Can you guess who the ass kisser is? Me, of course! I made good on my promise and made Fab a Liz Phair page called “I Love Fab”. See it up there with the other pages? It has Liz music and Liz pics. I think it’s safe to say that Fab likes that page.
So I totally kissed Fab’s ass, but I had a reason. I have been waiting for this Sunday FOREVER. I practiced at Snackie Radio. I honed my skill at simultaneous chatroom and phone convos at The Jester Show. Now, I get to SHINE on Pointless Drivel Live. Um, I may still not be able to do chatroom and phone simultaneously though. It’s all the fault of my piercings. See they scratch the screen on my cell phone so I can only hold the phone to my right ear and since I’m right handed I can’t really type in the chatroom and the phone’s really small, the size of an egg really… ummn… yeah. I’m kinda not good at being on BTR shows and chatting in the chatroom at the same time. I guess I need a Blackberry or a Treo or Skype or something. My Samsung Stripe is clearly not cutting it in the Blogosphere.
Well, it’s here… the day that I am to be on Mr. Fabulous’ BTR show, Pointless Drivel Live. This is a very special day for me. For one, I’ve been waiting patiently for my turn on this prestigious show. For another, I can’t fucking get to Fab’s website anymore and I’m missing all the comments and fun. I’ve been deprived since Friday. (I saw the anal sex picture Thursday night, but couldn’t on Friday morning.) I get a white screen with “done” at the bottom. I’ve cleaned every fricking thing on my machine. I’ve defragged and updated and scanned and I even downloaded Safari for Windows. No Fab. Except in Feed Demon. But that means I can’t leave my scintillating and long winded comments! GRRRRR.
Now, using Safari to try to get to pointless-drivel.com was an interesting thing. Safari doesn’t give me his site, but it does give me an error: Safari can’t open the page “http://www.pointless-drivel.com/”. The error was: “unknown error” (CFURLErrorDomain:302). Googling that error got me nowhere too. I’m gonna email the error to my tech and ask nicely if he can tell me what the hell happened and how I can get back to one of my favorite places on the net. If someone else knows the answer to this dilemma please email me at winter at winterheart dot com. (I’ve tried accessing his site with Firefox 2.0.0.14, SeaMonkey 1.1.9, IE7, and Safari for Windows. I’m on XP SP3 with an AMD Sempron 3400+ with 1 GB of RAM and I have Time Warner broadband. And yeah. I know I need another GB of memory.)
My ass kissing will be in full force at 4 pm Pacific/7 pm Eastern time. Here is the link to Pointless Drivel Live. Be there or be… dead. HEH.
Also, don’t forget to listen to the rest of the Rocking Sunday Radio Talk Block:
There is no time for Friday pimping! I am determined that if a crack whore can do this I can too!
My brain is scrambled trying to put into practice the immortal words of Jester Hairston, who once told me that music like this is not ONE two THREE four, but one TWO three FOUR. If that badly tattooed, pipe addicted dingbat can sing this… so can I!
Many thanks to Jester for having me on last night. It was mucho funno even though there was NO chatroom (BAD BTR!) and Jester had to make one. My pal Jen stopped by to lurk and observe the chatting bloggers as well as listen to me ramble about how Jim Morrison died. Highlight of the show was Mr. Drunkulous. He was amazing. Thanks to everyone who came to the show!
May Friday be the start of a fantastic 3 day weekend for all of you. As for me, I have to work Monday. You all better enjoy it enough for me too!
This is a special Thursday 13. It is my 100th blog post. Well, if you don’t count the guest posts I did for Kyra Sutra and Bluepaintred or the ones I took down and moved to a different blog because of the “Karled” incident. Today, my TT is about the 100 posts on this blog.
2. The first post I did was about how I came to be a blogger. It was all about how I started visiting Andrei Andrei’s blog. (Yes, Fab. He’s Romanian. A Hot Romanian Model.) Going there and commenting gave me an idea for a story, but since I knew nothing about blogging, I figured I’d better learn so as to get into my character’s head.
3. I told Blogs We Luv that my February 22 post ‘Confessions of a Secret Fluff’ was the post that was a good indicator of who I am and what my blog is about. It’s amusing in a tongue in cheek, make fun of myself way.
4. January 28 was the first Marcus Monday. The whole idea was Shinygal’s because basically Mondays suck and she wanted a reason for it to be more positive. Half naked pics of Marcus Schenkenberg did it for me and thus, Marcus Monday was born.
5. The first contest I ever had was on February 25, and there is still no winner! The post was entitled “Save My Brain… Win A Prize!” It’s all about my search for the guy in the Air France “Pool” commercial.
6. One of my most popular non-TT posts was “How I Almost Got Karled”. This is a subject that every blogger is passionate about… the place you work taking issue with your blog and, if you are Karl or Fab, firing you for it. Hence the term “Karled”. The irony to this is that 2 days ago, on Monday, I was asked to create a blog for the company I work for. Heh. It turned out nice too.
9. The two craziest post titles I’ve had are “Loves Fab’s Fisting and Matt-Man’s Meat” which was about the six word memoir, and “Fake Horses and Pornfest” which is about the horse racing sim I play and a little thing Rott sometimes does in our house called Pornfest. If you want to know what it is, read the post! LOL
10. I posted a photo of my breakfast in a Sunday Silence post called “Bacon!”. I like the name Sunday Silence because not only is it the name of a racehorse I loved, it means you can just sit back and enjoy the pics.
11. Two of my most detailed dreams ever are in the posts “I Dream of Nikki” which is about Nikki Sixx and “Am I Dreaming?” which was about Matt-Man.
12. The post “Weiners!” was about how the Absurdist and Jester won my tagline contest without even meaning to. BTW, Jester, I’ll be ordering cards from the Artificial Duck store Friday or Saturday. One deck is for you! The Absurdist received a “Life or Something Like (B)it” shirt, before I decided to just stick with the URL name.
13. Even though there are pics on this blog of three men I’ve slept with, none of the posts that mention them are my favorite. My favorite post is the 4th one, “The HEA”. This post is about Lex Valentine, my character who, in many ways, is my alter ego. It’s about writing and how Lex evolved. I love the Photoshop pic too.
The purpose of the meme is to get to know everyone who participates a little bit better every Thursday. Visiting fellow Thirteeners is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your Thirteen in others comments. It’s easy, and fun! Trackbacks, pings, comment links accepted! View More Thursday Thirteen Participants
Before I get to the meat and potatoes of this post, I’d like to send a big THANKS! to Dave2, who kindly sent me his pics of that big ass chrome bean for my desktop. My friend Donny from the sim, a Chicagoan, said he’d get me more pics if I wanted them. I told him I wanted pics in the snow and he told me… they cover it up in the winter. Fuckers. I could so see that wondrous bean with a gray sky above and filthy gray snow packed up around it’s base. Oh, well. Still, Dave totally rawks for sending me the images to use as wallpaper.
Today’s title is what some of us (not me, but someone else who has a fabulous name) would like to do to Liz Phair. She’s pretty hot, but those are itty bitty titties compared to say, my friend Jen of the boobage pimping Friday. Still, I can see where some of you might think these pics are worth an afternoon hiding in the john.
I’ll post Liz again soon. I have some Maxim shots of her, some shots of her in bed, and even better, pics of her wrapped in an American flag in a shower… wet.
For the rest of us looking for a hot dude… I give you a long haired version of Jonathan Rhys Meyers, pre Tudors.
Oh, hell. I bet someone thought I meant a different Liz. Here’s my parting shot in case that was you.
I found out last week that Mr. Fabulous lurrrrrrves Liz Phair. So tomorrow for Humpday Hotness, I will show you Liz’s nipples. Someone make sure Fab has smelling salts. Since this coming Sunday I will be Fab’s guest on Pointless Drivel Live, where he will surely kick my ass at Dead or Alive, my Tuesday Tune features Liz too. I just cannot pander to the man enough. I’ve been trying to get him over to my guilty pleasure The User Pool too. I can just imagine the conversations we will have once he too is reading this little gem of satire. Heh.
My Tuesday Tune by Liz Phair was used in the Bar Story because Liz is the physical representation of Carlisle Ross. To go with this song is a snippet from the Bar where I used the song. Although Alaric and Lex have shared dreams where they were much more intimate, this is their first real kiss.
I turned around and opened my mouth to ask Stein a question and found that he’d gone upstairs after Carlisle. That left me alone with Alaric. Shit. He was walking toward me, his electric blue eyes on me. I swallowed hard and felt my stomach drop as my breathing grew more rapid. My senses were on overload. When I looked at him, I felt my heart stop. When I smelled him. I felt my breath stop. When he touched me, I felt like I was going to come out of my skin. I had no idea what was going on. The dreams and visions…they were so real. I stared up at Alaric, wondering how I could have dreamed him. Even now, I could feel his lips on the curve of my spine. It was all I could do not to throw myself in his arms and beg him to love me. I didn’t know what the hell had gotten into me.
I turned on my heel and went up the stairs to the second floor of the penthouse. I heard and felt Alaric following me. I turned left at the top of the stairs and opened the last door. “This is your room,” I told him as I stepped into the room, pointing out the other doors. “That door is to the bathroom, which you share with me. The other door is to the sitting room, which you also share with me. The glass door is to the terrace.”
“Do I share that with you too?” he asked in that honey over gravel voice, one eyebrow raised inquiringly.
I nodded absently, wondering briefly if he was being facetious. “Dial 9 for an outside line, 0 for the front desk, and 1 for the butler,” I said and left him there, high tailing it to my own room.
Once there, I let out a long breath. This was incredibly hard. I should have been crying my eyes out over Johann, but suddenly I could barely think of him. Alaric overwhelmed my senses and brought every dream I’d had of him right to the front of my consciousness. He wasn’t like his cousin. He was … more. Taller, broader, darker, more handsome, more chiseled, more brooding, more … enticing … more sexy … more… hot.
I ran my tongue over my dry lips. What did I say to this man? Oh, by the way, I have the most incredible dreams about loving you. Or maybe, hey Alaric, I love how you look naked in my dreams. I ran a hand over my face. I was losing it.
Just then, there was a knock on my bedroom door. I opened it to find the subject of my thoughts standing there. He’d taken off his jacket and shoes and was standing there barefoot in his blue shirt and black slacks looking suave and so gorgeous. I was acutely aware of my disheveled hair, rumpled t-shirt and faded jeans. And worst of all, I had to look far too high up to meet his eyes.
“My suitcase,” he said in a low tone. “Is it in here?”
I looked at the pile of luggage and spied a large case that wasn’t mine. I reached for it at the same time as Alaric and my head bumped his. We both said, “Ow!” and stepped back. I stayed put in front of the doorway while Alaric untangled his bag from the others. Then he stopped and I heard it…Carlisle was singing.
Lucky I’ve been through hell
Backroads and shortcuts I know them well
Baby just stick with me
We’ll make it together, just wait and see
Do you really know me at all?
Would you take the time to catch me if I fall?
Are you ever gonna be that real to me?
Everything to me
The walls they close in
The air it goes out
We’re left with nothing but a shadow of doubt
Nobody talks, no one is here
It’s just you and me
Do you really know me at all?
Would you take the time to catch me if I fall?
Are you ever gonna be that real to me?
Everything to me
I found myself staring at Alaric while Carlisle’s beautiful voice rang out through the penthouse. I suddenly wished with all my heart that Alaric would love me. That he would feel, say, and do everything that had happened in my dreams. I knew instinctively that if he loved me, he would be just as he was in the dreams. He would love me the way my heart yearned for. He was a stranger to me except for what I knew of him from my dreams… what my heart knew.
Carlisle stopped singing, and I blinked back a rush of tears as Alaric turned away from my gaze. He stepped toward the door and I sidestepped to the left to let him out. But then, he stepped to his right, leaving us blocking each other again. He moved again, but this time I didn’t and he banged into me, almost knocking me to the floor. Anger at my helplessness to have any control over my life flooded me.
“Bloody hell, Kohl! You’re freaking everywhere! I can’t get away from you. You even invade my fucking dreams!” My voice was hoarse and overflowing with emotion. I jerked away from the doorway.
His arms snapped out, dropping the suitcase as he grabbed me by the shoulders growling, “What did you say? Did you say dreams? Cause I’m so tired of waking up hard, after spending my dreams with you.”
I stared at him stunned, my lips parted in shock. “What the hell?” I whispered. He had them too! What the hell was happening to us?
“Ah, fuck me,” Alaric muttered. He jerked me toward him, his head coming down as his mouth found mine. Electricity crackled between us as our lips met. The most exquisite pleasure I had ever felt seared its way through my body. Alaric must have been feeling something profound too because he moaned against my lips and ran his hands down my back to grab my ass, lifting me off the ground as his tongue swept into my mouth.
The touch of his wet tongue to mine was like a match to dry brush. I went up in flames as my dreams came to life. I wrapped my arms around his neck and thrust my fingers into his dark silky hair. He kissed me so deeply that if I’d had a soul, he would have touched it. I was drowning in sensation and then…I was on my feet staring wide eyed at Alaric whose chest was rising and falling rapidly with his jackhammer breathing.
“We need to talk,” he said breathlessly, his electric blue eyes boring into mine. “Not right now, but later. I want to know about your dreams.”
“What does it mean?” I whispered, suddenly frightened.
He must have known what I was feeling because he reached out a hand and tucked my hair behind my ear. “Don’t be afraid, Alexandria. We’ll figure it out,” he said softly in that honey over gravel voice. Then he turned and picked up his case, leaving the room. There was a soft click as the door closed behind him.
I reached into my jeans pocket and pulled out the handkerchief he’d given me, pressing it to my flushed cheek. I could smell his lemon bergamot scent on the cloth. I closed my eyes. Why would Alaric Kohl and I share the same dreams? What could it possibly mean?
