I’m in sort of a blah mood but not an “I hate fill-in-the-blank” mood.

My Friday lunch date had to cancel on me today. I always look forward to my Friday lunch dates, as you well know. Anyway, I settled on the owner of a metaphysical book store. We first chatted about the amazing new releases. i smiled and never uttered a word that I think it is all New Age bull shit. Then again he had no idea that one of his favorite customers is a 154 year old Vampire. Oh well. So lunch was type O+ with a hint of local marijuana that I could have done without. But the guy is a sweetheart and my go-to source when I don’t really feel like a hard core hunt. The energy is always weird for me. I feel like a creeper when I go see my crystal singing friend. He is so sweet and I’m not sharing his vibe.

But on a good note,  if he suspects anything he won’t bring out his baseball bat. I know, I know, I know that was in bad taste.

I stopped in front of the school and texted a few friends with invitations. This weekend, this long weekend, I just want to spend with my own kind. I want to get out of the heat and the blinding light of summer. I want to sleep all day.

Clara had a good week, it was low key. There were a few rants about high school both about the other kids and the teachers. We listened. She talked. Her brother took her out for hunt to make her feel better. Teens don’t always want to go out with their parents when it comes to hunts. I don’t blame them, as long as I know where they are.

Wait… excuse me for a minute…

I felt a cold blast of air and looked to see two ice blue eyes and a shock of black hair falling across the left one. He pushed his hair out of his eyes and sat across from me. One never knows when a ghost will show up.

“You know, you ought not to write such glum posts,” he said with a serious look that turned into a snarky smile.

I sat up and rolled my shoulders. “It has been a long day Nigel and I’m not sure I’m even going to post this.”

“You know, Juliette, Vampire, sometimes I feel as if I am centuries older than you are.”

I am exactly a century older than the ghost.

“Do you need something Nigel?” I caught his eyes in mine, but without the effect I have on Regular Humans.

“I’m a ghost. i don’t need anything. But you need sleep and a maybe a vacation. Or… What did you do for lunch today? You’re always happy after your Friday lunch dates.”

I told him out the metaphysical guy and the scent of sandalwood candles and pot and wind chimes and some sort of weird wooden flute music playing in the background. I told him how it made me want to crawl out of my skin into the darkest place I could find.

He laughed.

I had to smile. “Some things dear ghost are even weird for a Vampire.”

We sat looking each other in the eye with some unspoken language between those who live in the shadows. Then I had an idea.

“Nigel,” I said, “Halloween will be here soon, help me with ideas.”

” I’ll come as a dead guy.” Then he laughed and vanished into thin wisp of cold smoke as blue as his eyes.

 

Have a good long weekend everyone,

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman

 

 

 

 

 

Short Story Sunday: Slut

College is starting soon. One of the big things everyone is talking about is sexual assault on campus or in college towns. I’ve talked about it with my two kids who are in college. Everyone has, at least everyone who is a decent parent.

So I get this call from Hodge Williams. Yes, that Hodge Williams. Everyone remembers him.

“Bart, how are you?” As soon as he spoke I wondered what he wanted.

“Hodge. Fine. Great. Life is good. What’s up?”

“I’m writing a story on the history of sexual harassment and violence at universities in the US. I tried to contact your sister but she wouldn’t return my calls.”

“Beth?”

“Yes, Beth. She kind of got around so I was thinking she might have experienced first hand, you know, she was at risk.”

“What do you mean by at risk?”

“Oh come on, your sister was a slut. Everyone knew it.”

I sat there with the phone a bit stunned. He just called my sister a slut.

“Hodge, you’re an asshole. In fact you’ve always been an asshole.” I hung up the phone. What an asshole.

After sitting for a few minutes and collecting my thoughts I called my sister and told her about the conversation.

“What an asshole,” she said. “Sure I was sleeping with his best friend without the benefit of being his best friend’s official girlfriend. OK I also slept with another one of his friends but we were in college. We were young.”

