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Since I have to file schedules pertaining to education credits (the kid’s in school and I have to keep myself up to date in the tech field), my taxes could not be e-filed until the 11th of February. (Thank you, Congress you slow ass behemoth!) So I waited an entire month to file. How annoying!

I’d gone to taxbrain.com the first week of January with my paystub from the end of December and started the process. When I got my W2 around the 10th, I went back to taxbrain.com to finish. Everything copied over from the prior year’s return and all I did was plug in new numbers from my W2 and from our education expenses. Pretty easy for a girl with a tax preparer’s license. Heh.

The frustrating part came when I sent the return to be filed. Up pops the little notice that the schedules I’m filing cannot be transmitted until February 11. So I left my returns (the CA one too) in the queue. I figured, e-filing still saves lots of time and the refund money will be electronically deposited, which saves even more time.

I checked back at taxbrain.com a couple of times during the last month. Then yesterday morning, I check the status of my return and it had gone from pending to sent. WOOT! Now, I just had to wait for an email from taxbrain.com telling me whether the IRS accepted or rejected the return. Last year I got rejected. It was the strangest most fucked up thing. I opened the return and deleted my kid, then re-entered her… with the same damned information. I hadn’t fat fingered the first entry. All the numbers were correct on her SS#. Nothing was different. But it was accepted the second time. Grrr.

So this morning, I figured I would have an email stating that my return was eiher accepted or rejected because, usually, you get a confirmation within 24 hours. Instead of an email from taxbrain.com, I found an email purporting to be from the IRS. Okay, I was not born yesterday. You cannot get me to fork over money to help you bring your dead wife here from Nigeria so my funeral home can bury her. I know I haven’t won the UK lottery. And I’m for damn sure that no relative named JAMES ALLEN JAMIESON, ESQ. from Leeds, England, left me money in his will. Pfft. Why the hell would I think an email that says it’s from the Internal Revenue Service with a subject line of Tax Notification, is real?

Being the techie kinda geek that I am, I first made sure the damn thing had no worms or trojans. Then I opened the email. This is what it said:

Internal Revenue Service (IRS)
United States Department of the Treasury

After the last annual calculations of your fiscal
activity we have determined that you are eligible
to receive a tax refund of $184.80.

Please submit the tax refund request and allow us
6-9 days in order to process it.

A refund can be delayed for a variety of reasons.
For example submitting invalid records or applying
after the deadline.

To access the form for your tax refund, use the following personalized link:

http://0xCA.0×80.0×1D.0×2/www.irs.gov/

Regards,
Internal Revenue Service

Document Reference: (0xCA.0×80.0×1D.0×2).

When I moused over the link…it gave me a different link. Warning, warning! I closed the email and clicked delete. I’d already known it was bogus. I just wanted to see the evidence. I wondered just how clever the sender really was. When I moused over the link and saw the obviously non-IRS website URL, I had proof positive that they weren’t clever. This email wasn’t much different than the ones purporting to be from PayPal or eBay, asking you to click the link and verify your account info or risk account suspension. The same thing happens with those emails. Put your mouse over the link they want you to click and look for the URL. It’s not PayPal or eBay. It’s set up to steal your account info is what it is. Phishy as all hell.

By the time 4 pm rolled around, I figured I was prolly gonna find a rejection slip from the government when I got home. I mean, the info was the same as last year and they rejected me last year. I was slightly surprised then to open my email at 5 pm and find that both returns were accepted, and I could expect the electronic deposit on or about the 22nd of February. Go figure. It all worked out in the end. I did wonder how many people got taken in by the fake IRS email. How pathetic are those people who send out phishing emails? It amazes me that anyone falls for their shit. Okay, when I see how many of my co-workers don’t know how to find toolbars or format documents or print an envelope… maybe I’m not so amazed after all.

Laters peeps!

Here is a tune for Tuesday. I saved this for Shiny, but since I love Sheryl Crow, I thought I’d put it in this post for everyone to enjoy!