It’s Monday so I bet you’re looking for Marcus, aren’t you? Either that or you’re thinking “What? More Marcus? Doesn’t this woman ever give up on the supermodel dude?” Well, I don’t give up easily. And I dislike disappointing you all, so here is today’s Marcus picture. How can you go wrong with Marcus nearly naked holding a guitar?
I’m all out of whatever it is that drives me. It’s been too hot here, and I have company. I feel a little drained and not too humorous. Whoever thought up this global warming shit deserves to live in my house while I move to some place cool. Then they will be totally sorry they made this happen.
Thanks to everyone who stopped by Motley’s blog to wish her happy birthday. Her birthday plans got shattered by a one-two punch of hot weather and the death of a friend in a head on collision at 3 am Saturday morning. She awoke to a text from her bestie with the news. She’s been subdued all weekend.
The Marcus Awards for this week end up like this: Mr. Fabulous - 8, Mary - 5, Shinygal and Marty - 4, Matt - 3, Susan, Othurme, and Turnbaby - 3. I dunno. It seems to me that Fab wants a t-shirt with fangs. Of course, it’s a cool shirt so I would totally want one too. I think my next contest is gonna be about ideas for the Alaric award. I mean, Matt has the COW, which is the coolest contest ever. Somehow, I have to think up some reason to give out the Alaric.
Have a great Monday and someone please tell the sun to not shine so hotly in SoCal. I swear, I should be a vampire.
Motley’s birthday is today. She is nineteen. If you go to her blog, you can see her boobs. Happy birthday, baby!
Since it’s Friday and I haven’t pimped anything in a long time, I decided I would pimp my friend Jen because she’s cool, and her rack is hot, and she’s single. So welcome to Big Pimpin’ Friday, Indiana style!
My friend Jen writes at the Bar. That’s where I met her. She’s a pretty cool lady. Very smart. Great with a snarky comeback. She lives and works in the Indianapolis area. She has a nice job, owns her own home, and has a dog… a boxer, not some pansy ass dog. There are things about Jen that no man can pass on, unless he’s gay. I mean, really, who can remain blase in the face of cheerleaders like these?
Yeah, she’s stacked pretty good. But the best part isn’t the fact that she’s got a rack that will render you mindless with lust. She’s very amusing. She makes me laugh all the time which means she ain’t boring. I, personally, do not feel that the creator of Alaric Kohl could ever be boring. However, Jen has what, to me, is a flaw. You men will not think this is a flaw. You will think she is a goddess. She likes basketball. *cringe*
Now, I played basketball in junior high and high school, but I never liked watching it. I was always more of a horse racing, auto racing, football kind of girl. Jen went to the Big Ten Tournament. On purpose. She took with her, a male friend of mine from the horse racing sim who is a Wisconsin fan. She spent four whole days living basketball, with only a short time out on Friday for her grandma’s funeral. She even turned on Sports Center when she got home! Now, that is a dedicated b-ball fan, my friends.
So now that you know that she’s into basketball, has a great rack, is smarter than a whip and can wield one on your ass with skill if that is what you like, you’re wondering what the catch is right? I think the catch is that she’s single. Men are afraid of single successful women these days. But I just don’t understand that. Someone needs to help me out here.
This woman has gone on a number of dates since I’ve known her. Men just fade away on her. They peter out and drift off like snowflakes in a high wind. Tell me what the hell this woman is missing? I mean, Hello! I don’t see anything wrong with this picture. If she sent you a pic like one of those up there, I know damn good and well, that you bloggers would have been twatting your fingers off about getting a boob shot. Wouldn’t you?
So, fill my comments with some luv, people. I wanna know why you think single, successful women with big boobs can’t find decent men. Are they all gay? Are they all chickenshit? Do they all want skinny, underfed, designer clothes wearing, air headed, calender girls? What is going on in the world today that a cute woman with a rack can’t find a relationship except with her vibrator?
Jen’s gonna kill me for pimpin’ her, but you know what? If someone can educate me regarding her - and other successful women in their 30’s - lack of male attention, then it will be worth it. Oh, and… *whispers in an aside* if you wanna talk to Jen, send me a twat or an email or YIM. I’ll set you up with her YIM. HEH. I’m just evil, aren’t I? But trust me on this, Jen sizzles. She is soooo not a prude! Okay, I better shut up now before I give her enough fuel to roast me with if she finds out I posted this. Shhhh. Don’t tell on me. She doesn’t read this blog.
Oh, yeah. She gives good presents too!
Now that my pimpin’ is done, I’m outtie. Have a great Friday, people! MUAH!
So now that you know that she’s into basketball, has a great rack, is smarter than a whip and can wield one on your ass with skill if that is what you like, you’re wondering what the catch is right? I think the catch is that she’s single. Men are afraid of single successful women these days. But I just don’t understand that. Someone needs to help me out here.