“Did you ever sleep with Hodge?”

“No. Hell no. He was always making passes at me and grabbing me. Hodges had that Madonna/Whore things going on in his head. A girl was either a virgin until marriage or a whore. Plus we’re not like him, you know the religion thing, so he just assumed I was a whore.”

“But you didn’t have sex with him.”

“I know. That makes me a whore. He called any girl who wouldn’t have sex with him a whore.”

“What an asshole.”

“I know. Believe me, I know. I mean, if the guy had asked me to go see a movie or go for a walk or just spent time talking that would have been different but he was just all over me like…yuck. He really called you? I can’t believe he’d have the gall to do that. Asshole.”

After we got off the phone with the promise of a lunch date later in the week I got to thinking about my own kids.

I’d spoken with both my daughter and son about sexual predators. I’ve done the best to teach them not to be bully bait. I’ve taught them to stand up for themselves and for others.

From experience I knew that bullies never grow up and most don’t change. 

Hodge never got the answer he wanted. Over the years Beth had a few close calls with sexual predators but she always ended up safe either by being with friends or using physical force to get out of it (exactly twice as she told me.) That didn’t include unwanted advances by guys like Hodge. And even though Hodge didn’t use force it still hurt emotionally that he’d think so little of her or of any girl.

I wanted to pound the crap out of him. Then I thought about how many other women out there who thought the guy was an asshole. That made me smile. Spread the word ladies, spread the word.

That evening after work I talked to my wife about it. She shook her head and said she’d had similar experiences. More anger surged through my brain, then sadness deep in my soul.

We all judge others. We all make assumptions. We all call names even if it isn’t out loud. We all talk behind the backs of others. Maybe we need to stop. It isn’t easy. It isn’t even practical.

Anyway, if you see Hodge Williams call him and an asshole and tell him that Beth and Bart say hello.

vm girl in woods

Recurring Dreams and Nightmares

 

Recurring Dreams and Nightmares

The other night my kids and I were talking about recurring dreams. Clara has dreams about having another family. The other mother looks just like her. The bother looks like me. The dad isn’t around much. She still has us, her real parents, but she has that other family too and they want her to move in. Garrett dreams he can fly like a bird only he has to wear blue velvet like the painting Blue Boy. I’m not sure if Blue Boy wears velvet or not but it isn’t his dream.

I have a recurring dream where my house has a secret house attached to it. The secret house is about 1,800 square feet. It is almost as real in my mind as my real house. In another recurring dream I live in an old house with an attic full of ghosts.

We asked Teddy, my husband and father of my children, if he had any recurring dreams. As always, when we bring up things like dreams he acted a tad bit annoyed. Then he said, “I’m not a Vampire in my dreams. I’m warm.”

Oh.

Yes, this is a blog written by and for the most part for Vampires (in case you don’t already know.)

I married a reluctant Vampire. That is, he didn’t choose to be one of the “undead.” Actually only Regular Humans call us “undead.” Anyway the conversation ended and the kids wanted to know what was going on. They know a bit of the history.

I told them about the first time I saw their father asleep. He’d been a fixture in my young life as my brother’s Max’s best friend.

A girl, a teen, one of my friends, was in love with Teddy. She was 16, he was 26. She was a Vampire. He was not. So she plotted with some less than desirable types. These were Vampires we did not associate with. One night they kidnapped Theodore Todd in the middle of the night and did the deed.

The year was 1876. I was 16, almost 17. My brother Val had just turned 18. Our older brothers were all in their 20’s with Max, the eldest at 26. Max and Teddy were constant companions. They grew up together, were college roommates and as close as two creatures could be except Teddy never knew we were Vampires. Teddy didn’t know what a Vampire was. He’d never heard of such a creature. Why should have he? We hid it was – as we had been taught to since we were young.

