Left or Right?

Left Brain = Rationality
Right Brain = Creativity


My Brain = Dead Center

Which means in the gutter,  probably outside a bar.

~xxx~

Bad Food

Tales of the Geek Stable - Character Bio - Dub

I've got a cock-blocking sheriff, a self-depreciating boa, and a dyslexic spider monkey with ADD all beating against the glass in my head, wanting to be let out. My poor geeks haven't been able to get a word in edgewise, so I don't have an installment today. So, here's a character bio.

Name: William Weston Wheeler "Dub"
Specialty: Windows, Web
Stats: Early 20s, 5'11", Blue eyes, Black hair
Body: Very lean, smooth swimmers' build, very cut
Info: Slutty reputation, comes from money, but resents his parent's posing

~xxx~

Aaaah! A Breakthrough

I've had a story brewing for a couple of weeks. It was easy going for a while, but then, Bam! Cock-blocked. One of my characters just refused to go along with the program. He just didn't want to play in that way. He was fine flirting, and bantering, but then he just kept fighting with the other character. But, don't worry. He got a happy ending. And I got my ending.

In other news, I received and approved the galley proof for Cowboys and IT-ians, which will be published in the Riding Double anthology from Dreamspinner on 18 February 2011. It's showing up on Goodreads and everything. That means it's real, right? I'm not dreaming?

If I am, he's a good dream. And the guy's pretty hot, too.

~xxx~

Weigh in Wednesday #4

I'm sitting at my desk eating a brownie. 'Nuff said.

~xxx~

Perceptions

So, I watched a furry video last night.

I'll be honest - my initial reaction was "What. In the fuck. Am I seeing?" I took in the costumes, and the mannerisms, and I cocked an eyebrow at how weird it was.

But, as I watched it, I couldn't help but admire the workmanship of the costumes. And the dedication to the roles they were playing. Then I really watched what was happening. How the two men interacted with each other. The passion they shared. The love they had for each other. The connection. It got me thinking. Evaluating myself. And while I don't think it would be a full-time lifestyle choice for me, I can see the appeal of at least trying it, and I can appreciate that this choice is right for them. They engaged my biggest sex organ - my brain.

So, I watched a video last night of two men finding a shared appreciation of something and expressing a passion to each other that I was lucky enough to witness.

And really, how sexy is that?

~xxx~

Tales of the Geek Stable, Part III

Dub stewed all the way to Mandy's office. He was so tired of this shit. The bright smile and wave he tossed the guys across the courtyard was completely fake. Just like most everything else about him. Roth had made it clear that all Dub was good for was releasing some tension during the work day. Couldn't even be bothered to go out for a drink.

He took the long way around the building to clear his head before knocking on Mandy's door.

"Dub, come on in. Can you close the door?" Mandy greeted him, pushing back from her desk a little, but not leaving her chair. She had pushed her skirt up past her knees, and her shoes were kicked off.

He suppressed a sigh and walked to the desk. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Mandy looked up at him through lowered lashes, pouting. “Why not, Dub?”

Dub shook his head. He really didn’t want to do this. Sure, Mandy was pretty, and he wasn’t against the idea of being with a woman – he’d been with plenty. Hell, he’d been with plenty of men, too. In almost any conceivable combination. But it was never enough.

“Do you still need your keyboard fixed?”  Dub steered the conversation back to the reason he was there.

“Yes,” Mandy said with an exaggerated sigh. She stood up to trade places with Dub.

When he crawled under the desk to reattach the cable, he noticed she had removed the cabling from the tray he had installed to prevent the cord from getting caught. He closed his eyes and counted to ten, then re-ran the cabling. When he spun around crawl back out, she had sat back down, hitching her skirt up. He didn’t need runway lights to see the landing strip.

“Mandy, please.” He kept his distance, but she moved the desk chair forward. He put his hands on the arms to hold her away.

“Come on, Dub. Just this once?” She whispered, giving him her best sultry stare.

He shook his head. “No, Mandy. I can’t.”

“That’s not what I hear.”

“Well, you heard wrong.”

“I won’t tell anyone.” She tried to push forward again, but Dub held the chair still, his knuckles turning white with the effort to control his anger.

“Mandy, I’m going to leave now. Please do not pull the cable out again.” He pushed the chair back far enough to get out and left the office. He made it out the courtyard and took a seat on one of the benches away from the smokers. He took his cell phone out and dialed with shaky fingers.

“Frost.”

“Hey, Boss. It’s me.”

Xander glanced at the display on his desk phone, noticing the call came from an outside line. “Dub? What’s up? Are you on your cell?”

“Yeah. I need to talk to you. Got some time?”

“Sure. Let me close my door.”

“Wait. I’ll be right there.” He hung up and walked back into the building, wandering through the café, and around the cubes on his way back to the Stable. He needed to clear his mind before talking to the Iceman.

Xander just stared at the phone for a minute. Why would Dub need to call him from an outside line if he was still on site? He knew what Dub was going to bring up. Ogilvie stopped by to debrief him when the team returned from their break. Well, their coffee time – they always seemed to be on break, chatting and laughing at their desks while they worked on their projects. He hung up and had cleared off his desk when Dub came in and closed the door.

“What’s shaking, Dub?” Xander asked with a smirk.

Dub gave him a tired smile. “This keyboard thing is getting out of hand.”

“Ya think?”

“Yeah.”

Xander noticed the normally playful tone was gone from Dub’s voice, and he looked rattled. Very few things ever rattled Dub. “What happened?”

“Nothing, really. You may get a call from Mandy. Or from HR.”

“Dub?”

“Look. Nothing happened. She pulled her cord out of the track and unplugged it. When I fixed it, she kind of came on to me. I pushed her away. I never touched her.”

“Dub.” Xander shook his head. He knew Dub would be telling him the truth, but the problem with larger than life reputations was they were often the only thing people believed. If Mandy was going to file a compliant, the burden of proof would be on them to prove it was a lie.

“Seriously, Xander. I only touched the arms of her chair, and that was only to get her to stop wheeling into me.”

“I believe you.” Times like this are what made Xander hate being the boss. Sometimes he’d love to go back to be being a tape monkey, just to not have to deal with the people issues. He exhaled and looked at Dub. “We’ll figure something out, if it comes to that.”

“Thanks, boss.”

“Now, what do you want to do going forward? How do you want me to handle all the keyboard requests?”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you want me to come down hard on the users for unplugging them? You know most of them are doing it on purpose. I can tell them they’re on their own.”

“No, I don’t think we need go that far.” Dub thought about it for a moment. “I don’t think I can go out there for a while, though.”

Xander smiled and pulled a box off the top of his filing cabinet. “Let’s go.”

Dub furrowed his eyebrows together. “Where? What’s in the box.”

Xander just smiled and entered the Stable.

~xxx~

Where's the Fire(house)?

There is a small firehouse on my route to work. It's a tiny little station - only three bays, and one story. That really breaks my heart - no firepole to imagine the ripped, sweaty bodies sliding down. I pass it every day. It's been there forever, and it looks like city grew up around them. There's a new, shiny station up the road from them, but I love this little station.

And every day, I try to sneak a peek at the firemen. Some times they're washing the truck, sometimes they're switching shifts, or packing the truck, but most days I am deprived of the view. Of course, the next intersection is chock full o'stupid, so I can't ogle the firefighters too long, because, invariably, someone will decide to turn at the last minute, slam on their brakes, and generally tick me off.

But, there is an adult bookstore just after the corner of Stupid and JackAss, so the imagining is right back on. Maybe I've just been hanging out in Cattle Valley or St. Nachos for too long, but I get all kinds of inspiration every morning. Don't be surprised if temperatures start rising soon.

I guess that's why I'm rarely stressed when I get to work. Horny, but not necessarily stressed.

~xxx~

Just ask

You matter to me.

If you need help, please just ask.

It does get better.

~xxx~

Riding the Red Wind

Bobby Joe's been telling me his story. I think it's going to be an interesting one. He's been looking for love (in all the wrong places, of course).  He's discovered the internet, and he's been logging in and getting off. 

He's about to find out that not everyone is who they say the are on the wild, wild web.

Lucky for him, the sheriff is on the case.

~xxx~

The Process

 Writing the story was the easy part. 

Submitting it to a publisher was terrifying and nerve-wracking. Getting the selection letter was thrilling. Accepting the contract was gratifying. 

But the most stressful part of the process of getting my first story published happened this weekend. 

I had to write a blurb about my least favorite subject - myself. You would think it's easy to write a hundred words about yourself, but creating an author bio was tough. Especially for an introvert like me. 

I also got the edited version of it back. I've already reviewed (and reviewed it, and reviewed it, and reviewed, and did it again......) and returned it, so we're one step closer. It really wasn't that painful. Not as painful as I expected it to be, anyway. A few commas here and there, some formatting issues, but it didn't need as much revising as I was afraid it would.  Now, more waiting.

In the meantime, I give you my Connie.

~xxx~

And I'm Spent....

What a week.

I did it. I didn't think I could do it. I didn't think I would ever do it, but I did.

I've finished writing my first novel. I know, lots of people do it every day, but this is my day, so forgive me for being a little giddy about it. Some reviewing, some editing, some beta reading, and I'll be ready to jump off the ledge and submit it. Then the hand-wringing and teeth gnashing will begin in earnest.

This, on the heels of selling my first story, has made it a very special week for me. It's the realization of long-abandoned dreams. 

I almost feel like a grownup now. ;)

~xxx~

Tales of the Geek Stable, Part II (NSFW)

Ogilvie walked in the North entrance of the cafeteria and wandered around looking at the afternoon snacks. He considered grabbing an ice cream sandwich, but decided against it and went for his usual. Extra-large iced tea, extra crushed ice, and a cinnamon oatmeal cookie. After paying, he stood near the registered and watched the team sitting at their regular table. He chuckled and shook his head. They always sat at the same table, in the same positions around it. At least everyone knew where to find them if any issues came up.

Corny sat closest to the registers, his back to him. His arms were on the table and his hand was curled loosely around his coffee cup, fingers twitching and bouncing on the table. York sat to his right, watching people coming and going. Two bottles of Gatorade stood in front of him. Dub sat nearest the walkway, most accessible to everyone walking by, and Val sat next to him, chugging his Mountain Dew. Ogilvie joined them, taking his usual seat next to York.

"How's that thing working out for you?" he asked as Corny fingered the patch stuck to his upper arm.

"Fucking sucks." His eyes were locked on the smokers on the opposite side of the courtyard. Ogilvie looked out the floor to ceiling windows and watched as Roth lit up. His eyes cut to Dub, who was pretending not to notice. Corny's fingers twitched harder, and he took a deep breath, as if he could feel the nicotine from there. He closed his eyes and exhaled. "If it weren't for that fucking bet, I'd say fuck it."

"I told you I could do it." Ogilvie smiled at him.

"Yeah, well, fuck you." Everyone laughed as Corny gave him the finger.

Ogilvie pointed to the two bottles on the table. “Drinking double fisted, York?”

“Nah, taking one back for Milton.”

"Hey, Dub?” A soft voice interrupted their banter. “I think my keyboard's broken. Can you come by to look at it?" A very pretty blonde haired woman stood very close to him at the table, blinking her eyes at him and shifting her weight between her feet.

"Uh, yeah. Give me 15 minutes?"

"Sure!" She smiled and bounced of to another table.

He dunked the teabag in his cup, splashing a little water over the sides.

"Hey, you brought it on yourself," Val said.

"You suck one guy off under his desk, and now everyone wants to take a number." He wrapped the teabag around his spoon.

"Maybe you should have locked the door first," York suggested.

"Or better yet, control yourself, you horny little fucker," Corny supplied. "Should have never done it here to begin with."

"I think you need to slap on another patch there, pal." Dub lowered his eyebrows and glared back at Corny, who popped a piece of gum out of its blister pack and returned the glare as he chewed.

"Are you supposed to mix those things?" Val asked. He held up his hands in surrender when Corny turned his glare on him. "Fine, suit yourself."

Dub took a sip of his tea and grimaced.

"Why do you drink that stuff if you don't like it?" York asked him.

"Yeah, it smells like Froot Loops," Val commented.

"Earl Grey was a very big thing in the Wheeler house. High tea, every afternoon." He shook his head at the memory of his parents, pretending they were something they weren't. "Appearances and all that shit, you know?"

"Yeah, but you're not in the Wheeler house anymore. You're on your own now. Why keep it up? You obviously don't like it." It sounded obvious to Ogilvie.

"To remind myself of what I don't want to be."

Corny snorted. "I think your legendary keyboard fixing skills would be enough."

Dub shot him a death stare and stood up. “I think I’ll go fix Mandy’s now.” He left through the courtyard doors, stopping to talk to Roth for a few minutes. They watched as Roth lit up another, blowing a large cloud of smoke around them.

“Fucker.” Corny drained the last of his coffee and crushed the paper cup. “Now he’s going to smell like smoke all afternoon.”

As if on queue, Dub turned around and waved at them, shooting them a huge smile before going back in to find Mandy’s desk.

“Fucker.” Corny said one more time as they walked back to the stable.

~xxx~

Weigh in Wednesday #2

I almost didn't post today. Weigh in Wednesdays aren't fun. They aren't earth-shaking, there's no excitement to them. They're boring. And a bit of a bummer.

But, if I didn't, it would be a cop-out.

So, how'd I do? Let's see:

1. Stop eating crap - that lasted a whole three days before excuse, excuse, excuse. 

2. Start moving - yeah, not so much there. 

So, all in all, I was an epic failure on this front last week. It's not looking too good for this week, either, but I'll be back here on Wednesday again, fail or not.

~xxx~

I REALLY am an Author!

No, really, I am now, or at least I will be very soon. At least that's what is says in CAPITAL letters on the publishing contract I received today. 

The short story Cowboys and IT-ians has been selected for inclusion in an anthology due out next month.  To celebrate, I offer you this cowboy. Good thing he's got his saddle with him, because I'm ready to save a horse by riding a cowboy.

~xxx~

Smouldering Intensity Defined

Meet Cy.

That's what I'm calling him, anyway. I don't know his real name. Or anything about him at all, except the look he's giving the camera knocks my socks off.

Bouncing around the web this morning, I found him. The intensity of this picture took my breath away. When I look at it, I wonder what, or who, is getting this smouldering look. Is this the look of a man saying "You just kicked my dog, and I'm about to kick your ass"? Or is the man that's been flirting with him for weeks about to get his wishlist fulfilled? Is this that last look just before giving into your passion and finally taking the object of your affection? That last look that says "Last chance, partner. Say no now, 'cause after this? It's all over. Okay then. Let's ride."

He's told me an interesting story about himself. I can't wait to write him and share it.

~xxx~

The End Is Near!

If I had a sandwich board and a bell, I'd be walking around bothering people yelling that the end is near. Oh, no I would not. If it were truly near, I'd have a hell of a lot more interesting things to be doing.

The end is near, but it's the end of my novel. The dam that was blocking me finally burst, and I pulled an allnighter last night and  now I'm very close to finishing.  It doesn't even suck, from what I can tell. In fact, I expect to be finished with it this week. 

This is by far the longest thing I've ever written. I've never finished anything like this, so I'm very excited. Exhausted, and a little nervous about it, but excited. If you look at my works in progress, you can probably tell I have no problem beginning things. It's the follow through where I have issues.

I'll keep you posted as it gets closted.

~xxx~

I'm Finally an Author!

Well, I still consider myself more of a writer than an author. But, for Goodread's purposes, I'm now an author.  Sure, it's for a free short story I wrote for the fun of it, BUT, it's one writing credit more than I had yesterday, and one step closer to my goals. 

So, how did this happen? In December, the utterly fantastic Goodreads M/M Romance Group ran a "25 Days of Xmas....M/M Style" event encouraging readers to write letters to Santa requesting one of our members stuff their stocking by writing a story to go along with the photo the member chose. I answered a letter, wrote a story, and stuffed a stocking.

The wonderful moderators and readers took these stories and compiled them into an ebook and made it available for downloading. Voila! Now, I'm an author!

Even if it would have just remained a thread on a website, destined to be long forgotten, I'm glad I had the opportunity to participate. The entire process was worth it. Creating the characters, getting them to tell me their story, and even the thoroughly terrifying (at least for a reclusive introvert like me, anyway) act of actually releasing the story into the wild, wild web and opening myself up for criticism helped me grow.  If I get the chance, I will do it again in a heartbeat.

And, the boys in my story will be showing up in my Were Menagerie.

Now to fulfill the dream, if I can just finish my darn book! Sooooo close, yet so far.

~xxx~

Tales of the Geek Stable, Part I (NSFW)

This is the first entry in the story of a group of geeks working for a large corporation. I'll be making it up as I go along, and posting a new chapter every Friday.  If I get stuck, I'll at least post a bio of one of them. Hope you enjoy!

---------------------

“The Iceman cometh,” Valentino said as he walked through the bullpen to his cube, flipping his long dreadlocks over his shoulder and slurping the last of his Monster before stacking the can on top of the pyramid of empties on his desk. York looked up from his monitor just as the boss entered the Geek Stable, as everyone referred to the room that housed the I.T. team. Milton and Cornelius just waved and went back to working on the tape backup system.

“Morning, Xander. What brings you to the Stable today?” Ogilvie asked as their manager stood in the center of the room, surveying his team with his hands on his narrow hips. Ogilvie leaned back in his chair and adjusted himself with the heel of his hand as he took in the boss’ impressive form. He looked good. Of course, he always looked good, and he knew it. His black hair showed a few slivers of silver, and there were a few lines around his eyes, but those were the only indications he was in his late forties. Even in his business-casual clothes, you could tell he had the bronzed, buff build of an amateur body builder. He swung his ice blue gaze around the room, scanning the desks. He narrowed his gaze on the only empty one.

“Where’s Dub?”

“Mr. Roth kicked his keyboard out again.” Milton blushed and Corny snorted and adjusted his black-rimmed glasses as Ogilvie explained. York just rolled his eyes.

“Oh, Jeez. Not again. I hope he locked the door this time.” Xander shook his head as the young Windows administrator came into the room, adjusting his pants and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Everyone knew what was going on, but Roth was high enough on the food chain that making a fuss would just make it worse. And William Weston Wheeler’s reputation was well-cultivated and hard-earned.

“Oh, hey Boss. What’s shaking?” A sly smile pulled the right side of his full mouth up into a grin. His right eyebrow followed to complete the smirk. He passed Xander to take his spot next to Valentino. Xander cleared his throat.

“I just wanted to make sure you’re all ready for the audit starting next week. Milton, Val, you’re on inventory, Ogilvie on user accounts, and Corny on Disaster Recovery. York, please review the policies. Dub, you’re riding the helpdesk.”

“Oooh. My favorite,” he cooed. Xander fixed him with a stare before sighing and leaving. Everyone broke out in laughter once he cleared the doorway.

“Dub, you gotta stop doing that here,” Ogilvie said.

“Why? We’re consenting adults, I’m not getting any preferential treatment, and no one is claiming harassment. It’s just two people having fun.”

“Yeah, but the number of people ‘accidentally’ kicking out their keyboards has increased, like, 1,000 percent since word got out,” Val said, chuckling.

“It’s a dirty job, but someone’s gotta do it.” Dub smiled and licked his lips unapologetically.

“If you keep getting dirty so often, management’s going to replace all the desktops with laptops so there aren’t any keyboards to kick out,” Ogilvie pointed out.

“Well, there will still be some kind of cable to crawl under desks to check for,” Dub replied with a leer.

“Dub, please. Just step it back some.”

“Fine,” Dub huffed, as if agreeing caused him great pain.

“Well, I need some coffee. Anyone up for a trip to café?” Corny stood and pushed his glasses back up his nose. He scratched the short scruffy beard that covered his chin.

“Yeah, I’m in.” York’s flannel shirt rode up to reveal pale white skin around his hips as he combed his fingers through his red hair. Dub and Val joined the others at the door. “Milton? You coming?”

“Nah, I gotta get this tape swap done if I’m going to catch up for the camping trip tonight. We’re still on, right?”

“Yep. And we need your truck, cowboy, so don’t be late. Oh? How ‘bout you?” York turned his green eyes at Ogilvie.

“Nah, I’ve got some calls to make. Y’all go ‘head.”

