Smart Bitches, Trashy Books

Ode to the Thong on Fire

You know I’ve got a torch for you
A huge and fiercely burnin’ spire
And I know a thing or two
Girl, you want it hard and higher
Let me sit you on the dryer
Come on babe, my schlong’s on fire
Burning like a lighted tire

Let me sit you on the dryer
It hasn’t sparked since we rewired
If we’re immolated ooh,
Then we’ll have a comfy funeral pyre
Come on baby, light my fire
Come on babe, my schlong’s on fire
Set the laundry room on fire, yeah!

The buildup in the chimney flue
May detonate from our desire
I really doubt if we’ll pull through
We’ll climax in a ball of fire
Hurry or I might misfire
Come on babe, my schlong’s on fire
Set the living room on fire

You know that I’m alight for you
Come on babe, my schlong’s on fire
Light the gas, we’ll say adieu
I love you more than my supplier
Let me sit you on the dryer
Tie you with piano wire
Come on babe, my schlong’s on fire
Let me set your thong on fire
Let me set your thong on fire
Let me set your thong on fire

(To be sung in the style of Jim Morrison)

***********GHOSTS AND ROSES***********
Ya know, if I were trying to convey how
sexy my book is, I don’t think I’d have a
cover where the guy and the chick are
doing it and the chick is asleep.

Yeah, that guy must be REAL good in bed.
******************************************

**********NOIRE THONG ON FIRE*********
Sarah - You hit the nail on the head with
this one.  I have nothing to add.
******************************************

***********PETTICOAT PIRATE************
Someone should tell him that if he wants
to club her over the head with the boat
oar and steal her identity, ala The
Talented Mr. Ripley, he’s going to
have to shave that 70’s porno mustache
he’s sporting.
*****************************************

OMG - thank you for the first out loud laugh of my morning!

The Petticoat Pirate - Not only does their ROWBOAT (not exactly a dashing conveyance for a pirate) look as if is about to tip over - I guess it’s hard for him to row when he’s busy copping a feel of her breast - but they hardly appear to be out on the high seas. And who’s the dude up in the box at the top right corner? Did he lose the ‘stache during the story?

There’s nothing I can possibly add to Thong On Fire - Jim Morrison says it all…

Actually, I will add one thing - these covers demonstrate why I prefer “abstract” covers on books. Can you imagine sitting in an airport reading THONG ON FIRE? The title is bad enough without the visual!!

AmyE…your informercial was frickin’ high-larious!!!!

As for “Ghosts and Roses,” the tagline is “In his wildest dreams…” So which one of them is dead and which one is the necromancer/necrophiliac?

You have a point, taybug. Maybe she’s just sleeping and he’s a ghost rapist!

Geez, you’re not even safe in your own bed anymore…

Petticoat Pirate is the clear winner. Isn’t it great the way cover art is embracing interracial romances? I mean, the dude *is* a Bollywood escapee ... isn’t he?

I don’t think they have mullets in Bollywood…

They have mullets everywhere.

*growing38* As in, “The back of my hair is growing 38 times faster than the top.”

Petticoat Pirate: Does steal petticoats and sell them on the blackmarket? Wear them while singing, “I want to sing and dance. I want to be a pirate in the Pirates of Penzance”? It’s all so very vague.

I’m going to dub hubby Lord of my Sock Drawer since he leaves socks everywhere.

I almost missed Thug-a-licious. WTF? Who makes up these titles?

In memory of Pat’s and Edina…

If your memory serves you well
We were going to meet again and wait
So I`m going to unpack all my things
And sit before it gets too late
No man alive will comfort you
With another tale to tell
But you know that we shall meet again
If your memory serves you well
This thong`s on fire
Rolling down the road
Best notify my next of kin
This thong shall explode

I’m looking for a title for my WIP.

It’s not going to be *shudder* Petticoat Pirate.

Though I do have some sympathy for the poor author, who may have been sandbagged by the publisher and marketing department on that one.

I just had to find out the plot of Thong on Fire.

From Amazon.

From Publishers Weekly

Last seen during a short walk-on (or rather, incall) in Thug-a-Licious, Saucy Robinson returns with a vengeance in Noire’s latest Harlem street tale, with Noire’s most sophisticated plot to date. Born in Harlem to a black ex-G.I. father and a junkie Korean prostitute mother, Saucy (named Seung Cee by her mother and Sarita by her father) ends up in her uncle Swag’s care by age eight, after her mother pimps her out to various men and her lesbian lover. Saucy’s upstairs neighbor is a black girl named Tai, and the two are on-again, off-again frenemies for the rest of the book. Saucy, a total hottie, ends up attached to various drug dealers and working at a strip joint, the G-Spot. She breaks into doing rap videos, and ordinary-looking Tai, who is working for super-rapper Freedom Moore, hooks them up. Free wants Saucy to act straight, and if she can, her happiness might be assured. Beyond the sex, what drives the book is Saucy’s vivid, trash-talking unreliability—except perhaps in describing her own pleasure.

