Carys Weldon Blog
Friday, June 30, 2006
Erotic body partsI am on a writer's list for a new publishing company--Mojocastle--where my favorite editor, Stef, is going to roost. On that email loop, a question was put out:
What part of the body do you NOT consider sexy, even on a hottie?
Now me, I think that every inch of the human body can be used to turn someone on--if used with forethought--but I am often turned off by feet and arm pits.
But, the feet, for example...kissing an inside arch--that is totally sexy to me for some reason. Toe sucking, while I'm not into it per se, has some erotic...flavor? if done right. And it is a proven fact that there are nerves around the ankle bones that, when massaged, can help the sex life. Yeah, that's right. You heard me. Massage around your ankles A LOT. See how different you feel about sex. Feel free to report back.
Arm pits...hm...it's definitely not sexy for them to be stinky or sweaty. And I don't love to have my nose turned into it by a guy (my husband)--but I like being snuggled up under his arm.
And I'm not really into hairy arm pits. But, I'm married to an Italian. Not a sleek and waxed cover model. When you live with the Marlboro man (not a smoker, but you know what I mean)--ya gotta get some rough edges. That's part of the appeal.
What do you think? What part of a hottie is unappealing to you?
The email loop reminded me--the mouth! Aagh! As sensuous as it is...
if it is unclean--how nasty is that?
Unbrushed teeth and tongues...morning breath...pew.
That's just gross. Don't you think?
Oh, hey. That just reminds me of my daughter's favorite joke. She says, "Let's play sensuous." Then she throws out, "Sensuous up, could you get me a drink?" (Substitute whatever you want. Remote? A sandwich. A massage.)
2 Comments:
I saw a funny deodorant commertial once. First it looked like a lower part of naked woman's body and then the camera rotates and it turns out to be a guy's armpit. Armpits are "Sexy" is a funny way I guess, or you can say it all depends on the "angle" of view.
By 
, at
5:33 PM
Ah! I saw that! It was a total skew on perspective, wasn't it?
I've seen similar things done on mold/bacteria...where they ask...what does this look like to you. I thought one looked like bananas. But, no. It wasn't.
(I know, eeewww.)
By 
CarysWeldonblog, at
9:32 AM
Thursday, June 29, 2006
Obsessive Compulsive DisorderI am an obsessive compulsive person. I used to be nuts over cleaning house. Like, I'd vacuum and then sit down on the floor and pick up little lint balls or whatever that my very good, expensive vac didn't get. I went through more vacs than I can count because I kept thinking I'd find one that would get those little tiny things.
I also used to clean the toilet, literally, every time I went in the bathroom. And bleach mopped every non-carpeted surface in the house 3-4 times a week. Yeah, that's a bit much, isn't it?
Well, I got over some of it. I redirected my ocd tendencies. Now, I sometimes sit at the computer from 6 a.m. to 2 or 3 a.m.--writing, researching, reading. Whatever. (Ignoring the piling up inside my house.)
I had a house cleaning relapse about two or three months ago. (sounds good, doesn't it? Biut no, it wasn't.) I thought--I'm gonna clean the kitchen properly. I spent all day on one cabinet door. ALL DAY. Q-tip cleaning it. Bleach washing it. So, the rest looked awful, but that one was spotless.
Of course, when my husband came in and said, "What did you do today?" Then looked around and saw...he warily asked, "Hon, are you all right?"
I winced and said, "I needed to clean something."
Now, a quick pickup across the board would have been much more reasonable. Even a pretty thorough cleaning--since I spent all day. But, no. I've got cobwebs in corners now. Dust on the ceiling fan. A/C filters that need cleaned. Books stacked up that need shelved or boxed or something. Lots of things that would have made the whole house better in short order. Heck, I could have cleaned the kitchen counter where the mail/magazines pile up. But, no.
He took me out of the house. Got me away from that scary cabinet door.
Okay, so knowing that history of me...
We were talking about this whole ocd thing. My husband doesn't get it. He says, "Don't tell me you're obsessive compulsive. If you were, you'd do it on all things." Then, he asked, "You don't hear of people obsessive compulsive about, say, giving their husbands favors."
I tipped my head, squinted and asked, "Uh. You don't get it, do you?"
He said, "Yeah, I do."
"You can't pick the area you obsess over. It just happens."
"If you can redirect to ocd with that computer, you could redirect to ocd about me."
"I am obsessed with you. Don't you read my blog?!?"
His turn to tip his head and squint at me. He is my biggest lurking fan. He censures me if I don't put enough about sex on here--says I'll bore you all with my mundane conversations, or if I get too serious, like when I mentioned abuse. Says no one wants to be depressed by a blog. And, I guess he's right. But I like to talk about issues that are real.
Anyhow...I said:
"And didn't you notice that I cop more feels off of you than any, no--ALL--the women we know put together do to their husbands/men? You are touched a million times more, buddy. I can't believe you didn't notice."
