Seems I should really check my email more frequently. Three days ago I was nominated for The Versatile Blogger Award by The Secrets of a Southern Belle. So exciting, I get to add a bit of cyber-bling to my blog! Thanks so much, Southern Belle!
And may I recommend you check her out–she dishes some delightfully racy secrets.
Here is the bling:
And now for 7 random things…
1. I love to eat dinner for breakfast and breakfast for dinner.
2. I had a crayfish named Stretch when I was a kid.
3. I was a (self-proclaimed) Mercy champion until I sprained a finger in high school.
4. I love to sing. Not sure how the neighbors feel about it, but oh well.
5. I’ll try anything once.
6. I’ve tried most things at least once.
7. I’d sell my soul for a time machine.
And here are the rules for the award:
1. Add the award to your blog.
2. Thank the blogger who gave it to you and include a link to their blog.
3. Mention 7 random things about yourself.
4. List the rules.
5. Give the award to 15 or more bloggers
Sweet. Now I am off to make some excellent bloggers’ day.
In mulling over a good place for some public snoo snoo in my current WIP, I find myself at a PDA crossroads. So, to clarify a bit in my own mind and to help others (curious bystanders or writers, virgins or sluts) I endeavor to create a list of the good, the bad, and the downright ugly.
1. I’ll start off with the ugly. I’m embarrassed to say that I considered this (not doing it, but writing it). My locale doesn’t leave me too many options, but despite the lack of available space, I stand firm on my decision not to make my guys have sex in a porta-potty. Not even a fancy version with antiseptic gel. Not gonna do it.
Well, maybe I’ll write it just for fun, but no way is it getting into my manuscript. Maybe a freebie to be posted here at a later date…? I know, I’m such a porta-potty cock tease.
And I had no idea that Gerard Butler had a recent porta-potty screw until it popped up in my related links. Freakin’ weird. Butler, you idea-stealing bastard! Way to one-up me.
2. Bad. Bad, bad, bad. I give you the swimming pool. I’m sure a large percentage of teenage whores fell for the allure of the deep blue community pool in the dark of night. Probably intoxicated, but you never know. Maybe even completely sober, because from the outside looking in, the pool sings a siren’s song. Slippery when wet, right? Afraid not, Bon Jovi. Water is not lube, my friends. If it were, why would people even buy lube? In fact, it is the anti-Christ to KY jelly. Go ahead all you zealous teens, don’t take my word for it. Let me know how that goes. Or doesn’t, as the case may be.
3. We need a good one, here. Things are looking dismal. You went to the concert and the porta-potties were just too damn nasty for a little love. Back at the hotel, the pool keeps winking at you, but you do the smart thing and give it the finger. Sure a hotel bed is just fine, but we’re looking for a little fun and excitement, right? Enter the hotel room balcony. The cool night air kisses the sweat right off you as you get down and dirty standing up. Or bending over. Or both. Just don’t sit on the railing. No orgasm is worth plummeting to your death. Voyeurism never felt so good. Bring your binoculars and when you’re done, check out the competition, or at least the pervs jerking it off to your Bittersweet Symphony. That’ll throw them for a loop.
4. Back to the ugly. Tall grass. Sure amber waves of grain will hide you from prying eyes, but then there are snakes, ticks, sharp blades of grass where no man has ever gone (okay, maybe he has, but still, it’s not meant for grass-blade paper cuts). Again, I could probably get my characters here, but do I want to, really?
5. We’re at a bad, and so I give you…the floor. It’s not horrible. Wouldn’t make the ugly list, but rug burns hurt for a while. And they are easily identifiable. Maybe you’ll wear that badge of honor on your lower back with a cut-off shirt and glowing pride. But if the skanky boy in your English 101 class looked good enough to fuck after you ate that tequilla worm the other night, but now you want to douche with bleach and change schools, chances are, you don’t want the raw patch on your back to corroborate his story while you’re changing for gym.
6. Well, where the hell can we screw? I know, I know. I feel your pain. I’m not trying to be a negative Nancy. I’m still looking for the perfect love connection for my literary dudes as well. Shed? Storage unit? Public restroom with a glory hole? Closet? Under a band stand? Colonel Mustard, in the kitchen, with a wrench? The world may be my oyster, but I’m not finding any pearls. I’ll keep you posted, and if anyone has any brilliant places for sexual encounters (whether tried and true, or just a fantasy) I want you to lay them on me. Now.
1.Go to bed. I find this to be the easiest way to get ideas. Drift off to that purgatory between sleep and wakefulness. Think about your characters, your plot, or your problem that can’t be solved during the daylight hours no matter how hard you try (or don’t try, I think that is my problem).
Inevitably, ideas will start to come to you just when you want to fall asleep. This is where the little notebook and pen on your bedside stand come in mighty handy. You will probably be wide awake after you get your good idea. You may even have to go fire up your computer again.
2.People watch. It’s a great way to work on you characterization. Is that male lead just not fleshing out believably?
Go to Walmart and take in the sights. If you’re looking for some character flaws, the mom whose kid knocks over a jar of pickles and she just wheels off without telling anyone could spark an idea. The guy trying on ladies hats when he thinks no one is looking seems like a fun person. The anorexic/bulimic teenager wolfing down Ho Hos behind a clothes rack before she runs to the bathroom to vomit them up is intriguing. Look around you; the freaks abound and they are fun to play with.
3.Read a book. I’m not saying rip it off, I’m just saying that a break from the head-pounding might give your wee little brain a chance to chill out, start firing off on some different neural passages than the tried and true, beaten down ones you’ve been stomping away at.
4.Vacation! Sit on a beach with your notebook. If that doesn’t grease the idea skids, I don’t know what will. Can’t get away at the moment? Hang up your hammock and take a ten minute swing. Draw a bath and soak for a few. Stick a little umbrella in your margarita.
5.Have a few of those margaritas. Ideas will pop up like dandelions. Not all will be viable when the high wears off, but some might be saved for future use.
6.Watch a movie. That’s all.
7.Stuck in a rut? Think of something really nasty-mean to do to your character(s). See what they do when they’re bit by a venomous scorpion. Have them catch their spouse cheating. They’re out of Lucky Charms and it’s breakfast time!!!!! Do they go on a killing rampage or just go to the store? It is a true test of character to let them react to a situation.
8.Eat chocolate. It’s sure fire. Or maybe just delicious.
9.Exercise. You need to after all of the chocolate and alcohol anyway. Go for a walk, a run, a yoga video. Best to be done alone, otherwise you’re just gossiping with your girlfriend or listening to your four-year old whine about how long it is taking you to do your workout and how he needs more fruit snacks.
10.Listen to music! This is my favorite way to be inspired. I have a soundtrack for just about every piece of writing I do. Sometimes my story is born of a song. Sometimes I think of the perfect music to go with a particular character or plot line as I go. Playing those songs inevitably gets me in the mood to build on that world or story line.
Try it. Better yet, try it with that margarita while swinging on your hammock. Take a box of Ho Hos and your little notebook and you’ll be brainstorming in no time.
1. They’ve been doing it to us since the dawn of media, if not the dawn of time. Fair is fair, fuckers.
2. It’s so much fun! Try it the next time the high school track team is running down the road shirtless. Objectifying underage men is even better than ogling the 18+ variety. It feels twice as wrong and therefore twice as nice. If you get caught, just say you were checking out the coach. Incidentally, you were doing both.
3. Makes you feel like a teenager again. You know, when you used to daydream about the cute basketball-playing senior changing in the locker room, back before you even knew what to do with a naked guy and it made you all sick to your stomach and excited at the same time? You can still kinda get a tiny taste of that sensation when you stare at some stranger’s package and try to figure out how his basketballs are hanging.
4. I love the fact that I slow down for cop cars, not because I am afraid of being pulled over, but to see if there are any hotties in uniform patrolling my area. Suddenly I’m the one patrolling and it’s quite empowering. And makes cops less scary. And men in uniform–yum.
5. You know when they make you stop at the light that is hardly ever red in front of the fire station? Most people probably pound on their steering wheel in frustration as the slow-moving fire truck is painfully parked while you wait. Not me. It’s a free pass to check out the guys with the big hoses. Think of how less-stressed I am because I embrace that time. If I play my cards right, I may even need a hose-down after all of my fine imagining.
6. Bellmen are watching you. Give it right back. Yes, that is for you, Hook.
7. According to some Catholic blog post I read, objectifying your husband can be a marriage-wrecker. I was stunned. If I gazed longingly at my old man’s junk, I’m thinking it can only help the relationship. Went on to read that if you are objectifying your spouse by picturing him as a human check book then all is not fine in Marriage Land.
My advise? You need to balance your Daddy Warbucks drooling with a little cock drooling and there is your happily ever after. You owe me twenty bucks for the counseling.
8. Makes family reunions more fun. Just kidding. That was for the guy at one of our family reunions a couple of years back who said, in all seriousness, “I came here for the chicks.” Don’t ask how many teeth he had. I didn’t stick around long enough to count the holes. Unfortunately, he guarded the keg the whole time.
9. Those playing cards from the seventies—the ones with naked guys on the back—are the funniest shit you will ever see. No lie. It’s entertaining to imagine how they pulled all of their business out of the bottom of their short-shorts and then got themselves hard for the picture. And what were they doing playing tennis in denim short-shorts sans tighty-whities in the first place? What’s with that cowboy hat? Are these for straight women or gay men. Both? Holy afro, Batman! I just peed my pants laughing!
10. And the tenth reason to objectify men…. Good eye candy makes for good jerking off later.
So get out there and ogle, ladies! Tell ’em Kimber sent ya.