Pseudotherapy

Found this little meme somewhere …

The idea is to respond to each prompt by writing a short scenario that includes your answers.

The perfect outfit: I pulled a peasant blouse on over faded jeans, slipped into flip flops, and hung my favorite silver hoops in my ears. No makeup. He was mildly pleasant, but hardly mascara-worthy.
The perfect meal: I set a steaming plate of my made-from-scratch chicken enchiladas on the glass table, tinted peach by the vibrant sunset. Even the tumbler holding Bret’s Perfect Margarita was sweating, moisture trickling down its sides. The intoxicating aroma of Brenda’s Coconut-Pineapple Cake wafted out from the kitchen, teasing our tastebuds toward orgasm.
The perfect beverage: Wiping sweat from my sticky neck, I tilted my glass, spilling the minty crispness of Bret’s Perfect Mojito across my rejoicing tastebuds.
The perfect hangover cure: Cradling my throbbing head on my hand, I gulped down a B-Complex tablet with Alka-Seltzer fizzing in orange juice. It worked like a charm. Within minutes, I had emptied my guts into the toilet bowl — after which I felt remarkably better.
The perfect facial feature: Looking into Juli’s eyes, I see unconditional love reflected within the green depths. Mother and child — there is no stronger bond on earth.
The perfect song: He stubbed out his cigarette and swiveled toward me. As the smoothness of Rob Thomas’ voice drifted from the speakers, Bret held out his hand. I rose, moving into his arms in time to the sensual throb of All That I Am. His lips nuzzled my neck as I breathed in the scent of his skin.
The perfect sign of affection: We are walking, me a step behind, lost in our own thoughts. He reaches back with open hand seeking mine, clasping tightly as I slip my palm against his. No words, no glance, undeniable love.
The perfect weather: A hellacious thunderstorm raged outside, rattling windows and punching through the gloom with strobes of eyeball-impaling brightness. When the power flickered out, we grabbed beers from the fridge and adjourned to the breeze-cooled sunroom for a few rounds of Texas Hold-’Em by candlelight.
The perfect afternoon: The weak sunshine of late October angles through the window, kissing my cheek while I nap under a quilt, my book fallen from my grasp.
The perfect road trip: My camera captures each glorious vista as the serpentine curves of Pacific Coast Highway seduce us north to Big Sur and Bixby Bridge.

This entry was posted on Wednesday, July 16th, 2008 at 11:33 am and is filed under Memes, Words. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed.