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I couldn't wake up this morning. Coffee isn't helping. And yeah, I'm supposed to go roofing too because life is like that. Gah.
People ask me all the time why I keep roofing, especially when my body is breaking apart ;-). During mornings like this, I can tell you I don't know either. I think I feel that I owe roofing something because it's saved me from starvation. It's very complicated, feelings of letting go mixed. Like a security blanket, you know?
Anyway, in case I start becoming too deep on a Sunday, let's return to the road of shallow lustfulness of enjoying nekkid men posing. This time, I received one in color, and on a dreary cloudy Sunday, this one is perfect--men cavorting on the beach, being obedient. If my life can be so perfect ;-). No, I get crapenters who don't speak French and who I DON'T WANT to cavort around nekkid with or without their tool belts. So, to enjoy, click on ARROW:
Yum. Even the song is perfect for a Sunday, isn't it? I have no idea who the singer is, so if you do, let me know.
How come I never see any nekkid men coming out of a bus on a beach? The blond god with the curly hair. That last one with the tousled hair. I can do rugby, I tell ya. I think it's in their contract. "You must look good and you must walk around nekkid with each other. Also, you have to pose in tubs and on the beaches while cupping yourselves."
See, unlike my contract, which is haunting me: "You must write a proposal. You must do your edits. You must write 100,000 words or more for each manuscript." Why don't they add some incentive, like, oh, a couple of these guys to wake me up IN PERSON and put me in the mood? But nope, been looking at that small print in my contract over and over--nada. Barbara Cartland had her pink poodles. Why can't I have a bevy of nekkid rugby players?
Ugh, that sort of put an ugly image of Dean Martin in my head. Remember his show, in which he was surrounded by a bevy of blonde beauties while he drank his martini and smoked his cigarette? "Welcome to my world," he crooned, "won't you come on in?" I'm showing my TV age, aren't I? ;-)
Anyway, back to writing. "They" did say that it was easy churning out the sexy stuff, you know. Actually, right now I'm having a problem with the Irish/Dublin accent--do I write just straight English and let the reader just make up the accent in their heads or do I throw in a line or two that would indicate that the action is in Dublin? Decisions, decisions....
Bear with me while I learn. The first button likes the POST. The second button likes the BLOG site. Please help me by "liking" me. Thanks!
3 comments:
Who is Dean Martin?
As for the clip. Couldn't load it. frowning.Sigh.Oh maaan.
As for not wanting to cavort around with your male co workers nekkid, simple reason, roofers are related to plumbers. Bad genes and all that. Its always in the Y gene ya know. So do you get a bonus if you go OVER the 100,000 words? Be awesome ~Athena
Finally got it to load. LOL, I have noticed the that the newest trend of putting a football on the privates has replaced the old fashioned fig. And did you see that woman who got to rub oils and such all over their bodies! Can someone say ENVY! Could you imagine having THAT job. Oh sigh dreamily. Bet she won the pool in best dream jobs. LOL~Athena
Athena,
Glad to see you finally managed to get it loaded because it's worth the wait ;-).
And, no no no, don't ever go over 100,000 if you are writing for certain publishing houses. They cut, cut, cut your manuscript to pieces. I am not Laurell K. Hamilton ;-).
Hey, SQ,
I'm still cracking up at your "hope they remember to wash their hands" comment. Do MEN EVER WASH THEIR HANDS? Ugh. LOL.
But this particular video is beautiful, isn't it? I've watched it numerous times and I'm in still in lurv with Blond Curly Haired God and Dark (last shot) Tousled Haired (is that the way to write that?) God. They incite deep feelings in me, hahaha.
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