I’ve been working on a list of quotes from the Bar, the serial story I participate in. I thought that perhaps I could do 13 quotes from the Bar as my next TT. While rummaging through the story, which has extensive threads, I began showing a few quotes to a couple of guys I talk to online. Both of them got the chuckles over the same quotes. Several of the funniest parts are where my main character Alexandria (Lex) discovers she is pregnant. Part of the reason for the humor is that her doctor has a dry sense of humor and a dead pan delivery.

Lex, and Dr. St. James Warfield, are both vampires, as is Lex’s husband Alaric aka Big Al. The very British St. James is private physician to several of the immortals who populate the Bar. In this scene, Lex shows up at St. James’ hotel suite for an exam because she hasn’t been feeling well. The other characters are Matt, who is James and Lex’s friend. Matt’s a pixie Prince and a Calvin Klein underwear model. The other character is MacKenzie, who is St. James’ American girlfriend and a green dragon.

Matt answered the door of St. James’ suite, and my eyebrows shot up in surprise. “What are you doing here? Don’t you have your own suite?” I asked him as I stepped inside.

He shut the door behind me and led the way to the main salon. “Nope. Not any more, I don’t,” he said in a very smirky voice.

I turned and looked at him. He seemed very cat who ate the canary, his expression smug. Then I saw a pile of luggage that could only be his. My eyes narrowed as I stared at him. “You checked out?’

Matt nodded and sat down on the sofa. “Yep. James and I both checked out of the Presidential suite. Then James and Mac checked in here,” he said, putting his feet up on the coffee table, a typical Matt habit.

I set my purse on an end table and sank onto the chair beside it. “Where are you going Matt?” I asked suspiciously. “You’re not leaving Paris are you? Cause if you are, I’ll drag your ass back. How are you supposed to make things work with Emmy if you leave?”

Matt grinned widely, his sea colored eyes dancing. I didn’t think I’d ever seen him so happy, and it made me very wary. “I’m not leaving Paris,” was his nonchalant response. “At least not unless Em leaves.”

My eyes widened. “Holy Mother!” I whispered, my hands flying up to my face. I stared at Matt, whose grin just kept getting bigger and smirkier. “You made up with Emmy?”

He nodded and started to laugh. It was a carefree happy sound that I hadn’t heard from him in a long time. “I’m moving into her place tonight,” he admitted.

I let out a little scream of joy and leapt up to run over to the sofa. I plopped down next to him and threw my arms around him. I was soooo happy for him!

“Better not let his new girlfriend see that.” St. James’ sardonic tones interrupted my howls of joy. “Besides, I thought you were sick. You don’t look sick to me, and I’m a doctor.”

I let go of Matt and looked up at James who stood in the doorway with Mackenzie. James was a lot more relaxed than I’d ever seen him, despite his usual sarcastic voice. “Yeah, well, you don’t look like your usual dark brooding self either,” I told him, then turned my gaze to Mackenzie. “Hi Mac. I haven’t seen you since New York. You look great. Did James buy you those rocks? They match your eyes perfectly.”

Mackenzie smiled. As she stepped into the room, her hand lightly caressed James’ arm in what was an obviously intimate gesture. “Thanks Lex. You look good too,” she said as she sat down on the chair I’d just vacated. “And yes, the necklace and earrings were a present from St. James.”

James walked over and picked up my hand, his fingers moving to check my pulse. I shot him a dirty look. “In the fifty plus years I’ve known you, you have never had a girlfriend,” I said in awed tones. James with a real love life was a shocker.

St. James smirked in a manner very reminiscent of his pal Matt. “Hadn’t met Mackenzie, now had I?” he replied smoothly. “Open your mouth for me love.”

I opened my mouth and he stuck a tongue depressor in it. I fought the urge to gag. Suddenly, Alaric’s thoughts invaded my head. You’re gagging over a tongue depressor when you’ve easily slurped down my whole…

Arggh! Out of my head Alaric! The doctor is examining me! I can’t be thinking of your dick right now.

I heard his chuckle and then he was gone. I stared wild eyed at St. James, who was standing there watching the emotions flash across my face while the tongue depressor was still stuck in my open mouth. “Tell Alaric that he needs to come down here. If he’s going to interrupt my examination, it’s better that he do so in person,” James said mockingly. I heard both Matt and Mackenzie stifling laughter.

I shook my head and pulled away from the nasty wood of the tongue depressor. “I told him to go away. I don’t need him pestering you with a thousand questions while you’re sticking things in me. It will make everything take longer,” I grimaced. “Besides, you two will end up in a discussion of football while I’m lying there with cold metal things in me.”

Matt hid his smile, but James laughed right in my face. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen James laugh out loud. Mackenzie had wrought miracles it seemed. “Speaking of cold metal things, let’s go into the bedroom. I think we’ll need a little privacy. Matt and Mac will be fine out here while I stick those cold metal things in you and take your blood and perform other doctorly functions,” James said, walking over to a small trash receptacle to dump the tongue depressor in it.

I got up and followed James, looking back over my shoulder at Matt. “You are so gonna tell me what happened last night or I will bite you. Then you’ll have to explain it to Emmy!” I flashed my fangs at him, but he smirked at me again. It seemed like nothing could put a damper on his good humor.

“If we fight over it, just gives us a reason to have make up sex,” he told me and Mackenzie chuckled.

James took me by the arm then, hurrying me along to his bedroom. He shut the door and looked at me sternly. “You seem fine today Lex. What the hell is going on?” he said, crossing his arms over his chest.

I sighed and sat down on a chair. James opened a typical doctor’s bag and took out a stethoscope. He listened to my heart while I told him about passing out. He checked the lump on the back of my head and told me to take an aspirin if I had a headache. He made me take off my jeans and t-shirt and lie on the bed. I told him about being nauseated and throwing up when I got upset. He told me to tell my husband not to be an asshole. He gently probed my abdomen with his cold fingers while I told him about my mood swings and panic attacks. He told me to take a vacation without in-laws. He stripped my underwear off me, leaving me naked, and then proceeded to feel my breasts while I told him about being hungry all the time. He told me I was too skinny and could use more meat on my bones.

Then came the gross part. I hated the speculum. I hated him probing around in me with what looked like a giant Q-tip. I told him about how I wanted to feed all the time and he pulled the speculum out, took the Q-tip over to what looked like a petrie dish and said over his shoulder that Alaric was a big man, he had plenty of blood to give. I sat up and frowned at his back.

“Can I put my clothes back on?” I grumbled. “It’s cold in here and even though you and half the world has seen me naked in Playboy, I’m not comfortable with it anymore. Not since I married Alaric.”

I heard James give a muffled snort. “Physiologically you’re different now than the last time I checked you. It’s part of the mating process. It’s almost like you and Alaric share a circulatory system now,” he murmured. He was clinking glasses and slides and other scientific looking things. He even had a microscope on the dresser.

“So what’s wrong with me?” I asked him bluntly. He turned around and came at me with a big needle. My eyes widened. He pulled a tourniquet out and snapped it around my arm. I yelped, and he plunged the needle into the vein that had popped out the instant the tourniquet was on. I watched him drawing my blood and my stomach turned.

James laughed. “Lex you’ve killed men before and you can’t handle me drawing your blood?”

I looked away from the procedure. “Killing is one thing. This is another. That’s MY blood in the tube, not someone else’s,” I explained with a grimace.

James capped the tube of blood and slapped a band aid on my arm. He motioned toward the bathroom and handed me a vampire pregnancy test tube. “Go on. I want to see the results myself,” he told me. “You can have your clothes back when you bring me the tube.”

I stomped into the luxurious bathroom, thinking James was sure paying a pretty penny for this suite. I inserted the stick just like I had all the others and waited. When the time was up I pulled it out and looked at the color. I gripped the bathroom counter with my free hand. The stick was dark purple, almost black. I began to shake. I practically ran into the bedroom, completely forgetting that I was naked.

“James!” I wailed and held the stick out to him with a shaking hand.

He took it in his gloved hand and smiled. “Just as I thought, you’re pregnant.”

I stumbled backward and landed on my ass on the side of the bed. I stared at St. James with wide eyes. “But… but… I’ve been testing! All the tests were negative!” I cried out, so shocked I couldn’t even think.

James did something with the stick then held my clothes out to me. Automatically, I began to dress. Once I was clothed James gestured to a chair and I sat down, my mind a complete blank. “You were using the sticks you got in the States weren’t you?” he asked and I nodded. “They were recalled Lex. You told me yourself that Ronnie called you about them. Why did you keep using them? Why didn’t you get new ones?”

“I… I… I just thought the odds of me having bad tubes was very small,” I stammered. “I mean he said not all the tubes were bad.”

James sighed and shook his head. “You had a bad batch love. That tube is telling me you’ve been pregnant for awhile,” he said solemnly.

Suddenly, all the blood felt like it drained from my body. “Oh Holy Mother,” I groaned, dropping my face into my hands. “How long have I been pregnant?”

James sighed again. “I don’t know.”

I dropped my hands and my head shot up, my eyes meeting his. “I have to know,” I said hoarsely, tears filling my eyes. What if this baby was Johann’s? It just was too awful to contemplate. “I have to know if this is my husband’s baby,” I moaned in misery.

St. James patted me on the shoulder. “Go on out with Matt and Mackenzie. I’ve got some tests to run love. Order some room service and eat. You could use a meal,” he advised. “I’ll be done shortly and hopefully then I can answer your questions better.”

He practically shoved me out the bedroom door and I stumbled into the salon and collapsed on the sofa next to Matt. His brows snapped together as he saw how miserable I looked. “What the fuck? What’s wrong Lex? Where’s James?” he asked, his concern evident in his voice.

I flopped back against the cushions of the sofa and covered my face with my hands. “Oh, Matt!” I wailed, beginning to cry. “I’ve fucked up everything!”

Matt sat up, his feet hitting the floor with a thud. “What’s wrong Lex? Tell me what the hell is wrong!” he exclaimed, pulling at my hands until he held them in his.

I looked at him with tears streaking down my face. “I’m pregnant,” I moaned, my whole body aching with the misery that was overwhelming me.

I saw Matt and Mackenzie exchange a puzzled look. “Well, I thought you wanted to be pregnant, Lex. What’s wrong?” he asked rubbing my wrists.

“I don’t know who the father is!” I sobbed and collapsed on Matt’s shoulder. He held me and stroked my back while I cried.

“James will figure it out,” he said soothingly. “It will all work out Lex. I know it will.”

I knew he was just trying to get me to stop crying. I willed the tears back and hiccuped a few times. Then Mackenzie was pressing a cool washcloth into my hands. I wiped my face and gave it back to her trying to muster up a grateful smile. I was afraid it looked more like a grimace though. I lay limply against the back of the sofa and stared at Matt. “What am I gonna do if this Johann’s baby? I mean, I can’t have it. That would be wrong,” I muttered. “And how the hell do I tell Alaric I need an abortion? What do I say to his parents? Already his mother doesn’t l-like me,” I stammered painfully.

Matt sighed and put his arm around my shoulders. “You’re putting the cart before the horse love. Let’s just wait to hear what James has to say. He’s an excellent physician. You know this. Now, what did he tell you when he sent you out here?” he probed.

I sniffed and blinked up at Matt’s sea colored eyes. “To order room service cuz I needed a meal,” I muttered reluctantly.

Mackenzie chuckled. “I’ll get the menu,” she said and disappeared.

Once we were alone, Matt hugged me. “Really. It will be okay, Lexie. I have a good feeling about this,” he whispered in my ear as he kissed my temple.

I sighed. Matt was right. It WAS too early to get into a panic. I forced myself to calm down, keep Alaric blocked out of my head, and to eat the bowl of soup Matt ordered for me. It helped that the soup was a lusciously rich and creamy lobster bisque. By the time I’d eaten half the soup and a handful of crackers, James reappeared. My stomach knotted and I pushed the tray away standing up. I tilted my chin at James and said bluntly, “Tell me. I can’t wait. I need to know now.”

James grunted and looked at the sheet of paper he held in his hand. “Based on the number of days gestation I’ve calculated here…” He looked up again and his eyes met mine. “…it’s your husband’s.” I gasped and felt myself begin to shake again. Then James cleared his throat. “But there’s a problem Lex. This baby isn’t what you think.”

My eyes widened and fear raced through me. Was this why I’d been so sick? My baby wasn’t well? I tried to think what could be wrong and I just wanted to yell at James ‘What’s wrong with our baby?’, but I held back. James sighed heavily and ran his hand through his curls. He looked like he didn’t want to tell me. “Tell me!” I demanded in a shaky voice. “What’s wrong with my baby?”

James looked at me with sorrowful eyes and fear took my breath away. “He has no soul.”

I blinked. My son had no soul? Suddenly, I felt lightheaded from relief that there was nothing wrong with the health of my child and that there was no question that his father was Alaric. I swayed and heard James yell, “Damn it! Grab her! She’s going down!” Then everything went black.

I came to on the sofa in St. James’ suite. Mackenzie was wiping my face with a cool cloth. “I didn’t puke up that lovely bisque, did I?” I asked groggily.

She smiled at me, her green eyes full of humor. “No. You didn’t toss your cookies. Or bisque in this case,” she chuckled gently.

“Did I faint?” I asked her. She nodded. “I didn’t fall and hit my head again, did I?” I reached up and felt the back of my head. No new lumps.

“No, I caught you,” she admitted with a wry smile.

I blinked in astonishment. “You caught me? Matt was right there,” I protested.

Mackenzie shrugged. “I have faster reflexes I guess. And I’m stronger than I look. I am a dragon after all.” She looked up then and I saw her eyes flash with intense emotion. She moved off the sofa and James took her place.

“So, little mother,” he said in a self satisfied manner. “Feeling more the thing now, are we?”

“What’s with the royal we?” I grumbled, struggling to sit up. James helped me sit up, and when my feet made it to the floor, he took my hand in his.

“I’ve got vitamins for you Lex. You’re anemic which is a common thing for a vampire first pregnancy,” he told me, in what I assumed was his best bedside manner. “It’s the reason you’re dizzy and fainting. It’s also the reason for the nausea and retching. Being hungry constantly is a symptom of pregnancy. Your child is feeding off you 24/7 therefore you are hungry 24/7. The mood swings are a combination of things. One, your hormones are a little out of whack. Two, your husband is an asshole who upsets you all the time.”

I heard a muffled chuckle and turned my head to see Matt coming back into the room with a glass of what looked like seltzer. He handed it to me with some pills. James nudged me to take them. I swallowed the pills with the seltzer water and grimaced. Matt sat down on the other side of me, grinning happily. Someone was excited that I was pregnant.

“Now, according to the tests I’ve run, this is the day you became pregnant,” James said, holding out the sheet of paper to me. I stared at the date and realized it was the day Alaric and I had been mated.

“I don’t understand. That’s the day we mated,” I said with a frown. “How could my son have no soul?”

James quirked a brow at me. “Don’t tell me the only time you had sex that day was the mating itself and afterward,” he snorted in disbelief. “Alaric Kohl couldn’t wait and this child is the proof of that.”

I remembered then that we’d had sex twice before our mating and my face flushed. The tub. Holy Mother! Our son had been conceived in a bathtub in New York City. How appropriate. I’d been in that tub the first time we’d seen each other naked. It had been the scene of several confessions including the fact that neither of us had ever been bitten. “I can’t believe this,” I whispered, overcome with emotion. “I’m pregnant.”

James, Matt and Mackenzie all laughed and I grinned at them, a blinding bolt of happiness shooting through me. I threw my arms around James. “Thank you James! You’re the best doctor a girl with fangs could ever have!”

Ah, Lex. She and her asshole husband are such fun to write. Well, almost as much fun as my bisexual werewolf Weylyn. Heh heh. Hope you enjoyed that taste of the Bar this Tuesday. Look for my amusing Bar quotes on Thursday.

Laters peeps!

It’s yet another edition of Marcus Monday. I’ll start with the awarding of the coveted Marcus Award. (He’s sooo cute ain’t he?) This week the Marcus goes to Kaige, Mary, Matt-Man, and Nicholas. Next week, I will recap points after the week’s awards.

Well, as Shiny and I discussed last night, finding a pic of Marcus to make us drool on a Monday is a difficult task. Marcus Mondays have been a lot nicer than just pissing and moaning about how Mondays suck. Starting with a picture of a man who is so beautiful, and whom most of us women really enjoy looking at, is a positive thing. Keeping Monday from sucking seems to require only something positive to focus on. Who knew it would be so easy! I particularly like this photo because it makes me think of a lush vacation in a hedonistic environment with Marcus. Well, even by myself it sounds divine!

Coming this week in my blog is another piece of the story about McKenna and her hot model. (If I post that it’s coming, I have to write it. Right?) Also, I’ve been planning my Thursday Thirteen. It should be amusing while giving people a taste of what I spend all my time on. Another topic will probably about my e-filing which should occur today. The final topic, unless something pops into my head that’s more amusing, is about Neko aka Miss Sparta the mean kitty. It’s happened. The end of the world as we know it in our household. Neko is in heat. Some deity needs to save us, I swear.

That’s it for Marcus Monday! Go forth and enjoy the day. Return to read my further rambles this week and garner a cute beanie of an award next Monday. We’re getting closer and closer to a prize! Have a good one!

Laters, peeps!

Thirteen Things I Wish Were Mine Some of these are way, way out of my league. Others aren’t if I scrimp and save… 1. The Janie. Janie is a megayacht. I saw the pics of the interior and completely fell in love with her. 2. The Paris Dream house. Some of the interior is really yucky and would need renovation, but overall I love the house. The website is actually parisdreamhouse.com. 3. This body. It’s Kelly Monaco’s. In reality, I’m older, taller, heavier… 4. A Tiffany padlock. There are cheaper ones but I love this one. It’s not that expensive, but it is one of those things only a man should buy for you. 5. The Brabus Rocket. This is the fastest sedan in the world. It’s the shit. 6. A Dooney and Bourke giraffe bucket purse. Okay, I kinda have a giraffe fetish thing happening these days. I was already a Dooney idiot, but then they had to go make this purse. I’ll prolly get one before the end of the year but I’d really like to have the purse and all the matching accessories, which is way too expensive for me. 7. A pair of Manolo Blahnik’s. I really like these, but they look like they should be worn with a wedding dress. 8. My own carousel with giraffes and white horses and dragon chariots. 9. A dragon tattoo. I’m too chicken though. Keloids run in my family and I’ve had a little trouble with my double helix piercing so I don’t think I’m brave enough to try a tatt. 10. A chaise lounge in my bedroom. I don’t have the room right now because I’ve got my desk and a recliner in there. The feral cats have taken over the recliner. If I ever get the Paris Dream house, I’m getting this chaise! (And the red lips couch too!) 11. A thoroughbred racehorse. Even just part of one. Owning a whole stable would be interesting though. Like the Alan Paulsen Trust who owned Azeri. She was an awesome mare. 12. My own island like Sir Richard Branson. Necker Island is gorgeous. Branson bought the uninhabited island and did what he wanted with it. It sounds soooo relaxing! 13. Marcus Schenkenberg. *sigh* You knew I was gonna say that, didn’t you? I am so obsessed with this man, and so pathetic aren’t I? LOL

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Meh. It’s Super Tuesday. I don’t like politics. Mostly, because it doesn’t like me. Nothing much goes right for me when it comes to the economy. I’ll go vote, but I feel really reluctant to do so for some unfathomable reason. Well, the reason isn’t unfathomable actually. It’s because I don’t think it will make a difference who is in office. I think the same living conditions I have today will apply in 4 years. Regardless of who is in office.

This is going to be the first time I’ve walked into a voting booth (they still have those don’t they?) since my daughter was born in 1989. I’ve used an absentee ballot since then. I should have done it this time too, but I think, indecisive as I am, that I need to do it in person. I still feel like I’m dragging my feet though. I feel like I’m going to pay a bill. I guess in a sense I am.

I don’t mind reading about politics. I read the Libertine and he talks politics. I watched all the debates on CNN. It was sort of inevitable that I would since CNN is about the only thing I watch on TV. I’m not afraid to say I’m a registered Dem. I vote my conscience though so if I liked a Republican enough, I would vote for him/her.

Watching the stuff on CNN has made me dislike a few people. Mitt Romney comes off as sleazy and slick to me. Back on MLK day when he was doing the “who let the dogs out” thing and telling that baby he had his “bling” on… BAH! What a loser! I like Mike Huckabee’s smile. I admire McCain’s courage when he was a POW. It would be interesting to see a black man or a woman in the Oval Office. I wonder if either of those two, who would be the first of their kind as President, would make a difference. I suspect not.

At the sim chat this past weekend, I was PM’d and told that I should vote for Obama because Hillary is so hated she doesn’t stand a chance against McCain. My reply was that I don’t vote who I think has the best chance against the Republicans. I vote for who I like the best. I gotta vote my conscience no matter what. Also, in the sim chat this weekend was one of the guys from Del Penn, a residency known for its ultra conservative members. Their token liberal was in chat and told me I need to come around their message board more often. Well, as a California native and a Democrat, they chide me gently there. Gently, because I’m a girl and they like me and I don’t talk politics with them. LOL

So, I head off to their board last night and sign in. The first thing I see is a ProBoards ad for Obama. THAT was amusing. I posted a new topic in their Tavern about how Whirlwind (Jeff) had told me to stop by and when I did, I was faced with this ad. I told them I was shocked to see such an ad at such a conservative outpost. Then I made a joke that the ad was there for The Avenger to use as target practice. I wondered after I posted if they would think I meant that Obama himself should be used by TA for target practice or if they would realize I meant the ad banner should be the target. Sometimes it’s hard to be politically correct. At least I didn’t say that Raider should drag the poor candidate behind his truck. THAT would have been VERY politically incorrect.

Did I say in this post that I don’t like politics? I must have. *sigh* Time to go vote. Indian gaming, no Indian gaming. Sheesh. I feel like a lamb going to the slaughter. Well, I did find a funny picture about voting. I am going to vote. Don’t blame me if someone you don’t like wins. I’m voting for Gary Coleman.

Laters peeps!

It’s another Marcus Monday! I have this picture in it’s full form on my desktop at home currently. I like it because, not only does it show his beautiful chest, it shows his hand! Men have to have nice hands for me get all shivery over them. I mean, c’mon, isn’t part of the reason we women like eye candy so much because we’re imagining what it would be like to be with that guy? I can’t imagine it if the guy has ugly hands. No matter how beautiful the man is, if the hands don’t look like the kind I’d want to touch me, he rings no bells for me.

I wish Marcus would update his website. I wish he would work on his MySpace. I put in a request to add him as a friend on MySpace weeks ago. I shoulda guessed that the MySpace would be like his website, neglected. I can only hope the reason for this is that the man is out and about on the red carpet so we can see some new pics of him soon.

Okay, the second installment of the Marcus awards is due today. I’ll give a recap of awards points every 4 weeks until we hit the 6 month mark. At that time, I’ll award the person with the most Marcus Awards a prize from The Bar Store at Cafepress. A nice bookbag or a hat. Maybe a clock. Something, anyway.

This week I’m giving Kaige 2 Marcus Awards. Jennifer Mackenzie, Shiny, BellaDaddy, and Trotter all get 1 each. Everyone had such good comments! Feel free to copy the Marcus graphic if you want to use it.

My final thought for today is a plug for my pal Mary who lives in Flippen, AR. Mary started a blog this week and, as usual, she had me roaring with laughter. You’ll find Mary’s blog at http://maryott2cents.blogspot.com/.

Have a great Marcus Monday everyone! Laters!

I started my short story about the woman who falls in love with a model because of his blog. The names may change later and it has no title, but I thought I’d post the first few rough paragraphs. Hopefully, this won’t end the way all my stuff ends…sitting in limbo unfinished because I’m tired of it. LOL Feel free to rip me to shreds all you writers and readers of fiction. If I can make this better through your nagging efforts, I will. So here’s what Andrei Andrei’s blog sparked in me:

The faces all started to look the same after awhile. All of them were beautiful, but none of them were a stand out. McKenna clicked on the ‘next page’ arrow and watched the next set of beautiful faces load on her monitor. She needed a muse in order to begin work on her book. She glanced at her outline again. Andre, the hero of her story, was dark haired, with dark eyes and sculptured cheekbones. McKenna needed a real face to inspire her, so she was clicking through pages of handsome men at an international modeling agency’s website. Thus far, none of the men had eyes that drew her. The eyes had to be just right. She wanted to look in them and imagine them filled with desire. The face itself wasn’t all that important. Round, angular, square jawed…

Whatever, McKenna thought with a sigh as she clicked to the next page. Some of the men on the page weren’t that attractive to her. None had eyes that drew her. She got to the last page without seeing a single man who was right for her character. She eyed the set of links on the home page of the agency and, with a sense of resignation, she clicked to the next agency’s website.

The first few pages of photos were exactly like the countless pages she’d already viewed. The men were handsome, beautiful really, but their smiles were posed and never reached their eyes. The eyes themselves were flat and uninspiring.

Where was the passion, the fire? she thought with a frown. The men were all of Italian heritage, yet not one looked like he had it in him to rip a woman’s clothes off.

Disappointment began to set in, and McKenna clicked through the pages more quickly, barely glancing at the models now. She decided they must all be gay. They had to be. They were so cookie cutter with their beautiful faces and cool demeanor. Thoughts of a grilled cheese sandwich were becoming more intriguing than all the models put together, when a picture in the center of her monitor caught her wandering attention.

The photo didn’t seem as posed as the others. The man in the photo was dressed in a leather jacket and a rolled neck sweater. He was swinging a fine leather suitcase out of the trunk of a shining Mercedes Benz. His face was angular, high cheekbones, defined jaw, stubble on the chin hiding a dimple. He was not much different than the hundreds of men she’d seen already, except for his eyes.

They were crinkled a little at the corners, as if he was looking into the sun, and the smile on his lips found an echo in those dark depths. As McKenna looked more closely at the photo, she could swear she saw little flames in those eyes. Even better than that, the expression in the brown irises made her melt like ice in the sun. Passion radiated from his eyes and face, the desire almost tangible.

McKenna’s breath caught in her throat. Those eyes speared her and turned her into mush. She instantly wished she was the woman he was looking at. Her bottom lip snagged between her teeth as she looked at the name beneath the photo. Raphael Antonelli. Very Italian. Her breath came rushing out as she realized his name was a link. He had a website.

Feeling as if she was standing on the edge of a cliff, McKenna clicked the link. Techno music spilled from her speakers as photo after photo of Raphael Antonelli filled her computer screen. With each photo that flashed by, she became more convinced that she’d found her Muse. When she clicked on the button labeled ‘Contact’, she found an email form and yet another link. Raphael Antonelli had a blog.