I’ll skip past the initial shock and horror of the incident and skip straight to when Teddy was dead, or at least dead to the world he’d known for his first 26 years.

Teddy almost did die. Most who go through the process do die. It isn’t like the movies where a bite will make you an immortal fiend. It isn’t just a bite. It isn’t easy. It isn’t pretty. And there is always a chance that they’ll come back but their soul might not remain intact.

My brother Val and I went to the home of Teddy’s parents. They were like family to us so it broke our hearts to see them so sad. In the ball room Teddy was out to be viewed in a beautiful casket. He was as still as death and cold in the hot August air. Dressed in formal black and surrounded by flowers he was as beautiful as ever. I say beautiful because Teddy is one of those handsome masculine men who is also beautiful. He takes the breath away of all who see him. Fortunately his personality goes with his looks as a beautiful soul, kind and true.

I’ll never forget the smell of the roses that lay around him – huge wreaths of flowers unlike anything I’d ever seen. They were all white. Pure white for the young man with a pure heart.

He was a successful young business man, engaged to be married with a bright future ahead of him. He’d fallen ill and never woke up. He was mourned by his parents and five siblings. Teddy was universally loved by all who knew him and universally mourned. I knew the funeral would be huge.

Max was there, dressed in deep black. He stood watch and motioned Val and I to come to his side. He would be  entered  in a crypt the following day after the funeral. After that Max and my father would get him and take him away to an undisclosed location to start his new life.

So there we were. Of course Val and I didn’t know how to feel. We’d never been in a situation like this. We were sort of excited about Teddy being one of us but the fact that he didn’t want to be one of us was totally out of our range of experience.

We lived in a world where our existence was secret. It had been secret since the day we were born. Sure my parents and even my two eldest brothers had turned people over the years, but nobody against their will. That was unacceptable and against all rules of our society.

Standing at the foot of the casket was Teddy’s betrothed Mary, still a stunning beauty in her black mourning dress. Next to her was Teddy’s friend Elliot. From time to time I noticed his hand touching Mary’s arm as if to protect her from fear and death itself.

Mary took a heart shaped locket from around her neck and placed it in Teddy’s cold hand. She wrapped his fingers around it. Her photo was in it as well as a tiny note that read “Be at peace.” Not “I love you” but “Be at peace.” I thought that was odd but I had no idea what she was thinking in her loss. My heart broke for her.

We all stood quietly as if we were all dead or in a trance, when Mary broke the silence and ran into Max’s arms, tears running down her lovely face. Max spoke gentle words of comfort. Elliot looked on with the deepest sympathy, but there was something else in his eyes. Maybe a bit of jealousy or contempt.

Our brother Aaron joined the group. He pulled Val and I aside and told me that he and Max had killed one of the Vampires who’d done this to Teddy. They would go after the others when they could. Before we could ask questions he smiled and said, “I’m in love. I’m going to ask her to marry after the funeral.”

“Is she one of us?” I had to ask.

“Yes, she is one of us.”

Even I knew this wasn’t the place to speak of romance, especially with Mary near. The room filled with guests paying their respect to the family. My parents stood by Teddy’s consoling them, for they knew that Teddy would now be dead to his family forever.

In the midst of all of this our brother Andrew made his appearance, just in from San Francisco. There was a woman on his arm, a point of contention with my parents. He’d fallen in love with a warm-blooded woman who had no intention of changing into a Vampire. They had lived together for the past year as man and wife. Oh the scandal it caused, especially since she knew about us. I grew to love her and forty years later I’d mourn her death and hold my brother’s hand as he wept by her grave.

Anyway, when I think back on that night it seems so long ago. It was so long ago. We were all so young.

Mary went on to become engaged to Elliot less than a year after Teddy’s “death.”

It was almost ten years before Val or I saw Teddy again, in a crypt in London on Christmas Eve. Funny how people reconnect.

