Dakota's Moving !!!!!!

Thanks to her good friend Ter... (That's ME)

Dakota has a new blog !!

You can visit her new blog at : http://carnomedy.dakotacassidy.net/

Run on over and let us know what you think.

Heeyyyyyyyyyyyyy!

'K, so the ongoing battle to get over my shyness with the nice Borders people continues. I so know you can't believe I'm shy, but dude's, this is faaa-reea-kin' me out. I have never in my life been so nervous--like not even when I thought I'd lost the Miss Dobson Dodge crown to that cheap MaryBeth Whateverhernamewas who's hair was bigger than mine.

No, I'm kidding. Not about the nervous, but definitely about MaryBeth. She was lovely :)

Anyway, I strive to overcome my pathetic-ness. And I have just one thing to say before I go any further. This is HARD work. I seriously had no clue authors did this. I can't ever remember seeing a book with one of those gold stickers on it that says "Signed by Author" -- like nevah. Either that or I just didn't pay close enough attention. I was hip to the book signing thing, but this -- this -- well, this I was totally out of the loop on. I truly didn't now a whole lot about NY publishing on the whole to begin with, but WHO KNEW? And don't get me wrong, I'm all about showing my appreciation. I'd just really like to pay someone to show it for me because I'm a wreck.

Yet, I persevere.

Tonight I decided I REALLY need me some Dean Koontz and he does have that new hardcover out. I didn't buy it last week because I was still recovering from my bout with the lovely Borders cashier and the stupidity only I can create.

However, it would seem I made an impression.

Tonight I was back at the mall to meet my man for some viddles and Dean called to me. Yeah, it's hardcover, but if I were in hardcover I'd want Dean to buy me. Just sayin'. Not that he would, but if he could feel my love, he might reconsider. Or label me stalker.

Anyhoodles, I slink back into the Borders and zip behind a rack because I've made an utter ass outta myself once -- there's no need to hit replay.

and then
out of the blue
I hear...

"Heyyyyyyyyyyyyyy, Dakota! How's it rockin'?"

Okay, so I have two options--make like the Borders guy (who, if you'll recall, really works at Starbucks) is talking to the voices in his head -- or pretend I'm deaf.

However, the lovely Borders guy is truly an angel and I opt to wave and smile. Because I'm a tard and I have nothing to say. Like my throat is constricting. Really...

But out of the corner of my eye I DO see a book with the autographed by the author thing on it IN the romance section and I decide that my friend Michele Bardsley isn't just in this "stock signing" thing for the free meals and product I so lovingly supply my friends with when guesting at Casa Cassidy.

It really DOES happen. Other authors really DO sign stock. I'm now motivated to do this thang.

Until I get to the counter to pay, that is...

I go to purchase Dean and the very pretty girl asks if I have a Borders card. Can you even believe my world is SO small that I don't? But this is a perfect opener for me to intro myself, no?

Using my amazing superpower for witty convo, I say, "Why, no. No, I don't. However, I should because I is a writer and I have a book coming out in Feb." For which the lovely Borders employee gives me the "gasp" look, but refrains from calling me a dumb ass and says I'll get ten percent off Dean if I fill out a card AND, how exciting that I wrote a book.

So I meekly ask if she's the manager. IN fact, I crossed my fingers and toes that she was.
And she says no.

You know, crap if I can get this right. Could I maybe just catch a break so as not to further humiliate myself? But she says the manager is right in the back, and she'll grab her for me. To which I silently scream (I think. It's vague), nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!

But I compose myself and get yon shit together and say, "No, no. Really. She's probably busy. I'll be back in again and I'll find her then."

And she nods her head and I leave with 10% off Dean -- who so rocks -- and the NAME of the manager. Don't ever let anyone tell you I can't work under pressure. Snort.

By God, by the time this book comes out I'll have maybe, sorta, in some roundabout, osmosis-ish kinda way have actually INTRODUCED myself to her.

OY.

Dakota :)

Wherein Dakota shouldn't be allowed to go out in public without aide of a keeper

So yeah, it's been a while. I used to blog on a reg basis, but it seems lately, I just can't keep up. I remember once thinking when the kids got older things would be easier. Ya know, they'd be self-sufficient and doing their own thing. Which meant I'd have more time for me.

Uh, no. As they get older they want to go more places, do more things, stay up later, go out with their friends and in general always need SOMETHING. Food, a ride, money, food, food, food. At least when they were little they went to bed at 8.

So lately, if it hasn't been one thing it's been another. Football, ROTC, dances, homecoming, parties blah, blah, blah. Add to that my work which, there but for the grace of God, I've managed to keep up with, and I'm shot.

However, my work is what led me to finally blog again. Today I'm going to talk about the secret, underground, untold story of a book release from a perspective I didn't know existed. The NY one. Decidedly different from the e-book one.

Now I love me some e-books which is where I come from. I love 'em because they're linear. In and out, baby. Written, edited, proofed, line-edited, pubbed in sometimes just under a couple of months if you're on the schedule. Easy-cheesy.

A NY book is much diff. it begins waaaaaaaaayyyyyyyyy back in ancient times when you get "the deal"--like a year and a couple of months prior to publication. So you get the deal, you write the book for like three months because it's longer than your typical e-book (well, longer than the typical e-books I've written), you send it in, you get some edits, you do the edits, you get the copy-edits, you send them back, you get one last shot to tweak, send it back again and then you get your ARC's. Still, you're like three months before publication.

Now, in these three months you need to be out introducing yourself to the nice folk who run places like Borders and the like. All lovely people, I'm sure. Though after they've seen me skulking in the romance section of the bookstore, hiding under my purse, trying to work up the courage to say hello, I'm not so sure they'll return the sentiment.

Anyway, this is called PROMO. And we all know how good I am at that. At first this was a dark mysterious path I wasn't walking because it freaked me out. With an e-book you post to your newsletter and your Yahoo group and go eat a box of Ring-Dings or something. Not so much with a NY book.

So in the time since I've written the first book and am now actually just returning the edits on the second, I'm learning all these things I need to do to promote my book. All of which are like having bamboo shoved under my nails and using cheap product. Snort.

I learn from my good friends Michele Bardsley, Diane Whiteside and my publicist Jessica that I must go to my local book stores and introduce myself prior to release, so that on release day I can offer to sign STOCK. Thus, if someone buys my book they'll have an autographed copy.

Now for those who know me, you know I love people. I love to chat. I love--end of. I love it when we can talk about YOU--or your lawn--or your personal grooming habits. I don't love the my book thing so much.

Knowing me as my friends do, they've kindly offered to fly and drive from all parts of the country to come hang out with me on release day and "help" me do this stock signing thing. It'll be a blast, Michele Bardsley says. We're going to have soooooooo much fun, my friend Renee George says. I'll drive, Ter offered.

Coo. I'm all in. I'm stoked to see my friends. I have some of the bestest friends evah. I then begin to hatch a plan. These nice people at Borders have NO CLUE what I look like, right? So why can't one of my friends do this for me and I'll wait in the car? LOLLOL. Seriously, how do these book people know I'm not some crazy person with a disease that compels me to sign other peoples books? My pic isn't in the back of the book--so they won't be the wiser, right?

Nooooooo, oh, no. I need to stop being the sissy-Mary I am and work it, my friends say.

Hookay. So in light of working it I'm losing sleep over this. Hair too. I'm getting wrinkles. but I'm determined to play and play well. I'm grateful to anyone who buys a copy--you don't even have to read it, if you opt out. Really. I'm just grateful.

So as a sort of stick my toes in the shallow end of the pool where the non-swimmers sit on the steps and watch the pros with envy, I dip my feet in. Just the other day in fact. I was uber-proud of me.

For at least a twenty seconds...

I'm all at the mall with my honeybunny R. He's getting one of those massages in those crazy chairs while I struggle to walk to my Borders Express. I say struggle because I'd just gone five rounds with some guy on Discovery Health who has an accent and does a workout that would leave a Navy Seal crying. I'm in AGONY. My eyelashes hurt. However, a girl does want to look good for this signing of the stock, yes?

I wander in, I hover by the romance aisle. I see many of my friends books on the shelf and wonder if they too have fallen for this "stock signing" gig. Then I wonder if they've just been yankin' my crank and there really is NO SUCH THING. But alas, I press onward.

I'm there, and I'm in. Suddenly, an employee saunters up to me and asks how I am and if I need help.

Sweet mutha.

So here's my opener, yes? It's like when the cute guy at school finally talks to you and you have the chance to wow him with yer prowess. Or not.

Dakota--I stick my hand out and say, "No, I don't need any help, but I'd like to introduce myself. I'malocalareaauthorandIhaveabookcomingoutinFebruary.
Justwantedtointroducemyself." Yes, I said it without commas, breaks in sentence and or periods. What-ev. Don't judge. Snort.

Nice bookstore boy--"Very cool. What do you write?"

Dakota--Duh. "Books..."

Nice bookstore boy--"Yeah, but what kind?"

Dakota--The kind you read... "Er, paranormal romances--comedy."

Nice bookstore boy. "Cool. When's it coming out?"

Dakota--"February."

Nice bookstore boy--"Suh-weet."

Dakota--nervous, anxious, wishes floor would swallow her up. "Uh, yeah. Suh-weet. So anyway, I just wanted to say hello and introduce myself and I hope to see you in February." Or never again if the Gods are kind and don't want me to humiliate myself further.

Nice bookstore boy--"Well, just so you know. I'm not here permanently. My REAL job is at Starbucks at the Stonebriar Mall. I'm just here for the extra cash for Xmas... I'm working the register, but sometimes I help on the floor. So I won't be here in February. You should talk to the MANAGER, but good luck, anyway."

Bahd-dump-bump.

So here's a tip from me to you. If you have a book coming out and you go do this precursor to the stock signing thing--which I'm not entirely sure truly exists because it would be just like my friends to snark me, point and laugh--CHECK to be SURE you're talking to the right person. Like the MANAGER of the bookstore.

Not the guy who has a better gig at Starbucks, but who was lovely and ultra helpful nonetheless.

Off to conquer more cashiers :)

Dakota :)

Knight Agency Blog Winner is...

Patti!!!!!!!
Wooooooo hooooooooo, darlin'! You got yerself an ARC of The Accidental Werewolf!

Email me and I'll hook ya up.

And sorry, guys, for not posting in such a long time, but it's been caaa-razy these days with deadlines, kids, my mother and LIFE. LOL

I'll be back soon.

Hugs to all,
Dakota :)

Accidentally Dead

Big Squeeeeeeeeeeeeee!! LOL

Okay, when I put this up it's purple, but on my MAC it's a red background. I have no clue what I've done wrong--but I'm sure it's me and not blogger. Anyhoodles--this is basically what it looks like and I'm SO happy. Love, love, love it. Even if it's really red :)



Dakota :)



Edit - I fixed it !!!! Ter

Bird killa!

So today I come home from food shopping and there's a Pop Tart box on my desk. Now I don't eat Pop Tarts and the kids are at school (amen blessed peace). no clue how it got there. So I look at the box and there's a note attached.

What, Dakota, you ask. What did the note say?

This is what the note said...

There's a parakeet in the box--it's a long story. Dad's on his way with a cage. Will see you after I'm done babysitting. Mom has a part time gig with the neighborhood kids. She earns some cash and she's not here trying to shove tuna and rye down my throat all day long. So we're coo :)

So I ring-a-ling mom up and I go WTF??? Well, not the fuck part. Just the hell? because I try not to swear around my mother. She tells me this woeful story about how she was going into the county courthouse to get something (what now escapes me), and when she opened the door a parakeet, friendly as could be, landed on her foot.

So being the kind, help out a bird in distress kinda woman she is, she asks the lady at the desk in the courthouse to get her a box. I was happy to know my tax dollars are hard at work buying Pop Tarts for the Murphy courthouse employees.

Frosted Blueberry, if you must know :)

Soooooooooo--I'm not sure I'm buyin' this story because mom's been wanting another bird for a couple of years. I've been very hesitant because of the two cats and IF she leaves her door open in the en suite, or the boys do if they go to grab her phone--well, DEAD bird, right?

However, this bird sorta happened by accident (hmmmm), and I love animals--so I figure, okay. Dad brings the cage, plunks it down on the countertop and says, "So, Princess, ya got a bird."

No, Daddy, MOM has a bird. Dakota has everything else.

So we get the cage set up, we take the bird out of the Pop Tart box and it really is just too sweet. it's yellow, which as you all know, I don't recommend ANYONE wear. However, she's very fetching. It's very tame, hops on my finger, eats, chirps has a grand time. Now my mother has had birds before and I gotta tell ya, it takes a long time to train a parakeet to be as sweet as this one was. So I figure she probably wasn't fibbing about finding it out of nowhere. Someone spent some time with this bird and either dumped it, or lost it.

So we let the bird sleep because it's been through a trauma. My son Cam goes to check on it and he says, "Wow, he's REALLY tired. He's sleeping on the bottom of the cage with his feet in the air..."

Go ahead--laugh. It's okay. Really. I won't hold it against you.

I run assholes and elbows into the bathroom to find it is indeed "sleeping". I take it out and it's barely breathing, but I'm determined to save it if possible. My mother poo-poos such efforts. She's all of a sudden the bird lady and "knows" birds. She's convinced it will die. Well, fine, but in the meantime would it hurt to find out for sure?

Much calling vets who could be bothered after hours ensued and we finally find some bird lady who works for the Autobahn (sp?) society and mom takes it there.

Okay, so it died.

And I was sad cuz it was a cute little bugger and really sweet.

She was right--it died of hypothermia from the storm we had this morning.

However, this bird lady has promised mom another bird from her freakin' sanctuary (crazy bitch), and I'm not happy. See here's the thing--it's one thing to save a poor bird who needs a home. Completely another when you want to bring some helpless bird here and literally OFFER it up for sacrifice to my cats. That's willful intent, if you ask me. But whatevah.

My mom forgets a lot lately. She always forgets to shut her door and her dog (snuggles) always knocks down the gate on the stairs, thus letting poor, blind Wenzday UPSTAIRS. The dog is BLIND--if she falls--it's ovah. Not to mention the time she had my debit card for two weeks and swore I never gave it to her. AFTER I got a new one she found it in the pocket of her skirt...

Yeah, it's like that. So my fear she'll forget and leave the door open, I won't know and the cats will commit bird-icide is VERY real. Plus, she'll blame it on my kids. yeah, she's done that a time or two when SHE forgot to put the gate back up and I know she did because the kids were at school... Now typically, I wouldn't bring this up, but tonight--she took the cake. I know she's getting older and that sucks and it totally sucks to forget all the time--but she won't admit she forgets and we all end up in deep kimchee because of it. Oddly, she NEVAH forgets what she claims we did, when it was her who really did it. Tee hee :)

Now that's not to say the boys haven't forgotten to shut her door--they have, but I'd hate for them to screw up and end up killing her bird. Granted, they should be responsible, and I'm all for it, it's just one more thing I don't need to worry about. Which was sorta my piint in the below conversation.

Soooooooo--this is how it went down.

Me--I really don't think this is a good idea, mom. I have so much on my plate and if one of the kids left your door open and the cats ate the bird, I'd feel like crap.

Mom--I'll lock the door.

Me--Yeah. Like you did the last time Travis kept taking your phone and you were going to show him. Who had the phone two days later?

Mom--well, he got the key.

Me--Um, no. You were the ONLY one with the key. You LOST the key and you forgot you were locking the door, I come home and he has the PHONE. I ask you why and you tell me because he asked and you told him to go get it. Um, we were teaching him a lesson about putting things back--I hate to telly ya, grasshopper, but it didn't exactly work out when you forget you took the phone away to begin with.

Mom (with sad face and totally ignoring the point)--so are you saying I can't have the bird? I'm going to be all alone someday when you live with Rob. I can't live in your pocket, now can I? I'll have nothing and no one.

Me--dumbfounded by the drama, but only for a moment--because then I remember my teenaged years and I'm back in the saddle again-- Then wait until I move in with Rob to get a bird.

Mom (really sad face)--I can't believe you'd deny me something to keep me company.

Me--still dumbfounded, but recovering quite nicely. You have TWO dogs. That's not company enough?

mom--it's not like a bird.

Me--That's because it's a dog.

Mom--sad, sad, sad face.

me--totally guilted out. Look, it's not like this new bird you want needs a home. The other dead bird did. I feel like we're just inviting trouble.

Mom--If we don't give it a home, who will?

Me--the crazy bird lady who has it NOW!

Mom--but I spent sixty bucks on a cage.

Me--Take it back.

mom--I can't.

Me--Then I will.

Mom--You can't.

Me--Says who?

Mom changes tactics because when cornered, she either hurls buttloads of guilt at Dakota or avoids, avoids, avoids.

She opted guilt...

Mom (with accusatory face)--plus, you put it in your bathroom and the A/C was what killed it.

me--ASTONISHED--you did NOT just say that to me. I took the fricken' thing from a Pop Tart BOX--helllooooooooooo. A Pop Tart box you didn't even friggin' put HOLES in and just dumped on my desk. Not to mention the fact that you didn't even close my office door--Bailey or Kta, had that bird not been petrified in the box, could have knocked it off my desk and EATEN it. And you told me the bird lady said it was hypothermia from the storm. Now I'm a bird killer????

mom--shrugs, gives me the sad face and watery eyes. I didn't say anything when you brought Milo home...

Me--again, aghast. Um, mom--Milo's a DOG. he can fend for himself against Wenzday who's blind, Mike who couldn't run if there were a field of Milk Bones at the end of the rainbow, Gomez who's overweight, Mindy who's a neurotic mess and hides if you look at her sideways! A dog is much different than a helpless bird who's stuck in a cage and easy prey when you LEAVE THE DOOR OPEN! All I'm saying is, I can't take the guilt if my cat snarfs up your bird. I'll feel like crap and the way things have been going lately, you'll swear you SHUT the door and it was one of the boys who left it open. Then I'll have to buy you a new bird and thus, the vicious cycle will continue.

Mom--sad, sad, sad face. So are you saying I can't have the bird?

Me--big, deep, cleansing breath. No, Mom. I'd never say that. I'm saying I have a full plate these days. If Bailey or Kota eat the bird and you say ONE word to me, I'm divorcing you.

Mom--sulks, pouts, goes upstairs.

me--feels guilty as all hell, but glad I spoke my piece. I know how this'll go down if the bird dies. it'll be on me or the kids because as much as I love my mom--she kinda sucks at admitting she's wrong. Like my debit card just hopped into her pocket and stayed there because it was warm, yanno? I love her, but know your enemies weapons. LOLLOL

Couple of hours later....

R and I are in my office watching some TV. Travis comes home and he asks my mother when she's getting the new bird. Smart ass.

She looks both R and I in the eye--sad face in place and says, "It makes your mother unhappy. So I don't know if I will."

R as my witness, that's what she said.

I'm going to go slit my wrists now because I have to believe it'll be easier than getting the poor bird, coming home to the carnage after the cats eat it whole and feeling like shit. LOL

OYYYYYYYYYYYYY!

And the winner is...

Dudes, y'all rock! Thanks for coming out to play with us.

Okay, here we go--the winner of the Amazon gift cert is--nece

The summer's end prize pack is--minime

and the e-book of mine Michelle Hoppe offered--tami!

E-mail me, ladies at Dakota@dakotacassidy.com to get yer stuff :)

Thanks again for playing!

DC :)

Hi - Jacking for Michelle Hoppe

Okay, I realize I'm late to the party, however I must set the record straight:

1. Yes I do snore. I have never denied it, but Ter is correct, that cat is wayyyyyyyyyy LOUD!

2. The only reason we were out buying my booze, leaving Rob to clean up the mess is because ya’ll done forgot to get it the day before or some such excuse, therefore requiring poor Franc to find a liquor store in the middle of friggin nowhere, which delayed our arrival home by about an hour. If you had purchased said booze in advance of my arrival as planned, you and Ter would have been home in time to assist poor Rob in the clean up.

3. I was not a wimp – did I not swim? YES, yes I did. Not only did I swim, I invited my sister to visit with us and demanded that she bring her swim suit to assist in Dakota’s campaign to ‘get her monies worth’. My sister, trooper that she is, donned said bathing suit before the required one hour had elapsed after eating and took the plunge. Well her toes did anyway -- so it counts! As for Ter using the pool more often – she arrived two or three days before me (at least one) therefore she had more time to use the pool.

4. I put the friggin sun screen on damn it, so stop bitchin! I returned to Washington tanless thanks to all the damn sunscreen I slathered on.

5. Dakota is right about not having to ‘walk the dogs’. There is a big backyard, however it’s a little more complex than simply opening the door and letting them out. Wait did I say a little? Let me explain and you all be the judge:

a. Take diapers off Milo and Mike
b. Open door and wait for all dogs to exit while keeping foot in place to prevent cat from escaping. Once dogs have exited, quickly pull foot out of the way while praying cat doesn’t get past you and Wensday, poor blind baby hasn’t fallen in the pool yet.
c. As each dog goes to their own area of the yard (which is L shaped), pace in front of pool to prevent any accidental dips by said dogs.
d. While attempting to keep on eye on several areas at once, leave post by pool to open door for dog number one, who has finished its business and is now demanding to be let back inside where it is cool. (Why didn’t she spend a few extra bucks and get a doggie pool installed?)
e. Rush back to post at pool-side, scanning waters surface for possible ripples, while attempting to locate all the other dogs who have now hidden behind (pick one) flower pot, bushes, tall grass in the corner, that little tree with the yellow flowers.
f. Continue moving between back door and pool until all dogs have returned to the house.
g. Wait fifteen minutes - repeat again and again and again and again, well you get the picture.

On my next visit I want a lifeguard t-shirt and whistle.

6. I cooked twice, thank you very much.

7. While Dakota insists the sun is only two feet up and it’s an illusion that it is further away, it’s not true. I have done the research and the distance from Tex-ASS to the sun is 37 feet 6 inches. Next time I’m using less sunscreen damn it. I want a tan!

8. Ter is correct on the bathroom sharing. I’m the one who didn’t have to share. It’s because she loves me best ~smiles~.

9. The truth is Dakota likes to cook, but you didn’t hear that from me ~shhhhhh~.

10. I learned long ago to pack large quantities of tissue for the eventual departure from Casa Cassidy. While I’ll admit to tears of my own, they are a small stream in comparison to the Nile my dear friend Dakota gushes when time forces me to return home.

11. I can not confirm or deny the existence of excessive hamburger helper as the pantry is a vast waste land that I avoid ~smiles~.

Since Dakota has allowed me to hi-jack her blog to set the record straight, I’ll kick in something for the contest. Anyone who posts a note telling Dakota to get me a lifeguard t-shirt and whistle before my next visit will be entered to win a download of any Dakota Cassidy book ~wink~! Lets see how long it takes her to catch this LMAO!

Michelle Hoppe aka Double L

The Great Blog Hi-Jacking...

I have decided since Dakota does not post enough on her Blog someone MUST keep the fans entertained :) So here is my list of.....

10 Things you MUST know if you are staying at Casa De Cassidy

1. Her cat (Bailey) HOWLS in the middle of the night and she was MUCH louder than Michelle Hoppe’s snoring. If this will disturb you be sure to bring ear plugs or you can put a pillow over your head and hum, this will drown out the cat.

2. Dakota spent a lot of money (she will tell you 2000 times how much) on her gorgeous pool; therefore she must get her moneys worth. Bring a bathing suit as you will be swimming even if it is 20 degrees and snowing.

3. Make sure to be up on your dog walking skills if you want to be a good guest as there are a million dogs at Dakota’s and someone always has to go out. I walked more dogs, cleaned up more pee, and put on more diapers then I have in my entire life combined.

4. If you are driving Dakota somewhere make sure NOT to be late. Not even 5 minutes you will NEVER hear the end of it. TRUST me. Oh and by the way be careful of the bumps as she has sensitive Ovaries and might lose one if you hit a bump too hard she must have been born with like 10 as she lost at least 3 while I was in Tex-ASS.
5. Dakota does not like to cook so if she does cook for you she will constantly tell you what a needy guest you are. Although she does make an AWESOME Lasagna. Oh and if she should happen to make you toast don’t let her son know or he will be PISSED. Bacon and eggs are fine, but the toast really pushes him over the edge.
6. Tex-ASS is REALLY hot and as Dakota likes to say “It is an Illusion; we are two feet from the sun LOOK!” Make sure to put on sun screen or she is libel to tackle you down and slather you in sun tan lotion so you don’t get burned. That or she will yell at you till you get off your ass and apply the sun screen yourself.
7. Dakota has LOTS of munchies in the house so if you are on a diet STAY somewhere else. She also has like 5000 boxes of Hamburger Helper… maybe those are for when she is patiently awaiting a check from her publisher.
8. DO NOT walk in her office with your shoes on. If looks could kill I am sure I would have died 1000 horrible deaths. I did it at least 3 times (Sorry Dakota) just not used to having to take my shoes off in the house. Of course when little Milo pees on the carpet he does not get the evil eye. I wonder what would have happened if I peed on the carpet…. Maybe I will try it on my next visit just to see what happens.
9. If you are the last one out the door leading to the garage make sure to close it all the way or the dogs will get in there and tear apart the garbage and POOR Rob will get stuck cleaning it up. (Sorry Rob – It was ALL my fault)
10. Dakota WILL cry like a BABY when you leave. If this kind of thing bothers you I would get up REALLY EARLY and RUN before she can slobber all over you that she will MISS you.

OK so as Dakota said we are giving away prizes so Post a Comment and you will automatically be entered in the drawing. We will be giving away a Summer Prize Package which includes a signed book, chocolate, margarita mix, and Yankee Candles and an Amazon Gift Certificate for $ 25.00 The two winners will be chosen on Wednesday September 5th and will be posted here on Dakota's Blog. Make sure to check back to see if you win.

I will be Hi-Jacking Dakota's Blog again, maybe in a few weeks so check back to see what kinda fun I can have NEXT time.

Ter

It's good to be king...

So Milo had ze grooming today and when I picked him up, I giggled my ass off. He's a boy, so I was surprised by this, but because he was sooooooo good--he got himself a little something I'd kill for. Even if it is just a barrette. LMAO

Do you thnk they groom humans? Snort

DC :)

BUILDING THE PERFECT NEST

Hello everyone! ~R here.

I thought it was time for another guest post. The twist here is that, she doesn't know this is coming. She'll just be reading it like the rest of you. :) Sorry Bun. :) :)

So, we all know about the lovely Dakota's love of the "I am woman, hear me roar" lifestyle. She is absolutely determined to stand on her own two feet, and damn any MAN who tries to change that! I honestly think she once said "To know me, is to fear me.". Okay, maybe I made that up. But that wouldn't be a stretch. But let's just say that even though she has learned to accept that we are going to be together, like, for-eva, she still can't say it. When speaking of the future, she says things like, "You know Honey, when we... (long pause).. co-habitate..", or "When we... (long pause)... do that thing where you live together and stuff...". To even consider entering into any sort of situation where, oh, someone may end up taking all of someone else's stuff because someone did something they shouldn't have, is just completely unthinkable.

But, lately there's been a change in the wind. It's subtle. VERY subtle. But, in Bunnyville, these subtle little "slips" are starting to add up to a whole pile of "I'm Totally The Champ". I offer you, the following evidence:

exhibit A) Ter is my witness on this one. While Bun was on the landline with Ter, I had called her on my cell phone. She actually said to me "So, when are you going to be home, Honey?". What could be wrong with that, you ask? Read that again. I'll wait. Okay, let me point it out. She asked me, while standing in HER living room, when I was going to be HOME... to HER house. I know, I know. In a normal world, not a big deal. But, right after she said it, she realized it and was unable to speak. I called the local 911. It was dicey for a few minutes, but a couple jolts with the paddles, and she's all good. Depressed. But good.

exhibit B) It was just another Saturday, and I'd had a tough week. So, I decided I was going to sleep in a bit, at her place. She came in to wake me up, and in a moment of what can only be called "weakness" she muttered "Oh, I didn't pick your clothes up off the floor this morning. I'm sorry." Do I need to wait for you to re-read that, or are you catching on?? Since when does she need to worry about my laundry?? As she has declared MANY times, she is NOT my wife. But, there she was... feeling bad about my dirty clothes that had been on the floor for about 12 hours. ::sigh:: Sad. CUTE. But, sad.

exhibit C) Another little fact about my Bunny, is that while she is a spectacular cook, she hates it. She does it because she believes her sons deserve good food. But, she grinds her teeth the whole time she's doing it. Well, last month the boys were away visiting their father, so she was free from this chore for a whole month. Or so we thought. She actually turned to me one night and said "You want me to cook you something for dinner tomorrow night?". It literally made me pause Scrubs on the TiVo. Seeing the confusion in my eyes, she said it again. I got in the car and ran up to the local CVS and got one of those home drug testing kits. It came back negative, but I'm not so sure she didn't smuggle in a zip-loc bag of clean pee. I'm easily distracted when she plays cute. Anyway, I told her there was no way she was going to cook for me, if she didn't have to. But the fact that she willingly WANTED to cook for me I think screams something. Hmmm... what could that be...

The bottom line? She's NESTING. That's right. She's all in, whether she likes it or not. As much as her conscious mind is saying "maybe", her sub-conscious is saying "Hell yeah!". She was once the unwavering, etched in stone, vision of the empowered single woman, who didn't need ANYONE, particularly a MAN, to make her life complete. But now, for all the flapping her arms, stomping in circles, and carrying on like a clucking chicken, she has realized that maybe, just maybe, she might be happy to be committed to a relationship for the next 50 years or so. :)

It's okay Honey. You nest away. It's very cute, and I'm all in too.
You're simply da best.

~R - Totally the Champ

Thursday 13--a tribute :)

13 things I love about R

Okay, so today (July 26th) is da big day. It's our 2 year anniversary and well, who knew R wouldn't end up in the nuthouse after this much time with me? LOL. So this is for you, honey. Yer totally da best and I love you like a buttload :)

1. He loves animals. R gets right on the floor, even after repeated warnings of hairball hell, and plays with ALL of the puppies everyday.
2. He's an awesome kisser.
3. He has magical, mystical UNO powers. Snort.
4. He keeps me on task at conventions etc. If it weren't for him, I wouldn't even know I really do have to go to the bathroom. Seriously.
5. He doesn't care that I look like a bag lady when I'm in the writing zone, or if he does, he shuts his yap :)
6. He has magical, mystical UNO powers. Really, I can't say that enough. Word.
7. He does the best impression of David Caruso from CSI Miami.
8. He never complains about my reality TV obsession.
9. He still spends every night on the phone with me so we can watch TV if we can't physically be together.
10. He is the MASTER of a killa title.
11. Even after two years, he still makes me secretly smile when I'm alone
12. He doesn't get mad at me because I so don't get the TIVO
13. He knows I like pretty, shiny things and when I get distracted by them, he follows behind me, then offers to prop my mouth closed :)

Happy Anniversary, honey!!

Dakota :)

FREAKS

Yanno, there's SPAM and then there's SPAM...

So here's the story. My mother (71 and sometimes a little over the top), comes running down the stairs tonight with the speed of Flo-Jo, pops into my office and hands me a printed out sheet of paper.

Now typically, my mom can be a little paranoid. She won't bank online because she's sure the mob will infiltrate her accounts and tie cement blocks to her feet, then dump her in the drink to keep her mouth shut about it. She won't do a lot of stuff because as you get older, I think you just naturally become more cautious. Shit's happened to you in your life and you know where to draw the line.

However, when she handed me this--I near blew a gasket. It enraged me that people can even get away with this kind of shit, let alone send it to someone who's a senior citizen. it's fine if you want to enlarge my penis, offer me Cialis, tell me I won some damned lottery, solicit my money in many variations thereof and offer to blow me from Russia all in one day. That's one thing.

This--well, this is another and it just isn't fucking funny. Like I've always said, you can say whatever you want about me, do whatever you want to me, but ya can't fuck with my mother or my kids. not even with SPAM!

Whoever the hell is sending shit like this out is the equivalent of those freaks who prey on senior citizens via phone to get them to send money to their orgs so Oral Roberts (or whoever) won't hit the Highway to Heaven. Or the ones who get them to donate to their non-existent charities.

And this here is what my mother brought me--This is the only way I could contact you for now,I want you to be very
careful about this and keep this secret with you for now. You have no
need of knowing who I am or where I am from.I know this may sound very
surprising to you but it's the situation.I have been paid some ransom
in
advance to terminate you with some reasons listed to me by my
employer.It's someone I beleive you call a friend. Do not contact the
police or
try to send a copy of this to them for now
Now listen,I'll give you the vidoe tape of our conversation but before
that, I need $6000.I repeat,do not arrange for the cops for now.
Payment details will be provided for you to make a part payment of
$3000 first,which will serve as gurantee that you are ready to
co-orperate,I will give you a copy of the tape (I tape
recorded our conversation),which will be enough evidence for you to
take any legal action against him before he employs another person for
the
job.
You will pay the balance of $3000 once you receive the tape.
You do not have much time,so get back to me immediately


I e-mailed the address this freaky crap came from to find out what I suspected anyway, and naturally, if you want to save your life, you'd better find a way to do it by osmosis (sp?) because you can't do it via the assholes that thunk this up.

I've never seen SPAM like this before. It's always harmless bullshit. Now--not so much. This freaked my poor mother out and made me want to hunt the motherfuckers who think they're so funny down and bleed their balls dry. While I'm sure their targets probably aren't just the elderly, sending this to ANYONE just ain't copacetic.

So if anyone gets something like this--gimme a shout. I'd love to know if anyone's taken this a step further than just bitching about it. I'd have to guess this could have legal reprecussions if whomever is doing this can be hunted down. In fact, they did catch that one guy overseas for setting his e-mail to send SPAM continuously. If I remember correctly, he's wearing orange and is currently someone's bitch in the pokey--or is that just wishful thinking on my part?

Clearly these Jack asses need a whoopin'.

Dakota

The Accidental Werewolf cover has arrived......

So since Dakota is way to busy tending to her needy guests to give you all the scoop I will !

Dakota got the cover for The Accidental Werewolf and it is FABULOUS !!! (As you can see)

And here is the Blurb......

Color me bitten…

Marty Andrews is having a bad week. First, she’s bitten by a mangy mutt while walking her teacup poodle. As a result, her salon-perfect blonde hair begins darkening by the day to something that’s sooo not in her color wheel. Her mood swings have turned her into The Hormonal Hulk. Worse yet, the hair on her legs is growing at a rate even a body slam into an entire vat of wax can’t cure. Last, and most important, her dream job as a sales rep for Bobbie-Sue Cosmetics is going to hell in a hand basket …

The only high point is Keegan Flaherty, the droolworthy man who shows up at her door. Of course, he’s clearly insane. Keegan claims that he accidentally bit Marty, and since he’s a werewolf, she is now, too. Red meat cravings aside, Marty refuses to believe a word, until a kidnapping makes her realize there’s more at stake than her highlights. And she must put her out-of-control life in the hands of man who makes her blood run wild in more ways than one…

OK My job here is done now.... back to your regularly scheduled Program.

Ter

Wherein Dakota is a SUCKER...

This is my last post before I hit the road for MI for a week with little or no Internet access--so do indulge in yet another tale of "Dakota is a tard."

Okay, so R calls me and tells me he's at a stoplight where right next to him, a guy has a truck full of puppies. All sorts of puppies. Malteses', English bull dogs, and Yorkshire Terriers.

Argh.

Now I've always wanted a Yorkie, but I'm resisting because I have two babies already and one, Wenzday, a pug, is diabetic and going blind in her right eye. The other, my Chi, is like a retro version of the 60's mindset. Gomez's philosophy is love the one yer with. he loves all the ladies in the house and will sleep like a whore with whomever will give him a bed.

I also have two cats. One who yarks if you simply think the word. He's the Amazing Creskin.

Add in my mother's dogs she brought with her when she moved in with me, a Cockapoo (snuggles) and a long haired Dachshund (truly scrumptious) and we have a houseful.

Now add in Mike and Mindy, Rob's dogs. Two more dachshunds. Mike who's older and experiencing bladder difficulties much like me and needs to wear the pee-pee pants because he has accidents. Mindy is just a ball of sunshine and was once abused by some fuckhead. Rob got her from a Dachshund rescue. They visit occasionally and spend the night with me because I'm sickly attached to them since the time Rob moved and they had to be with me for a few months until he got the farm in order.

So--get yer fingers out--when everyone is here, that makes 6 dogs and two cats.

yeahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh...

Thank God I live in Graceland.

Anyhoodles--like I was saying, Rob knew I wanted a Yorkie, but I figured when the time came that my Wenzday skipped off into the next realm of endless Milk Bones and Steak Tar-Tar, I'd go looking. I lurve animals. All of them--especially the ones that have no potential for adoption. I hate people who abuse them. I despise people who take them and then just dump 'em.

Soooooooooooo, when Rob tells me this I say, OMG! How could you tell me something like this! you KNOW how I am. My son Cam (of the my milkshake brings all the boys to the yard fame) overhears me and says, oh, let's just go look. I'm like no fricken' way.

yeahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh...

I finally figure, what's the harm, right? I've walked away before and besides, Yorkies are ridiculously priced. But, loser, easily manipulated mother that I am, we go.

to just look...

Yeahhhhhhhhhh...

Oddly, it was at the same intersection, where on a convertible ride, Rob told me he loved me :)

We get there and it's late and there are no more Yorkies. Alas... however, they do have a really cute Griffon something or other. He looked like Chewie from Star Wars--and he was on some kind of crazy crack. He was a bundle of yippy and skippy.

So now we've looked, the Yorkies are gone and I'm cool. I'm not paying 475 for a dog who more than likely someone else will adopt and lurve to pieces and he's not a Yorkie... he's a brussell-griffon something or other.

yeahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh..

However, there's an English bull dog and I just gotta see--he's absolutely the most sluggish, laid back dude evah--and 1800 greenbacks.

Yeahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh....

Suddenly, I hear talk between the two men who are selling the puppies that there are Shi tzu's. Awwwwww, my mom had one and he was a riot. His name was Fugji and we loved him to death. So I just wanna peek--and then I hear there's one (a male) who has one eye smaller than the other and he might be meeting his maker if he can't be sold.

And I think--My left boob is smaller than my right, but Rob adopted me... and now I MUST see the puppy because these heathens are going to rid themselves of defective merchandise and this pisses me off. it's all I can do not to haul off and slug the numnuts in the chops. Yet, I am always a lady and I refrain...

Everyone else is sold in the Shi Tzu dept, but this little guy.

yeahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh...

So I hold him. I look at his right eye which is indeed smaller than the left.

I care not.

I want.

So here's my Milo. I figure he and my Wenzday, between the two anyway, have one good pair of eyes. We're going to velcro the wee one to Wenzday's head and make them a perfect pair of 20/20's :)

Ter said they were probably full of shite and had no intention of knocking the little bugger off--she's probably right.

but just loooooooooooookkkkkkkkk! LOL

Dakota :)

For Shiloh and Erin

So they'll get off MY BACK. LOLLOL

Hookay, so it's been like forevah and a day since I blogged, but life has a way of grabbing me by my foot and dragging me down the road to participation and here I am. So I've been busy with the house and the book and the group etc. I did some blog interviews (one with Jaynie. Yeah, she's back and cooler than ever), and trying to write this book before I have to leave for MI the end of this month. Then there's RWA from the 10th-16th and my friends are coming to hang at Casa Cassidy and we're going to crash the bar at the hotel. I, like the good author I am, am sooooooo looking forward to slapping a face to a name. Quietly, of course. I'm merely an observer. Snort.

So here's what's new...

Not a lot... LOLLOL

Actually, that's not entirely true.

Texas is HAWT and lately, rainy. So now it's steamy, gloomy and HAWT.

Onto more pressing matters.

First I'm going to make brief mention here about Triskelion. I've gotten an e-mail or two about this and I'm just going to say a couple of things. My book Sexylips66 was with Triskelion. I also had an anthology I was in and my title was Mac to the Future. I have no intention of changing them making it a little different and selling it to another e-pub (???). I hadn't been out and about much on the web except for to a couple of blogs, so that tidbit was new to me. I was paid in a timely fashion for my work. I took into consideration many discussions/suggestions from many sources and I tried to make the best, professionally based choice about what to do upon asking for reversion of my rights--time will tell if it was right. I wish everyone--authors, editors, and the staff of Triskelion the very best. I was sad to see its passing. Nuff said.

It's HAWT in Texas AND I found a stretch mark on my boob...

My son Cameron has suddenly developed a sense of ha-ha--Like I totally thought his genes were going to all be about his dad (sigh). However, as of late, he's like the snark-meister. The other day he was complaining he might be getting man-boobs from too much comp-time. So later in the week I asked him how his man-boobs were and he looked at me, grabbed said boobs like any experienced greased pole engineer, and sang, "My milkshake brings all the boys to the yard!" To which I nearly peed in my big-girl panties. I'm very, very proud to have passed on the gift of self-deprecating humor :)

And it's HAWT in Texas.

My oldest is still sans license. God only knows what I'll have to do to figure this out. Right now it's just me trying to figure out the best avenue to go when I file this mysterious paperwork so if I'm possibly missing something they claim they need (because we have a billion diff answers), and decide I'm not worthy because I didn't research it well enough, I won't lose anywhere from 250-545 bucks. Yeah, they can take yer cash and not give you a damned thing for it. Swell way to say thanks for your patronage, eh?

And it's HAWT in friggin' Texas, I have a stretch mark on my boob AND a killer forearm ache that won't go away.

I have new carpet in my office and bedroom. Yee and haw. What a fricken' day that was. First--I had no idea they couldn't move my electronics and naturally, my office and bedroom have the most shit this side of Kingdom Come. See me and my 71 year old mother moving my flat screens. But there was redemption for the mess. The one installer thought I was my oldest spawns SISTER. Well, it HAS been rainy in TX and it WAS gloomy that day--low lighting and all :)

It's HAWT in Texas.

I believe I have rosacea. I only have two million new afflictions since hitting 40, but this new one--well, this one makes me look like I have a mustache. Here's the deal. I tan really easily. I use sunscreen and reapply liberally, but living in Texas, like 2 feet from the sun, means it's frickin' HOT and SUNNY (not a lot lately, but when it is--look out). I do a lot of yard work because SOMEONE has to. Anyhoodles, I'm in my bathroom one day and I note my cheeks have dark spots. As I work more in the yard, I notice, over the course of the week, that I have this darkening on my upper lip. My eyesight sucks and I think, OMG--I need to start waxing... it stands to reason--I am over forty and hair happens on us over forty chicks. I'm not too freaked, but I'm not happy either. I'm not very hairy, but it's a rite of estrogen passage, yadda, yadda, yadda.

So I go to my fave salon and they go, um, why are you going to pay for a wax when you have nothing there. I'm like HELLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO--do you not see this? Yeah, my nice wax lady says and then she says, but it's not hair. Your skin is discolored... We get out the magnifying mirror (what did I do before I tried one of these?)--which might have left me relieved--except, it's still lookin' like a mustache. She says, I think it's rosacea. I'm not doctor, but you should go check it out. For God's sake--ENOUGH already. Isn't it enough that my bladder is swollen and ready to explode? I only use the facilities 9000 times a day. Isn't it enough that my hair is falling out and my joints feel like peanut brittle? Isn't it enough that I have EDEMA? My face swells up and to add to that fabulously attractive feature, I now have a MUSTACHE! And I have a mustache that isn't even really a pre-menopausal symptom--thus, excluding me from the PM club. I can't go on...

And it's HAWT in Texas.

I found a stretch mark on my boob. Due to the fact that I tan so easily, I caught it because well, it's white and I'm not so much anymore. Christ, I went through nine months of pregnancy and not a single issue. Now my boobs decide they're southern gals and don't want to go back to the north east and because they protest this with such vehemence, I have a stretch mark. Fine.

And most importantly--The title to my second book--The Accidental VAMPIRE happens to be someone else's. I mean, I don't want to be petty, cuz it's UBER unattractive in an author, but for God's sake, Jim--can I get a break here? LOLLOL. Actually, the nice lady who has it is Lynsay Sands and if I knew her personally, I'd snark her (lovingly and merely joking), but I don't and well, you know how some things can get out of hand--rumors fly--people talk. So I'll just say this--KNOCK IT OFF already. LOLLOL. My editor said we should come up with a new title. I say, er, yeah--she's a NYT bestseller and I'm one in my mind. She wins. Anyway, I think we're going with The Accidental Immortal, but no confirmation as of yet... and I'm not grudgin'. Besides, who could grudge when her cover for the book is FAB?

And last, but certainly NOT least. I'm in big like with Cindy Cruciger. Yep, she cracks me up. Didn't know who she was until RT when she said mean stuff about me, but i DO NOW. Sometimes I have NO clue what she's talking about, but it makes me laugh that I don't. I shall commence stalking accordingly :)

Dakota :)

HOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWLLLLL!

The Accidental Werewolf...
Is this not a total hoot???? Okay, so my bud Juanita who I met on Michele Bardsley's group drew this up for me and it cracked me UP. It's her impression of my book (insert PROMO here. Snort) of The Accidental Werewolf (available in Feb 08--Berkley Sensation Trade paperback). In the book, my heroine isn't a beauty queen (this was da Juan cracking on me--note the Miss Paranormal banner. LOLLOL), however, my heroine, Marty, has a poodle named Muffin and Marty sells multi-level cosmetics. Kinda like Mary Kay--only I called it Bobbie-Sue. Marty's biggest ambition in life is to become the color lavender on her way up the ladder to the big finale of sky blue. Each color on the rung of success to Bobbie-sue Stardom represents how far you've gotten in the mega cosmetic comapny. If you make it to the top tier, ya get a sky blue convertible.

Marty's just achieved lavender status and proudly wears her new suit and heels when she's accidentally bitten by a werewolf while walking her teacup poodle Muffin one night. So note Juanita's take on Muffin... she's purple and sitting on a Muffin. LMAO

Anyhoodles--I thought I'd post this because I lurve Jaunita for thinking enough of me to take the time to draw this. Hell, I'd use it as a cover if I could, I love it so much.

Oh, and check out my shoes, would ya? Gawd, they're fab, huh? LOL

Many, many thanks, Juanita!!

Dakota :)

My Illegal Alien :)

Okay, so my kid's gonna be 17 in June, right? I finally consent to let him have his driver's license. Not something I'm thrilled about--considering Vicodin as a way to get through it.

However, it must be done. So here in the fine state of TX one must either certify to teach your kid to drive or send him off to driving school. Guess which one this lazzy assed mom picked. LMAO

I take him into the drivins school--a gig that's gonna cost me 355 bucks so he can get his permit and full driver's license. I bring the appropriate stuff--SS card birth certificate and GREENBACKS.

I sit down, I hand this all to the lady at the desk--she looks at it and informs me that because he has a foreign birth cert, he can't have a drivers license.

Hmmmmmmm, I say. Well, I said more, but it wasn't nice...

Now here's the deal. We adopted my oldest in Romania when that whole crush of adoptions was taking place in the 90's because the country was in a huge uproar after they whacked the leader of said country.

I spent five bloody weeks in hell over there, living like they did/possibly still do. Never before was I so thankful to be an American than I was after I left Romania. The mess the whacking of said leader left in its wake was horrifying. Buttloads of kids were abandonned in orphanages. Reason being, the leader of the country had outlawed birth control, demanding that women have children so he could create some kind of super race (loon). He also ordered blood transfusions for many of the women who were preggers because he thought it would strengthen their constitution. Yeah, it was like dat.

Um, you can only imagine what ran rampant after THAT. Aids. Everywhere. In fact, we didn't just go to adopt one child--we went for two. We were approved by immigration for TWO. However, the one little girl I fell in love with tested positive for AIDS and well, after that, I just couldn't go on. The American Embassy wasn't going to let her out of the country, 'fo 'sho. I had to go home after that. I couldn't take the idea she'd die alone in an orphanage, but my travel visa was only approved for six weeks. Luckily, a couple who did some work for humanitarian efforts took her and many other children in the same predicament. They lived in Romania for several years, caring for such children. She died clean, cuddled and fed and it's my only solace when I close my eyes at night.

But this isn't about what happened while I was there. It was probably one of the most tumultuous times of my life. Exciting, uplifting, horrendous on so many levels, frightening--a multitude of emotions that I remember as clearly as if it just happened yesterday. THIS is about my kid, who I legally and with the permission of INS (after home studies and paperwork like no other) adopted, brought to this country, spent two hours in customs getting his alien resident card after a 14 hour flight, raised, loved for 16 1/2 years now, trying to get a friggin' license.

So, anyhoodles, the wench at the driving school takes one look at his birth cert and says, "Oooooohhhhh, no. That's not legal. he needs an American b/c." I'm like, huh? How can he have an American one if he wasn't born here, you tard? it was made very clear to us when we returned via INS that we didn't have to re-adopt him here in the states. Everything, as far as we knew, was taken care of.

Now, I won't get into the whole scene with her. Suffice it to say, I could barely get a word in edgewise and if she called me darlin' or sweetheart one more condescending time, I was going to poke her beady eyes out with my keys :) I left her with a bit of my wisdom--nuff said.

So what does this all mean for the little bugger who thinks driving is his right? First, back in the year 2000, when he was 10 and we were getting close to having to naturalize him, a law was passed, stating all children adopted via US citizens (that's me, me, me) were automatically considered citizens too. When you adopt via another country, it used to be you had to naturalize your kid before they were 12. It's just filing papers and making a trip to my then state capitol, Albany. I remember saying to the ex--thank God we don't have to do that with a 10 year old and a 6 year old in tow.

So anyway, his resident alien card didn't expire until 2001. I figured because he's just considered a legal citizen, we don't need to renew. Which is true, for the most part anyway.

After our debacle at the driving school, where I almost showed my kid what "mom's gone wild" is all about, I get back home. Dig out the translated adoption papers from the American Embassy and start calling INS.

Holy fucksticks! First of all, these people have a diff story, depending on who you talk to and what hour of the day it is. I think after lunch isn't a good time for them. Their still getting over their tuna sandwich high and can't be bothered to be helpful. They pawned me off to the passport people. Who, according to them, if I can prove I'm a legal resident, will let me get my kid a passport and that will enable him to drive. No prob. I've got everything you people need and more.

Oh, a rare treat indeed these passport people! Apparently, the US Passport people are overwhelmed. Boo hoo. Lots of people want passports and they've hired extra folk to work round the clock to help you. Well, everyone except ME. After listening to a voice mail by a guy who sounds about as interested as I am in watching ketchup drip, I'm presented with a menu of options. A plethora of options, none of which apply to my kids situation. So I wait for the option to talk to a customer service rep. Never happens. I finally press ANY button--this bored voice tells me to hold for a customer service rep--two seconds later--they tell me to have a nice day and hang the frig up! I did that three times, people, before I finally lost it.

I think I clenched the phone and jumped up and down. It's vague because I ended up, via gritted teeth and a tenuous hold on my temper, calling back INS.

I get another lady, who I believe probably got laid during lunch because she was most helpful. She sent me to an ADOPTION SPECIALIST in OK city. I had to e-mail this unknown person and they're supposed to get back to me in two working days. I await this with the kind of anticipation one awaits a colonoscopy :)

So here are the facts--I adopted my son at 6 months old in December of 1990. I spent five weeks with a bunch of people who, while very hospitable, just wanted my money and in the condition that country was in, it's understandable. I paid an interpretor to shuffle us around and help me translate some very murky waters in Romanian orphanages. I've seen some things that would make your head spin on your shoulders. Things I wish didn't exist, but do. Things that made me see the bigger picture and left everything petty by the wayside. It grounded me. It humbled me.

I found my son in an orphanage. He was placed there because his mother couldn't provide for him. I met his bilogical mother. We chatted as best we could and we cried because she was losing a child she could in no way care for, and I was gaining one. It's a bittersweet gig, no doubt. She gave me her blessing. I have signed, necessary INS papers that say as much. I have his finalized adoption papers, AIDS test, and I think one of my lungs notarized, blessed, stamped and sealed from the American Embassy in Bucharest. I have his foreign B/C. I have his SS card that I applied for when he was two. I don't suppose I could've gotten one of those without proving I was his MOTHER by legal means. yes?

But the kid can't have a license until these people figure out what organ I should donate to them--or someone gets their story straight. Know what I find utterly ironic about this? There are loads of illegal's out there driving around WITH a license issued by the TX DMV. Maybe, instead of trying to do things the right way, I should've found one of those illegal's and asked him to forge me a b/c, eh? It tweaks me no end that the people who do it the right way kinda get screwed. I'm not going to debate the illegal alien issue. I only know my kid is a LEGAL ALIEN. he can't ever run for president (everyone say amen with me now. LOLLOL), but he's legal because I'm legal and the double whammy is--his father's legal TOO.

Know what else tweaks me? My kid works at the local grocery store. Our fine government gave him an SS card, let him work and happily take taxes from his paycheck every week. But he's not legal, even if INS says he is because I am. So he can fork over a good portion of his paycheck to the government that apparently isn't recognizing him, but he can't DRIVE????

I think I'm going to go practice removing my ovaries on the off chance that's what that driving school and this adoption specialist will want in return for his license.

Snort.

DC :)

Hey, lady...

Wanna be my friend?

yes, from the peace and quiet of my backyard, where I go to hang out in my jammies and watch my waterfall in my pool, I have an unwanted guest.

So about a week ago I'm all out in my backyard hanging out. My hair is ratty, I'm sick as a dog with bronchitis and I have my jammies on.

I note the neighbors behind us have very unwisely put up a treehouse type slide and swingset for their curly-haired angel.

Yay.

Unfortunately for me, the top of the treehouse overlooks my pool and backyard.

Not so yay for me.

So I'm dying here--feel like shit, can barely breathe and I hear, "Hey, lady, wanna be my friend?"

Okay, so lemme preface this by saying, I like kids--love 'em--just not in my bronchial state and in my jammies. I'd like some privacy in my backyard, thank you and I don't want to chat when I go out there. So I say, "Not today, darling. Maybe tomorrow."

He giggles and keeps peering over the treehouse to see what I'm doing. I get fed up and go back to bed.

Couple days later... "Hey, lady, wanna be my friend today?"

"Not today, darling. I have enough friends for today. maybe tomorrow."
"Do you wanna know my name?"
"Not today because you're not my friend yet and thus, I don't need to know your name."
He giggles and says I'm funny.

Har-har-har.

Next day--same deal.
Me-same deal.
Him--"I'll check tomorrow, 'k?"
Grumble, grumble. "Yeah, okay."

Couple days later. I think I've escaped the little beast because all is quiet. I sit down at my patio table and prepare to vege before I go attack this proposal due June 1.

"Hey, lady? TODAY do you want to be my friend?"

"I still have too many friends. Maybe check back with me next week..."

"Hey, lady! Does your tummy hang over your pants. My mommy says hers does because she eats too much food."

"Yeah, me too. Wanna know why mine does?"

"Why?"

"Because I eat A LOT of little boys " :)

LOLLOLLOLLOL

Ya think I've scarred him yet--or have I more work to do? I think I have more work. he digs me and thinks I'm funny.

Methinks no nude sunbathing, yes?

DC :)

The Big "Bangs" Theory

Okay, so if you didn't think I was loser enough already--wait until you hear my stalker, fangirl tale.

Truly, there aren't many people I get crazy over. Bary Manilow, John Cusack and that's about it. Now the exception to the rule are two authors. Authors who have crazy premises and a wild sense of humor.

I can remember first reading them after a sabbatical from romance and thinking, "Wow, romance novels have changed. No more nannies falling in love with their employers ect." Thank God :)

This would be when I found Nina Bangs and Sandra Hill. Nina wrote a book called Night Games and I'd found it on Alibris while I was looking for used books. I liked the cover. It was about a guy from the future who played not the typical Monday Night Football, but Monday Night Sex.

I rolled around on the floor over that concept and bought the book. When I was done with it, I bought anything else she had too. Like The Pleasure Master ect. Her ideas were so unique and quite honestly, when I'd read other romance novels, I'd change the story in my head to some whacky premise if I was bored. Her stories fit the bill for my vivid imagination.

Now remember, I'd never planned to write a word until it just happened, but thinking back on when I wrote a narcoleptic vamp, I remember thinking about Nina Bangs when I thought the concept was going to make everyone go, huh? And it paid off for me. Yeah, people still thought I was nuts, but in a good way. LOLLOL. With all the dark vamps going around in e-books at the time, I thought I'd be raked over the coals. However, the e-community has a HUGE sense of humor and for that and for the inspiration Nina gave me, I'll be forever grateful.

it set me on the path of "what if" a werewolf, who essentially looks like a dog, was locked up in the pound and needed adopting? That led to where I am now with Berkley. Writers like Nina and Sandra and MJD sorta paved the way for the crazier folk like me. Tee hee :)

So every time I'd come up with some new, nutty idea, I'd always refer to Nina and Sandra who had the guts to walk out on a very shaky limb with some pretty hilarious, far out ideas.

Just recently I found out that Nina is a part of Berkley and that meant we were now collegues. Totally blew my mind. Totally. I kept thinking, how fricken' strange is life that me, an ex BQ and housewife from Jersey, could be in the same realm as someone I'd admired for several years? Truly life is stranger than fiction.

Then I found out she was going to be at RT in Houston too... I was giddy. Yet, I'd promised myself and R, I wouldn't behave like a tard. R said, "Just say, I'm a big fan of your work when you meet her and walk away with some class."

Yeah, that's exactly how it went down.

Or NOT. LOLLOL

So all my buds know I'm sorta over the top excited about Nina being there and one day in particular, when she was doing panels, my friend Ter had had many "Nina sightings". I was just never in the right place at the right time to catch her. Ter would call me on the phone and I was on my way to a booksellers get together ect, ect.

But I figure it's okay--I'll see her at the book fair and stalk her, er talk to her there. However, as luck would have it, we're in the bar (where we spent a good portion of our time) and Ter nudges me and says, "There's Nina."

I'm verklempt, speechless (I know, me????), torn as to whether I should tackle her or just look on in reverant admiration. Ter says, "C'mon, let's go see her." I follow because I'm atwitter and I can't think straight.

So we're all skulking up behind her and the entire time I'm saying to Ter in a hushed whisper, "Be subtle", then nearly screeching, "OMG, it's Nina Bangs!" And I can't seem to get up the courage to stop her as she's walking toward valet parking. This is sooooooo not me, people. I'm a take the bull by the horns kinda girl, yes? But I see the end of my road is coming because she's all leaving if I don't catch her. So I finally just do it.

I tap her on the shoulder and say, "Miss Bangs?" After that it's a blur of "OMG--I love you and I write for Berkely now too and OMG, I'm rambling right?" More blurry stuff, pictures taken, me sobbing and squealing like a pig and more, "OMG--I'm rambling, right?" I remember meeting her very nice crit partner Gerry Bartlett (hope I spelled that right) who wrote Real Vampires Have Curves Too. I remember trying to maintain my composure while I stuck my hand out and introduced myself to her because, after all, I was accosting her friend.

I was the picture of refined.
All class.
Behaved like a reaaaallll lady.
OY.

However, Miss Bangs was definitely everything I was NOT. She took my crying, screaming, freaked-out-ed-ness like a champ. She hugged me. She took pictures with me. I think at one point she even gracefully untangled me from her hair or something. Because I got clingy--whatever... LOLLOL

Either way, she's a class act and when I saw her the next day at the book fair, she didn't even cringe. In fact, she mentioned meeting me in her newsletter and invited me to be her friend on MySpace. Ter grabbed her newest book for me and had her sign it. She signed it, "To my new favorite person Dakota." Do note, she left crazy OFF the person part. LOL

Like I said, one classy lady.

I have to say, aside from meeting my online friends in person, THIS was the highlight of my RT. To finally meet and behave like a blithering idiot in front of Nina Bangs was a huge thrill for me.

And now I'm going to drop her a note and offer to pay for her therapy :)

Dakota :)

I heart Jessica :)

and Ter
and Jaynie
and Renee
and Renee George
and Robin
and Michele Bardsley
and Jose
and Sheri
and Kate Douglas
and Angela Knight and her hunky hubba-hubba man
and the Nanchez (or Nancy with a Y)
and Tricia
and always, R

LOLLOLLOL

Hookay, so, RT 2007--First, We had a friggin' blast. I dunno if I've ever laughed as much as I did this year. Everything was centrally located, so we didn't have to travel far and wide like we did in Daytona. The food wasn't half bad at the hotel and the staff was pretty on top of stuff.

Okay, so I FINALLY meet Jaynie R. and Ter and her hubby Jose, who, without them, I probably would have left a lung behind somewhere in the bar because I distract easily. I was so excited to meet Jaynie, who's like one of my best buds online and Ter, who I only met a couple of months ago, but feel like I've known her forever.

We hung out, we laughed our asses off, they ran after me because I'm a total tard and wouldn't know what was what if not for them.

Oh, and did I ever make a coup!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

This coup explains Jessica...

K, so we're in the bar (go figure) and I'm sitting with Ter and Michele Bardsley (go read her BOOK), and this wee, whirling dervish spins on in and plunks down next to Ter. She's perky and bubbly and cute as a blonde button. Now I knew she was a publicist for MJD because Ter had told me the day before. She's very friendly with everyone and seems to closely know all of the folks who are on MJD's fan group. She clearly can take a joke, cuz I was snarkin' Michele Bardsley whom I adore, but can be VERY EASY PREY. LOLLOLLOLLOL.

Soooooooooooo, I'm crackin' wise at Michele Bardsley because well, like I said, she's an easy crack (LOLLOL), and she whispers to me that she's just hired Jessica to do all her junk for her-- like mailing ARC's and getting stuff together and in general, running her life so she can do nothing but write.

I mouth to Michele, "HOW MUCH?" as in, do I have an extra kidney I can donate because I could REALLY use some help here. I'm new to this whole print thing and I have no clue what's expected of me. I need someone to take my hand and say "Go here." Michele gives me a smug look and says, "Ask her yourself." Sorta neener, neener, neener-like, ya know? LOLLOL

Now I'm all kinda nervous because I mean, she does work for MJD, not to mention they've been best buds since she was like 14 or something. She's probably very busy and really doesn't need some loser newbie sucking up her life-force. However, I figure, what can it hurt to ask? She can only mock me publicly, right? I can take that. I do it all the time to other's-- it's only fair I extend her the opportunity to do the same.

So I ask--got room for a pathetic newbie who needs help like Michael Jackson needs therapy? LOLLOL. No, I didn't say that, but I bounced some stuff off her and got a feel for what she does. Gawd, I don't know when she sleeps for all the stuff she does. However, I'm beyond impressed and I'm ALL IN. I want her. I want her like a new pair of shoes. No, wait, I want her like I want a new TIARA...

I didn't know how much I'd need her until the next day...

So Jessica is hired just on first impressions alone, but she saved my ASS at the book signing. I stroll on up to the ballroom to do my thang at exactly 10 sharp. Now, my CP editor called me because she'd had an asthma attack and she was going home, but that's okay because she checked after they'd told her I wasn't even listed for the book signing and made sure I'd have a space.

Er, NO. No space, no placard for my name, no nothin'. Now I'd said to Jaynie the night before, whaddya wanna bet I have no card with my name on it (this has happened before). So, Jaynie and Renee took it upon themselves to hand make me one. 'Twas divine and I think I shed a tear when I saw it :) it's going in my scrapbook.

Anyhoodles, I hear tell my books are in the cast off section of the ballroom, but it's cool, cuz I can work a corner. I have plenty of experience. LOLLOLLOL. I go to find them and again, NOTHIN'. Hookay, so I can just wander and meet some of my fav authors. No sweat, right?

Wellllllll, Ter finds me and has two of my books with her. I'm all like WTF? Where'd ya get those? She goes to find my, ahem, PUBLICIST, Jessica and tell her of my woes.

Like ten minutes later, I have my own TABLE, pens in every color of the rainbow, not one, but TWO placards and water. Bam--just like that. My books have been retreived from where ever the hell they went to and I'm sittin' pretty. bada-bing, bada-boom, baby!

All I gotta say is this--I heart Jessica like Batman loves Robin, cuz she RULES. I say, if you need a publicist who can do everything and do it with the speed of an Indy car, the grace of a gazelle all while she smiles that pretty smile...

HIRE JESSICA GROWETTE at JAG Promotions. She's the best kept secret in the romance writing industry.

So, all in all, I'd say I had a fantastic RT. I met loads of new people like The Nanchez, Tricia, and Jessica. Hung out with Ter who, if she doesn't pop in every twenty minutes and stand near me, I stop breathing without. Her husband, Jose or THE HOSE, who buys and supports authors without the blink of an eye. Michele Bardsley who turned me onto the charms of Jessica and is totally like the best to hangout with. Renee George, who needs a tarp to drink, but is just the sweetest thing evah and Jaynie, Renee and Robin who stuck closely to me and made sure I didn't have my underwear on outside my pants. LOLLOL

You chica's and one guy rule the planet!

DC :)

Thurday 13 #2

Again--the same disclaimer. I got nuthin'. I also don't know how to add to the URL thingy--but here I am. LMAO

13 Organs and or Limbs that have failed me now that age 40 has led a full on attack

1. My eyes--see last weeks bifocals. Sigh

.

2. My knees--once conduits for back flips and cartwheels to amaze and wow you, now crack and squeak every time I bend them.

3. My neck--God, it hurts all the bloody time--especially the right side of it--Ben Gay is my perfume of choice :)

4. My right elbow--I guess it's from leaning on the arm of my office chair, but it's often numb.

5. My toes--yeah, both big toes are ingrown and it sucks big, fat, man titties because it hurts to wear shoes that are not open toed :(

6. My bladder--I did say it had issues, yes? Well, I'm saying it again because this medication also sucks the above and I may not be hitting the bathroom as much, but I look like I should be because my tummy looks six months along. LOL

7. My left hip--is that an organ or limb? Either way, it's stiff a lot lately and I'm pretty flexible, but lately when I stretch to do those stupid Pilates, if I go too far--OY--I pay.

8. My fingers. They cramp and lock up on me. I'm like the claw. Snort.

9. My back. It hurts a lot lastely even when I just think about it hurting.

10. My boobs--yes, I know I'm lingering and bitter, but they ARE so organs. organs that once played a high note and now just hit a flat and out of tune C. What-the-hell-ever. LOL

11. My wrists--they get numb and sore from typing.

12. My ankles--they swell due to edema. So do my wrists and my face. I feel pretty.

13. My brain--once sharp as a razors edge, now can't even remember the name of my dogs food...

I'm too sexy

Snort.

yeah, that's what I was thinking tonight when R says, "Hey, Bun, wanna have a sleepover tomorrow night?" Meaning he'll come spend the night at my pad. Something we don't often do because I have sons who are clearly old enough to know we, ahem, ya know--but really need not to have the stereotypical "Mom's got a man" thrown in their faces.

Anyhoodles, I'm all like, snerk. I wiggle my eyebrows, bat my lashes coyly and say, "Somebody is in the mooooood. I could tell the moment you walked in tonight and gave me that extra long kiss and press of ze groin, riiiiiiigghhhhhht?" Insert girly giggle here.

R says, "Er actually, Mikey has to go to the vet Thursday really early (Mike is here with me until R gets his backyard taken care of so no bad animals come and snatch him up)--I thought it would be easier."

I
Am
A
Vixen
Yes?

LOLLOLLOLLOL

DC :)

Deal or no Deal

K, so R and I have been watching this in between the times when our stupid shows decide they need like a vacay after but two new espisodes.

For instance--Gray's Anatomy. Um, HELLO, people. What the hell is up with throwing me this chicken bone every three weeks or so because you actors need to slough your dead skin at some snazzy spa and can't possibly ACT this week? This damned show has been on hiatus more than it's been on this year. Who the frig said you could have a fall break? What about you and your nine-hundred bazillion dollars per episode doesn't make you want to show up every bloody day--even if you lose a limb? I can tell you, if it were me, and they were paying me what they pay you--I wouldn't hold my breath thinking Dakota can't do a one man show--cuz she'd do it for a lot less than you will.

The Ghost Whisperer--WTF???? you're all here in January, gone until the end of March. Don't dead people ALWAYS need your help? Could you just not find the right outfit to talk to the dead people? Do you think these people can wait until your eyebrows are plucked to find the "light"? Crimeny!

I just love when they advertise they're going to gift us with a new episode like somebody just passed out a lung. OY

I could go on and on... However, it just makes me insane--so I won't. I don't know what happened to the shows that used to work harder. Hawaii Five-O just offered their first season on DVD and it has TWENTY-EIGHT episodes. You could all take a hint from Book 'em, Dano!

So anyway, we've been catching this Deal or No Deal on and off to fill in while we wait for everyone with a hangnail to fix their boo-boo's and get the hell back to work. I'm not a lot bitter either. LOLLOL

So guess what? They're having auditons for it right here in Dallas. Guess who's going to try out?

Yep--me and R.

Wish us luck--cuz we're kinda not the best gamblers. In Vegas we did okay, but not quite what Jackpot Jim did. We kept joking it was a good thing we're lucky in lurve. LOLLOL

So I'm going to put on something cute and practice screaming and bouncing and being unique.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

DC :)

Thursday 13 #1

Yeah, I'm gonna give this a shot for lack of anything else to blog about. I got nuthin' these days that isn't work related and BOOOORING.

So with that in mind, and remembering I have no clue how to put the thingy in here for people to add their URL's saying they did Thursday 13 too--Here we go :)

13 Places I Sag On My Body

1. My eyelids--yeah, when I slap my eyeshadow on them it kinda gets stuck mid-eyelid and wrinkles. Crap.

2. My butt. It once was a pretty hot butt. Tight, pert, worthy of an occasional oogle--now it's flat and will soon be by the backs of my knees.

3. My right boob--hold on, I have two.

4. My left boob. Yes, indeedy. Gone are the days of going braless and Hooter-mania. They need TWO Vic Secret Embrace bras to achieve only HALF of the effect I had at say, 20. What-ever.

5. My abdomen--once a soft swell of flat surface you could chase a hockey puck over is now kinda a lump made worse by my bladder issues. See #6 for full explanation.

6. My bladder. yeah. I turned forty and hit the shit runnin'. I saw the doc, cuz if I don't hit the facilities at LEAST 25 times a day, I just don't feel whole. He gave me Detrol LA because my bladder is having sagging issues and has grown weak. The Detrol LA has a side effect better known as swelling. If I push my stomach out, I really can make it look like I'm a good six months along. Pretty--very, very pretty.

7. My thighs. Once a force to be reckoned with--able to crack small children's heads in a single Full Nelson are now experiencing the jigglies. Argh.

8. My hair. It just doesn't have the same kinda bounce it once had...

9. My eyeballs. I have bi-focals because I have seeing trouble near AND far. They're a thing of beauty--really.

10. My knees. I noticed a wrinkle the other day whilst busting my saggy ass gardening.

11. My arms. It won't be long before I can take off with a good, stiff breeze if I just click them twice...

12. My waist. It really was once between my hips and boobs. Now? Not so much :)

13. My hips. Indeed, I've found they should be right above your hoo-hah and attached somewhere around your abdomen. Fancy that.

DC :)

Jaci Burton's Wild, Wicked and Wanton :)

After much hostage negotiation, wherein I promised to show my ARC if she showed me hers, I nabbed an ARC of Wild Wicked and Wanton by Ms. Burton.

Yay me!

I don't often blog about anyones books because I don't get the chance to read as much as I'd like anymore with two teenage sons, a house the size of an amusement park, and a writing gig that's sucking up my eyeball's. LOL. However, when I saw Jaci was having an ARC contest I was all put out. I checked my e-mail and I checked it again...

Surely she'd just made a minor faux pas by not sending me the ARC, yes? I mean, how could she forget ME???

Well, she did. Forget me, that is. Like I never even existed... Nice, huh? LOLLOL

Anyhoodles, let me preface this by saying I told Jaci if I didn't like it I wouldn't blog about it, but I'd tell her privately.

Kudos to Jaci for telling me she could take it if I didn't like it and to blog anyway. I'd have done the same. In fact, when she reads my ARC, she can do the same.

So--my review.

Jesus effin'--this was REALLY hot. I mean like the kinda hot I was grateful to have a man for hot. Asbestos glove hot, even.

It's three naughty, fun stories about a bet between three girlfriends, in one big ol' package of well--naughty. My favorite was Blair's story. Her hero Rand was smokin'-licious. I had shivers a couple of times :) And that's all I'm tellin' ya. The rest you'll have to find out for yourself when you go BUY A COPY. It's available in May from Berkley.

Now, as an aside--I asked Jaci if my mother (71 year old erotic book reading 'ho) could read it too. The standard practice for my mom is this--if she reads a book from one of my friends, she dictates an e-mail to me for the author. Mom isn't terribly Internet savvy, though she'll read an e-book if we print it out. She sucks at e-mail and hates everything about it. However, she's done this with Kate Douglas and Angela Knight and several others on numerous occasions after sweating her Depends off upstairs in her room. Tee hee-I'm kidding, she doesn't wear Depends.

Jaci said sure and mom read it too. She'd already read Surviving Demon Island and loved it. Jaci was worried my mom might not take well to the erotic nature of ze book.

Silly, silly, silly. I had to explain that mom's an erotic book slut. She loves 'em all and doesn't bat an eyeball at the naughty words.

Mom's verdict?

She lurved it too and now has added Jaci to her auto-buy or auto-beg as I call it, because she begs me to let her see any ARC's I happen to come across. She always buys the book when it officially comes out, cuz she's just loyal like that. She even has a a list on a calendar so she won't forget.

Ahhhh, if only they could clone my mother, eh?

Anyway--go buy this book when it comes out next month. It was fun, fresh, and naughty, naughty, naughty. Weeeeeeeeeeee doggie!

DC :)

Dear youth of America,

QUIT VOTING FOR SANJAY!

Yes, he's cute in a fourteen year old kinda way. Yes, he's so sweet he's like Gummi bears stuck to your fillings. Yes, he reminds me of Mr. I've never felt the scalpel of a surgeon Jackson--and that's all well and good. I'm sure that's part of his appeal.

BUT...

The boy can't sang! Not well enough to keep up with the other people. Stop dialing with your hormones front and center, eh? Y'all are delusional if you think he stands a chance of winning against Melinda or Lakisha. personally, I think everyone should just GO HOME and let them duke it out.

So scurry on off to bed now. Stop playing with the phone, running up mom and dads phone bill and whatever you do--don't make Auntie Kota come and get you, cuz I'm tired, okay?

If I get up tomorrow and gear up to watch Idol, only to find you little heathens have voted for him again--there'll be hell to pay!

Don't make me ground you until Idol is over. LOLLOLLOLLOL

Grease coulda been your word

cuz we might have used it to lube you out of those jeans, honey. LOLLOL

Oh, that was soooooo mean, but--let me explain.

So tonight my kid had a chorus concert. Now, he participates UNWILLINGLY in this because in 6th grade he has no choice but to.

Me? I lurve it because most times I know all the songs he's singing and I'm ready to hit that. I also lurve that he hates it. Dude, we all gotta do what we don't want to do, I tell him. I feed you, don't I? Isn't that me out there making some kick-ass dinners for you and the beast you call brother? Er, yeah. I HATE to cook, but I do it. You hate to sing, but it's REQUIRED. Thus, a life lesson has ensued, right?

Anyhoodles--my kid's concert tonight was a HOOT. They sang, of all things, Grease songs. Ohhhhh, when I found out those were the songs--I put them on my I-pod and sang them while I cooked those life lesson dinners every night for a month.

Sooooooooo--tonight's the big night and I'm pumped, stoked, ready to do the wave. I was not ready for what happened next.

I sit behind this woman and at first, I have no clue what the people around me are giggling maniacally about.

And then, I drop my program and come face-to-face with the whitest, biggest piece o butt crack evah! Seriously, she rivaled any Draino engineer. Now, really, wouldn't you want to know if your ass was hanging out and everyone was making fun of you? I think sometimes, we tend to forget our age and I'm all about viv la difference--to each his own. HOWEVER, if you couldn't feel the draft of that--you were NUMB. LOL.

Everyone is laughing and I feel bad. I make a snap decision...

Soooooooooooo--I lean forward (after a Tic-Tac, mind you) and whisper to her--you might want to give that sweater, which, btw is TOTALLY IN your color wheel, a tug DOWNWARD. Because I can see your hiney and I know if it were me, I'd want someone to tell me. She turns many shades of crimson and thanks me, but I get the feeling she isn't really grateful. However, if she knew how everyone was laughing--she send me tiaras for a year.

So--they sing and I gotta say, my kid don't screw around. he's an A+ student and grades mean everything to him--if, by God, there's an A to be had, he wants it. When he got up there, in the last row cuz he's tall for his age, he greased anything he could touch like John Travolta had possessed him. LOLLOL

He was SO into you're the one that I want, I thought we might have to offer him a hankie to wipe his brow. LMAO

Oddly, today I got a note in the mail from his chorus teacher. She says he shows great promise and musical talent and she wants him back next year. Now, I look at this thing and think--you ain't talkin about MY kid. I don't want to Simon Cowell him, but he couldn't hold a note if you put it in his lunch bag.

Seriously--he's THAT bad and I'm a firm believer in being honest about it. I don't want him headin' off to like American Idol and having him come back after they've wiped the floor with him and saying--why didn't you tell me?

Kid can't sing--period. LOLLOLLOLLOL.

So I figure they need to keep kids in the program to keep the program. Some schools want to cut music altogether--which I think sucks, but I also don't think we should LIE to them and make them think they have a shot at singing when they CAN'T sing.

And my kid CAN'T sing. he gets a big fat A for effort and doing the Hand Jive like a pro--but he CAN'T sing. So I tell him about the note and he snorts. I snort too. I ask if he wants to go on to next year and he says, yeah--it's an easy A and I don't really sing anyway. I mouth the words and do AWESOME hand gestures.

ROFLMAO

DC :)

Dear John...

er, R...

it is with great regret I post you this blog. You see, honey--Barry has FINALLY come to his senses and decided he can't smile without me. Belive me--it took forevah for daybreak to occur.

Truly, honey, you have NO IDEA what I've been through to get his attention. I mean, look at that pic, would you? I think it was the lip gloss that finally did it for him. I have enough on to stick me to a wall. LOLLOL

Anyhoodles, now that Barry and I are a couple, I fear he'll want to moonlight serenade me oft (because really, I AM a coup. LMAO), and won't much want interferance from outside influences. Indeed, it looks like we made it, eh?

Now I don't want you to read this and weep. Let's not make a scene, shall we? Let's just call us ships that passed in the night and fondly remember our weekend in New England (we didn't really have one of those, but Barry doesn't have a song about CA, MI or Vegas--so work with me).

With warmest regards,
Dakota--who wants to jump, shout boogie. LOLLOL

I'm kidding, of course--Thanks to Ter who photoshopped the HELL outta this and made my lipstick brighter and my overlit nostrils not look like you could live in them. LMAO

And I still love ya like a buttload, honey :)

I got a new blog

and a new website--weeeeeeeeeeeeee doggie! LOL.

A big thanks to April Martinez who rocks the casbah--she designed exactly what I wanted from like minimal info on my part AND to ter who helped me do this blogger thing cuz I'm a techie-tard. LOLLOL

Go check it out and lemme know whatcha think--www.dakotacassidy.com

DC :)

Barry-A Brady and Booku Bucks

WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE doggie! I'm home from Vegas and I had the most fabulous time. I ate like a hog at buffets, gambled and won 400 bucks, had a couple of surreal experiences and lived to tell the tale.

First and most importantly--BARRY! Dudes, all I gotta say is this--er, yeah, that's moi hysterical over the man's very presence. I sobbed like a baby. I mean from the second the man came out on stage until well after he was gone. I was SPENT when all was said and done. He sang like the bird he is and the pics above are me utterly pathetic. I bought a Barry cutout to sit on my desk as pictured above--a Barry mousepad, because I write the books that make like 12 people shawiiing. LOL. A hat and a couple of Barry buttons. One I managed to nab from one of the hotel employees. Snerk.

Needless to say, he rocked. Even R, who isn't a Fanilow like me said it was fantastic. So anyhoodles, after the concert where they blow streamers from everywhere, R says--isn't that Florence Henderson? So I skulk behind her and sure enough--it was indeed and guess where she was going? Somewhere I wasn't. LOLLOL. Backstage to meet Barry. What-ever. I wasn't picked to be the chick who dances with him because some snotty wench who sat on the stage was chosen. Had I known you could sit on the stage--I'da been all over it like fried on chicken. But when I got second row, the end of the aisle, I thought that would be enough.

Clearly NOT. However, there was a moment when our eyes met and I just KNOW he felt my love. LOLLOL. So if you're in Vegas and you can catch the show--DO IT.

Next we saw the Legends in concert and I hafta say--the dude who did Elvis rocked. He was really incredible and Marilyn Monroe was a HOOT.

Our last night we saw Zumanity--the naughty, bawdy, raunchy version of Cirque. it was fantastic. R was a little freaked because they do tons of audience interaction and it's pretty risque. Plus the boobies to be had were aplenty and sometimes in your face--literally. Poor R's hands sweat the ENTIRE TIME. lollol. However, the acrobats were amazing and all I know is I held my breath because when that one little person came flying out into the audience on a scarf, I worried for his life. LOL.

We also saw a TON of casinos with R's friend Jim who lives in Vegas. Just call him Jackpot, cuz I swear, the moment the man walks into a casino those machines start to to ring-a-ling-a-ling. All he has to do is breathe in ANY casino and he's walking away with like at minimum 800 bucks. In fact, his holding my hand while I played a slot machine was how I won. Jim is a resident of LV so he knows all the hot spots, has a fav slot machine in every joint and overall is a total HOOT. The man is 68, but runs like the winds of a 28 year old. I think he has more energy than TWO twelve year olds.

Had a surreal moment at the Hard Rock Casino where I met a man who's from my son's planet. I know he is because he speaks his language--when he tried to pick me up he said, "Yo, Yo, Yo, baby--whassup?" LOLLOLLOLLOL. I said, "OMG--you come from my son's planet. I speak your language." By that time Jim was on his feet and chasing him away--damn, another missed op to boff a teenybopper. LOL

Also, a big "good boyfriend" can't go unmentioned because R was some kinda champ. He trotted place-to-place with me for many, many hours just to make me happy.

All in all, I totally want to do it again. I had the best time like in a long time--even if I walked 500 miles and then some.

And NEXT time--trust me when I tell you--I'm sitting on the Barry stage in the magic seat if I gotta kick some Fanilow butt to do it. LMAO. I'm kidding.

Kinda :)

DC :)

Dakota and R go Viva Las Vegas

So tomorrow's the day. We leave for Vegas and V-Day is Barry Day!

I hope they've hired extra security for my man Barry.

Those little old ladies better stash their knitting needles safely under their seats--cuz I ain't above using whatever I can get my hands on to get to dance with him--or whatever he's doing since he nixed the Can't Smile Without You girl.

I hear it's the Copa and that's fine by me. I can copa, somewhere in the night, weekend in New England, Mandy whatever the hell he wants me to. I'm just putting out my warrior cry for death to all who hope to thwart me now. So it won't be like you're all caught by surprise if mayhem ensues. Rob promised to cover me too... LMAO

We're also going to go check out The Elvis Chapel Of Love. I soooooooo need to see me some drive thru weddings and if we happen to catch a couple of drunks doing the Blue Hawaiian special--don't count on me getting much sleep that night. LOLLOL. Plus, I mean if I can help a blushing potential bride write up a pre-nup, avoid the color yellow and reach her color potential in the proper palette--my work there is done.

I'm hoping we'll see like a CSI Vegas person too. I mean, not at the Barry concert (though who knows with my state of mind being what it is). I mean like the people on CSI. I hear sometimes they do exteriors there. I'd smile if I could get a pic of me and Warick (sp?).

I don't plan to gamble much because, well, I have an addictive personality and when next we meet it could be via webcam from some craps table. Me with a smoke hanging out of my mouth, dice between my teeth and greasy hair--with the shakes in my Vegas decline. Not terribly attractive, eh? LOL

I wanna do the roller coaster, but not if it's cold. R says no can do. Pansy. LOLLOL

Oh, and the buffets. I lost 10 1/2 lbs recently--surely there must be a place there I can find it all again. I plan to EAT.

I also want to do the Venitian and the gondola ride. I kinda feel like that's the closest I'm getting to Italy. HAHAHAHAHAHA

So, until next week when, if you hear sordid reports of someone stalking Barry, humming Can't Smile Without You, you should promptly ignore, I'll catch ya from the homeless shelter because I gambled away the deed to my house. LOLLOL

Dakota--Viva Las Vegas, baby!

I've been tagged--AGAIN!

Daggone it! Not only Jade Buchanan, but my good bud, Robin tagged me. So I have to list ten weird things about me.

Snort.

Probably everything about me is weird to the average person, wouldn't you say? LOLLOL

Okay--here we go and in no particular order of weirdness...

1--I am OCD. Like bigtime clean fanatic. I hate dust, hair, clutter. I can't breathe from it but I hide it like an Oscar winning actress :)

2--I am a sticky note GODDESS. I have a program on my comp and everything I do is planned out on a sticky note into like 2012. LMAO

3--I love oreo double stuff cookies and milk, but I like them in a BOWL of milk--kinky, eh?

4--I like the missionary position. It's truly my fave. Kinkier still, huh?

5--I adore animals and want to save them all, but I eat them for dinner, yet won't wear them as clothes. I know a dichotomy, yes? Or hypocrite, if you want to be a meanie butt. LOL

6--I love to watch Skinimax porn with R. While we watch (oddly, usually over the phone) I give them GOOD dialogue to speak and put Hollywood actress' in their parts. God, I AM kinky...

7--I know the lyrics of pretty much every single song that was on the radio and then some. If you ever see me and music is playing, I'm mouthing the words. I am part idiot savant in that way. LOL

8--I love popcorn mixed with raisinets. GOD--it's Utopia. LOL

9--I'm friends with Jaynie. I know, I know--the kinkiest yet, eh? LMAO

10--I've never, ever watched an episode of Buffy or Angel. Just not my thang...

Dakota :)

And in this corner...

K--so I told y'all about the HOA, right? Those pesky wannabe rule the worlders who weren't elected class pres.

I also told you I wanted to live in peace and if my mother got her yap going I was gonna kill her, right?

Weellllll, it might be me who needs the killin'. I have little time for the pettiness these people spread like the Norovirus. I'm busy. I hardly ever see the outside of my house because I'm in it--WORKING. A lot. Like 16-18 hours a day. So get off my back already and find another cause.

God, has no one anything better to do than police Xmas lights? She'd better watch out, or I'll make Xmas vacation look like a toddlers convention if she's not careful.

So it went down like this. I got ANOTHER note from the HOA monitor. Seems she was driving around and happened upon my festive leftover Xmas lights. I swear on all things deck the halls, I forgot this one string of lights. The one day I DID remember, I made a mental note to take it down and then lost my mental note. Snort.

Soooooo, apparently they don't much like the season is the reason mentality longer than Jan 15th and I could understand if my house were still bedazzled like it was when I spent 500 bucks on Xmas lights, but it was ONE string.

So I decide to call this wench whose mission in life is to live in Ward and June Cleaver-ville. But I'm a little pissed because this is just shy of 'you really need to get yerself some cable TV to help pass the time', ya know?

So I ring up this lovely lady who drives around the hood in her car and I intro myself, then ask her plain and simple. "Don't you watch Regis and Kelly in the morning? Aren't there some man panties of the hubby's you need to get to washin'? Cuz if my string of lights is painin' ya, then you have some serious shit to work out. So, here's the thing. I work a LOT. I'm sorry if my string of lights caused you undue grief--"

"Oh, it wasn't just the lights," she says all haughty and crap. "You have a snowman pick out there too..."

I snorted. I did. Right in her ear. "Er, that's a WINTER decoration, darling. It says "Let it Snow" and lo and behold, it did, didn't it?" We had some snow here in Texas as of late--a very rare occurence. Plus, mom digs the snowman pick and would you really want to take the joy of a stupid snowman from a 71 year old woman?

"But a snowman represents Christmas..." she protests.

"So snowmen can only cavort with the likes of you at Christmas time? otherwise you snub them as a general rule of thumb? How un-neighborly of you."

She falters and says, "I'm not sure I know what you mean."

Er, no, cuz your brain is fried from inhaling all those fumes from your car while you drive around the hood and piss people off with your stupid letters! So I say, "Look, here's the thing. The snowman is like a winter symbol. Ya know, like if I were a Steelers fan, I'd have a Steelers flag flying during football season. but forget that, here's the deal--You need to get a life. Instead of stalking people over ridiculous crap you should get satellite TV or something. They have 250 channels. Flipping through those would probably take up most of your day and if not, I'd bet you got some grout that needs scrubbin'. I KNOW you have some tacky curtains that need replacin'. So go do some stuff at YOUR house--like right into dinner time when you should be cooking for your family, not counting trash cans and picking on defenseless snowmen. So here's how it's going to go. I'm going to keep ignoring your lame rule about the trash can, but I'll take down the Xmas light string so you don't lose your mind from the eyesore I'm sure it's become. Okay?"

And she says... "Um, I think so."

And I hang up because really, I have a string of lights to take down and that's going to take at LEAST all of an hour.

Another kill in the bag, baby :)

My mother would be sooooo proud. Too bad she's in Cancun on a cruise, eh? LMAO

Dakota :)

Tag--you're it!

Sigh--Erin tagged me. I have no clue how I'll answer this stuff. I had to ask WHO SEP was. I don't know how I've survived this long in the romance writing world with how little I know. I should be shunned by my peers and snubbed at public gatherings. LOL

Anyhoodles--here goes.

Contemporary, Historical, or Paranormal?
Used to LOVE historicals--but tapped out on those. So love contemps and paranormals.

Hardback or Trade Paperback or Mass Market Paperback?
Trade or mass--I also had to ask what THESE were not so long ago. LOLLOL. I knew there were big and small books, but I didn't know they had specific names. I thought the bigger books were just LONGER. I know, I know--don't throw shit at me.

Heyer or Austen?
Austen

Amazon or Brick and Mortar?
I have never bught a single thing from Amazon--I hang my head in utter shame...

First romance novel you ever remember reading?
Flame and the Flower by Kathleen Wodiwiss

Alphabetize by author Alphabetize by title or random?
er, in a box? Does that count as random?

Keep, Throw Away or Sell?
Um, I give it away to the library or to my mom. I don't know where it goes from there. LOL

Read with dustjacket or remove it?
Off, they make me NUTS!

Sookie Stackhouse or Anita Blake?
God, the entire world is going to beat me up for this--neither. Haven't read either of them. Do NOT throw things! it's unlady-like. LMAO

Stop reading when tired or at chapter breaks?
tired

“It was a dark and stormy night” or “Once upon a time”?
Both

Crusie or SEP?
OY--see above answer for Sookie and Anita. I just need to get out more. LOLLOL

Buy or Borrow?
buy and borrow from mom :)

Buying choice: Book Reviews, Recommendation or Browse?
Recommendation for sure and browse. Once in a very blue moon a review will make me go buy something though :)

Tidy ending or Cliffhanger?
Tidy unless it's a series. Then I want that one wrapped up before I begin the next one in the series.

Morning reading, Afternoon reading or Nighttime reading?
anytime

Series or standalone?
I love it ALL.

Favorite book of which nobody else has heard?
um, I dunno. I know in the erotic genre I love Chris Tanglen. I don't hear much about him these days, but when I reviewed I read his book Aunt Penelope's Harem and nearly wet my pants. That ain't easy because I hardly EVER laugh. Though, he could be wildly popular and I would never know because I live under a rock. LMAO

and I don't know who to tag. Maura?

Rage against the MACHINE

That perfectly describes my mom. She's a zealot about some stuff and it makes me NUTS. it's probably why I'm so not controversial. Sometimes I can't see what the fuss is all about.

However, my mother, now 71, is bored and she loves, loves, loves a good spar like the mob loves cement mixers.

So I get a note the other day from our hood association. No trash cans can be visible from the road. I thought well, huh. How stupid. it's not like I'm standing naked by the fence or anything. THEN I could see the problem. Surely complaints would come in in droves.

Then I notice all my other neighbors have theirs out by their fences too and I think, another HUH. But like the dutiful, non-controversial woman I am, I put it behind the fence.

Well, mom wants to know WHY--she read the letter as meaning we can't leave the trash can at the end of the driveway because my son forgot to bring it up. I disagree and she then points out that all the other neighbors have theirs out... so HAH!

So I say, well, how about we avoid a problem and live in peace with the association, k?

Er, not so okay. Mom trudges over to the neighbors, steam pouring from her ears and comes back 20 minutes later. Indeed, they did mean our can should be behind the fence. And the entire neighborhood is in an uproar. They all got letters too.

For the love of GOD--over trash cans? Now I agree, it's a PITA to drag it in and out--it tears up the grass ect, but come on.

I say to mom that these association people are like the kids who didn't get nominated in HS for class president. They have nothing better to do than drive around the hood and LOOK for trouble. However, we are NOT getting involved.

Oh, really, says mom with a firm set of her lips and a narrowed gaze at ME.

I can see it now--petitions, naked picketing, uprisings against the evil, dark force that is THE ASSOCIATION...

I told her we'd compromise. We'll do a silent protest and put our can BACk out in front of the fence, but if she gets involved, I'm going to yank her esophegous (SP?) out through her nostrils.

Do you feel that was too harsh? LOLLOLLOLLOL

DC :)

You must not know 'bout me

K, so the other night I was all flipping channels cuz I was BORED. I happen upon a live concert featuring Beyonce. I'm all for her Booty-licious-ness, but I don't know that I ever truly paid attention to the level of performance she gives.

She was in Japan and all I know is girl can rock da house. She skips around that stage with 3 inch heels like she's in her Nikes, doing some stuff I do believe would leave me in a puddle on the floor AND she sings crystal clear while she does it. Not to mention, she looks incredible and kudos to her for wearing colors IN her color wheel. LOLLOL

I don't know that I ever caught how truly beautitiful her voice was before this and I hadn't heard this song before I watched her concert. How I missed it with a 16 year old Beyonce rabid luster in my house escapes me... Her all girl band is kick ass too.

When I heard her sing this song (Irreplaceable), live, I thought, well, dayum--if that doesn't sum it all up, then I don't know what does. It empowered me. My favorite part of the lyrices are--"you just don't know 'bout me, you just don't know 'bout me. I could have another you in a minute. Matter fact he'll be here in a minute..."

I've come to this particular point in my life--yeah, it took me a long, ugly divorce, but I'm all in the know now. LOLLOLOL. I get it and sometimes I want to shout it from rooftops. I'm so far from the pathetic, ex housewife I was, I don't even remember that woman.

The beauty of it is, R knows it too. it keeps him on his toes. LMAO

I really think this is the attitude we should all take (women AND men) because no one who treats ya like crap is irreplaceable. When your boundaries are pushed, push the hell back.

As to Beyonce, well, I'm officially a fan now. If she has a concert 'round these here parts, I'll be there. Lighter in hand and all :)



Dakota :)

My first stint as a PROMO 'HO

Sigh--okay, so I have like, ohhhhhhhhh, 13 months until my book comes out. However, I suck at this. LOL. I can't even get my sig line to work in Eudora--so to expect me to be savvy enough to promote a book and promote it well is just caaa-razy.

So do me a favor--DO NOT MOCK ME. Just pat me on the head and call me a tard behind my back. LOLLOL. I'm not going to inundate you with PROMO because I was a reader once too and I hated that whole--Wow, I loved hearing about your book, I'mthebestwriterintheworld and I can see the similarities to my book because I'mabetterwriterthan you, kinda gig. I'm not here to even attempt it.

Hell, I'm still reeling from the whole thing. I'm humbled and honored, but still questioning if everyone passed the sanity test when they read it. LOLLOL. I probably shouldn't crack wise like that because my new editor is uber-uber-nice, but I suspect she can take a joke if she read my book and liked it. So I'm going with my intuition here :)

Oh, and this is Dakota on her knees before my new editor, head bowed in reverence and awe, chanting--"I'm not worthy. I'm not worthy."

Soooo--The Accidental Werewolf is the first book in a two part gig. That comes out in Feb 08. The second is The Accidental Vampire-- out August 08. Subject to change if in fact this nice editor realizes she made some sort of fluky mistake. LOL. They're both mainstream romances. I'm sorta stepping out of the familiar realm of erotic and jumping in both feet to the very sexy mainstream pool.

I'm a whole lotta FREAKED OUT because this means I have to finish the book. I know. I'm nodding right along with you. Scary, eh? It means it'll be out in the big 'ole world. Scarier still...

Anyhoodles--I thought I'd share the blurb with ya--actually, it's kind of a LONG blurb, but it's what I sent with the first five chapters of the book, along with a proposal--which, thanks to Jaci Burton, I found out how to write. This book is definitely lighthearted. No angst--a lotta craziness. However, I dig my heroine Marty. She's a little work driven, a little wonky (no way!) and overall, taking a journey that's utterly outrageous :)The idea for my heroine's professsion and her cosmetic-selling rabidity came from the RWA convention in 2004. There was a convention of Mary Kay folk there with us and they're perfectly lovely ladies--I just took it a step further. I know, another go figure.

So here goes nuthin'--The Accidental Werewolf coming from Berkley Sensation--Feb 08

Marty Andrews has had a bad week.

A very bad week, indeed.

First, she’s bitten by a mangy mutt while walking her precious teacup poodle, Muffin. As a result, her salon-perfect blonde hair begins darkening by the day to a color that’s sooo not in her color wheel. Her mood swings have turned her into a bitch on wheels and the icing on the cake? The hair on her legs is growing at a bionic rate even a body slam into an entire vat of wax can’t cure.

Lastly, but most importantly, her dream job at Bobbie-Sue Cosmetics as a door-to door Sales Consultant is well on its way to hell in a hand basket, just when she was this close to attaining the highest level on the cosmetics color wheel of success too.

Go figure…

However, the yummylicious Keegan Flaherty has the answer to all of Marty’s woes and it has nothing to do with a dog biting her. He says he’s the one who bit her and he’s not a dog at all. No siree. Keegan says he’s a werewolf and by proxy, Marty is now too. Ya know, like the bay at the moon, eat rare meat kinda werewolf? And being the upstanding guy Keegan is, he’s offered to help Marty embrace her inner werewolf along with her new family, er, pack.

But Marty won’t have any of Keegan’s explanations. Her life was just fine before this man—who’s clearly indulged in his fair share of recreational pharmaceuticals—came knocking with his tales of lunacy that are right out of a Steven Spielberg movie, and it’ll be just fine now. Even if she ends up having to shave her legs twice a day.

Yet, Marty can’t deny the trouble she’s in when she’s kidnapped by some unknown thugs, turns into The Hormonal Hulk and has to call on Keegan, of all the lunatics in the world, to save her. No matter how cute the lunatic is.

With her life in danger, Keegan isn’t willing to let Marty go back to her apartment in New York alone. In order to protect her, he brings his very hesitant, fledgling werewolf back to his home near Buffalo.

Then things go from bad to worse.

The Lunar Council doesn’t like this accidental werewolf at all, neither does the hot babe originally slated to be Keegan’s lifemate. All sorts of crazy things are happening to Marty, including her wild attraction to Keegan.

Oh, and crazier still? Someone wants Marty toe up in the morgue…

Deep, eh? LMAO

Dakota :)

Trains, planes and automobiles

This is all I gotta say about American Airlines--pppppppppppppppppfffffffffffttttttttt

My story begins Friday December 29, 2006 at 4:00pm.

It just ended Sunday December 31, 2006 at 10:20 pm.

Er, yeah.

Know why it's called the road less traveled? Cuz not a bloody soul wants to fricken' travel it, that's why!

We arrive at the airport in plenty of time for our flight to Dallas from Detroit. We check in, skip on through security and wait at the gate. We don't see a board with our flight up, but whatever. R and I are just glad to be going home and have time to hang out minus the beasts for a couple of days.

Weellllll, we hear that all flights to Dallas are cancelled due to tornadoes. I think, huh. You bunch of sissies. What's a tornadoe in the scheme of natural disasters. I mean, really. LOL. And, how come they didn't share that with us BEFORE we went through security, but okay, I'm not too tweaked yet.

Yet.

We get on a line the length of the state of Texas and also find our flight had been cancelled before we even got into the gate--this flight, another Dallas flight, is also cancelled. Fine--s'okay--we'll wait on line and book another one.

Er, no. After 45 minutes waiting on line, R on the 800 number, trying to call AA ( not that AA, but we were close to hitting it after this. LOL). we're hedging our bets see. Hoping we'll either get to the head of the line or get someone on the phone. Whichever happens first, I'm cool. R is on hold forevah--we wait on line longer than forevah only to be hung up on. Get to the head of the line and find out they've kindly booked us for SATURDAY at 8 in the morning--it's the only flight available with all the cancellations and stuff from not only Dallas, but Denver.

I say to R--let's just get a hotel room and hang. We certainly can't stay at the airport all night. Now, keep in mind, we're flying first class. We paid some purty good money to fly the friendly skies in the lap o luxury.

Er, yeah.

So for whatever reason,on our way to collect our bags, Rob all of a sudden looks at the new boarding pass for Saturday and realizes he's only got one for ME. Hmmmm. So we hit Svetlana from some foreign land up at the AA counter and she says, they only booked MOI. If we want to fly together, we have to wait until SUNDAY at 7 in the evening.

Fine--I'm tired. I hate everyone right now and I just want to lay horizontally on ANYTHING that doesn't move. So we call the Hilton and grab the shuttle. We spend two days in a lovely room, complete with King sized bed and coffee pot. I don't need much, really. I'm happy they even have room service. We lay around--we watch TV--I work--we walk to the Big Boys and have some lunch. All's good.

Sunday arrives and checkout is 12--our flight is 7--you do the math. However, we're hoping for a standby flight if luck decides to shower us with a little sunshine.

Er, NO. After twenty trips through security to try and catch one of those standby flights unsuccessfully, we park our butts at Starbucks and mess around on the Internet for FIVE hours total. I'm coffee logged, tired and not in the least feeling friendly.

FINALLY it's time to hit it and we board the nice airplane. YAY, right?

Er, NO.

We arrive at DFW and the flight was pretty good. They fed us, pampered us and all is well until we hit the baggage claim and four other flights are there with us. Um, that makes for a buttload of luggage, yes?

Er, YES.

Bags are piling up, jamming up the daggone carousel, people are pushing and shoving, kids are crying and still, NO LUGGAGE.

Guess whose luggage isn't on the flight we spent so much time fricken' getting on?

Yeah, ours. And guess what else? R's keys for his car are in his LUGGAGE.

ARGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.

Thankfully, R thought to go and ask about our baggage only to find out our baggage wasn't on the flight we were on at all--it's in terminal D and has been since like three hours ago.

Oh. Peachy.

So, we have to catch a tram over to terminal D. Which, BTW, is for foreign flights. Now I'm not a happy flier. Not at all. We catch the the tram and I want BLOOD. Why, I ask you, wouldn't you take the luggage, slap it on a van and send it over to terminal C????

Anyone?

Doesn't this make more sense--especially when some of it belongs to families with kids who are exhausted, crying and in general, just want to be left alone. They had three damn hours to do it!

So I gotta ask myself--if this was how they treated first class passengers, what the hell did they do to the coach people? Are those poor people picking up their luggage in Walla Walla?

The first class thing happened via an accident when R booked, but you'd think they'd make the stupid upgrade of like 100 bucks a piece worth your money, yes?

Er, no.

Oh, and the topper--because it was an act of GOD that kept us from flying--no reimbursement for the hotel room...

I do believe, AA is due a piece of my mind--don't you agree?

Snort.

DC--who undoubtedly took the road less traveled.

No freakin' way!

Okay, so--had the most surreal morning. And I do mean SURREAL.

I've been working on proposal number two for my agent to keep busy while proposal number 1 is out and about. It just went out recently, and being the patient girl I am, I truly don't expect to hear anything until like next millennium. Cuz, well, it is a DAKOTA book. LMAO. I have to tell you, I don't know how it even got out when I think it's so preposterous that I even consider stringing a whole sentence together. Don't you agree? LOLLOL

Anyhoodles, I ask my agent if she thinks I should gear it toward mainstream or erotica. Cuz ya know, I began in erotic and I can do the naughty. However, I can tone down the girly bits ect in a mainstream. So she e-mails me back and says mainstream fer sure. I say okey-doke and then I tell her, if I don't hear from ya before the holidays--you have a good one.

Sooooo, she e-mails back and says--Oh, I think you'll hear from me before then--I think I'll have some wonderful, wonderful news for you.

Sooooooo--I say, HUH? Talk to me. I'm thinking maybe Jerry Springer wants me to like make an appearance on his show about divorced moms turned erotic romance writers or something caaa-razy like that.

Five seconds later--the phone rings--I look at my caller ID--it's my agent. I don't know that I'm clearly thinking at this point (hush!) and all I can think is, I must've done something BAD. I know she said wonderful, but that word eludes me as I press the talk button. I just know I'm in deep kim-chee.

Like way bad kimchee--cuz she's calling ME. I run through a million heinous cyber acts in my mind. Did I insult someone? did I send a mean e-mail? Have I caused a flame war and I'm now being called to task? LOLLOL

Er, no.

It was about a two book deal with Berkley. They like me.

yeah, I know--that's what I'm thinking--CAAAAA-RAZY right?

But I swear, it's all true and she said I could tell anyone I wanted to.

So, after much screaming--jumping up and down--crying--telling my agent I'd give her the biggest, fattest sloppiest kiss evah if she were here--I'm still in shock.

So there are thanks in order here-to many, many people.

First, Rob--who knows how to think up a KILLA title and has supported me in more ways than I can count this year. You rock, babe :)

My agent-Deidre Knight--who played Santa Claus for me today and squueeeed right along with me. She believed in my zaniness and always, I'll be grateful for that.

My crit partners, plot partners, test readers and just in general some awesome friends. Maura, Erin, Jaynie, Michelle, Isy, Renee, Elisa, AQ, Sheri, Kira. You dudes don't know how much it's meant to me to know you believed in me and were willing to read my book :)

Some of my biggest supporters--Angela Knight (see? I told you I knew her. LOLLOL), Kate Douglas, Cassie Walder, Treva Harte, Diane Whiteside, MT, Doreen, Shelby Morgan, Morgan Hawke, Sahara Kelly, Ann Jacobs, Shells Bells. You've been good friends to me over the last two years and your advice, friendship and love are things I hold very dear :)

And Jaci Burton--who explained what the hell a proposal is to me. Cuz, ya know, I'm all writer non-savvy. LOLLOL. You RULE :)

And of course the people who read my books. There is a certain sort of validation for me knowing folks have laughed when they read a book of mine. When I get an e-mail that says, you cracked me up--thanks. Or when I get a review that says my characters were hilarious--well, it only makes me want to make more people smile. I'm not in this to do much more than entertain you. I want you to giggle, find the funny along with me. Enjoy a few moments of wacky with your beverage of choice.

That I'll now be able to do that with The Accidental Werewolf and it's sequel--well, color me tickled all sorts a pink :)

Love,
DC :)

2006 in review :)

Soooooooooo, I'm off to MI late Christmas day and my boys are off to see their father in Jersey.

I'll be with R and The Midge until the 29th-I figured I'd better hit the blog before I go.

It's been a caaa-razy year. I'm amazed at what's come and gone. I thought I'd count my blessings so if I look back next year and some of those blessings break up with me, drive me insane, or just plain put me in my grave, I'll have nice memories in reflection. LOLLOL

In no particular order :)

Blessing #1--My ma. She's awesome. She does everything I can't because I'm chained to this computer. She takes my son to work, she picks them up, drives them to doctors appointments, does my banking. She wants to feed me. She bakes things for me. She nags me about when the next Angela Knight book is coming out... LOL. You rock the casbah, mom :)

Blessing #2--R. I'm still just as in love, if not more so than I was to begin with. he makes me giggle, he still makes me sigh, he tells me every day how pretty I am and that he loves me. We still haven't had a fight. He bought a double wide so he could be close to me (the sacrifices, eh?), he kept me from tipping over the edge this summer when I had a family crisis. He lets me cry when my pre-menopausal hormones begin to screech and he doesn't make fun of me. He's a title genius. He's an awesome road trip partner. Most of all, he's the other half of me, all without wanting to consume me--own me. He supports me no matter what and I'm still crazy in love.

Blessing #3--my sons.

moving right along...

I'm kidding. LOLLOL. They're good boys with pretty good hearts. They're teenagers who may suck the last breath out of me sometime soon, but still good boys.

Blessing #4--My agent, Diedre Knight. Dudes, this chick is superior. She lets me whine. She lets me ask the dumbest questions evah and even if she secretly laughs behind my back, she never makes fun of me to my face.LOLLOL. Seriously, she's so supportive and encouraging. She makes me feel like my whacky ideas are actually worth putting on paper and then she sends me an e-mail that says I rock. She happened by accident for me, but I'm glad she happened. I love my agent and she's helped me to understand not only the business, but what it's like to feel connected to the person who holds your manuscript in her hands.

Blessing #5--My publisher-Changeling Press and it's owner, Margaret Riley. She let me--ME write twelve books for them last year. Nuff said. Snort.

Blessing #6--The Babes. Jaynie, Maura, Erin, Lisa, LeeAnne, Long lost Shannon, Brenda, Crystal, Bill (yeah, he's a guy. LOL), B/C,Da Fuzz and a bunch of other folk who play with us each and every day :)I just gotta say, keep playing with the pharmacueticals--we like ya like that. LOLLOL

Blessing #6--Some of my best friends online and in RL--Sheri, Michelle, Isabella, Kate, Angela (name dropper. LOL), Jaynie, Erin, Maura, AQ, Laura (from Jersey), Joy, Renee, Nancy, Kira, Paula. You chicks have really gone to bat for me this year in one way or the other and that's never taken lightly where I come from.

Blessing #7--Leeeeeenda who comes every Friday and rocks my floors and bathrooms at Graceland. If I knew how to tell you in Spanish, I'd tell ya you know a mop like the mob knows cement, baby :)

Blessing # 8--Divorce. LOLLOLLOLLOL. I'd say I'm kidding, but I'm not and we're both happier for it :) At least I know I am.

Blessing #9--crit partners who chew me a new one. You make my heart sing and my freakin' head hurt. But I lubs ya nontheless. LOL

Blessing #10--My hairdressers, Elaine and Felicia. A moment of silence is due them for taming this mop :)

Blessing #11--My manicurist, Annie. I can't speak Vietnamese, but I'm warining you, darling, I'm going to learn and one day, when you're all whispering about the PITA white chick--I'm going to catch you by replying back. LOLLOL. I'm kidding.

And lastly, anyone who's ever read a book of mine and bought another one. You'll never know how important it is to me that you like a good roll around on the floor as much as I do thrown in with your romance.

May your holiday, and every day, be filled with the brightest of blessings this season!

Dakota :)

When will our eyes meet?

February 14th, 2007. Yes, that's right, Valentines Day.

When can I touch you?

As long as several bodygaurds don't try to prevent me, the above date. LOL

When will I see you again?

9:00 p.m. Pacific Standard time

When will this strong yearning ennnnnnnnnd?

When I hit the Hilton hotel floors runnin' :)


center.



Yes, I am going to be in the SECOND row of the Barry Manilow concert. I'm going to vie for the top spot in the "Can't Smile Without You" girl contest ( I hope he still does that, otherwise, it could be ugly, yes?). And if it's the last thing I do, I'm going to be the girl he sings to :) I hope no little old ladies are hurt in the making. LMAO

If Barry takes me up on stage and sings to me, well, then I can die happy. I'll be a complete and utter mess. I'll sob like the pansy ass I am, but whatever happens after that is all cake as far as I'm concerned.

So, Mr. Manilow, prepare--because--it's Daybreak, when you hear that One Voice singing in the darkness--it'll be ME. I Made It Through The Rain and paid a fortune to do it too. I'll shake my booty to the Copacabana like it's a morraca (sp?), Tryin' To Get The Feelin' Again cuz It's A Miracle I'm even getting to see you with the price of those tickets.

Did I mention the price of those tickets? They were more than A Weekend In New England, trust me. I wonder--if my name was Mandy, ya think I could get a break? Never you mind, I'll just Read 'Em on my CC and Weep. I'm all in, baby. I sure hope you're ready for me. Could it Be Magic we create when your eyes meet mine for the first time in almost thirty years? it damned well better be for the amount of money I paid to see said eyes. LOLLOL

However, I'm Ready to Take A Chance Again. This concert is going to be different. If R gets sloshed, I'll leave his ass in a New York City Rhythm. I Don't Want To Walk Without You, honey, but rest assured, I WILL if it means seeing my Barry in blessed, alcohol- free peace.

So, I plan to Jump, Shout, Boogie--cuz it Looks Like We Made It!

DC :)

I've been tagged...

by http://trevaharte.blogspot.com/

LOLLOL

So this means I have to like think hard and I don't do that well.

Here we go:

Four jobs I’ve had:
1. shoe sales (16)
2. Roy Rogers cashier (17)
3. Customer Service at a place that sold bridal shoes
4. Writer

Four Places I’ve lived:
1. Norwalk, CT
2. Summerville, SC (bleh and bleh again) LOL
3. Brick, NJ
4. Murphy, TX

Four favorite foods:
1. Lobster
2. French Fries
3. Filet Mignon
4. Mushroom procsiutto (sp?) pasta

Four movies I could watch over and over
1. Dodgeball
2. The Wedding Singer
3. 50 First Dates
4. The Wedding Crashers

Four TV shows I enjoy
1. Greys Anatomy
2. Men in Trees
3. Shark
4. Medium

Four places I’ve traveled:
1. Romania
2. Washington state
3. Vienna
4. MI

Four places I’d like to visit:
1. Italy
2. Australia
3. London
4. Africa

Four websites I go to (almost) daily
:1. Um, I kinda don't go to any website daily. Call me disloyal. LOL. Though I do go to the Book Bitches blog everyday...


Four people I’m tagging to do this to:
1. um, Erin?
2. Maura
3. The Book Bitches
4. I don't knowwwwwwwwwwwwwww--God, the pressure. LOLLOL

DC :)

Oh, no you din't!

Okay, so I haven't blogged in awhile. It's been crazy 'round these here parts. However, many things have occurred since we last spoke. LOL


Plus, I think I'm still too stunned and haven't had enough therapy to get over the trauma I suffered on Thanksgiving night...


It began like this. We'd known for about a week or so that R's nephew, Dax, was going to be on the Craig Ferguson show to promo his new movie--Going To Jail. I awaited eagerly. I'm all about giving props ect and well, he IS R's nephew, yes?

Someday-way into the future-he MIGHT be my nephew too and I would have been proud of that. Do note the useage of the past tense there. Anyway, it would only be right and proper that I should cozy up on my bed with my honey, after a looong day of cooking Thanksgiving dinner for DAX'S UNCLE to show my support for his family member.

And all was well. For like two minutes of dialogue.

He and Craig joked about eating too much--yadda, yadda, yadda, yadda. And then--do you have any CLUE how hard this is for me to write? (breathing-- In with the good--out with the bad), I have no idea how we got there--nor can I remember what twisted bend in the road led us to the place where they MOCKED--yes, I said MOCKED, JOHN CUSACK! How he came into the picture escapes me. It's all a blur of Charlie Brown adults waah-waah-waahhing in the background now.

I know. That's what I said too. Dax Shepard, funny man extraordinaire, a potential FAMILY MEMBER like waaaaaay, waaaaaaay uber-far into the future, cranked on my John? It's blasphemy! He cracked about the movie Serendipity and Must Love Dogs. BOTH he and Craig. Like I didn't even exist. Like I wasn't even in the same room with them.

It was horrifying--stupifying-soo, soo low...

So I only have this to say. Surely you don't want me to enter into the fold harboring bad feelings bewtween us, do you? You CAN make it up to me, darling. We CAN make this right. Like say for instance if you were to bring John to MI for a family gathering and drop him in front of my seat at the picnic table... I MIGHT--MIGHT be able to forgive you. And I promise not to trample your butt to get to him. Or if I do, I won't leave marks on your cute, movie-star face.

Maybe.

I mean, I see it as the only way to make nice with me. Don't you all agree this is a fair and righteous settlement?

And I have to ask--what's next? An attack on my Barry???? LOLLOLLOLLOL

DC :)

The Evolution of Dance

I think I've watched this 200 times since I found it on the Book Bitches blog. Dudes a genius for thinking this up. He's got another one coming out apparently. I'm SO in to see it. It's the most watched video evah on You-Tube. 35 million viewings.

All I know is this--Boyyyyyyyyyy can dance!

Oh, and wait for the Cotton Eyed Joe--I think I peed a little. LMAO



For those who are interested--here's a list of the songs. I screwed up a couple of the titles on the Book Bitches blog--OY. LOL

"Hound Dog" - Elvis Presley (00.00 - 00.14)
"The Twist" - Chubby Checker (00.14 - 00.31)
"Stayin' Alive" - The Bee Gees (00.31 - 00.38)
"Y.M.C.A." - The Village People (00.38 - 00.56)
"Kung Fu Fighting" - Carl Douglas (00.56 - 01.03)
"Keep On" - The Brady Bunch (01.03 - 01.17)
"Greased Lightnin'" - John Travolta (01.17 - 01.28)
"You Shook Me All Night Long" - AC/DC (01.28 - 01.42)
"Billie Jean" - Michael Jackson (01.42 - 01.50)
"Thriller" - Michael Jackson (01.50 - 01.58)
"Oompa Loompa" - Willy Wonka, a soundtrack of the film: Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory (01.58 - 02.04)
"Mr. Roboto" - Styx (02.04 - 02.14)
"Break Dance (Electric Boogie)" - West Street Mob (02.14 - 02.28)
"Walk Like An Egyptian" - The Bangles (02.28 - 02.36)
"The Chicken Dance" - Bob Kames (02.36 - 02.42)
"Mony Mony" - Billy Idol (02.42 - 02.57)
"Ice Ice Baby" - Vanilla Ice (02.57 - 03.11)
"U Can't Touch This" - MC Hammer (03.12 - 03.42)
"Love Shack" - The B-52's (03.42 - 03.46)
"Apache" - The Sugarhill Gang (03.46 - 04.02)
"Jump Around" - House of Pain (04.02 - 04.15)
"Baby Got Back" - Sir Mix-A-Lot (04.15 - 04.22)
"Tubthumping" - Chumbawamba (04.22 - 04.32)
"What Is Love" - Haddaway (04.32 - 04.40)
"Cotton Eye Joe" - Rednex (04.40 - 05.01)
"Macarena" - Los Del Rio (05.01 - 05.06)
"Bye Bye Bye" - N'Sync (05.06 - 05.29)
"Lose Yourself" - Eminem (05.29 - 05.33)
"Hey Ya!" - Outkast (05.33 - 05.39)
"Dirt Off Your Shoulder" - Jay-Z (05.39 - 05.49)
"Ice Ice Baby" - Vanilla Ice (Lyrics played: "Yo, let's get outta here. Word to your mother".) (05.49 - 05.52)
"Bye Bye Bye" - N'Sync (Lyrics played: "Bye, bye, bye".) (05.52 - 06.00)

Boobs, Barbara and Thanksgiving

hookay, so this is a fly by for me. I got nine million things to do and only like 24 hours to do them in. Snort.

So I read an article about a chick who was busted for breast feeding her kid on a plane, during a three hour layover. Look, here's my take on that--what is the matter with you people? The kid needs to eat and he sure as hell can't fill up on the crappy pretzels and half a can of Pepsi YOU provide these days.

Jesus Effin'. I can understand the discomfort to a degree. Do I want to see your boob? Not a lot. I can look away. No big deal. Though, with a 16 year old it bothers me a bit because he's bound to see the boob, not the baby, open his big mouth and gasp, "Oooooooooh, HOOTERS!", as sixteen-year olds are won't to do. The folks who plop out a boob in front of me are far more secure than I am. I don't wanna see your ta-ta's, but I also don't wanna see your kid go hungry. So I don't care if you feed them in public, not one iota. To be kicked off a plane for it--weeeell, that seems just a bit extreme. Some women chose to picket at the Burlington Airport over it. OY.

I say, feed the kid. However, I'm sorry, if my kid opens his yap--but, well, it's to be expected. I can only imagine the car ride home with my hormonal teenager who really shouldn't be looking at your boob and gawk (because does he really get that this is your childs form of nutrition? No. he sees a BOOB, people) and want to talk about it incessantly for two days straight. He's not thinking, "Aw, cute baby" like me, trust me.

But he's sixteen. AND I don't want to have to slap my hand over his mouth and drag him away because he's seeing his first up close and personal boob in the mall where I have to make a scene to shut his loud trap. But hey, if you;re okay, I'm okay. LOLLOLLOL. Otherwise, I say whoever asked the poor lady to leave should be knocked in the teeth. I wasn't able to breast feed due to duct-non-productus, but I would have if I could have. I also would probably have covered the part of my boob that wasn't useful. However, I'm just modest like that. Snort.

I also have to say, some breast feeding mom's can be RABID. Like total freaks about breast milk. I can't tell you how many women I encountered when I had my second son at my oldests nursery school who gasped because I had a bottle of formula.

Some would ask if it was breast milk in the bottle first, I'll give 'em that. Most just went off on the theory of breast milk and how good it was for my kids brain ect. So, I had to launch into my inadequacies as a non-lactating new mother. It always made me feel like an idiot that I had to justify bottle feeding. Like I owed then an explanation? As long as my kid isn't drinking beer from a bottle, back off you crazy zealots. Some people go too far either way and it's really not your job to educate me, thanks. When I wear a T-shirt that says, "Need Info on Breast Milk--or Illiterate" do comment. Until then, lay off.

Breast feed if you want. Hell if I could have, you could have breast fed my kid too, but don't judge me because you're like "Ultimate Mom" and behave as if I'm some piss-poor reproduction because my boobs don't go the way of the homogenized.

I can tell you, I guess formula couldn't have been all that bad. Son number 2 has had only ONE go 'round with antibiotics in his 12 years--ONE. Never had an ear infection, has had two colds and missed four days of school his entire life. Oh, and he's an honor student. So I dunno if I buy the boob is best theory, ladies :)

Now onto Barbara--Streisand, that is. I've loved her since what seems like the beginning of time. I love her like I love Barry. Twould seem Barbara, in her infinite Streisand wisdom has been using her God-awful expensive concerts (you know, her "I'm never perfroming again concert, so gimme a grand concert?" Just like the one she did 13 or so years ago?), as a venue to spew her political likes and dislikes.

Here--here is where I can almsot ( I repeat, almost) see how some of the romance reading folk have that saying. You know the one, "Write, bitch, write and shut up! We don't want your personal opinions on anything--not even how we feel about your books. You're our slave to entertainment and now that you've sold yourself into servitude--do your job!" I'm sorta feelin' that right now. If I ever get an extra grand just lyin' around needin' somewhere to go--I wanna go to Barb's concert. I wanna hear you SING! I don't want to hear your political views. I don't want to hear your crazy theories on how the world is coming to an end because of George or anyone else. I don't give a fuzzy sheep's butt one way or 'tother. I'm paying out like a mortgage payment to hear you SING like the bird in a gilded cage that you are. I adore you. I want to be swept away by the beauty that is Evergreen and The Way We Were, not by a Democrat. I sure wouldn't pay that kind of money to see Al and Tipper in concert.

I can watch the news for that, thanks. So do me a favor--can the politics. You can have opinions, that's perfectly fine. Just don't have them when You Don't Bring Me Flowers, okay? Cuz you'll hear a rumble from the balcony if I ever get the chance to see you. I hate having someone else's beliefs shoved down my throat because I was stupid enough to let you hold me hostage for a grand, ya know? I'd be hard-pressed to leave because I paid good money, but I'd also be hard-pressed to not scream, "SHUT UP!" because that's not what I'm here for. Sadly, I don't have a grand just lying around looking to jump in your pocket either. Lucky you, eh? LOLLOL

Thanksgiving--it approacheth. I'm having my dad and Uncle Harry AND R. Send good vibes, say prayers, do whatever it is you do that will help me survive my mother and father who argue like toddlers over a Happy Meal Toy. My uncle who doesn't realize I'm his niece due to Alzheimers and calls me good lookin' while commenting on my thighs. My sons who cannot eat a meal on the same planet without hurling snarks at one another and poor R, who may want a refund when all is said and done. LOLLOL

Hope you all have an awesome T-Day!

Dakota :)

For the greater good

Soooooooo--check this out. The other night on the local news I hear that that show Dateline has been visiting my hood. My ears perk because R and I have watched this from time to time.

Yes, they were right here in Murphy TX. The show that's been catching all the pedophiles. The one where they lure dumb ass scum by having decoys chat with these dipshits online, then get them to make an appearance at the decoys supposed house and BAM--color yourself busted.

Well, just so happens, the house they rented to do the show and catch these freaks was in the sub division right across the street from me. In the very neighborhood I'd originally put money down on a house for. I backed out when I heard some bad things about the builders and bought across the street instead.

These are big, upper-middle class houses and guess what? You squeaky cleans arent' the only ones living in them. Twould seem pedophiles have nice jobs, nice cars and kids who play with YOUR kids.

So, anyway, Dateline rented a house there--lured those punk ass pigs in with kiddie decoys and arrested the sorry freaks one after the other. Yay, Dateline, Murphy Police and an org called Perverted Justice. Cuz in a way, it's kinda perverted they'd be caught that way, yes?

That's a good thing, yes?

Er, no. Not according to the neighborhood who was all up in arms over the very idea that Dateline had the audacity to bring that kind of element into their neighborhood.

Well, I just have this to say--they were ALREADY THERE. In fact, one dipshit who fell for the most publicized sting evah lived right down the road from you, you high falutin' idiots.

Look, I'm a parent too and there isn't anything that will ever be as near and dear to my heart as seeing every pedophile rot in a fiery Hell. I want them all DEAD. At the very least, I want their fingers chopped off, I want them blinded. I want them mutilated. I want their balls for appetizers.

I understand your concern, I do. These men walked along your streets, they saw your children at play, they breathed your air and in my mind, they shouldn't ever be allowed to do that. But they do and they're everywhere. If you put a search into this database I found, you'll find convicted sex offenders live but 1.7 miles from you. And that's the FURTHEST one away. What can you possibly find wrong in having them caught and strung up by their balls on national television? Isn't it better to KNOW your enemy?

So do me a favor--from a parent who in this lifetime has far more knowledge on the subject of online pedophiles than she cares to--CAN IT! I look at it as being a part of the greater good with no small children sacrificed in the making.

I kinda think looking to have the mayor and the Chief of Police fired for doing something about the freaks who line our streets is extreme, don't you? They could have just left them out there, you know. Were you aware that TX is one of the highest states on record harboring pedophiles? Is that okay with you? Or would you just rather not know and let those stats grow? Some of these people in the neighborhood claim to feel violated by Dateline. I nearly choked on that line. I can smell the lawsuit coming...

Well, lemme tell you this, when your nice, upper-middle class kid is trashed for life by some freak who lures them into having non-consensual sex, when you have to hear the lurid details of said event, when you learn what it is to truly wish with every last fiber of your being someone dead, when there are dozens of tests for sexually transmitted diseases, doctors bills, counselors bills, when you have to wait upward of six onths to find out if your kid has been infected with HIV and to top it off have a nice long, humiliating trial where your kid is ripped apart by a blood-thirsty defense attorney who'll do anything to get his client off-- , c'mon back and let me know if you still feel violated, ya hear?

Dakota

I have a MYSPACE!!!

Yeah, look at me, huh? LMAO

I actually have like moving pictures and everything. All done by me :) I know, it's unbelievable, huh? LOL

I'd love it if you'd pop in. I need more friends. LMAO

http://www.myspace.com/dakotacassidy

DC :)

POOPYHEAD

I think I can write this...

Wait, let me pick my jaw up off the floor.

I can't type if my tongue gets carpet burn.

So, did you watch Project Runway?

I did.

And yeah, you guessed it--Jeffrey won. I have no words other than these. Maybe they're phrases... Looked like the inside of a picnic basket.

The Liberty Bell is sooooo like 1800's or something.

I think I had a set of curtains just like that dress back in 1986. or was it napkins? I can't remember.

I am simply ASTOUNDED that this sneaky, conniving, backstabber managed to win PR. His collection was FRIGHTFUL. Not even at my skinniest/youngest would I have worn the street trash he designed. It was dreadful and those judges have been smelling the inside of someones designer underwear thinking Jeffrey should win.

In all fairness, Uli, who I waffle over a lot, had some fantabulous things as did Laura. I was a bit disappointed in Michael, but he did have some lovely things. Uli's stuff was a compilation of young, fresh, elegant and fun. She had something for EVERYONE. Laura did some of the most fab evening gowns. I think I would have worn almost all of them. Michael had one dress that was all swishy and sexy. Though admittedly, his stuff was very young--it still made me WISH I could wear it.

Jeffrey's half-baked shit? not so much.

I really thought Uli was going to snarf up the whole thing. That Jeffrey won makes me certain those judges have NO CLUE what women want to wear. This wasn't high fashion, people. it was a collection of outfits that you can get at like some ritzy designer store. Designer, yes, high fashion, no and that's what Jeffrey's crap on a stick reminded me of. Crazy shit you wouldn't wear unless you were paid top super model dollar to do it.

What pissed me off even more was that those judges seem to think we're all going to be running out to buy stuff like that. How on Earth they came to the conclusion is beyond me. I don't much like them deciding for me either. it irritated me. Snort.

I say next PR we let AMERICA vote--hell, bring in the UK too, but for God's sake, please, save us your hoity-toity bullshit talk about what's hot and what's not. We're not all 12 and getting ready to attend our first dance which was definitely where Jeffrey's collection was at. He certainly didn't have it ALL like Uli did.

Oh, and Jeffrey? Your pea heads too small for your neck. Work on that, would ya? LOLLOL

Yeah, I'm bitter.

DC :) (grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr)

Dear Murphy Police Dept--AKA--S.W.A.T.

Dudes--have you no racoons to corral? A nice domestic brawl between Jeb and Jolene to sort through? A possible felony, involving a six-pack and some chew?

Y'all are the most overzealous bunch of short pants wearin', flashy badge sportin', law enforcers I ever done seen.

So here's the scoop--I'm all law abiding, driving along in my residential area, right? I come to a four way stop and of course, law abider that I am, I come to a complete STOP. Not one of those rolling thingies like those Californians do. A total eclipse of my car. (Why do they call it a California stop anyway?). I look up at the median that divides this four-way and for the merest of moments, I swear on all things traffic-like, I thought the nice police lady was going to shoot me.

I was a little distracted, I admit. However, when I look up--at again I say, A STOP SIGN, I see this nice lady police officer holding a gun up and pointin it at me. Granted, it was a HUGE, oversized gun. But how the hell am I supposed to know if that's not the latest in MPD technology? Like maybe they discovered bigger is better and this new-fangled gadget offers a WIDE spray of bullets to catch all of the bad guys at once? I mean, I don't hang out at the police station much. I don't read Cops Weekly or Glock Digest.

Okay, okay, so it was a RADAR GUN, but Jesus effin', my heart did a complete dive for my feet when I caught it by quick glance. I swear I thought she had a REAL GUN!

And she was holding it like she did too. I mean, I realize the crime here in little 'ole Murphy is minimal and probably the best chance of locking someone up in the pokey is to catch them speeding, but for, fuck's sake--you scared me so badly, I had to make potties. LMAO

So look, darling, from me to you. We ALL wanted to be Farrah (well, I wanted to be Jacqueline) and we all flung our hair around in the mirror, holding up our hairbrushes as faux guns. But could you do that, say maybe where they really NEED you to exercise your authority. Like where the bad guys are? Cuz I afear, you probably won't find many folks speeding at A STOP SIGN.

This isn't the mean streets of NYC. It's a small town and yes, bad stuff happens, I'm sure. You're all to be commended for keeping us safe from horrors gone unknown to us whilst we sleep in our cushy beds. And I do realize Hyundai's can do like 100 MPH. So I completely understand your suspicion of me. But Jesus, Mary and all the apostles--I am OLD. I can't take that kind of fright. I'm well on my way to brittle bone disease and I nearly cracked a rib just gasping out loud.

So could you be kinder to this old broad in the future? if you must wave that thing around, do it in the direction of someone who looks like he could be armed and speeding, would ya?

Oh, and the color black? not so much in your color wheel. Maybe you could speak to the nice head honcho at your pretend NYPD precinct and see if he'll consider a lovely pastel pink. I can pick a color in your color wheel from 100 paces and pink is soooooooo you. LOLLOL

Dakota :) who seriously appreciates the vehemence and dedication with which you held that radar gun. it was VERY Tomb Raider slash Matrix. Dakota also appreciates the fine work you do to make her town a safe haven--she just wishes you wouldn't do it when she's driving. LMAO

Alsups

That's the name of a sort of Hooterville's version of the 7-Eleven. It means all supplies. I think it does, anyway.

Here's why Alsups is involved in this blog.

Soooooo today R officially moved into his double wide in the country on 10 acres. I gotta tell ya, it's uber-peaceful out there and his house is cute. Well, except for the countertops in the kitchen.

His double wide is used--so whomever did the countertops clearly OD'd on DIY and had too many magueritas one night and thought--"Hey, let's purdy up da joint." It didn't work out so well... S'okay, though. We can fix. LOLLOL.

Anyway, it's nice and with a little love and decorating, it'll be a palace fit for R and his queen. The queen being me. LOL.

Yes, there will come a time when we live together. If things keep going the way they're going, anyway. Yes, it will be after my sons move out. I won't be able to afford this house forever. So they'd damned well better get careers right after graduation. But that's the purported deadline. That means Dakota shows up, wardrobe in hand, suitcase of cosmetics trailing behind her. Oh, and my shoes. Naturally, I need my shoes. Snort.

However, how I'll arrive there is of much internal debate for me as of late. I thought we'd live together. Like maybe. Kind of. Then as our relationship grew, I'd find myself considering permanancy. You know the kind I mean... Well, the other night we're driving back from wherever and I play the game we always play. The when Dakota comes to live with R game. I have to protect myself and all my wordly goods--so I always ask the really HARD questions and I love to decorate. Guys don't so much. I just need to know I can have some breathing room is all.

So I play the game. The the game where I say, "Honey? When we live together, can I bring my fill in the blank and put it in your fill in the blank." Or when I say, "Honey? When we live together, will you get upset with me if I clean up your piles?" R is a pile man--me? not so much. I'm happy to put it away--as long as he doesn't get pissy about it--we're good :)

And more often than not, he says, "Yes, Bunny. You can do whatever you want." I smile and put it away in my "remember R said you could" box. Cuz I might need it later for ammo, ya know? LOL

So this particualr night I play the game, but this time I say, "Honey? When we get married --" Yeah, I know-- I can't believe I said that either. I cough, sputter, choke. R smiles, quietly gloats and holds my hand, soothingly caressing it while I gasp for breath.

He only niggles me sometimes about it. See, I'm the one who's afraid to ever tie the knot again. Getting out is HELL--Getting TO out, bigger hell still. In my plethora of insecurities, it means spinning the roulette wheel to see if in the end -- you find out the person you married really IS a shit -- and gambling on how much you're going to get to keep of the stuff that was supposed to be "both of yours" when you find out he's a shit. I don't like that. What's mine is mine... and I want to keep it. I might want to keep some of what we collect in connubial bliss too. So I ask. And R is a Prince C harming among mere mortals. it isn't that he isn't marriage worthy--or that if I hadn't been whipped to a frenzy by divorce that I wouldn't be wanting to know why he wasn't on his knees proposing this far into our relationship. R is the best. He's my perfect fit. it's not him that has the trouble--it's me. me, me, me and my fear that my stuff will go the way of a white sale at Macy's. Out da door slicker than snot from a runny nose in winter.

Yet, R isn't like me at all. He considers me in everything he does when it comes to his life, his plans, his new living space. He always says I can do whatever I want with the double wide. But I think that's cuz he hasn't had anyone take everything from him yet. LOLLOL. Though, I will admit, I'm more and more comfy with the idea of sharing space. We did it not long ago under a tough circumstance--for an extended period of time. it was crazy stressful, but R was the champ he always is and it didn't break us. We didn't have a single fight and all I can tell you is now that he goes to his space and I go to mine again, we miss each other. If we don't see each other everyday, we get whiny--tragically so.

So, back to Alsups. On our trip from his apartment to his new house, we stop at this place for something to drink and gas. We go inside and he comes to stand by me at the counter after he gets our drinks and gives me a kiss, putting his arm around me. The nice lady at the counter says, "Aw, you make a cute couple."

I smile and say thanks and she says, "How long have you been married?"

I say, "we're not." Cuz I'm always the first to remind everyone of that. I always joke with R that people must think we're having an affair. We frequent a lot of eateries and we meet for lunch and stuff in the afternoon and we're all kisses and shit. I know the fine folk at Jason's Deli think we're having an affair because we hold hands across the table in daylight hours. LOL

Soooooo---HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. That's R's response to the nice lady--to which the nice lady thinks he's the one balking at marriage and of course, I need to set her straight. Before I say a word she says, "I'm sorry. Touchy subject for him?"

I laugh and say, "No. Touchy for me."

And she says, "I'm sorry, sometimes I say too much, but if you're not married now, you'll be his wife in the future. I'm sort of psychic. (sp)" Or something to that effect.

I smile again and leave in a BIG hurry. Tee hee :)

R's all moved in now and I came home tonight afterward, logged on to let him know I was home on IM, and we said our usual, gushung, pathetic goodnight. He says, "Goodnight, Future Wife." followed by oodles of those kisses.

And it made my belly do a half-gainer. The whole "wife" thing, yea know?

Oy
and
Vey.
I'm in DEEP.
LOL

DC :)

Dear Wannabe Princess Erica...

Yeah, I'm gettin' my weekly dose of freak on by watching the Bachelor Rome. I know, I know. I'm addicted to reality TV, but I couldn't help myself when I read a prince was lookin' for a squeeze.

Maybe Prince Lorenzo is in need of some cash? The castle walls are in need of repair? The guest cottage out yonder needs new carpeting? What, I ask you -- what possessed you to hit the airwaves looking for a wife -- a princess wife no less??

I don't want to judge you, darling. You seem LOVELY. You're polite. You have fantabulous manners. You're well spoken and you even admitted to liking people for who they are. Not because they have college degrees ect. You like "life" experience. Nice, that was very nice. Sweet even. Kind too and all the good things Prince Charming should be.

Well then, WTF were you taking when you picked ERICA after her abysmal, shallow admission that she despises commoners? Yes, she really used the word "commoner". I think I choked on my Kettle chips. This woman had the utter audacity to make herself very clear about where she stands on people who have no college educations. Never mind the blue collar worker. She likes to have intelligent conversations, she claims. Clearly she didn't pay attention in college when her vocab word of the week was intelligent--because anyone who behaves as shabbily as she does? Well, she just didn't have her listening ears on that day.

Erica lists herself as a socialite. She really does. That's her claim to fame. She doesn't work and I do believe she has absolutely no ambition to. She whined to the host because she had to share a room with other (big gasp now) contestants and that no maid was going to come and make her bed for her.

Look, sissy pants, we not-so-socialites make our beds everyday and, check this, we wipe our own asses too. I know, cookie, you just can't believe it, but it's the God's honest truth. I even buy the TP to do it. I know, that was a revelation on par with the location of the Holy Grail for you, right? LOLLOLLOLLOL

So get a hold of yourself, would you? I always thought tards like you were made up. I mean, I joke all the time about being a princess, but I dont actually live that way. I almost never twirl my hair in RL. I almost never do the valley girl-speak unless I'm mocking in jest. However, you, my little vixen, are a total pro. You can work an OMIGOD like a frazzled nerve.

now to top things off, after Erica made this admission and Lorenzo firmly held his ground by telling her he liked people from all walks of life, he STILL picked her at the rose ceremony. When he had a perfectly good coupla wneches he could have substituted. Really, there were far fairer maidens in the land to be had.

Darling? What ARE you thinking? is there something in your contract that says you should try to pick the most wenchi-fied chick in the kingdom for good TV? Do they pay you more if you take on the drama-worthy, diva, whiners versus the say, ever practical real estate agents?

Cuz I gotta say, Bravo, big boy. Ya done good. LMAO

DC :)

Trauma: Life in the ER

Snort. I watch that show all the time. it's on Discovery Health and we were stuck on it this summer when nothing else was on. R and I did a summer-long stint with it. We were glued to every episode at 1 in the morning.

You know why these people are so traumatized? Um, cuz they saw the bill afterward.

Yesterday, I had to go to the ER.

I always joke that if I ever have to go to the hospital, I want my kids to take me out back and shoot me. Today--I ain't jokin'. LMAO

I say this because it's costly and with no insurance for me, the self employed, it's just nuts. R had to go this weekend for something rather minor and when I saw the bill and the uninsured amount he ended up paying, I thought, oh, not so bad. It was like 350 bucks. R had a swollen uvula. You know the thing that looks like a punching bag in the back of your mouth? it looked like a basketball laying on his tongue. LOL. it was swollen and red and wobbling back there, blocking his throat and giving him a tough time swallowing.

Turns out he had a virus and they gave him a shot of steroids and all was good. He's fine now.

As for me--not so fine. I've been having some serious stomach issues. It's been about a month and a half since it started and yesterday, it got so bad, I couldn't put my feet on the ground. It hurts all the time. sometimes it's a dull ache. sometimes it's more severe. I was dizzy and I broke out in a sweat. I NEVER sweat. The pains range from lower abdomen to under my ribs and yesterday, they were firmly rooted in my lower abdomen. I think maybe an ulcer. I've had one of those too and it hurts, just not quite like this, but maybe they vary. My stomach is also bloated and swollen which led me to believe, the open thighs, insert torture device doc might be needed.

Now, let me preface this by saying, I'm not much for doctors. I don't cry when I get a paper cut (unless it ruins a good manicure). I had a baby on those drugs that induce labor with nary a word spoken. Just a grunt or two. In essence--I ain't no pansy.

But hellllooooo--this almost (almost) equaled the kidney stones I got after I so valiantly had my kid. Now THAT is ungodly pain. And for weeks after, I suffered because it turns out they ripped my insides all up. 'Twas dreadful.

So I kinda knew it wasn't kidney stones, I just knew it was something and I couldn't take it anymore. So with R's not so bad bill in mind, me and the oldest monster go to the ER. I've been there a few times with him because he's had a couple of accidents. He had stitches and he got his toe caught in a car wash thingy when he was working at a car wash. They were quick and efficient and I liked that.

I figure, I'll be in and out in no time.

HAH!

The drive over was painful. Every freakin' bump in the road hurt. I joked with my kid that my uterus was gonna fall out and he'd have to carry it in to the ER.

he turned a whiter shade of pale and said, "Really?"

Sigh. So I'm sure this has something to do with my ovaries or like my girly parts and I'm ready to give those bad boys up without a fight. You will not hear me complain that I'm only half a woman without her uterus. I say--yank the friggin' thing out. It's nothing but trouble.

We arrive at the ER at 1 in the afternoon. I sign in, I sit down with the kid -- whose arm I've stretched out of shape from grabbing it. I wait.

I don't wait long even though it's packed. I figure this is a good sign. Um, NO. They call me, I tell them the trouble, I have all my stats taken and I go to a room.

Almost IMMEDIATELY Doogie Howser shows up. Fresh-faced, clean, cute as a button. I figure, yee haw, he's going to have to lay hands on me. That's a nice way to cop a free feel when you're forty, yes?

Um, no. Though he does ask what's wrong. I tell him. My ovaries are going to explode--what can ya give me to stop the pain? He laughs. He says a cat scan is in order and he says he's going to give me an IV with some Motrin. EXCELLENT. I'm ready to find out that my innards are damaged and need to be removed poste haste. I'm not sure how I'll pay for it, but I don't care. take them OUT.

A couple of minutes later, Nurse Thinkshe'sacomedian shows up and hooks me up with an IV. This dude was icky. he needs a roto rooter for his nostril hairs and boy, does he ever think he missed his calling in nursing. He thought he was a gas. I thought he was a tard, but who am I to argue when he's got the good stuff and I need it. He gives me the IV with the meds and wants a urine sample. I'm all about the urine sample. I gotta go--I fill 'er up and go back to my bed.

Five minutes later, the cat scan dude arrives and whisks me off. Now, I'm not thinking cost here. it's all of five minutes and I'm thinking how bad could that be? Breathe in--breathe out--it's over. I'm taken back to my room and my kids gone to get something to eat.

I remain in my room for FIVE HOURS. No word. I'm bored out of my MIND and I want out. I try to pass the time peacefully. I make up stories in my head. I make up more stories in my head. I have no stories left after five hours. My muse it at now at McDonalds having a Big Mac and I wanna join her.

I'm not happy come 6 o'clock. Not happy at all. I'm hungry. I'm thirsty and I want OUT. R calls in the middle of this and he's on his way. Just as he shows up I've finished very politely telling the nice male nurse at the nurses station that I'm going home. I hold up my hand and say, "See this? I'm taking it out, getting dressed, paying the bill and going HOME. Buh-bye."

He says there are four people ahead of me, waiting to have their test results read and he's sorry. he'll see what he can do. Oh, good. Glad to hear it. I'm out. Call me with the results.

ironically, all those before me fell to the wayside when I said I was leaving. Doogie shows back up like a nanosecond later, just as cute as ever, concerned that I'm going home. Hell, yeah I'm going home. This is ridiculous. How long does it take to look at a CAT scan? You're not solving rubics cube, for shit's sake.

Turns out, nothing is wrong. All of my organs are FAB. Like a 20 year olds. Good as new. My first thought was damn it all, I wanted my uterus taken out so I could hang it on my wall in memorandum. My second thought is, WTF? Doogie says I have a kidney stone that hasn't passed, but that's not the problem. I say SHIT, I never want to do that again, take it out. He says it could pass between now and when I'm 70. That's not the problem. it isn't what's causing me the pain. Could be a gastro problem, or possibly a prob for the OBGYN.

