I’m curious enough to have a Google alert for my name. I admit it. But there’s very rarely anything in there that’s actually about me, because since the presidential race there is a MUCH more famous “Sarah” running around, and no matter how I configure it, Google wants to tell me alllll about Sarah Palin and what folks say about her. Usually the alerts have little to do with Smart Bitches and very little to do with romance novels.
Until now! Want to win a subscription to The Week, a weekly print magazine roundup of news from a variety of news sources, including most perspectives? Then write the first five lines of a romance novel about… Sarah Palin:
Sarah Palin is now fielding more than a dozen offers to write a book and 800 requests for interviews. But if a publisher commissioned a romance novel about her instead, how would that novel begin? (No more than five sentences, please.)
I can’t say that I personally consider her an ideal romance heroine. But I’m sort of dreading the entries and the winners. If you’re so inclined, maybe a real Romance Author ought to show them how it’s done. It’s a challenge, though, if you aren’t a fan. I’ve been sitting here for 15 minutes trying to come up with 5 lines, and I can’t cast her as a heroine no matter how hard I try.
It doesn’t say to make her the heroine. It just says it’s “about” her.
So, villain, anyone?
Courtney—oh, you are a much closer reader than I am. Mwaaahahahahaha.
Sarah stroked the cool metal of the trigger with one finger, her other hand sliding up the smooth barrel as she anticipated the delicious pounding of the recoil. Through the crosshairs she watched the fine specimen of a bear as he reared onto his hind legs.
He’d look magnificent spread out on the floor in front of her fireplace.
Then, through the lenses of the scope, their eyes met. Her pulse quickened as she was drawn into the dark and devouring depths of eyes that seemed almost human, and she lowered the rifle.
And yet, my entry makes Sarah Palin the heroine! Of a kind….
I’ve been trying to figure out if I can add, “She was going to fire him, also.” as the last line, but I don’t think I can condense enough.
‘If only Mom wasn’t so strict,” Piper thought, as she gazed across the ice rink at the opposing hockey team. She was twenty now and, even though vanity was a sin, she knew she had inherited her mother’s classic good looks. The admiring stares from the crowd around her let her know that. But, ever since Bristol’s sin, Mom had been so strict, even fitting her for a chastity belt when she turned thirteen and showing the Palin gun collection to any young man that was brave enough to come calling. But there was something about the young man sitting across the rink that called to her……
member 77? well, we can see where this is going…..
Sorry, I’ve not time for this; I have to run out and buy a few gallons of eye and brain bleach in a futile attempt to remove from my memory the whole possibility of Palin in a romance novel.
EWWWWWWWWWW! EW-EW-EW-EW-EW!!!!
As Sarah sat on her front porch gazing in the direction of Russia, a movement caught her eye. “Bristol”, she whispered, “bring momma her gun.” Bristol, the oldest daughter, sat in a rocking chair nursing her infant babe. “But mom,” Bristol started to protest. “Shhh,” Sarah hissed, “quiet baby, that son of a bitch Putin is rearing his ugly head, and momma’s about to bag herself a Russian”.
I’m definitely not a writer, but this was just begging to come out of me.
Word: Space96 – When russia wants to share our space, they’ll have to come through Sarah!
Tina Fey awoke feeling the effects of the late night wrap party. God, had she really been drinking that cheap Tequila straight from the bottle? Tina turned suddenly noticing there seemed to be another person in bed with her. She noticed a familiar goatee.
Todd, not again!
Sarah eyed her left over campaign funds and thought to herself that yes, she did have enough to purchase Alaska ! It sold for just over 7 million dollars in 1867 and since America was in such financial trouble she may just get a deal.
She loaded up the minivan with the kids, car seats, diaperbags , snacks , a polka favorites cd , and headed for the Alaska Highway.
Days and 400,034 “are we there yet’s” later she arrived at Dick’s favorite undisclosed location and although she knew the voice activated commands to open the gate, her accent prevented it from understanding the words and failed to open.
She took the Remington shotgun off the van rack ,shot 3 times in the air, she knew Dick would understand THAT language and she tingled with anticipation waiting for the crotchety old man of hotness to open the gate holding his own Remington and the deal making to come …
I’m not a writer either but hahaha what fun!
Ah, but a google search for Smart Bitches has the third entry as
Amazon.com: Beyond Heaving Bosoms: so all is going according to the pretty good plan to rule the world.
JaneyD… pass the bleach, please. Ugh, even Teddy can’t make me want to read a Palin story.
Todd knew he should be focusing on the Grand Moose Poobah’s inspirational speech, but his thoughts kept drifting to…her. He could picture her so clearly that he swore he caught a whiff of her perfume, and he strained to remember the name of it. Star…something. He knew it was by Shania Twain, because when she’d first bought it at Wal-Mart he had teased her, asked her if she was going to start wearing tight leather pants and tops that bared her bellybutton. If only…
But the power suits were almost as sexy on her as any pop-country trampwear. He thought about her slowly unbuttoning her blazer, unzipping the knee-length skirt and letting it slip to the floor, stepping out of her sensible pumps. He couldn’t repress the shudder of desire that ran through him at the image. He imagined the conversation they would have then, once her suit was in a rumpled pile at her delicate feet. Asking her if she wanted him, in all his manly glory. Her husky, whispered reply: “You betcha…”
=====
Yeah, it’s more than five sentences, but I felt that I couldn’t truly capture Sarah Palin’s sexy essence given those limits. *cough cough*
Hehehehe. This was fun.
The tanning bed was the best thing she’d ever purchased as Alaska’s governor. Screw money for those unwed, single mothers—they were all going to Hell anyway except for dearly, sainted Bristol. The light went off followed by a loud alarm, which she’d installed after the few times she’d fallen asleep and burnt herself like a lobster. Stepping out in her red bikini, Sarah slid into her moose-lined mules and decided to look at Russia. She really could see it from her house, and she had a funny feeling, like after she ate too much wolf bisque, that Putin was up to something.
This sounds like quite the challenge,let me give it a whirl:
As Sarah stepped away from the podium,her cell phone began to ring,playing that special little ring tone she’d thought would never be heard from again-“Baby,I Love Your Way.” She tried to ignore it,throwing a few extra winks at the cheering crowd and waving all the way towards the exit,but the call could no longer be denied.
Avoiding her new set of handlers,Sarah ducked under a stairway and answered the call. “Alec,I told you before,this can’t go on!”
“Oh,but Sarah,I can only deny my heart for so long”purred the dulcet tones of the most famous of Baldwin men,“and I suspect that you can’t resist this passionate call of the wild either.”
Sarah sighed and slumped against the wall,causing her upswept homemaker hair to loosen from the deathgrip of her clips and tumble down around her shoulders,as it did that night when Alec approached her after that SNL cameo appearance. Pushing those memories and a lock of her tresses aside,she replied,“Alec, there are times when you have to hold off on giving into savage lust,for the greater good of others. In another time,another place,perhaps the two of us could find a special little world to indulge our animal urges,but…”
“But,no,Sarah!” She could hear his nostrils flaring,as they most likely did when he had to scold that wayward daughter of his that her mom was so mean to record and let the media play over and over again.(Oh,how they had so much in common-unruly children,unsupportive PR and a taste for Papa John’s pizza!)
“I know you didn’t want to jeopardize your campaign,but that’s all over with now! You’re free,Sarah,you can leave all of that behind and start over with me!”
“What about my children,Alec?” Sarah peeked out,to make sure that no one was looking for her or lurking about with a camera phone to capture this private interlude. “I do have an infant son who needs me,you know.”
“Oh,darling,we can get him the best care that money can provide. I know how hard divorce can be on kids,but is it fair to them to stay with a man you don’t truly love,for their sake?”
“Well,that’s what alot of folks did back in the day,Alec,and they turned out fine.” She was holding back tears,as she bit down hard on her lower lip to gain the strength to end the call.
As blood flowed down her chin,she interrupted more of Alec’s sweet talk.” Now,enough is enough here. We had our fun and while I may not be heading for the White House just yet,there’s 2010 to start planning for and gosh darn,the last thing me or my family needs is another sex scandal!”
“You know,Sarah,I thought there was more to you than just that hockey mom exterior and cutesy Fargo imitations. After the way McCain’s people threw you under the bus and to the wolves when things went south-which made me so mad that I almost considered risking my job to defend you in public-I thought you would be ready to forget about being that GOP cheerleader and come away with me. Guess I was wrong.”
“I guess you were,Alec,” said Sarah as she started to pull her hair back into it’s rigid place. “You should have known better than to doubt my commitment to sparkle motion. Don’t call me again.”
She hung up on him and quickly deleted his number from her Preferred Callers list. Sarah wiped away the few lingering tears that were shining paths of painful remorse off of her face and went forth,ready to start planning her new path to power. After all,tomorrow is another day for an election!
……………………………………………………………………………..
A little longer that five lines,but amusing,no?
she purred, slipping her expensive designer frames off her face. Those expensive glasses didn’t hide her beautiful brown eyes, he thought, merely highlighted them, dark as mahogany, dark as sin. As her hands rose to loose her expensively highlighted locks from their sexily business-like updo, she continued her verbal seduction.
her sensually nasal voice whispered as she unbuttoned her expensive Neiman Marcus blouse,
He slipped the silken ropes from their usual spot in the bed-side drawer and approached her as she knelt on the silken sheets.
I can’t decide if I’m proud of myself for that, or disgusted…
activity61, huh? activity69 would’ve been better!
Uh, Lady T, could you warn me next time? I’d just got the first spray of tea cleaned off the monitor when I got to the second quote, and had to clean all over again! More than 5 sentences, but so, so worth it!
rather62? Again, I’d rather69!
Sorry about the double spewage there:) Glad my little ditty of hot Palin passion gave you some amusement(advance apologies if the phrase “hot Palin passion” causes another spit take).
It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single woman in possession of a freezer fully stocked with moose and a manse with a view of the Russian steppe must be in want of a husband.
… actually, I don’t know if Regency!Sarah Palin would make me read further, or want to gouge my eyes out with an unsharpened spoon. Hmm!
I think these are the best things I’ve read in weeks. Wouldn’t buy the book though…
As she slapped mashed potatoes on everyone’s plate, to go with the moose casserole she had made before commuting 400 miles roundtrip via bob-sled to the Governor’s office, Sarah trembled with excitement. She had just find out she could buy artificial hymens for her daughters. Sarah bought a six-pack for each of her girls in honor of Joe Six Pack, Joe the Plumber and Joe the Biden and all the other Joes and Titos who had had come…and gone…in her life.
After dinner, Sarah sat on the porch with her daughters, all wearing matching halter tops since it was a balmy twelve below outside. She explained to them that who knew when Putin, or any other guy, would rear their ugly heads, and they needed to be prepared. And it was so important for the world to know that Bristol had an intact hymen on her wedding night to the drug czaress’s son, even though little Tripp was clutching his mother’s breast as he nursed.
After tucking the girls in bed, she went to her own room and snuggled up close to Todd. As he rolled over and moaned “Tina”, she wondered if she could stuff his head down a turkey shoot, figuring she could reprieve herself if she was sent to jail. After all, she is the Governatress.
*********************
That was too much like a Roseanne episode. My bad.
OH please let this work:
http://punditkitchen.files.wordpress.com/2008/10/political-pictures-vladimir-putin-hunts-bear-dig-palin.jpg
I have no idea how to post pictures.
Ooo it worked! I can’t take credit for it, but it fit too perfectly for this thread so I had to share.