I always make it out that Teddy is so brooding and dark, but he isn’t really. He just tends to be more serious than I am. He is the straight man in our marriage – sort of like George and Gracie, or Lucy and Ricky.

I suppose everyone was expecting Val and I to do something stupid like knock over the casket or come across something we weren’t supposed to see but none of that happened. We were shocked into good behavior and caused no reason for anyone to notice us.

Eventually the Vampires who did the deed to Teddy were all caught and they’re all dead now. I mean really dead, not just “vampire dead.” Who knows what happened to their souls, that is if they still had souls at all.

Sometimes it is a challenge living with someone who is tied to two worlds. I mean, most Vampires are OK but he didn’t become one of us on his own. But he knows that we love him. He has also become an exceptional Vampire – more than most.

Teddy is also an exceptional father and husband, but I could have told you that before he became one of us.

So that is the extent of my Vampire tales and stories for tonight. Just a bit of background – the usual boring family stuff.

Dream on and sweet dreams to all.

 

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman

 

crypt

Why can’t you be more like beer?

“Why can’t you be more like beer?” And other stupid things human guys say.

I hear a lot about young guys living in a world of video games and not being able to keep relationships with women. Believe me, this has been going on for a long time – long before video games.

Want to know a secret? The females of the species say the same kinds of stupid things too.

This isn’t a pop quiz but let me know if you have the answer to this question. Not the title of this blog post but THIS question: Why do guys like to talk about how much they love beer, their truck, their motorcycle, bicycle, exgirlfriend, best-friend’s-girlfriend or other stupid shit when they are attempting to impress a female? Then they get flustered and think the poor girl they’re with is boring or less than perfect because she doesn’t love beer, trucks, playing baseball or isn’t the identical twin of his best friend’s perfect girlfriend. Weird how that happens.

Or I could just write a blog post called “He is really looking for a guy in a female centerfold body.” Or “If you want to be with a guy then be with a guy.”

I’m writing this because I’m around a lot of teens and they talk a lot about relationships. There is so much confusion. So adults do two things generally.

1. They say NOTHING or end the conversation.

2. They tell funny/weird stories about people they know (including themselves.)

The same applies to adult friends but that can be more of a challenge. Unfortunately some people don’t want to learn from their mistakes. They have such rock solid notions of… well, how things should be, but things aren’t like that, people aren’t like that soooooo….you might as well say nothing most of the time and just know you’re going to get another good story to laugh about sooner or later (usually sooner.) Did that make any sense?

By the way, I’ve been around for a long time. I’m not talking about anyone who reads this blog so don’t think I’m writing about you… or I WILL write about you. If you do feel like you are displaying weird dating/relationship behaviors you need to stop it right now.

So back to the issue on hand…

We’re telling funny stories and cautionary tales.

My husband always tells my daughter those three important words that all fathers need to say: Boys are stupid.

When a guy says “Damn you’re beautiful” and you turn around to say thank you and find out that he is talking to his truck, something is amiss. Something is stupid. Someone is stupid (hint, it isn’t the girl.)

What am I trying to say to these guys? What should you say ladies?

Say, “Grow up.” Yes dude, you need to grow up and get real. You can still have fun if you just open your mind. Opening your mind doesn’t always need to include beer or pot or expecting a girl to be just like your guy friends.

The other day I was hiking with my kids and my niece and her boyfriend. We were talking about this stuff and all tended to agree. Of course not ALL guys are like this. Of course they aren’t. But the ones who are like that make for a lot of frustration. Don’t be one of those guys. Don’t waste your time on one of those guys. There are too many out there who do appreciate the opposite sex.

Don’t worry, I’ll have more posts about “needy women” and other types of weirdness coming up soon. I’ll have equal opportunity fun for everyone.

There are also those “beer girls”, you know the girls who try to be one of the guys just a little bit too hard. Ugh.

Or you could just date a Vampire which brings an entirely different set of challenges. I’ll blog on that later this week.

 

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman