Hey Baby, Wanna Cyber?

For those of you new to the site, welcome! Freaky Friday is the designated day for sex talk on my blog.

***IMPORTANT DISCLAIMER*** This is sexually explicit material and may not be suitable for younger members of our blogging audience.

Cy.ber.net.ics n
2. the replication or imitation of biological control systems with the use of technology.

Ummmm…okay. So. Why not in this age of technology get your biological kicks on Route “Info Highway”? What’s the line? “Take a trip and never leave the farm?” Only cybersex lets you come without ever having to actually go anywhere! You don’t even have to shave or put on your good underwear! And even if the person on the other end of your DSL is 87 and flatulent, all he has to do is tell you he’s 6’2”, blue eyed, buff and voila—in your vivid imagination he is.

It’s kinda like an interactive romance novel. Only with an online fling, the hero talks back to you. How cool is that? And YOU don’t have to be YOU either. Tired of being middle-aged? Looking to lose a few pounds? Do you sometimes imagine being single again? Poof! Your stats instantly look like a 20-year-old porn star’s.

Of course some would call this lying…you know, one of the Big Ten. But computers weren’t around when they carved those tired, old rules into stone…right? What’s a little deception in the name of biology and technology?

I’m asking a lot of question, aren’t I?

Anyway, so you have your dreamboat all lined up and tonight is the night. You light a few candles around your computer, pour a glass of red wine and wear something sheer and slinky (okay, so you also wear multi-color striped toe socks because you don't want your feet to get cold—who’s to know?) Prepared for an evening of romance (and, other than a possible computer virus, completely safe sex) you log on...

Her: I thought about you today.
Him: I think about you every day.
Her: Where to tonight?
Him: I thought we’d go to the beach.
Her: Mmmmm. I can hear the seagulls already.
Him: We’re walking hand in hand in the sand. The sun is just setting, but the breeze is still warm across our faces.
Her: My dress is blowing in the wind, exposing my shapely, tanned legs.
Him: I catch a glimpse of your beautiful legs and suggest we stop in a secluded spot. I spread a couple of towels on the sand where the frothy waves ebb and flow near our bare feet.
Her: We sit next to each other and look peacefully out onto the horizon as it grows darker. I can feel you staring at my full breasts which rise and fall with every breath I take.
Him: I put my arm around your bare shoulder and pull you closer. I can smell your fragrant perfume as a strand of your long blond hair brushes my cheek.
Her: Finally, I turn my head to look into your deep blue eyes and see the desire burning there.
Him: I take your mouth with mine...tasting you deeply
Her: My passion soars at the touch of your searing lips on mine...your probing tongue.

Okay...so you can see where this is going. (You didn't really think I'd write the whole thing, did you?)

Of course, having cybersex is A LOT better if both of the parties are writers, involving all the senses, setting the scene, etc. AND it's kinda hard to work up some tingling parts if you're constantly having to hit spell-check.

Warning! It will be difficult to explain the candles and lace teddy to your hubby when he comes to see why you're not in bed yet.

Double Warning! It's probably best to engage in this activity with someone in a different region of the country lest they want to meet and you have to explain that you're really in your forties and your hair is salt and pepper gray.

Triple Warning! You've been honest with your cyberpartner, but now you've decided cybersex sucks and you want to taste each other deeply for real. In that case a whole other hemisphere apart would be even better.

Sidebar: We used to have a Gateway computer and my husband called it the Gateway To Hell...I think he was right.

The Judges Comments Are In...

I've been waiting patiently and they've finally arrived...and...WOW! Both judges for the Fire and Ice Contest are published Chick Lit authors and here's what they had to say about Spoiled Rotten:

Judge Ch9-11A gave me 97 out of 100 (outstanding, publishable as is). She said "This is hilarious. I thought the story moved--great pacing and repartee."

Judge Ch9-11B gave me a 93. She said "Andrea is the kind of heroine you love to hate. Snobby, shallow, worthless and yet you can't help rooting for her anyway! Thank you for not writing yet another bland "likable" flat heroine. Great voice! And Repo Man is to die for. Love his voice, personality, everything. Is he hot? Tell me he's hot!

Of course he's hot, Judge Ch9-11B. This is Chick Lit, isn't it?

Anyway, thanks to both my judges for pumping me up. I'm going to ride the inspiration generated from these great comments all the way to THE END!!!

Also, as an added bonus I got a check for winning third place. I didn't even know there was prize money involved! I guess you could say this is the first money I've received for my fiction writing. Hopefully the next check will have a few more zeros...lol

That's A Lot Of Handbags!

These are supposed to be pics of a crocodile caught roaming (swimming) the streets of New Orleans and eating dead bodies. In reality it's a croc caught in the Congo. These same pictures were being e-mailed back in 2003 BB (before blogger). Ahhhhh...the Internet...you gotta love it!

According to an article in allafrica.com and snopes.com, the reptile was a Nile crocodile estimated to be 50 years old, about 16 feet in length, and about 1,900 lbs. The local mayor reportedly insisted on preserving the crocodile's carcass against the efforts of locals who wanted to eat it. Instead, he arranged for it to be shipped to a taxidermist, thus ending the animals life-long dream of outfitting hundreds in shoes and matching handbags.

Zoom, Zoom, Zoom

For those of you new to the site, welcome! Freaky Friday is the designated day for sex talk on my blog.

***IMPORTANT DISCLAIMER*** This is sexually explicit material and may not be suitable for younger members of our blogging audience.

What is it about having sex in a car that is soooooooooo damn hot? Is it the vibration from the powerful motor that sends your motor racing? Is it the new car smell that nudges you to be naughty? Does the thought of skin against leather make you melt?

For me it's all those things wrapped up into exciting memories of my youth. Back then steaming up the car windows was commonplace and mainly out of necessity. We would have preferred a bed and some privacy, but 17 year olds don't have that luxury. Of course, it started out as innocent necking (is necking ever "innocent" and what do the kids call it these days...do they even know how to neck? Or do they just go straight to the anal sex?)

Then it went into heavy petting. There was a time when I could become "completely satisfied" from only nipple action...but that got boring so then I let his fingers do the walking, which could also be quite satisfying. But, after awhile...you just want the nice, big, hard stick-shift to get the hell out of your way. So you try the backseat. Ahhh...that's better. Of course, it's a must to be wearing a dress. (Tight jeans are a bitch to get out of gracefully in the best of circumstances, but nearly impossible in a backseat.)

One time my boyfriend and I were parked in a local park. We got a tap on the window from the police. Luckily, it was after the windows were fogged so we had a moment to smooth our clothing, and before we'd headed to the backseat. The officer just shined his flashlight in and told us to move along. He was nice about it. He seemed to understand. I believe it was after that we started having sex in my bed while my parents were at work. Little did I know that would be the end of my love-affair with car love.

So here I am, many, many years later, married to the same guy since the Bicentennial, and still totally turned on by making out in the car. But decorum (and fear of arrest or exposing myself to the PTA President neighbor) halt our front seat necking at the necking stage...to "finish up" inside the house.

And besides, even though we have a bigger car...that backseat looks A LOT smaller than I remember.

Freaky Friday Postponed Due to Rita

No, I'm not in the line of the hurricane, I just like watching them on TV. But I promise a really, really juicy Freaky Friday tomorrow. Gotta Run! The eye is going to come ashore any minute now!

3 Little Pigs from the Wolf's POV

* *P O E T R Y* *
W E D N E S D A Y

Big, Bad and Blameless

Everyone said that I
huffed and I puffed
They said I was mean
They said I was rough!

But, I'm telling you man,
they've got me all wrong!
Just listen to my side
It's a whole 'nother song

If you look at my records
you'd see I'm a joker
A lover, a laugher,
and a real heavy smoker

As a matter of fact
I'm quite emphysemic
I can barely breathe
Not to mention anemic

There's no way on earth
I could blow down a dwelling
I get winded walking
My ankles keep swelling

As far as the straw house
My interest was legitimate
I'm a real estate broker
I was trying to list it

With the wood house I thought
It could use help from me
On the side I sell siding
With a lifetime guarantee!

My reasons for being
at that last pig's brick home?
I sell second mortgages
Even pigs need a loan!

As far as the damage
It's hard to explain
A big gust of wind?
A low flying plane?

Besides, I would never
Eat a fat little pig!
My LDL is high
I'm already big!

So give me a break
The pigs could be lying
While I'm just the innocent
Wolf who they're frying!

My Muse is Calling

This is one of those weekends where I actually have nothing scheduled, which is wonderful. I'm wanting to start putting pictures in albums, a project I've been putting off for years. I'm thinking about giving scrapbooking a try. I'm wanting to plant some fall flowers. I also have a couple of sewing repairs. Of course, there's the usual laundry. And I'm definitely in the mood to write.

Speaking of writing, my agent sent me a rejection letter this week, but it was another good one. It was from a women's literary fiction editor from Random House. She said my writing had merit, but the story seemed choppy. I guess she's not familiar with chick lit's "diary" style. My agent said it was evident she had read the entire manuscript, which he said is unusual and a good sign. I don't know why, but getting a rejection inspires me to write. Even a negative response seems to feel like progress in my writing career.

I feel this great surge of creativity needing to be expressed in other areas of my life, too. Must be the change of season, although the season change is very subtle here in Texas. The temperature was in the high 90s yesterday, but the pool water was like iced tea. This time of year always makes me want to go clothes shopping, too. I guess it's a conditioned response from all those years I went back to school shopping with my mother. (Wonder if I could talk her into buying me something...)

I did do a bit of shopping this week, but it was online, so I haven't seen the results yet. BTW...shopping online is WAY too easy and I end up sending half the stuff back because it doesn't fit. And then I'm stuck with the shipping costs. There's really no excuse to shop online when you live in a major metropolitan city. But it is one of the few things I can do online at work...they haven't firewalled the retailers yet!


Anyway, have a nice Sunday...I've got things to do!

Wednesday Night Special

For those of you new to the site, welcome! Freaky Friday is the designated day for sex talk on my blog. A special thanks to The Pointmeister for introducing me to the license plate site. Isn't it cute!

When I was about fifteen years old we moved to a newer neighborhood and a nice young couple with a baby moved into our old house. Soon after we moved we got reports from our old neighbors across the street that VERY strange things were happening in our old house. On Wednesday nights while his wife was at church, it became a ritual of the man to have a male friend over. They would expose themselves in front of the big picture window that looked out onto the street where us kids always “hung out.”

One time when I was visiting my old neighborhood, my friends showed me what they were talking about. They had even told their parents about it. I didn’t really think it was strange at the time, but now that I’m an adult, I can’t believe they didn’t call the police, or at least confront the man and tell him to cut it out. And they would never have thought to tell his wife what activities he was up to while she was away. Instead, everyone just thought it was funny.

This was in the early seventies…a strange time when sex wasn’t really discussed in polite company, yet we were in the middle of a sexual revolution. There was no awareness of sex offenders, people didn’t pry into other people’s affairs, a man’s house was his castle and this man’s Wednesday night escapades just made him one of those quirky neighbors.

Things are different now.

My Muse

* *P O E T R Y* *
W E D N E S D A Y

there are words that i can't write
and dreams that i can't use
creative forces inside me
still need you as my muse

but then i realize you're gone
in body and in spirit
your face is fading from my mind
your voice...i can not hear it

can i leave before i'm done?
can i walk away?
how can i forsake your love
with so much left to say?

now i stare at empty pages
fingers poised on keys
in desperation to create
i fall down on my knees
i pray to God that He'll assign
another muse to me
“send a soul mate just like him
to set my passions free”

but in my heart i know it's wrong
to wish for more than one
a love like ours is once a life
for most it never comes.

Where Were You?

I was pulling into the parking garage at work and they had just reported the Pentagon had been hit. From what I was hearing on the radio it sounded like the world might be coming to an end or at least other locations might be targeted...places like...Dallas. I came very close to putting my car in reverse, speeding out of there and signaling my children and husband home. But I looked around at all the other cars in the garage, and knowing that a lot of people I worked with were from New York, I went inside. Everyone was gathered around the few TVs we had on our floor. Shortly after that I saw the first building fall...and then the second...I had eaten at Windows on the World in 1988 and in an instant the top of the trade center was in a heap on the ground...unfathomable.

4 years ago a firetruck from New Orleans was given to New York to help with the Twin Towers disaster. 4 years later to the day some NY firemen returned the truck to New Orleans...unbelievable.

A Short One

For those of you new to the site, welcome! Freaky Friday is the designated day for sex talk on my blog.

***IMPORTANT DISCLAIMER*** This is sexually explicit material and may not be suitable for younger members of our blogging audience.

I admit I'm a slacker this week, but give me a break! I've been busy. But I did want to pass this along:

A woman was setting up her husband's computer, and at the
appropriate point in the process, told him he needed to choose a log-in password.

The husband who was becoming bored with the process spelled out this response:

"P....E....N....I....S.."

Too tired to argue with him about it she typed in his password, hit enter, then fell off her chair laughing when the computer replied:

**** PASSWORD REJECTED. NOT LONG ENOUGH*****

If you're new to this site (and since I've already blogged about whether size matters or not,) read more about it here.

PACE Awards prove (once again) that Advertising Department is insane

The show was a huge success! (If you don't know what I'm talking about see yesterday's post.) There's nothing like the sound of audience laughter that you've created. But it wasn't ALL hilarity. There were some warm, fuzzy moments, too. I got lots of compliments after the show, a special handshake and thanks from the V.P. of the Division, and the head of the committee is taking us to a thank-you lunch tomorrow.

Here are some pics as promised...then I'm going to bed...night night...

Our theme was Change of PACE because of all the changes we've gone through this year. Posters around the building and on the podium were of chameleons (a plaid one, a polka dot one, a cow print one, etc.) to signify change with the slogan "change is good"


The ballroom was made to look like a TV studio...

Lights, Camera, Action

Okay, so, the awards show I've been working on for the last several months is tomorrow at 2 p.m. (central). The reason I'm being specific about the time is I'm hoping for some prayers around then. Not that the show is bad or anything. We had dress rehearsal today and everything went pretty well considering. But an extra little bit of goodwill right about showtime would be appreciated.

The humorous videos I've been laboring over in the editing booth were well received today as this was the first time for them to be viewed. The cast and crew laughed at the appropriate moments which is oh-so important. Now if the audience will do the same tomorrow.

The tricky part about the show this year is more of a technical nature. We have two stages set up catty-cornered on either side of where the stage normally is. One side is a Saturday Night Live-ish news desk with 2 newscasters. The other side is the actual awards podium. It's as if the audience is the studio audience watching a live broadcast, complete with a three-piece band in the middle. Then we have 2 cameras set up to go "live" from the news program to the awards...which are all "broadcast" on the wall sized video screen in the middle. The concept is unique but depends heavily on the guys in the control booth to switch everything at the appropriate moment, along with lights on the two stages, videos and a powerpoint slide show of the nominees and winners. Maybe if you could say a little extra prayer for the guys in the booth.

I don't know what I look forward to more. Hearing the audience laugh at my jokes...or sighing with relief when it's over. It's probably a nice mixture of both.

Anyway, I'll post pics tomorrow. (I know you can't wait...lol)

I Love You

P O E T R Y
W E D N E S D A Y


why can’t you say it?
can it be so complex?
just utter the words
and feel your heart flex

“i love you!” it’s easy—
it rolls off your tongue
like dew on a petal
like a song that needs sung

why do men think
it’s contractually binding?
these three tiny words
that my ears are not finding

love is not limited
it’s an infinite thing
a burgeoning fountain
a never-ending spring

love is like breast milk
the more that you give
the more that you make
so your spirit can live

from my depths to the rooftops,
i’m yearning to shout
i love you! i feel it!
it wants to come out!

of course you love others
present tense and past
and i know i’m not first—
maybe, not even last

but if you can feel it
then just set it free
say those little words
that mean so much to me

i love you, also
it’s here in my soul
i love you and someday
perhaps you’ll be told

Deep from my heart for Texas

My heart swells with pride when I think about how generous my state has been in the relief efforts from hurricane Katrina. Yea, Texas! I heard we've taken in over 123,000 people made homeless by the storm and subsequent dam break who are staying in shelters and another 100,000 staying in hotels. The fact that we are next door neighbors to Louisianna made Houston, San Antonio and Dallas obvious choices.

Of course, where else are you going to find two or three stadiums equipped with air conditioning and mega-bathrooms just lying around unoccupied? Yes, it's true. Texas is serious about their sporting arenas...one gets a little worn out, you just build another one.

Got Any Threes?

No, it's not a game of "Go Fish". It's another "we've got gas" story. A local gas station got the orders from headquarters to raise their prices to $3.09 The station started to change their numbering on the signs out front when they realized they didn't have any big threes. It seems they'd never needed threes before. So they had to continue selling gas at the lower price until the home office overnighted them some big threes.

Where's the Charity from Exxon?