Born in Harlem to a black ex-G.I. father and a junkie Korean prostitute mother,

Then why is she apparently white on the cover?

Also, Photoshop motion blur tool on fire…

Also,

Beyond the sex, what drives the book is Saucy’s vivid, trash-talking unreliability—except perhaps in describing her own pleasure.

Moll Flanders 2007?

Kimichi?  Like the pickled cabbage?

A tiny whiff of “insert stock Asian character”.

I first read the the mother’s name as Kimchi.  Paired with Saucy, that would be Going Too Far.  As long as Saucy wasn’t birthed by a spicy cabbage dish, I can cope.

Oh no. Is kim-i-chi also the cabbage?

[sob]

This is too much, too soon after yesterday’s Hoffstravaganza.

Must wash brain out with soap . . . and bleach, and scaldingly hot water.

Rinse and repeat until clean feeling returns.

Perhaps when the Petticoat Pirate moves up to stealing entire gowns, he’ll be able to afford a real boat.

Is that Amazon snip for real? Can’t be. You bitches made that up.

Frenemies…the G-spot…Freedom Moore! Oh my brain!

Oh, pllllllllllleeeeeeeease give us your take on the plot, Candy!

Pretty please?

I bought Thong on Fire for my sister and mom, but I’m reading it first :) I actually like the film negative-ish cover because it’s explicit yet a bit sedate.

I actually like the film negative-ish cover because it’s explicit yet a bit sedate.

I’m OK with the cover art. It’s less mortifying than clinches and mantitty. It’s just the TITLE. Oh lord the TITLE.

I don’t know how to explain the snorting and tears in response to the mother-or-cabbage responses here. My coworkers will just have to think that I’m a crazy person.

As to Petticoat Pirate—the “high seas” of the blurb look like a motorboat’s wake on a docile lake, ergo the “passion” would probably be best portrayed as a narcoleptic hero?

So I looked up Thug-a-Licious because I just HAD to see what THAT was about.  But in looking it up I ran across two other books from this same author:
“Candy Licker” and “G-Spot”.  (How come every time I read the words “candy licker” I keep hearing “butt licker” in my head….) The Publishers Weekly calls these books “black urban erotic chick lit”.  Huh?

Publishers Weekly calls these books “black urban erotic chick lit”

They missed a few categories:
multiracial
multispecies (mama’s a cabbage, natch)
satirical (I hope? with those names?)
redemption theme (or does Saucy keep charging for her special sauce?)

and my new favorite label:
alternative post-feminist fiction (the hell you say!)

I’m afraid that the aforementioned G-Spot might stand for Gonnorhea Spot.  And I don’t want to hit it.  Nuh-uh. 

But Saucy’s internal conflict, now, that’s very, very real.  She has to decide if the green discharge is a natural consequence of being the daughter of a pickled cabbage, or if she really should see a doctor for it.  Like last week.

So I’m the only one looking at Thong on Fire and hearing, “Frah-GEE-lay.  Huh, must be Italian” and “It’s a Major Award!” and “You’ll poke your eye out, kid”? 

Those glowing legs look soooo much like the lamp once the Old Man had plugged it in, then went outside to admire it from the street.

That’s it. I’m going to start writing white, trailer-trash erotica and calling myself Blanca.

Kalen, you can start by coverting TOF into a Blaze or a Brava.

Hmmmmmm, I think my trailer skank would be a thong wearer . . . and she’d purposefully wear them with looooooooow rise jeans so that you’d get way more than mere VPL. I’m thinking someone who’d make Joy on My Name is Earl look classy (with a k).

THONG. ON. FIRE.

Oh, god. Stop. Please. i’m crying from laughing so hard here - have some mercy! my supervisor just came by my cube and asked if i was okay…. i could only nod weakly as i blotted the tears from my eyes.

*lack37* as in, A Lackwit Named This Book.

It gets better
Noire has also done a book with that well known author 50 cent which sounds even more thrilling than Thong on Fire.

Baby Brother
The seven Davis brothers made a promise to their mother on her deathbed: they would each make something of their lives. And they vowed they would watch over eighteen-year-old Zabu Davis, their baby brother. Intelligent, driven, and charismatic, Baby Brother had resisted the lure of Brooklyn street life and was headed for Stanford University on a pre-med scholarship. But on the eve of his departure for California, in a split second of blinding violence, Baby Brother’s life is thrown onto a tragic collision course. Soon, his devoted brothers follow a path of blood justice that will rock the city streets. Baby Brother was their pride and joy. Now, he’s their reason to fight for vengeance.

Baby Brother must’ve got the clap from Saucy.

The seven Davis brothers

Fitty Cent needs to meet the Man from St Ives.

As I was going to St. Ives
I met a man with seven wives

That would straighten things out.  All redeemed by the love of a good woman.  Or seven.  Seven wives for seven brothers.  Oh never mind.

Hey there’s an ol’ timey musical called “Seven Brides for Seven Brothers”. Granted it was set in a rural American mountain town around the late 19th C (so it seemed) but I’m sure black urban post-feminist erotic hip hop remake would be a grrrreat idea.

I’m still trying to get through Cross-Dressing Rapscallions and Crabbers’ Snatch.  So I guess I’ll pass on these.

How bad is it that when I first looked at that last book, I read it as Petticoat PARADE, instead of Petticoat Pirate? I suspect that would have a whole new meaning, though :)

<

>

Oh please, oh please name your hero Bubbles!

Oh god, this is… this is… I couldn’t beleive it. I thought for SURE you guys had edited the covers. No WAY would anyone name anything “Thong on Fire”. I mean… there is absolutely NO good way to take it!

But it’s true! Oh god it’s TRUE!! The quote from Amazon is REAL! I think I’m going to hide under the couch and cry.

Is your thong on fire??

Yeah you heard me, is your thong on fire??

Dont know what I’m talking about?

Then you need to go to your nearest bookstore; whether its online or on the corner and cop THONG ON FIRE by NOIRE.

This book by far is the best one I’ve EVER read in a long time. (which is considered excellent because I’ve been stuck on The Coldest Winter Ever for the longest!)

It will have you laughing, have you crying, even have you wanting to jump inside the book and beat somebody’s behind.

NOIRE is really doing the damn thing in her tales.

Dont believe me?

Then go cop it.

Dont wanna read THONG ON FIRE?

Then there’s still plenty you can choose from:

G SPOT

CANDY LICKER

THUG-A-LICIOUS

BABY BROTHER

Still not feeling it?

She got a new one coming out soon too called Hood which is another hit!!

Still not feeling it?

Well, you might just be a hater and I dont know what to tell you.

Real recognize real in this game. Why hate on competition?

Tighten yo shit up!

I’m out…..

Lovelle
Author of Alize’ on the Rocks

FROM


THONG ON FIRE
by
NOIRE

Hottt Saucy!


This here ain’t no romance
It’s an urban erotic tale
Hottt Saucy’s on a mission
And she ain’t about to fail

Body of a goddess
But a devil in disguise
Chinky eyes full of dollar signs, slick tongue full of lies

From chips to bling and finer things, Miss Saucy’s out for self
She’ll play you like a herb then put yo ass back on the shelf

Sexing is her weapon, she’ll go grimy to exploit it
She schemed a dope plan and hooked the top man
But her demons just wouldn’t stay dormant

A hustler’s dream, the best of cream, her booty made her sublime
She worked her game and stole some fame and slicked herself a goldmine

Top of the world wasn’t good enough and greed got Saucy dippin
But gangstas see out both their eyes and the big one caught her slippin

So this here ain’t no romance
It’s a straight up shiesty game
Slide too close to Saucy and get burnt up in her flame

In the Beginning….

Have you ever scratched and schemed your way into somebody’s heart? Laid some ill na-na on a gangsta and then hustled him straight outta the game? Traded your goodies for even more goodies? Have you ever schemed on your best friend? Plotted on some real gutter shit that you knew was gonna devastate her, but you went ahead and did it anyway? Did you use what you got to grab what you wanted? Committed acts so grimy that even God looked down on you and cried? Oh? That ain’t how you living? Well there’s a stunna up in this party tonight, so you betta get on your game and clock ya’ man. Goodnight, hater! Don’t knock my hustle. Didn’t nobody slump my boogeyman in the middle of the night. I was just a lost little girl forced to make it in a grown woman’s world. A child turned out by the rulers of the game. Shit, when you get thrown in a snakepit you better learn how to wiggle! It’s all about survival, baby. And not only did I learn the code of the streets, I made my own damn rules and got paid in the process. So listen close, but watch your pockets. I’m a Harlem girl. A scandalous bitch. A ruthless mama. Me and this city are just alike. Grimy. And we never, ever sleep. So take some notes and get up on a few things. My name is Saucy Sarita Robinson. When life gave me lemons I did not make lemonade. I slipped those lemons in the next bitch’s purse, because this is how I’m living.

STOP BEING A HATER AND GET ON OUR LEVEL “BITCHES”...

SMOOCHES!!

LOVELLE
AUTHOR OF ALIZE’ ON THE ROCKS

Oh I have never laughed so hard in my life!!!

This is NOIRE and I love your website! You ladies sound like a bunch of bitter white bitches who secretly fuck black men with big ghetto dicks, yet publicly denounce all things urban, especially in fiction.

But I’m not mad at you…in fact I love it. I had tears falling from my eyes at whoever wrote the verses to schlong on fire! Now that was just too damned funny and I really loved it. REALLY I DID!

As for the title, oh yes, Saucy is definitely hot in the ass so if you need a black person to translate that for you it means her THONG IS ON FIRE! You girls gotta get ya bitchy up if you want to hang with us because you know you white bitches are hotter in the ass than most and putting out thong flames on a regular basis!

Now that cover…I couldn’t agree with you bitches more. I HATED it and argued about it until I was hoarse and my tongue was swollen. I said, who the hail walks around wearing a fur jacket and a thong??? If its cold enough for a damn jacket its too cold for a damn thong with no covering on the ass, y’all bitches dig me? Oh I fumed and I hated the cover. I still do. But lo and behold, I was watching an episode of COPS the other day and damn if there wasn’t a chick walking on her stroll wearing a jacket and a thong! SAUCY! I cried! Is that you?

Nope it wasn’t Saucy. At least not MY Saucy. The girl on television was the kind of narrow-hipped, no-ass Saucy depicted on the cover of the book, the girl with the kind of ass I’m sure most of you bitches on this board here are sitting on and trying to hide. MY Saucy has a BLACK WOMAN’S ASS, the kind that brothers love to mash on, and if that kind of plump round assmeat had been shown on the cover it would have been a little more acceptable to me, although I really thought the ass should have been covered up and the thong seen peeking from the top of the pants.

Oh well. We can’t always get what we want, but we CAN always talk shit about it! Thanks so much, you wonderful bitches, male and female, for all the free publicity you’ve given me. Negative or positive…I’LL TAKE IT! Read the book if you can, and talk some shit about it for me!

If you’d like me to list your reviews or some information about your website or your logo in the next issue of NoireMagazine.com just let me know and I’ll happily return the favor.

From one bitch to another…

HOLLA (and no white bitches that does not mean start all that damn hysterical screaming you bitches are known for, especially when getting the black dick in secret.)

I mean HOLLA. Like get at me via email.

NOIRE .(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address)

Well I guess she told ya’ll (hahahaha)

I enjoyed Thong On Fire and Noire’s other masterpieces.

Ya’ll need to get hip to the Queen and get on your knees cuz she ain’t going no where. You Smell me?

THONG ON FIRE
by
NOIRE

Hottt Saucy!

This here ain’t no romance
It’s an urban erotic tale
Hottt Saucy’s on a mission
And she ain’t about to fail

Body of a goddess
But a devil in disguise
Chinky eyes full of dollar signs, slick tongue full of lies

From chips to bling and finer things, Miss Saucy’s out for self
She’ll play you like a herb then put yo ass back on the shelf

Sexing is her weapon, she’ll go grimy to exploit it
She schemed a dope plan and hooked the top man
But her demons just wouldn’t stay dormant

A hustler’s dream, the best of cream, her booty made her sublime
She worked her game and stole some fame and slicked herself a goldmine

Top of the world wasn’t good enough and greed got Saucy dippin
But gangstas see out both their eyes and the big one caught her slippin

So this here ain’t no romance
It’s a straight up shiesty game
Slide too close to Saucy and get burnt up in her flame

In the Beginning….

Have you ever scratched and schemed your way into somebody’s heart? Laid some ill na-na on a gangsta and then hustled him straight outta the game? Traded your goodies for even more goodies? Have you ever schemed on your best friend? Plotted on some real gutter shit that you knew was gonna devastate her, but you went ahead and did it anyway? Did you use what you got to grab what you wanted? Committed acts so grimy that even God looked down on you and cried? Oh? That ain’t how you living? Well there’s a stunna up in this party tonight, so you betta get on your game and clock ya’ man. Goodnight, hater! Don’t knock my hustle. Didn’t nobody slump my boogeyman in the middle of the night. I was just a lost little girl forced to make it in a grown woman’s world. A child turned out by the rulers of the game. Shit, when you get thrown in a snakepit you better learn how to wiggle! It’s all about survival, baby. And not only did I learn the code of the streets, I made my own damn rules and got paid in the process. So listen close, but watch your pockets. I’m a Harlem girl. A scandalous bitch. A ruthless mama. Me and this city are just alike. Grimy. And we never, ever sleep. So take some notes and get up on a few things. My name is Saucy Sarita Robinson. When life gave me lemons I did not make lemonade. I slipped those lemons in the next bitch’s purse, because this is how I’m living.