Just when you thought people stopped talking about your books, you’re proven wrong.
Here’s an interesting blog post over at the Official Southwest Airlines blog about their experience trading letters with one David Paulson.
As promised, today WFME will be giving away three (3) free copies of Paul Meadors’ new book Letters to eBay.
But how, you wonder, can you win one?
Present a link in the comments section to what you consider to be the most obscure, most amusing eBay auction currently “live” on eBay (i.e., people can still bid on it at the publishing of this post) before 5pm PST and you’ll have entered yourself in for the contest. Each person is only allowed one (1) submission, and I will award the books to the Top 3 most amusing eBay auctions.
We’re talking funny, people. Show me the funny.
In the event two people submit the same auction, the person who posted their comment first will get priority. In addition, if you have put up the auction yourself, it is invalid. Finally, if you have ever watched Big Brother After Dark on Showtime, please make a note of it in the comments section, as you will be added to WFME’s list for another upcoming contest that will be announced very soon.
Good luck and G-d speed!
Update! The winners of the books are Mike Lietz, Jerry and Monkeyinabox. Congratulations!
Usually, if I’m giving something away, it has to do with me.
That’s why next Monday I’ll be doing something quite selfless for my new friend Paul Meadors, the author of the upcoming book Letters to eBay: Hilarious Auctions, Crazy E-Mails, and Bongos for Grandma by hosting some kind of ridiculous contest to give away three (3) of his books.
The contest will officially go live Monday morning at 9am PST. First come first serve. If you or a member of your family own eBay, you may not compete. If you’re currently writing a book of letters to eBay, you may not compete. If you have ever gone out, purchased and eaten Slim Jims after seeing a commercial for them, you may still compete but I will judge you.
At least I’m being honest, right?
Thing is, why or how I got to be some guy living in a remote mountain cabin writing the next great American novel is besides the point. Perhaps the hustle and bustle of big city living got to be too much. Perhaps I couldn’t concentrate with the constant fly-overs by commercial airliners. No matter. The reason for being there would be a moot point the minute your hungry lost abandoned-by-your-guides self showed up at my door.
At which point, if I’m being honest, I probably wouldn’t give you any food.
Commander Henslaugh looked through the portal window, gazing out at the rust-colored expanse. The ruins of the Fleklar’s alien mother ship still lay smoking among the rest of Henslaugh’s crew. Henslaugh couldn’t help but wonder to himself, had he stayed on Moon Outpost Zeta, never applied for a promotion and been satisfied with the quiet life of a terraforming coordinator — might things have turned out differently? Would the onslaught of alien ships have ever found their outpost here on Mars? Henslaugh turned away from the portal (and the wreckage) and sat down on his cot, in the corner of the two-hundred square foot pod — the only pod still being supplied with oxygen. It was anyone’s guess which would come first — his death or his rescue? Henslaugh wiped the morbid thought from his mind. There were better things to do. Like play Dance Dance Revolution: Universe Edition 2.0. And with that, Henslaugh turned on the game console, booted up the game, and laid out the elaborate touch pad floor throw. And as the hip hop beats of Kalooloo’s “Century 29” began playing, Henslaugh got to dancing. Despite the lack of oxygen. Because for Henslaugh…dancing was his life. Next to terraforming. And coordinating. And defeating evil aliens. Yes… Dancing was his life.