"You could touch more."
So, of course, I squint at him again. No comment...for several seconds. Then, I said, "I'm gonna touch you. And next time, you'll know know it. I think I touch you so soft and so often that you've stopped registering it."
Yeah. I was thinking about knocking him in the head.
But then my mind went to...the grocery store yesterday. He steps up behind me and I automatically reach back, cop a feel. Check the package. Not that I have to. He rubs against me, reaches past me. Asks, "Do we need something here?"
I tip my head, staring at the pickles. Or whatever. "Nope. I think I'm covered." Then, the wicked woman in me says, "But I think I need to go to the produce section."
"For what?" He backs up, thinking the momental tease is over.
I spin, walk away and flip over my shoulder, "I need a cucumber and maybe some bananas."
Conversationally, he steps in beside me. He asks, "What ya gonna do with them?"
I just laugh.
I don't do weird things with fruit or vegetables, but for some reason any mention of those makes him think...well, you know.
Now, I'm gonna go eat a banana and tease him.
(Silly, huh?)
You! Go get a banana. Eat it in front of the man you like, or have--whatever. Or a stranger on the street. Make love to your banana with your lips. Pause a lot. Give the guy some up and down glances.
Get yourself some attention. He'll be thinking you're sexy and ya don't have to do anything but build your potassium level.
We should become the banana club. Eat them everywhere. Women will think we're health nuts, or trying to get healthy. But we'll know we're doing an experiment on men...how easy it is to turn them on.
Now, I have a banana to peel. Talk at ya later.
(Yes, I consider it foreplay.)
3 Comments:
just got back from the store with a bunch of really big bananas . . . oops really big bunch of bananas.
By , at
11:52 PM
I have to say it. You're right. He's wrong. You honestly cannot select what you OCD over.
This courtesy of a psychiatrist who works with us from time to time (and admits to her own OCD-ness.)
Thanks for backing me up on that, Jen.
By CarysWeldonblog, at
9:33 AM
Yesterday morning, I posted that I was thinking about pouncing my husband. Didn't happen...exactly as I'd been considering.
He got up, and dressed, and kissed me good morning. Then he read my blog post and asked, "Should I go back to bed?"
By then, I'd lost track of that and moved onto other projects. Ya know? Things like that flit through my brain, but if I don't act on them, they go away.
Anyhow, he disappeared down the hall a few minutes later. Took me MINUTES to process what he'd said and where he'd gone. I took time to debate if I wanted to go and get undressed again. You know how that is, once I'm dressed for the day...I like to stay dressed.
But, he's gone a lot and ya can't ever catch up on sex ya missed. Once ya miss it, it's gone. You can get other sex, but...well, I went through this yesterday, didn't I?
So, the LONG and SHORT of it (pun intended) is that I went to see what was up. Only, it wasn't as I suspected. He wasn't naked, splayed out on the bed, hoping for attention. Nope. He was fully dressed under the blankets. The minute I appeared, he asked, "What were you trying to do out there? Freeze me out?"
His chair (recliner of course) is right in front of the a/c. I didn't adjust it when I got up. But, when he came out, I had been thinking about getting a sweater or turning it down. I always hate to turn it lower, because if it's a little cooler in the morning, that means the afternoon heat won't be as bad to keep under control.
Anyhow, I had to laugh at him. I said, "Freeze YOU out. You're the one who left the a/c at that level. I need a sweater." I looked around for one.
He grinned and lifted the blanket. "What you need is to climb in here and cuddle."
Like a good wife, I took his advice. I think I was under the cover about two seconds before he said, "If you came looking for something else, I can get naked in a heartbeat."
I laughed again. "I bet you can." I snuggled up, not encouraging him with more words. But damn, if my hands don't rove every time I get near him.
I think it was really about three heartbeats before he said, "Hold up. This will be better with my pants off."
Yeah. I laughed again. The snuggling changed quickly to him trying to get the jeans off while still under the cover. I suggested, "We could turn the a/c in here off, and you could get rid of the blanket--"
"Already off, hon." He kicked his feet, freeing them from the pants.
Propped up on an elbow beside him, I looked down at his face. He was smiling, of course. I pursed my lips. What next, I wanted to say. But you and I both know what he was hoping for.
Hold on. What are you thinking? I figured...whatever he wanted...if he was on his back, it meant I was supposed to do the work...whatever it was.
But I'm game...just about 24/7. All I had to do was decide what I wanted. I mean, he may be on his back NOW, but there are ways to...well, you know.
So, I let my hands wander under the covers while I considered my options. I'll spare you the details on that.
Then, I got a brain stutter. If it had been afternoon, we could call it afternoon delight. But what do you call nookie before noon?
And who came up with the term nookie?
Yes, I think too much--and often at the wrong time. I asked, "What would you call it in the morning?"
He said, "A great way to start the day." And he accented that with some eyebrow lifting and a, "So, you gonna climb on, or what?"
You gotta love the man. He makes me laugh.
5 Comments:
You know, I think my husband would kill me for posting something like this! Sweet, nonetheless.
I recently read in a book (Even Vampires Get the Blues)about a ghost jumping the heroine because of six hundred years of nooky-less existence. LOL!
By Rinda Elliott, at
10:55 AM
Was that book good?
And, uh, do you readers think I should refrain from posting tmi?
LOL You know, when I got done writing it, I thought, man, I cleaned up the story/event quite a bit. It's almost a respectable tale.
By CarysWeldonblog, at
2:28 PM
Hell no! You should post whatever you want to. I'm just teasing. My husband is not that... uh... open about stuff. We have a wonderful, intimate relationship, too. (Check my blog post a couple of days back for pics (g) )
It sounds like you guys have a wonderful relationship, too. That should be celebrated.
By Rinda Elliott, at
3:38 PM
Some days it's wonderful. ;)
Some days I'm just wondering why we do it.
Or why we do it like that.
(Yeah, go ahead, take it either way. Puns are so fun, aren't they?)
By CarysWeldonblog, at
9:35 AM
Oh, another thought on TMI posts...
I go to a lot of blogs and am just plain bored. Sex talk never bores me, and since that's what I write, I figured that my blog readers would be cool with intimate topics.
I can start a tame blog under another name and keep it clean. But clean is so over-rated. Isn't it? Honestly, would any of you tune in to that?
LOL I just realized...if you say no...it means you only like me for my sex.
(Yeah, I know. I'm messed up.)
By CarysWeldonblog, at
9:41 AM
Wednesday, June 28, 2006
Good morning!G'mornin' everybody. Top of it, to ya.
I can't sleep. I wanted to sleep in. But couldn't. Ever have one of those days?
I think it's because my husband planted his big ass in the middle of the bed like he owned the whole damn thing. (Okay, he DOES.) And okay, he has a tight little ass, but you know what i mean. His butt was there.
He's like a rock in his sleep. I tossed and turned around him, thinking about waking him up. You know, to get him to move. Maybe to have sex. But the nicer woman inside me wanted to let the man sleep. But here I am, even an hour out of bed, and thinking about going back to pounce him.
Which brings me to the question...am I the only woman on the planet that thinks about sex...a lot? Wanting more?
It doesn't matter how much I get. I'm greedy. I think it's all HIS fault. He's told me (many a time) that you can't ever catch up on sex you miss. Like, when the day is over, if you didn't get it, you lost the opportunity. (Yeah, that's how he coaxes me sometimes.) And he's right, ya know.
You can have sex fourteen times in one day. (Okay, if you're She-ra or Debbie in Dallas, maybe--or, wait, one of my werewolves. ;) ) But, the day before that, when you didn't get any, is still a day you remember back to wanting it most, and not getting it.
That in mind, I'll give you another taste of John Cherry Pimp, the rock star vampire in my Jule novella. Here goes:
“I…I’m not staying.” Jule felt obligated to say that. She needed to gather her shit and get.
That’s how auditions worked. Those who stayed appeared like groupies and they never got the jobs.
“I want to talk.”
“I’m not sleeping with you. I’m looking for work and my body isn’t part of the deal.” There. She’d said it. How many times had she put that line on the table? And been sent packing?
But then again, it had bought her a few gigs. Honesty was the one thing Jule treasured above all else.
He seemed amused. His lips did some kind of smirky thing. He let the silence between them stretch until she was uncomfortable and then he leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs. With a direct stare, he said, “Jule, I said I wanted to talk, not fuck.”
She felt stupid. And she felt like walking out. But she found herself removing her coat. Something to do. She cleared her throat. She almost flipped “Well, you know what’s on my mind” out at him, but she refrained. Instead, she folded her coat, set it aside and faced him with, “So, John Cherry Pimp, talk. I’m listening.”
She’d listen until the sun came up if it got her the job. Jule tipped her head sideways and waited with her eyebrows up.
But his gaze, and amusement at her expense, had her readjusting pretty quick, and straightening her back and folding her arms over her chest. Over her Rob Zombie, I’ve seen better days, t-shirt. His attention went from her face to key in on that. He asked, “You like Rob?”
“He’s okay.”
Jumping right to it, he asked, “You like me?”
“That’s not fair.”
“Why is that?”
Jule countered with, “Don’t judge me by my t-shirt.”
“Why not?”
“I got this in a charity bin, thank you very much.” She pursed her lips and groused, “Yours don’t turn up in those much.”
“Not worth paying full dollar for, though. Eh?”
She looked at his shirt. “You don’t even wear your own shirts.”
“This is mine.”
“I bet you don’t even own a John Cherry Pimp shirt.” The taunt came out without thinking and Jule realized that her tongue was running in front of her brain. Just going back and forth without a single thought to consequence.
He laughed out loud and leaned back. “You’d be wrong. I happen to have a nice one, with all the old band on it.”
“John’s hoes.” She didn’t know why she said it, especially since she was hoping to be one of them. Wasn’t she?
“You say that as if it’s a bad thing.”
She shrugged. “Maybe it is.”
“It’s better than being a zombie lover.”
Jule refused to defend her damn shirt again. In fact, she uncrossed her arms, and leaned back a little, propping herself up with her hands. “I guess that’s a matter of opinion.”
“You have a tongue on you.”
“The better to sing you to sleep.”
He looked at her mouth. She lifted her chin and pursed her lips, doing her best to swallow normally.
“Your lullaby was horrible.”
That cut to the bone. She flinched, but resisted the urge to fold her arms again, or to put on her coat and run. She said, “I didn’t see you singing anything sweeter.”
“I wasn’t singing tonight.”
It was her turn to lean forward. She asked him, “What are we doing here? Foreplay?”
“Depends.”
“On what?”
“On what you consider great sex.”
She blinked. “You want me to talk dirty to you?” She sat up straight again.
He considered that, and her for some time. And she returned the perusal. What was it about him that had her tense, but wanting? That had her bitchy and begging, all at the same time?
He countered, finally, with a soft, very quiet, “Do you want to talk dirty to me?”
Her moment of truth. The answer, of course, was yes. Without a doubt. Could she be that honest? Up to that point, it had all been banter.
She asked, “You want me to lie to you?”
“Lie to me or lie with me. Your choice.”
Ah. So, he’d read her right. He knew the answer. But could she voice it?
Jule ran a hand through her hair. “Is that how you hire all your band members? Have you already been with a drummer and a keyboard player tonight?”
Her mind leaped to the transvestite. She glanced toward the door.
John laughed.
***
So, ya think you'd like to read more on this?
3 Comments:
Quick and snappy, I like that! Yes, please post more?
LM
By , at
8:47 AM
Can't wait to read more. I like the vamp rock star idea.
Some movie had a vamp that was a musician through time. Classical pianist in the 16th century, rock star in the 20th. I can't remember which movie.
Where did you come up with John's name, the Cherry Pimp part?
By , at
12:25 AM
oh yeah, in response to the first part, no you're not the only woman that thinks about sex all the time. I've been known to wake a fellow up out of a very sound sleep to fulfill my greed self-centered needs. They never seem to mind.
By , at
12:28 AM
Tuesday, June 27, 2006
Candle WinnerHey...I had a contest going over the last month or two. Some candle set. Remember?
If saphireonyx@yahoo.com emails me with her delivery address--and real name, I'll send her the candles. carys@carysweldon.com
I'll post a new contest beginning July. Any suggestions? Would you like to try some trivia from my books? Maybe a questionaire on my werewolf series? Or something? You tell me. What do you think you'd like to try and win, and how do you want to win it.
And be reasonable. I'm not a rich woman. Oh. Hey. I could toss out a copy of an as yet unreleased werewolf title...or something else. What do you want?
THE WINNER OF THE CANDLE SET IS DAWN WARREN, from El Paso, Texas.
1 Comments:
I'll take a copy of an unreleased werewolf title, autographed of course.
So glad you're back.
By , at
12:11 AM
Did anybody miss me? Or was I gone so long that you forgot about me?
Sorry it took me so long to get back, and that I was unable to hook up while on my trip. Seems that I have some underwired relatives. I stayed with my brother for a while. He's got the internet but doesn't allow anyone to use his "business" computer. (Least of all smut writers, for their business, I guess.) Oh, well. And I stay at a variety of motels. Some very cheap. Like Motel 6--I frequently fly there. And they have no real access.
Carys recommends hotels across America:
One motel worth staying in--in Oklahoma--is Lodge USA. It's over in Guymon. (Yes, if you look for it on the map, you'll see that I take very scenic routes.) The price was good. The room was very clean, and the owner, Chris, was a sweetheart--very accommodating. She didn't know that she had an erotic writer staying there. ;) Think I should have mentioned it? Anyhow, of all the motels/hotels I stayed in, I highly recommend that one. I also recommend Spring Hill Suites (Mariott/Boise, ID) and Casablanca (Mesquite, Nv.)
So, I'm back. I have one happily married daughter. (So far, anyway.) The guy seems perfect for her, loves her to death. So, I'm a happy mom.
My husband is home, but leaving again on July 5th. So, at least for another week, I won't whine about missing him, or sex, or whatever. Aren't you glad to hear that?
Carys apologizes:
I am behind on getting pictures posted from RT. It isn't my web people's fault. It's mine. Can't remember what I did with the disc of pictures. Will post asap. I DID get a few pics of cover models...hugging my youngest daughter...while she tried not to be horrified that EROTIC COVER MODELS were touching her. Snooty little virgin princess. She doesn't know how many women envied her those squeezes!
Carys kisses up--with a tiny excerpt from Jule, a vampire story not yet under contract:
Dropping his nose to her neck, John whispered, “You were lucky.”
Did he lick her?
It was that moment that Jule really understood the hype behind John Cherry Pimp’s following. A cult, they said in the papers.
Oh, God, yes. He licked her again.
Normally, Jule would have been outraged at the liberty taking. But she was powerless against John. She had no desire to fight him off. No will to make him stop. And, God help her, if he’d wanted to rape her right there, in front of everybody, she’d have been willing…because his touch was lovemaking, tender, and arousing. And she had gone way too long without that sort of physical handling.His nose tickled over the flesh below her ear, and he whispered, “I can’t wait to..."
Yeah, I'm wicked. Wicked cool. Tomorrow, I'll give ya another taste of...John Cherry Pimp. The rocker that's got Jule's world spinning faster than 69. (I was gonna say a 45, but then I thought...that dates me.) LOL
2 Comments:
So glad to see you're back!! And that tiny excerpt wasn't nearly enough!
I've got to rein myself in. I could keep going on and on and on. But I still have half an hour of work I've got to do. Then, hopefully, shopping.
Thanks, Jen!
*hugs* for the welcome back.
And to Vickey and Becky, who sent me emails to the same effect. Glad I was missed.
You know, sometimes ya just need to hear it.
By CarysWeldonblog, at
6:12 AM
Monday, June 12, 2006
On the road againLeaving the house now for Boise. Three days cooped up with three of my kids--two easy going and one instigator. I'm thinking of composing surreal short murder stories while I go. I'll have them scribe for me. And all will involve creepy little motels--like the ones we'll stay in at the edge of lonesome, freaky towns--and horrific adventures for teens, you know, insane janitors that hack the air with brooms and mops, and ice machines that come alive and suck you in. Oh yeah, and a candy bar machine that eats you for lunch. Gotta throw that one in for my son. Anyhow, gotta go. I'll let ya know how it goes.
3 Comments:
I hated travelling with older kids. Good Luck!
Wish you and Becky could have stopped by the house on your way home from Amarillo. Missed you.
later
By , at
1:15 AM
Never fear! I will be heading west again at the end of July. Maybe I can swing in then? You never know.
By CarysWeldonblog, at
10:43 AM
Sunday, June 11, 2006
Just in from AmarilloJust got in from Amarillo. Leaving for Boise and that wedding in the a.m.--
I finaled in four categories at Frontiers in Writing, and took home a second place check in the poetry division. So, that was good.
More important, Hilary Sares, a totally cool editor from Kensington, said she'd take a look at some of my stuff. So, wish me luck on that. Wouldn't it be awesome to see my werewolves and vampires and other sexy characters in the big stores?
Just as cool, my friend Becky Cline was asked to send some of her stuff, too. Wish Beck luck? The idea of going to a big house publishing company at the same time as a friend seems like the best of it, don't you agree?
Of course, having an editor look at your work doesn't make any guarantees. She may not care for the type of things I write. (But I think she will, she was kewl--you know, quick thinker, fun to listen and talk to--a good speaker, too.)
Now, if I can just figure out how to get the printer to work. Am I the only one that has ongoing problems with finicky printers? I keep buying new ones, and they keep flunking out on me. I am cursed!
I got to see a drunk take a run or two or three at a flag colored horse statue, and fall on his butt, roll backward head over heels and land on his feet. As he and his cohorts came in, one of his buddies said seriously to the other, "I knew he couldn't do it." Mount the horse. Yeah. That's the sort of entertainment that filled my weekend.
We had some classy moments but who wants to talk about that? That stuff is boring.
In FUN news, Jay Lake, a science fiction writer from Portland was there. And he rode in my car--just gave him a ride home from the steak house we all went to--but before he said adieu to Becky and me, he was on his knees, bowing to her (no lie!) and kissing her feet. (I swear to God.) If the pics come out, I'll get them posted.
(Yeah. Right after those RT pics get up in the family album.) We're looking at the end of the month for that--after I get back from my next trip and get the things into the photo shop.
Now, in last news of the night, my 14 year old son is racing our riding lawn mower around our ten acres--at the highest speed the thing can go. Oh, yeah, it's nine o'clock at night and it IS dark here. But he's having a great time. Stops on occasion to ask me if I want to come out and watch. LOL Not like I can't see the headlight zipping back and forth outside the window. Is that too funny? He guesstimates the speed of it to be 25 mph. I think that's a bit high, but I hate to disillusion him, he's having so much fun.
So, on that note, I'm gonna smile my way to bed--with my phone in hand, hoping my husband--long lost and incommunicado--will call me. I'm having withdrawals. Not only did I have to watch others being friendly this weekend, but I didn't even get my phone (uh, hm) fix from my lover.
Okay, clarification...you know I'm a voyeur but I did not actually watch anybody doing anything nasty, dammit. ;)
Love you all,
Carys
0 Comments:
Thursday, June 08, 2006
Amarillo by morningI'm leaving this morning to go to Amarillo. Gotta be there by tomorrow a.m.
I'm hoping to meet Hilary Sares. She's an editor for Kensington. I spoke to her briefly at RT and she gave me her card. I made an appointment. Now, I'm wondering what to pitch her. I have a ton of projects in the works, and a couple vampire novellas done--and one vampire novel complete at the moment.
I also have a contemporary series in the works which I think you might like. It's a confession series...
Well, I don't have time to go into it right now. Suffice it to say that there are cover models (male and female) involved. One heroine that I love is named Bren (Brenda, actually)--she is big and beautiful and--I said I wasn't going to take time to go into that, didn't I?
Oh, well. What's another five minutes when I'm chatting with my friends, right?
Jonas is a wealthy playboy who is also a world class high fashion photographer. When Bren gets a contract/invitation to go to his mansion for photo shoot, she never suspects that he's got ulterior motives. The man is tired of anorexic women and proclaims, straight up (yeah, pun intended) that he has a fascination for Botticelli models...
I'm assuming you guys know who Botticelli is. Renaissance painter, always used real women to feature in his work. Women with a little substance on their hips. Anyhow, google him and his art.
Then there's the other story in the series--where Derek the cover model confesses all the way through his self-denial of being in love with a sexy, sassy hispanic chick named Mia. Friends with benefits takes on a new twist when the cover models get south of the border for a steamy photo shoot. Glance at THE ROCK's picture and say, "Oh, hi there. That's what Derek looks like, eh?"
You may have guessed it by now. It's confessions of cover models, Carys Weldon style. I hope you'll look forward to seeing that in print.
Anyhow, gotta hit the road. Already a half hour later than my plan to get out of town. Sigh. Am I the only one that is ALWAYS a day late and a dollar short?
In this case, I'm books short. I have, get this, FOUR books in my possession. I usually have 10-20. I guess it's good. That means I've sold the rest and I don't have to lug a big old box in to the next thing I go to.
Hopefully, I'll be able to blog while I'm there. You'd think a hotel called the Ambassador would have a pc available for customers to use. Wouldn't you?
4 Comments:
How many conferences do you go to? (I'm just curious. It seems like you're always on the go.)
Heavens NO you're not the only one who's always a day late and a dollar short. That's the story of my life. I do feel good about finally getting the next website review article done and sent to the OWFI Report. :)
The confessions series sounds intriguing.
I know in your driving to Amarillo you won't go near McAlester, but wave when you see the sign. lol.
I waved! Did you feel the breeze?
This year, I signed up for too many things, I think. Six or seven weeks of conferences in a row. After I get back from the wedding, I'm gonna collapse into my computer chair, try and blog daily, and write some heck-yeah novels.
By CarysWeldonblog, at
8:37 PM
Wow! Six or seven weeks. And I have a measly 2 conferences total. That I am looking to add at least one to.
I think I need to hang out with people more. I'm too sedate.
Erm....
I should know better than to post anything when I'm not fully awake. I don't mean the conferences are measly. Just the amount of them.
Wednesday, June 07, 2006
SnapdragonsI could never find the words to describe it...
1 Comments:
BTW, I did go back and comment on Hood. (g)
By Rinda Elliott, at
9:24 AM
So, I went to this place yesterday that has writing on the window that says "progressive salon." Should I have been worried?
No. At least, not about how my hair would turn out. It's great. Striped, streaked, whatever, in natural shades. Looks really good, even if I do say so myself. I'm not generally narcissistic but I've spent a lot of time looking in the mirror since I got it done. It's really different...in a good way. So, that went well.
It did cost a ton, though. A whole lot more than my usual cheap hair dye and home job.
The woman was wonderful. Sweet. Religious music played in the background. The ambiance of the salon was restful and elegant.
And while she had the hair dryer to my hair, Carys Weldon said, "Blow jobs take forever, sometimes, don't they? I gotta really be in the mood to do it."
Her hand stilled. Her eyes went wider. I'm sure mine did, too.
I kept a straight face, realizing immediately how out of place the term "blow job" was there--and just what a double intendre that was.
But, with a totally straight face, she pushed out a "Yeah."
We were silent for several minutes and I know we were both repeating that in our minds.
Am I too wicked or what?
In fairness to ME, my hair is impossibly long. It takes hours and hours to dry on its own, and a half hour or forty-five minutes to dry with a hair dryer.
So, forgive me please. I knew not what I said until it came out of my lips.
(Yeah, pun intended. I AM wicked.)
3 Comments:
Oh. Oh. Ahahahahahahahahahahh!!!!
OMG, this is freaking hilarious. I knew there was a reason I liked you so much.
ROFLMAO!!!!!
By Rinda Elliott, at
9:23 AM
That is hilarious! I'd like to have been a fly on the wall for that one.
That's me and my tongue in action.
Some folks just blurt out what comes to mind, and since my mind is on a wicked keel half the time--I'm always in a mess.
The funny thing is...how many people can't get puns/double intendre.
LOTS, let me tell ya!
By CarysWeldonblog, at
6:07 AM
Tuesday, June 06, 2006
Amarillo, here I come!(No pun intended on that title up there. Celibate until next week, you know.)
This weekend, I'll be in Amarillo at the Frontiers in Writing Conference at the Ambassador Hotel. Sliding in there Friday night. Taking my good friend Becky Cline, who is an up and coming aspiring writer, and lots of fun. She's a little man magnet, let me tell ya. She even draws men with oxygen tanks--if that isn't the funniest thing you ever heard. She called a guy an asshole once, and he thought it was foreplay--still won't leave her alone. (Some men!)
So, I know the company will good. Why don't ya come on down? (no pun intended there either!) Unless, of course, you're...no...never mind.
Why do you suppose that sometimes our minds work toward the gutter more than others? Think it has to do with...sleeping too long on one side, which caused blood to seep from one side of the brain and pool in the other? Or what? (That's my theory.)
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Today I am going to get a fix up.
I mean, I'm going to the dentist this a.m. to have a crown put on one of my teeth, and then later I'm going to go get a dye job on my hair. It is the dye job that's making me nervous.
I dye my hair all the time...myself, in the privacy of my own bathroom. It's usually a one color job, nothing fancy. But, since my daughter's wedding is coming up, I want to make sure there are no weird streaks or anything. So, I'm doing the ultimate no-no---which is changing hair color before a big event. I'm thinking to do some highlights...or something.
The fact that I'm not sure what I should do and the appointment is at noon today--is what is making me nervous. What do you think...is it safe to go in and say, "Have your way with me?"
Or should I cancel the appointment and save my money? Because you know if it's bad, I'll have to have it redone in the next ten days. Should I be brave and daring?
I really want to have it dyed blonde with a horizontal one inch ring of electric blue around the bottom edge--but I know that won't match the wedding colors. I had a friend who did that once, and I really liked it. Of course, she also had a one inch ring of electric pink, too.
Hm. What to do? What to do?
3 Comments:
I'd keep the appointment, but I wouldn't say "Have your way with me." Well... Unless it was a male hairdresser who was straight and hot! :)
Do the electric blue thing for the conference in Eureka Springs in October. I'd love to see it. :)
(Speaking of ES, I don't think I can wait 'til October to go back there. I might have to take a mini-vacation there between now & then.)
"Have your way with me" just sounded fun to say.
I guess we'll see how crazy I'm feeling come October.
Let me know when you're going to Eureka Springs, Jen, maybe I'll catch up with ya there. I'm thinking of doing a story on Dairy Hollow, the writer's colony there. I could schedule that for a time when you're hanging out and we could do lunch or something.
By CarysWeldonblog, at
8:04 AM
That would be fantabulous! Right now, it's looking like maybe the middle of July. I'll be sure to let you know for certain. Is your e-mail address still the same? (I'm assuming yes, but thought I'd double-check.)
Monday, June 05, 2006
Sex dreams and bad thingsSo, stop here if you don't like tmi posts.
I had this great sexy dream about my husband...who you know is in Alaska. I met him at the airport, and we had one of those movie kisses...long, savoring, embrace...the kind that makes women swoon just watching. The type where the hero puts his arms around the girl in a possessive grasp and she melts in a backward arch?
(Doesn't happen often in real life because he hates airports and just wants to get the hell out after traveling through them for two days. And who can blame him?)
Anyhow, we went to a motel--a close one--and entered the door with those kind of kisses that are desperate to keep the lips locked, and the physical contact--as we're undressing each other literally before the door is shut.
Before long, I'm on top, we're naked--and the whole desperate to get it done thing is still in the air. He rolls me, smiles down at me, says something to make me laugh, and makes love to me in a romantic, sweet and sexy but deep and exhilarating way.
Yeah, that's all good...for a fantasy dream.
Anyhow, the dream warped and the next thing I know we're in a truck driving and I find that he's got a book he's keeping, a list of my faults. (Yeah, yeah, I'm a woman, and paranoid. Who didn't know that?)
I'm absolutely flabbergasted at the marks he's got down. How many times I said or did something he didn't like, or didn't agree with. Just dots on the page--his shorthand--(not in real life, just in the dream.) So, I ask, "What is all this?"
And after all that sweet motel sex--which you know is always the best kind--he turns to me and says, "I can't stand you. I've got a list of reasons why, too."
Okay, so yeah. All the things I think are wrong with me came out in that nightmare. Because by now it IS a nightmare. My heart stops beating. I can't swallow.