“Suit yourself.” York gave him one last look before winking and leaving with the rest of the team.

“Frost.” The terse voice answered Ogilvie’s call.

“Do you know how hot you look when you’re trying to be stern with Dub?”

Xander sighed. “I don’t know what to do about him.”

“You know Roth’s the only one, right? He doesn’t really do anything under anybody else’s desk, no matter what the rumor is.”

“Yeah. And if he ever wants to break it off, all he has to do is tell me.”

“He knows that. But, what can you do?”

“I can sick Corny on all those keyboard issues.”

Ogilvie laughed. “He hates people. The first ticket he got to fix something like that, he’d scare the crap out of them.”

“Exactly. It sure would stop the frivolous tickets of people hoping for something.”

“Speaking of hoping for something,” Ogilvie lowered his voice. “Is your door locked?”

“Oh. Please.” It came out more as a groan than conversation. Ogilvie glanced up at the doorway before reaching to his lap to adjust his hardening cock.

“I love it when you call me that,” he whispered into the phone. “It reminds me of the noises you make when I’m buried deep inside you.” The panting and moaning he heard on the other end of the line as his boss worked to compose himself made him rock hard. “I want to walk to your office right now, lock the door, and bend you over that messy desk of yours.”

“Oh. Please don’t.” Xander whispered into the phone.

“Come on, Iceman. Melt for me.”

“Shit!” A sharp knock echoed from outside the Stable and over the phone. “Damn it, Ogilvie. Gotta go.” Ogilvie could hear Xander’s door open and muffled voices from the hallway. He smiled as he leaned back his chair.

“Fuck me,” he commented quietly to himself. He reached into his pants under his desk to give the base of his cock a hard squeeze as he willed his hard-on to go down. After a few deep breaths, he shook his head hard and stood up, wiping his hands with one of the hand sanitizers they kept in their office to clean up after helping a user. Some people's keyboards and mice were disgusting. He smiled as he walked past Xander’s open door on his way to the cafeteria to meet the rest of the team.

~xxx~

Busy Day Today

Can you believe I actually had to work at work today? What's up with that?

Weigh In Wednesday #1

Well, here it is already. Weigh in Wednesdays. My favorite day of the week.

Full disclosure: I've had a 'Biggest Loser' like transformation. I lost over 100 pounds two years ago. I did it through a diet program, and I had surgery to remove extra skin after losing the weight. Now, I hate my scale. Actually, it hates me. And it's working in cahoots with my jeans to make me believe I'm back where I was.Or at least on my way there. And the worst part? My thighs and ass are working with them. 

I know I'm not where I was. Believe me, standing 5'1" and weighing 275 pounds is very different from where I am now. I have no intention of going back there. BUT, if I don't quit eating crap and start moving, I can very easily wind up back where I started. So, that's my plan. Stop eating crap and start moving. Sounds so simple, doesn't it? The proof will be in the abstaining from the pudding. Since this the first week, I have nothing to report, except high expectations of myself. We'll see how I did next Wednesday.

And we're off.......

~xxx~

What Does My Bookcover Say?

In the past week, I've been forced to step back and think about what my appearance says about me. Do I come off as a simple bimbo? Does the fact that I have breasts mean I'm not capable of understanding technical details of thingies? And do I really give a shit what anyone else thinks? Particularly those who will discount me out of hand just by my appearance/gender/clothes/what-the-fuck-ever?

In one conversation with a young man (college age frat rat friend of neighbor's kid), I was trouble shooting iPods and  iTunes for the tween and the college kid while texting with my nieces from my phone at the same time. This young man looked at me, and in that sweet, sing-songy way of the young and entitled said "Oh, are you trying to learn technology?" I should be commended for not snapping back at him that I've been a systems administrator longer than he's been playing with his pecker, so I do understand a modicum of technology already, thankyouverymuch.

In another instance, spouse purchased a car (this being Texas, of course I mean 'truck' when I say car). The finance dude came out, shook his hand, and began his conversation about big, confusing details like what kind of terms were expecting for the loan. It wasn't until hubby said "This is my wife" that the guy acknowledged me and shook my hand. After which I proceeded to discuss simple vs. compound interest financing options, accelerated payment plans and early payment penalties, and returns on investments. 

So, what did my bookcover say about me to these men? That I don't get it because I'm a woman? Because I'm a blue-haired old lady (well, auburn with turquoise highlights)? That my bust size must be higher than my IQ? Or is it just that these guys had momentary lapses of judgment? 

If I were Miss Manners, I'd be tempted to say "Gentle Reader, be careful not to judge a book by its cover, because you may be missing out on a wonderful person with a terrific personality."  Seeing as I ain't Miss Manners, but Xara X. Xanakas, Brazen Texan raised in Redneck Country, I'll say "Careful climbing up on that high horse of yours, 'cause ya never know whose gonna knock you off it onto yer ass."

See, I carry my brains in my boobs, which accounts for the somewhat large 34F bra size. Conversely, these guys carry their brains in their pants, and I'm sorry to tell them that it appears there are no groceries in their baskets.

~xxx~

What Are You Up To?

Isn't there something about a smile? They're more contagious than the plague. At least they should be. Have you ever had a stranger smile at you, and it just improved your mood? A stray smile out of nowhere can blindside your attitude. Lift your spirits. Confirm you're all that. Make you wonder what they're up to.

Take this guy. I want in on his joke. 

Is he the one that strung yesterday's boy up? Maybe he's just enjoying yesterday's show? Does he have plans for later?

Too bad if he did, because I think he's going to be busy. At least in my world, he will be. He'll report back to you on Friday...

~xxx~

Hanging in There

I've spent most of the day flipping between the interwebs and my novel. I'll go to the doc, type a few sentences, then flip back to the net. Back and forth. And again. I just can't seem to get to main point I want. I can't even tell if it sucks or not. Just not feeling it right now.  Maybe if I stare at this guy long enough, the story will fall into place.

Or, he just might tell me his story. Looks like it's an interesting one.

~xxx~

Happy New Year - Welcome to 2011

Well, I didn't wake up a millionaire this morning. Looks like those Lotto guys drew the wrong numbers. Again. They always do that to me.

I've resisted blogging for a long time because I simply don't think I'm that interesting. But, I've started writing some, and I've decided that this is the year. The year I will be published.  Of course, if I had stuck with my original plans, I would have been published before the turn of this century. But I got lazy, and I just didn't feel all that inspired, and here it is, almost 12 years past my original life goal. That's changed over the last six months or so. I've started writing m/m romances. For those of you who don't know that means male/male love stories. Usually including graphically detailed sex acts between two (or more) men, some even involving BDSM. If that's not your thing, you are excused. 

So, working toward that goal, I've got one story out for consideration. It's a short story about a cowboy who finds love with a geek. I'll let you know if it gets picked up. If it doesn't, I may serialize it on this site.

In addition to that I'm almost finished with my first novel. It's a shapeshifter story between a wereboa and a werewolf. I've written the climax (the book's climax, you pervs! the characters have climaxed already. several times)  It will published this year, if I have to do it myself. One way or another, it will be out. I have ideas for five more books focusing on different characters. I've written half of a book about a were-spider monkey. There's also a scorpion, bobcat, chicken, and lemming bouncing around in my brain. My own little Were Menagerie.

My other goal this year is to get fit. Again. I'm not going to say "lose weight" 'cause, really? That's too easy. I can lose 5 pounds this year, and I've met the goal. To hold myself accountable, I'll do "Weigh-in Wednesdays". I probably won't put actual weights there, but I will update how I did the previous week. If I've been a lazy bum, I'll say it. And you can feel free to call me on it.

So, how else will I waste your time? How does "Geek Friday" sound? I've got an idea for a group of geeks finding love. I'll probably do a serialized story, posting on Fridays. You will probably find some flash fiction, and maybe some fanfics. Heck, maybe even flash fanfic. I'll do my best not to turn this into a bitch session. Traffic sucks, and there's way too many idiots out there. We all know it. No reason for me to whine about it to you all the time. There's just too much stupid going around everywhere. You don't need me to point it out to you. Maybe we can talk movies or books, too.

So, hi! I'm Xara X. Xanakas, and I'm glad to meet you.

~xxx~