There's a story on the news about a young guy who stole a school bus in New Orleans and loaded it up with stranded people (from newborns to an old woman in a wheelchair) on the interstate. They had heard rumors that refugees of Katrina were going to Houston so they headed that way. The reporter interviewing this industrious young man asked how they were able to fill up with gas along the way. He said they were all able to pool their money and had just enough.

My question is, why would a bus carrying refugees be charged for gas??? I guess they would have been charged for bottled water, too. Everyone else in the country is giving till it hurts. How can the oil companies in good conscience take their money? Much less gouge the whole country!

Another unbelievable part of this story is the police weren't going to admit them into the Astrodome because they weren't in an "offical" Greyhound bus. The Red Cross let them in.

Katrina, you bitch!

Okay, I know with all the suffering that's going on I have no right to complain, but I cannot hold my tongue about this. I just filled up my mid-size sedan and it cost $53.00. Damn...

I must say this concerns me just a tad. Since I fill up once a week that's (counting on fingers and toes) $212 a month or $2544 a year. Fortunately, I can bring my lunch to work instead of eating out or eat chicken instead of steak, but what about the people who're already doing that? What about the kids like my son and daughter who spend their whole paycheck on their car and insurance. What about the people made homeless by hurricane Katrina?

Maybe someday we'll talk about that time gas prices went all the way up to $3.50 a gallon. I can't wait.

Sex in Songs

For those of you new to the site, welcome! Freaky Friday is the designated day for sex talk on my blog.

***IMPORTANT DISCLAIMER*** This is sexually explicit material and may not be suitable for younger members of our blogging audience.

On the top 40 radio station I listen to I heard this song by the Black Eyed Peas. (With a name like that you'd think they sing country.)

What you gon’ do with all that junk?
All that junk inside that trunk?
I’ma get, get, get, get, you drunk,
Get you love drunk off my hump.
What u gon’ do with all that ass?
All that ass inside them jeans?
I’m a make, make, make, make you scream
Make u scream, make you scream.
Cos of my hump, my hump, my hump, my hump.
My hump, my hump, my hump, my lovely lady lumps.


Most of the time I can take it. I'm very open minded and like to stay abreast of pop culture. But when this came on I had to change the channel. Since when did a hump or lumps on someone's body become sexually attractive? I guess I missed that memo. And what exactly is inside her trunk. Nevermind. I don't think I want to know.

So on the station I turned to this was on by 50 Cent. (A dj said they were interviewing 50 Cent's half-brother...Quarter...I laughed. I think he was kidding but who knows.)

All a nigga really need is a lil bit
Not a lot baby girl just a lil bit
We can head to the crib in a lil bit
I can show ya how I live in a lil bit
I wanna unbutton your pants just a lil bit
Take 'em off and pull 'em down a lil bit
Get to kissin' and touchin' a lil bit
Get to lickin' and -- a lil bit

You'll notice the -- right above here. That designates where the F-word has been censored for radio broadcast. I think this is amusing as I guess it's okay pulling down her pants to kiss, touch and lick (just a lil bit). And one more thing. Shouldn't he pull the pants down BEFORE he takes them off? I guess you can't take pants off just a lil bit.

So anyway, while this song seems more tasteful than the first one (just a lil bit) I have to wonder how far it will all go. I will be the first to defend anyone's right to freedom of speech. I think we have to be very careful about censorship. But will the pendulum (ever) swing the other way?

Just one more for the road which I actually consider a classic (sorta) by Shaggy...

Honey came in and she caught me red-handed
Creeping with the girl next door
Picture this, we were both butt naked
Bangin' on the bathroom floor

How could I forget that I had
Given her an extra key
All this time she was standing there
She never took her eyes off me

How you can grant the woman access to your villa
Trespasser and a witness while you cling to your pillow
You better watch your back before she turn into a killer
Best for you and the situation not to call the beaner
To be a true player you have to know how to play
If she say you're not, convince her say a day
Never admit to a word when she say makes a claim
And you tell her baby no way

But she caught me on the counter (It wasn't me)
Saw me bangin' on the sofa (It wasn't me)
I even had her in the shower (It wasn't me)
She even caught me on camera (It wasn't me)

She saw the marks on my shoulder (It wasn't me)
Heard the words that I told her (It wasn't me)
Heard the scream get louder (It wasn't me)
She stayed until it was over