Their love was forbidden, across the great divide that separated Mother Russia from Uncle Sam. And yet, her flirty midwestern “ya betcha” drew him like vodka, like drugs, like power. He couldn’t resist her. She loved him also too, and always made sure to wink at him from her porch.
Title: Putin’ on the Sarah.
Damn, now I wish I’d watched SP more closely during the campaign so I could contribute to this. I just found her so annoying, I walked away from the TV whenever she came on.
You guys are scaring me.
OMG! So wrong on so many levels. I am in total shock at this woman’s ascendance! Scary.
Okay, I’ve spent way too much time on this, but it was fun. Have to post, even if it’s way too long:
As she waited for her secretary to usher in her one o’clock appointment, Sarah Palin straightened her shoulders and her banana clip with trembling hands, then fixed a toothpaste-white smile on her face. She didn’t know why she was so nervous. Underneath his Harvard education and environmental law credenzas, Nathan Bradshaw was only a man. Her pink Vera Wang power suit, hazelnut highlights and lipsticked mouth would render him as mute and pliable as any other dude.
Besides, she had the advantage here; she was meeting him for the first time on her turf. Her smile became anticipatory as she stroked the bearskin rug on her sofa. One look at her handiwork here, and Nathan, a known ethical vegan who had worked on occasion for PETA, would understand the depths of her ruthlessness.
But the moment Cindy-Lee opened the door and showed him in, her smile died an abrupt death on her lips. Where was the pale, shrunken specimen she had anticipated? The weakling clad only in man-made fibers and plastic shoes? This man was tall, powerful. His shoulders were as wide as Barack Obama’s ego, his teeth as white as a GOP convention, his aura of vitality unmistakable. She watched as his eyes swept her office and took in the moose head mounted over the window and the fur on the sofa. But rather than appear cowered or angered by the display, the only expression she could read in his smelt-colored eyes was one of sardonic amusement.
She forced herself to step forward and offer her hand. “Mr. Bradshaw, I guess? Nice to meet ya.”
“The pleasure is all mine,” he purred. His voice was deep, decadent, and as he took her small hand in his, she suppressed a shudder of desire.
Oh, wow. This was not going exactly as planned. She was going to have to do something she hadn’t found necessary since that gosh darned election a year ago: get all mavericky on him. Her pulse quickened at the thought.
She gestured him into the visitor’s chair and decided to take refuge behind her desk. He might not be able to see her fabulous legs from this position, but she felt better with a solid barrier between her and all that barely-contained masculinity.
“I’m not sure what you think this appointment will accomplish,” she began. “The tribe you represent has lost their battle in the Supreme Court…so, ya know, they’re just gonna have to be good sports ‘n’ all…and let us put the pipeline—the pipeline that will give the US the energy interdependence that it so richly deserves and that will free us from a bunch of people who we give so much money to every year that don’t really like us very much—where we want. So I’m not sure what you’re hopin’ to get out of this here meetin’.”
Ooh, he was clever. Most people’s eyes glazed over whenever she got all passionate and started spouting off about energy policy. But not Nate. He watched her as if she was more fascinating than a bull moose on a rampage. It was sexy and flattering, and her panties were damper right now than her face scarf got at minus forty-degree weather.
“Oh, I think we have plenty to discuss,” he said silkily, “not the least of which is what a change of heart will get you personally.”
Sarah couldn’t restrain a snort of disdainful laughter. “I think you might wanna check which state you’re in now, Mr. Bradshaw. Dontcha know I got elected on a platform of doin’ things differently from the way the old boys…ethics and integrity and doin’ what Joe Six Pack would want, and I wouldn’t take a dollar of your tribe’s—”
“You misunderstand, Governor,” he inserted. “I’m not offering you money. In exchange for you changing your position, I’m offering you what you so desperately miss: an intellectual challenge.”
She blinked in astonishment. “What are you talkin’ about?”
He rose smoothly to his feet, his eyes twin brown coals that burned her with their intensity. “Aren’t you bored, Sarah? Don’t you miss it?”