But my warped little psyche turned on itself and said, "Yeah? Well this is why I do these things."
So, of course, the nightmare went from bad to worse. I woke up mad at him for being mean to me. (You know, the poor innocent guy in Alaska.)
Which is actually funny because...
Once, he woke up and was cranky all day long. I finally turned to him and asked, "What is your problem?!?"
He said, "Well, I'm mad because you went off with a biker dude."
Of course, I blinked. "What biker dude?"
"Blond guy with a ponytail. If you're gonna leave me, for God's sake don't do it for a hippy."
(He's a redneck, remember.)
Picture me with my lips pursed and eyes narrowed trying to figure out what the hell he's talking about, then saying succinctly, "I never went anywhere with a biker dude, ever, except my dad, and he never had a blond ponytail. I swear it."
He said, "Oh, yes you did. And you were making no secret of the relationship, either."
"No secret of what relationship?"
"You told me that you did all sorts of things for him--before you rode off."
(Paraphrasing the convo of course.)
For ages, he'd get a look on his face--calculating if I'd do that some day, I think. And I just laughed at him. I mean, I like men. Most men, except the putzes and weasels. And they make me laugh. But I don't look around for bed partners. I do my best not to think of cheating. I made vows. I try to behave (on some levels anyway.)
I think you can fix relationship problems with good communication skills, if both parties are willing to give a little. And I think that once ya cheat, it's easy to rationalize it again--which is why most cheaters do it more than once. But I'm no expert. What do you think?
As my dream played out, I found out that my husband had cheated on me. Get this, with a blonde woman with a ponytail that was a lot rougher than I am. (Equivalent to a biker dude's bitch?) She bragged to me about how he took care of her, did sexy things for her.
And, for measure here, just picture yourself standing in front of the woman who stole your man--the narrow tunnel of vision, and echoing in your hearing that comes when you cannot believe what is coming out of someone's mouth. And the feeling of devastation squeezing your heart.
Funny how our greatest desires and worst fears play on our unconscious minds sometimes, isn't it?
So, I woke up sad that my husband would even think of cheating on me...even though all those reasons to leave me that I'd come up with are still floating in my head. You know, I'm not skinny. My breasts aren't perky and round like headlights. (Were they ever?) He says yes. I can't remember.
Anyhow, I'm melancholy sad, wondering how he'll see me when he steps off the plane next week. I'm always just...relieved to finally set eyes on him again.
But...man, I wish I had the money for a full body sculpting, major liposuction--and a boatload full of pain pills to cover the recovery (and the year after--just for fun!)
Then part of me gets sadder...why can't we just get happy with who we are? I admire women who love their bodies.
I had a friend once that used to cry because she was so thin and bony. She just wanted to grow up to be a woman with curves, and a grandma with a bosom that invited hugs. She ALMOST had my sympathy--but, lol, she finished her sad cries with, "Like you're gonna be!"
It slapped me in the face. Even though it was what you call one of those backhanded compliments. Funny how perception of things gets skewed by where we're coming from, isn't it?
If I had one wish in the world for women everywhere, it would be that "who they are, and how they are, the things they can't change--would not stop them from feeling good about themselves and showing the person inside their body...the spirt that makes them unique."
Let's love each other unconditionally, support each other whole heartedly, forgive uncalculatedly.
Let's have our spirits climb through the body to express the sensual being within without inhibition, and let's feel good about doing it. Women are sensual beings but how often do we let our inner vixens out? Not often enough, I think.
Anyhow, that's how I started my day. How about you?
1 Comments:
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By , at
6:08 AM
Sunday, June 04, 2006
Five awards in RocktownI won five writing awards in Rock town this weekend, and three paid money, so that was very cool for me.
But I'd like to point my fat little finger at a couple of my friends who showed up...one posts here...Vickey got THE BIG CASH AWARD of the whole weekend conference dealy bob, and I gotta cheer for her! YAY! It was sosososo cool.
And our other friend, Dion, won the on-the-spot poetry competition--which paid, too!
Anyhow, it's great to cheer for friends who do something awesome, isn't it? If your friends won't cheer for you, who will?
2 Comments:
Congrats to all three of you!
Yay!! That's so great for all of you! :)
Thursday, June 01, 2006
Little Rock, here I come!I'm heading out to Little Rock today for a conference at the Holiday Inn Select at 201 S. Shackleford Rd.--wherever that is! Mapquest is my friend.
Vickey dropped me an email and said she's going to show up, so that's way kewl to me. I hope I see some more of ya!
1 Comments:
I wish! There's no possible way this year, though.
Two more writers pulled contracts at Extasy yesterday, and another is requesting--that I can confirm.
I spoke to Tina Haveman, one of the owners of Extasy, yesteryday for a long time. She feels certain that things will even out, monies will be paid, and all will be right with the world.
The other owner, Diana, is the one to approach if you're wanting out of an Extasy contract.
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