“Miss what?” Her heart started to trip-hammer as he made a noise of disgust and strode around the desk. He ignored her squeal and swiveled her chair to face him, placing two utterly masculine hands on her armrests so that she was pinned in place. She knew she should be reaching for the panic button only two feet away, but there was something ablaze in his eyes; something that called to her more urgently than the sound a moose calf made when it stood vigil over its slaughtered mother’s corpse. That something stilled her hand.
“You think I don’t know you, Sarah Palin, but I do,” he purred.
“Oh, I don’t think—”
“Let me tell you what your life has been like since the election: You’re like a fish out of water. You don’t quite fit in this state any more, what with its small-town politics and its small-town intellects. You came alive when you were stumping; found parts of yourself that you didn’t even know existed; met the elite of the US—hell, you were groped by the elite of the world! And now what are you supposed to do? Stuff all that learning and star-power down and feign delight in the battles of a two-resource state? Pretend that you’re smaller than you really are? It’s a burden, isn’t it? A lonely, lonely, burden?”
She bit her lips, rather than acknowledge the truth. Her intellectual awakening had cost her her marriage, some friendships. The price of her foray into the larger world had been gosh-darn steep.
“Well I’m offering you the chance to use up all that”—his voice dropped to a suggestive whisper—“pent-up talent. No more lying awake at night, yearning to have a man you can share long, hard…conversations with. No more gaping stares when you say words bigger than two syllables.”
She forced herself to straighten, to pretend he wasn’t getting to her. “I’m not interested. Also, I’d—”
“Karachi,” he murmured, his eyes wicked pools of temptation.
“W-what?” She crossed her arms over her chest to hide her nipples, which were as hard as bullets and pressing against the silk of her blouse in wanton invitation.
“Oh, I think you heard me,” he taunted. She opened her mouth to protest but he was just too quick for her. “Mahmoud Abbas.”
She couldn’t quite suppress a moan at hearing the name it had taken her a good solid hour of practice to remember. So much joy she’d forgotten, so much pleasure—
“Waziristan,” he breathed, close enough now that she could feel the warmth of his breath on the shell of her ear, so that she closed her eyes in helpless ecstasy. “Shall I keep on, dear Sarah, or will you yield?”
She cranked open one eye and surveyed him. He was utterly cool, in complete control of himself, and judging from the smug expression on his face, he knew exactly what he was doing to her, the bastard.
Rage made her smack him on the chest with two hands. “You-you, thinker!” she accused. “You think you can just waltz in here, all big-city manners and big-city sin, and wear me down like that? You can’t just change the opinions of a maverick—the opinions which I hold so dear and that I’ve—”
“Oh, I don’t think I’ll wear you down, Sarah.” He stood smoothly, and his smile was cold and ruthless. “I know that I will. After all, that was just a taste of what I’ve got up my sleeve.” As if to prove the point he strode to his briefcase and tossed a package on her desk with a decisive thump.
She stared at it, blinking with incomprehension. “What is it?”
“It’s called an atlas, Sarah. Have a look…if you dare.” He strolled to the door, all loose-hipped action and smug maleness that had her pressing her knees together to still the ache at her core. His face was that of Satan incarnate as he looked back at her over his shoulder. “Just remember, my darling: there’s a lot more where that came from. Next week, maybe, we’ll discuss Darwin…”
Then he was gone, and the sound of the atlas hitting the closed door wasn’t quite enough to drown out the sound of his mocking laughter.
Wow, these are all freakin’ hilarious—and, as Nora says, SCARY.
LOL @ Teddypig—nice twist!
Hope—I loved all of these, but yours still has me laughing! I award you a virtual moosehead to hang over your fireplace!
*Ahem* The love between Edward Cullen and Sarah Palin, it is so Epic and Twue: http://stoney321.livejournal.com/322162.html
(I did not write this. I just feel it is relevant to your interests.)
Sarah carefully resettled her frame-less glasses on her pert, too-cute nose and snuggled deeper into her hunting camos. She clutched her rifle in her chilled hand. Moose hunting was such a good excuse to go stand on the edge of Alaska and stare longingly at her dream man. Yes, he was a Russian and that thought tore at her heart, causing her bosom to heave. Russians were evil; loyalty to her country prevented her from attempting her to consummate her love with The Russian, so she pined for him. Luckily for Sarah, she could see Russia and therefore could feed her soul by gazing upon The Russian’s evil hotness…
This is a tad off topic, but I hear the Republicans spent something like $50,000 getting Palin a makeover. And THAT was the best they could do? What did she look like before? The mind boggles. Spamword is products21, as it “she used 21 makeup products and she still looked a mess.”
hope101 – pleeeeeeeeeease make it into a real story! The dialogue is priceless!
She was a soccer mom, but there was a time when she had felt the glory of fame, a time when she would wear the prettiest clothes, strutting along the catwalk before inevitably winning the crown. On the outside she looked like she was happy with her life, but on the inside she was seething. How could it ever have come to this, she thought. One night of passion lead her to marriage and children, children that she had never really wanted. Sure she was the most popular governor in the United States, but Alaska barely counted as a state. Plus, she hated the cold, but she couldn’t get Todd to move to the mainland United States, so unless there was some miracle she was stuck in Wasilla.
As she watched the game, the tones of her favorite song, Madonna’s Material Girl, began to play. Hoping that nobody heard, she scrambled to answer her phone.
“Hello,” she answered trying not to sound like the hick that she is.
“Madame Governor, please hold for Senator McCain,” replied the rather robotic voice on the other end. Could it be? The next president of the United States was calling her?
“Mrs. Palin, I have kept an eye on your performance as Alaska’s governor, and I would be honored if you would consider being my running mate? You’re as much of a maverick as I am, and I believe that together we would make a great team.”
Sarah’s heart leapt. This was her chance, but she couldn’t appear to enthusiastic.
“Mr. Senator, I am honored that you would ever even consider me as your vice president. I think that we should meet before anything is decided.”
“No need. If you want to be my vice president, all I need is your agreement.”
“In that case, I would love to be on the ticket with you.”
“It is settled then. I will announce it as soon as possible, especially since that terrorist, Obama has announced Joe Biden as his vice president. We’ll talk soon.”
Sarah heard the click as he hung up the phone. To her that click sealed her fate, she would be the next president of the United States. Then she realized that Todd could never be the man behind the woman. She knew what she had to do. She just didn’t know how to do it. A shotgun to the head would be obvious. She’d have to think this through a bit, but while she’s thinking she could still be on the prowl for her next husband. He would have to be tall, dark, and handsome, but he couldn’t be more attractive than she is. He has to appear to be smart, but in reality only be a talking head. Most importantly, he must be moldable for she would need him to do whatever she wanted, which had been her mistake when she had married Todd—he appeared moldable, but wasn’t.
Definitely more than 5 sentences, but i was on a roll.
sorry for a second post, but as soon as i posted that one another idea (which is both my best and creepiest ever).
There was a knock on the door. “Enter!” Growled Senator McCain. He wasn’t in the mood for visitors. He was losing in the polls to a non-American, who might not have even been born in the United States.
“A Governor Palin is here to see you, sir. She insists that I let her in to see you, but I wouldn’t advise you to see her,” said, his secretary Julia…or was it Karen? How was he supposed to keep his employees’ name straight when he didn’t even know how many houses he owns?
“Why would you say that?” He asked, not really wanting to know.
“She’s got crazy eyes, sir.”
“Why am I even listening to you? Send her in,” he barked.
“Yes, sir.”
As Julia/Karen left the room Senator McCain felt as if his life had gone down the drain in the last few months.
“Hiya, Senator McCain, I’m so pleased you’d let me see you without an appointment.”
He had been facing the fireplace when she entered, but as she began to speak he turned around, and his heart jumped into his throat. God, she is beautiful. The not-so-conservative suit left nothing to the imagination. It hugged every curve of her body, and dipped low in front, showing so much cleavage that it was scandalous outside of a bordello. She wore red high heel stilettos that made her legs look like they went on forever. Her red barely there skirt nearly stopped his heart, and if he was Dick Cheney it would have. Her long nails were painted a red that matched her skirt, and her hair was loose around her shoulders. It was a wonder that Julia/Karen didn’t want her to come in here, but he was glad that she did. He had not felt this alive in years.
Sarah watched as the Senator’s gaze traveled up her body. Though this wasn’t exactly what she usually wore, she was comfortable with the image that she sent him. She wanted him to think of her as his own private prostitute as long as he did what she wanted, and what she wanted was to be president. Sure she had little experience, but neither did that hack, Obama, so that didn’t matter. She had been wondering how she could get onto the ballot at such a late date when she remembered the conversation she had had with Bristol not too long ago. She had told her to go after what you wanted no matter what it took to get it. So here she was, in the Republican candidate’s office, offering herself like the sacrificial lamb for the slaughter to get what she wanted.
“John, may I call you John?” She purred.
He looked at her, and thought that she could call him anything she liked. He cleared his throat, “Of course you can. What is it that you wanted Governor Palin?”
Sarah managed to sum up a blush. “You, John. Ever since I met you all I could think about was you. Every time that Todd touched me I imagined that it was your hands on my body. Your hands bringing me to climax. Your mouth on my breast. You inside me. Your voice calling out my name as you came inside of me.”
“Oh, Sarah,” he growled as he made his way across the room to her. He pushed her up against the door of his office, his hand finding its way into her top, massaging her nipples as they hardened under his touch. His mouth assaulted hers. Her hands reached for his belt, pushing his pants down before getting out of hers. She had never screwed against a door before, and for a moment wondered if he might be too much for her. That thought lasted for a moment before another one followed it. His reaction to her was exactly what she had wanted. She pushed his boxers down his legs and forced him into her, so that she did not have to actually see his seventy-year-old dick. Within seconds, she could feel him begin to climax, and she knew that she had him.
A few minutes later, Senator McCain managed to pant out “That…was…amazing! Is…there…anything…that I…can do for…you?” Sarah appeared to think about this, and answered, “Make me your vice president.”
“Done!”
Liz, that’s true evil genius you possess. (You had me at “She’s got crazy eyes, sir.”)
thanks…i kinda creeped myself out with that one though.
Hello, I am new to the site but my friend is a huge fan and she says I should post my own lame contest entry. Are you happy, Sheryl? I did it!
One, two…one, two…one, two!” her instructor chirped cheerily. Sarah showed no signs of stopping. The instructor’s voice became a distant echo. Closer in, she heard the swirl of the winds, felt the exhilarating chill of fresh snow on her skin. The plastic step in front of her was Mount McKinley, and with every “one-two,” she ambled closer to the summit. Her taut pink leotard was a parka, her leg weights climbing gear. Higher and higher she climbed, with pitbull determination. And then-there it was, stretching out in front of her like a rutting moose: the summit.
How beautiful, she thought, as she peered across the vast expanse! A kindly old man with watery blue eyes and a black fur hat waved from the next peak over. A Russian! She must be at the border. The Russian opened his mouth, but it was her instructor’s voice that came out: “Sarah, Sarah! Class is over. You can stop now!” Toweling herself off, she showed no outward signs of her mental flight-of-fancy. “You betcha, Gwen! I’m just cooling down.” But the slightest smile played across Sarah’s comely round face. She was not going to stop. She would never stop, until she was…Vice-President of the United States!
SB Sarah, I don’t know if you’ll even get this, but in your alert, add a -Palin [that’s a minus sign, no space, Palin]. That should remove any mentions of a Sarah that’s accompanied by the word Palin. See:
refining your search
or