Oh.

Hookay, then. Good. Now I'm going home. The Motrin helped and I just want out. I tell him I'm taking out my IV. He laughs and says, "Oh, no. I'll get the nurse." Groovy. Hurry it the hell up.

Again, I wait. Just as I'm about to take it out, and R is yelling at me to stop it now, the nurse shows up. The comedian. He yanks out my IV and I go to pay my bill.

I really shoulda considered ending it all BEFORE I got to the paying portion of this damned event.

Ya ready?

THREE THOUSAND DOLLARS.

And that's with the fricken' uninsured discount.

I asked the nice discharge lady what they thought they had going on in there? I sure as crap didn't stay in the Presidential Suite and the room service SUCKS. While the eyeball candy was okay, I don't pay for my cheap thrills--so you can knock that off my list of room charges. She giggles. Cuz ya know, I'm funny and all. She explains the charges. She also asks about my very interesting job as a writer. I had to fill out a form with my occupation. I tell her all her questions about my job will be answered when she finds herself whacked in one of my books. She giggles again and tells me that she realizes it's expensive.

I say, "Really? What about 3k is expensive? For that amount and the kind of care I got, I should be leaving with the meaning of life."

She giggles again and hands me my bill. I throw her a couple of hundreds and hit the parking lot.

it isn't just my stomach that hurts today.

Dakota :)

AQ FREDRICHS!

I'm doing this because there's simply NO other way to reach you, darling. I get an e-mail from you--I reply--it comes back like THIS--

(reason: 550-66.84.19.65 blocked by ldap:ou=rblmx,dc=worldnet,dc=att,dc=net)
----- Transcript of session follows -----
... while talking to gateway2.att.net.:
>>> MAIL From: SIZE=1495
<<< ou="rblmx,dc="worldnet,dc="att,dc="net">http://www.att.net/general-info/rblinquiry.html"
554 5.0.0 Service unavailable

it happens every bloody TIME! I sent you an e-mail on like the 10th of September--just to say hello--it comes back like that. I reply to your e-mails, they come back with that message.

What did I ever do to your server? LOL

I am NOT breaking up with you--not unless you don't get a new e-mail addy, anyway. LOLLOL

I know you lurk on my blog--so you'd better fix this problem before I get my freak on and drive to your house.

Now E-MAIL ME with an alternative!!

LOL

Dakota :)

Words escape me...

I am officially

FORTY.

Dakota :)

I don't want to complain

BUT--WTF with blogger???

If it weren't for that wonderful chick I call one half of the Book Bitches, I'd still be trying to figure out where the hell my blog went!

I could log into it, but I couldn't "view" it. it just went away and I swear I had nothing to do with it. LMAO

So a HUGE thanks to my pal from BB who went to a lot of trouble to make my life whole again and a question to blogger...

WHY would you do that to someone who's almost forty and really feared her brain cells had stopped reproduction? LOL

Dakota

Ch-ch-cheaters

So yesterday I went blog hopping. I love to see who people link to. I think it says a lot about who and what they're about. I'm sure most times it isn't anything more than someone asking to be linked because you may have a popular site and they'd like the bleed over visits, but sometimes I'm also sure it's because you've gone to the blog and commented or even just read the blog. Usually it has to do with something you share in common. Authors linked with other authors ect.

So, I began at one blog, which led me to tons of blogs about submissives and their masters. I've researched this, so I wasn't all that interested and while I deny no one their lifestyle choices, the daddy role playing one had me kinda feelin' squeamish. The woman who owns that blog doesn't want anyone who has nothing nice to say to comment. So I shut up. LOL

However, as I skipped the blog-tastic, I found a very disturbing trend along the way and I spent an entire late afternoon on into the wee hours of the morning compelled, intrigued by these types of blogs. One blog I read a years worth of entries for and couldn't tear myself away. I'm not as shocked as one might think about this particular trend. I was shocked by the gender that writes them. The Internet allows you freedom of expression (sometimes far more than your alloted portion) and an anonymous space to vent. You can tell your side of the story and get loads of people to hop on your cruise to the land of pity as they dole out sympathy to you. Yet, I was amazed that for a gender of folk who aren't known for their communication skills, a whole lotta releasing of angst was goin' on.

So know what I found? Unhappy, cheating hubbies. LOLLOL. Men who cheat on their wives. Men who (according to them) desperately want their wives to pay attention to them. Men who live in sexless marriages. Men who count the days of dry spells where sex ain't nowhere in the offing. Women who do it too.

And I gotta tell ya, I was glued to this shit. One blog in particular sucked me in and wouldn't let go. I won't name it because I'm sure if his groupies got wind of this, they might pop on over and moan on his behalf. If he came here, some of the more hardened broads (JaynieJaynieJaynie. LOL), would rip him a new asshole and besides, I'm not much for flaming. He doesn't much like when people do that on his blog. If someone posts anonymously he frets if others attack and he fully acknowledges that this secret blog of his has its faults. He worries he'll die and his wife will find his blog. He worries she'll find it if he lives too. LMAO. What troubles me is that, for the most part, I felt sorry for him and despite what he's been up to, he seemed like a nice guy. I'd also love, love, love to hear her side of this twisted story. I'd love to know her take on his cyber screwing. It's cheating, no matter how you slice it. If you're putting your cyber part A, into cyber slot B--you're cheating. Even if it's just words, baby.

Yet, again, I say, I felt sorry for him. What in theee hell is that abour? I'm a writer--I love reading about people. I love understanding their internal tick. I sure shouldn't feel sorry for him.

Yeah, I know. Go figure me feeling like this over a cheater. We all know how I feel about them. They're cowards and they have a gozillion reasons why they can't leave their marriages, and a gozillion more to justify their cheating. Yet, he writes this blog with so much of his innards strewn on the table, I couldn't help but think, huh in the beginning. It was a weird contradiction for me. Nevertheless, as I sifted through his entries and read the comments, I still maintain he's kinda a weasel. A nice one, but one nonetheless. He puts his shit out there for everyone to read. Some very intimate stuff, but hasn't shared much with his wife.

He and his wife have four kids--she's got some illness that prevents her from feeling at all sexual. Her hormones are out of whack and she ain't puttin' out. The first portion of the entries from last year are devoted to his constant whining about her lack of affection and how he needs to have sex with her. See the connection? Sex and affection are deeply intertwined for this man. Honestly, at times it seemed like he needed someone to give him a standing 'O" while he washed the car for all the attention he needs. He seems exceptionally needy. Also, according to him, he does most of the housework, laundry, baths, bedtime and cooking. Plus works a full time job telecommuting. Woe is him. He makes his wife sound like a controlling shrew who does nothing but sleep in and eat out. However, as a result of his complaints about her, he ends up sounding like a pissy girl who can't put on a pair of pants properly. He's forever talking about how he was affectionate with her, but didn't" try anything." I hafta wonder if his sexual mentality is still back in HS... Maybe it was just his way of saying, "I wasn't looking to get laid. A pat on the head will do. See? it isn't all about the sex." ????? I dunno--but I do know, his view on sex isn't going to win him favor in any long-term relationships.

As I read, there were more complaints about their finances, yet he's off spending money on online poker, in Vegas and in strip clubs. They had to file bankruptcy as a result of their spending at one point. He admits his guilt openly, then keeps right on doing it. She eats out all the time and he goes with her. Then he devotes an entry to how they can't do that anymore. Yet next entry, he's back at it again. He decided to begin a budget that would get them back on track, then the next entry, he's still bitching that he needs to create a budget. I wanted to scream, "Dude! Do it already! For the love of God. Do SOMETHING!"

He bitches about losing weight too. he starts a diet, falls off the scale, starts again. Goes to the gym, stops, goes again. Mostly it seemed his life was a series of unfinished projects. The most important project being his determination to have sex. He fully admits his horndog status--it would seem he banks all of his wifes worth on whether they have sex and how often. For a few months worth of entires, I began to think sex was what he thought held a marriage together--that and continual attention. Like being married was a free pass to lifetime nookie. He even counts the days between bouts of mattress whacking. What truly bothered me was his recounting of their sessions in his entries. Granted, there were only three in a year, but it was pretty personal and really, is it necessary to share something that personal with a bunch of strangers?

He also constantly writes about beating his meat. Like everyone was holding their breath until he found relief via wanker in hand. As I got deeper in and he began several emotional affairs (yes, that's what he calls them) online and indulging in phone sex, I knew that when he claimed he began the blog as a cry for help was true. He wanted to be heard, all right. he wanted to be heard talking dirty. I think I saw with startling clarity the Mars-Venus thing. Some men equate sex with being valued. If you put out as much as they want, they feel da love. Women equate it much differently. Sex for us is a bond. An emotional tie. For the most part, anyway. Sure, we like to bang just to bang, but the emotional bit is probably a heavier issue on the scale of boink.

He did say that when you're not getting any, you obsess. I say if he put half as much energy into doing that budget he so deperately needed as he does thinking, blogging, wacking off about sex, he'd be RICH. He also travels a lot and in those travels, he's always inviting his blogger friends to come meet with him if their in the city he's doing biz with. He also never fails to mention that he's in a big, king-sized bed in wherever hotel--all alone. I'd shed a tear for him except he always invites "anyone" to join him. That's really when I realized this wasn't as much about his wife as it was about getting laid. he never wished his wife was there. Though, I'd have to wonder if presented with someone who would do him into next year if he wouldn't turn tail and run. A real encounter isn't so anonymous.

What amazed me the most was his legion of supporters--women included--which of course, led me to other blogs just like his. One guy really is convinced that he's like some Svengali to his wife's self esteem and he even went so far as to tell her if his needs weren't being met, he was going to take his winkie elsewhere. Yeah, that'll work. I say, wow--you really do believe you're that important, don't ya? You go right ahead, baby and when she finds out about what you've been pissing about on your blog, some lawyer is going to lay you out on a table with an apple between your balls and your checkbook in your mouth. You'll be poor and there ain't no woman gonna wanna do anything BUT boink with you when you have to buy them the two for one at the local Denny's. I hate to be the one to tell you this, but the web stores stuff FOREVER. Even if you delete it. I know from personal experience. LOL

This particular blogger from above had me rolling on the floor at his arrogance. He talks about his body like he's some Greek God. He posts pics of it and I say, get a wax, would ya? He boasts about his prowess. He writes in detail about it too. They both do, in fact. If how they write these encounters is how they make it happen, I say, hmmmmm. LOLLOL. He talks about his nether parts length, how tight his ass is. Though I will give him credit for saying many complimentary things about his wife--it doesn't change the fact that this guy really needs to move on from his self-image boasts. He blames a lot of his trouble on the fact that his wife doesn't greet him properly upon his arrival at home. His work troubles are because of her. If he was just getting more nookie, he'd be King of the Hill and all his troubles would just melt away.

Thank God he answered the meaning of life for me. I might have spent the rest of my life floundering if I hadn't tripped over his blog. LOLLOLLOLLOL.

There were only a couple of naysayers on guy number ones blog and I gotta say, AMEN. Someone finally told him to quit moaning about his dry spells. I agreed with every word she wrote. And it came from someone who claims she was once the cheater due to a sexless marriage. If you're unhappy and having sex online--get a DIVORCE. Don't blame the kids and your financial situation for your cowardice--if you want it badly enough, you'll find a way. Clearly, you wanted sex badly enough that you allowed some woman in a massage parlor to yank yer crank. See? You found a way. it wasn't exactly the brightest of paths due to STD's and such. I mean, she did blow your meat whistle, but you managed, yes? I know, I know, you only did it ONCE. What a good hubby. Here's a pat on the back for your oustanding restraint. Now get ye a divorce and go play with your imaginary friends online. You can do all the screwing you want in real life or not if you have a nice divorce.

Plus, from a woman who was cheated on, lemme give ya a little advice. Even if you do happen upon the woman who thinks your studly prowess is undeniable AND she wants to boink you into the next century as often as you'd like--she'll NEVER trust you. You cheat. If something happens to her--let's say she has a hormone prob like relationship number one did--she knows you'll be off getting a massage and just ONE oral encounter. I feel very certain that will bring her comfort. Oh, and believe me when I tell you, you can't hide prior infidelities from her. She'll find out one way or the other. I have someone you can ask personally, if you'd like.

So the conclusion I came to was this--these men expect sex in return for a regular paycheck.Not all of them, mind you. Just some of 'em.

They bank on the fact that their days will be brighter, and afterglow will ensue if their wives give it up on demand. Guy number two said as much. He also says that the online porn he watches displays women being so enthusiastic. Er, dude? They get PAID to look enthusiastic. I think I snorted my Pepsi when I read that. LOL Guy number one seems to feel the same about both situations. I work, do me a favor and put out. I also came to the conclusion that throwing your shit out there for the world to see and pity you for is totally worth it if you can manage to fenagle some "poor babies."

After last night and reading guy number one, there was a point where he said he wasn't sure he could keep blogging. he'd lost his job and the laptop that came with. Means he can't take a chance on being caught at home :) He did that in a couple of entires through the year and I had to wonder of it wasn't because he wanted people to ask him to stay. I also wondered if he made some of it up. Like the massage parlor. A sort of imaginary "take that" statement.

Well, I'm here to do the begging if that's what you're looking for, I BEG of you--don't stop blogging. This writer has a story brewing like you wouldn't believe. LOLLOL

DC :)

er, Bam?

I think that's your name... Forgive me if I address you improperly. My mother would have my head--not to mention I'd be grounded forevah if I got this wrong.

Anyway, Bam snarked my cover here--http://www.dionnegalace.com/covers/2006/09/deep-red-something.html.

LOLLOLLOLLOL.

First, I simply MUST clear up the innuendo my fellow author and RT lunch partner created. Evangeline Anderson said I was hilarious (thank you, darling :) ). Now this after a Changeling Press luncheon where I re-told the story of the "great tiara nabbing". You know the one. The one where Shelly Laurenston gets a tiara and wears it like she owns da joint? Yes, that's the one. LOL

Anyhoodles, Evangeline retold this on the snark chick's site in the comments after my cover snarking. She said lovely things about me. And thank you, babe. I loved meeting you!

However, she improperly told it and I fully intend to hold her responsible whenst next we meet again. Oh, and we WILL meet again, my love. LMAO. Evangeline told the cover snark chick I was calling myself the queen of SEX. HAHAHAHAHAHA. Now all who know me know fer sure, I am lukewarm, baby. All fluff, no substance. Not an eyeball singe in sight outta my books. NOTHING like Ms. Evangeline. Smokin' hot--go look her up and buy her books :) They're worthy of asbestos gloves and the fire department.

In reality (you know, the one Evangeline wasn't in? LOL), I was telling the story of Shelly and her sudden transformation into Ms. Long Island 2006 after improper use of a tiara. it had nothing to do with sex.

Do you see how rumors get started? Do you have any idea what would happen if I woke up and everyone thought I was the queen of SEX?

Jesus, the world would quit turning on its axis! You'd all be in a sorry state if you looked to me.

Soooooooo, Bam (damn, I hope that's right. Cuz if it ain't, I'm soooo gonna kill Jaynie. LOL), thanks for a snort and tell that damned Evangeline to quit putting so much freakin' pressure on me. LOLLOL

Oh, and Barb--I'm sooo glad you like CP books--the authors love you back, but I maintain--do NOT reconsider ANY books written by me. I'd be all kinds of verklempt if you wasted your money and the curse of romantic comedies wasn't broken...LOLLOL

Thanks again, ladies!

Dakota :)

In memory of 9/11

No matter your beliefs on the war in Iraq--no matter your religion, political origins, I hope you'll find it in your heart to say a prayer--send a good thought for the victims and their families of 9/11.

I will never forget that day five years ago. At the time I lived in New Jersey and my ex was traveling along the highways that led into the city for work. I will never forget the images, forever burned into my memory, coming from the TV. I will never forget the panic, the phone calls to neighbors who had husbands, mothers, fathers, cousins, children trapped in the towers--on planes -- on the bridges leading into the city.

Yet, my journey that day will never compare to those who have suffered imeasurable loss, sorrow, and the black hole of waiting for the unknown. Know that I wept with you, prayed with you, kept vigil alongside of you, even though my impact may not have been direct.

To all who've been touched by the tragedy this day brought, may you find peace, comfort and a quiet place to remember the joy you once shared with your loved one. Set aside the media speculation, sensationalism, controvesy this tragic event dealt you, and seek the love and warmth of your remaining family.

My hope for you is that you find respite in whatever brings you the kind of peace you need to move ahead and prosper for the sake of your future. My admiration knows no bounds for the courage you've displayed -- will display -- as you continue to come to terms with your losses and rebuild your lives.

For every firefighter, police officer, paramedic who was lost, I thank you. Your dedication, integrity, bravery and sacrifices will always have my eternal gratitude.

To all who mourn this September 11th , I wish you solace and a warm, safe haven where you might rest your weary souls. I wish you newfound joys. I wish you the courage to live your lives to the fullest in memory of those who would want you to soar to the Heavens and beyond.

Know that this American will never forget.

Dakota

Million Dollar Listing--Jeffrey and an ode to Steve

What a weekend. First, there was the barbecue from hell, courtesy of Dad and Uncle Harry. Then Steve Irwin up and dies.

In my mind he was invincible, I guess. I mean, he wrestled crocs, for crap's sake. I sure was sad to hear he'd been fatally injured. I haven't been a regular watcher for years, but I enjoyed his antics and enthusiasm for his work. His children are so young. It pains me to know they'll grow up without him there, but I'm comforted by the idea that his children have quite a legacy of memorabilia and memories.

Onto the barbecue. Um, Uncle Harry and dad were here. I barbecued in the rain. My mother and father argued. Nuff said. LOL

Million Dollar Listing--another reality show--YES, YES, YES, I'm fricken' hooked, but it was on Brava after stupidhead Jeffrey from project runway--how could I just turn it off?

It's about real estate agents who get million dollar listings. I watched the episode with Morgan and some other chick I'll refer to as Barbie, cuz I can't remember her name. LOL. Actually, from here on out, Morgan and Barbie will be Ken and Barbie. Cuz that was much what it was like.

So Ken gets a mondo listing. Ken is 24 and already making six figures. Barbie is older, but she makes some major bucks too. In fact, Barbie got her ex boyfriends listing for his Hollywood house. I'd call her ex Ken too, but you'd end up confused. So he's GI Joe. LOL. Anyway, Ken had a listing in Malibu for like 3.8 mill for a fixer upper. He only makes 95 grand on it.

Only.

Do that twice in a year and I do believe you can afford a shack on Zuma beach with a surf board to rest your head on. And if I were buying me a house that cost that much, it damned well better not even need a fricken' nail. Some rich guy bought it and he was enthralled with the idea of fixing it up. He couldn't wait. It's called flipping a house. buy it beat up. Fix it--re-sell it. His profit will probably be around 400,000. Niiiiiiice gig if you can get it, eh? I'm in the wrong biz, I tell ya.

Barbie tried like hell to sell GI Joe's house, but he was tres difficult. Tres--she was working as a double agent (as agent for seller and buyer) and it went to hell in a hand basket rapido. GI Joe didn't like the buyer and all her demands, so he pulled the house from the market. it was up for like 2.9, I think. Barbie lost 114,000 smackeroos after losing her commission and the advertising costs.

Pout. LOLLOL

I was surprised at the actual numbers when all is said and done. 6% doesn't work out to much with a million dollar home. However, I'd suppose if you only sell two or three homes in a year, you can scrape by. LMAO

And now, Jeffrey from Project Runway. I managed to catch the episode where he so rudely behaves like the spoiled, self indulgent ass he is and insults one of the other designer wannabes moms. Ya know, his mother was there too. She was off with the fab Laura. Had I been his mother and I'd heard him talk to someone--anyone like that, I'd have slapped him in the head. Jeffrey didn't like the fact that the other designers mother didn't like the color of the fabric he bought and she told the host so. Very nicely, and well, he did ask. She wasn't mean. She told the truth. Which, as Jack Nicholson would say, "he can't handle."

Christ and a sidecar, you'd think she said he should design clothes for Walmart! She went off and cried about it though. After he made it perfectly clear she didn't need to be around while he made his fabulous creation. She did try to make him understand, but I get the feeling Jeffrey only understands Jeffrey-speak. Translation--I am fabulous. I can behave like the sissy I am and no one can call me on it because I AM. I breathe--therefore, the world should be grateful.

Well, I'm not grateful, you scrawny, mean, mohawk wearin', tattooed, crybaby. How ya like them spools of thread? Jerk. Good hell, the more I watched, the more mortified I became. To speak to someone's mother like that? OY. Mine wouldn't hesitate to slap me senseless. He even cried after his critique from the judges whilst his mother soothed him. Baby, baby, baby. I stuck my tongue out at you, Jeffrey. You, girl. LOLLOLLOLLOL

Anyway, tonight they're in Paris and I'm praying Michael or Laura beats his twisted knickers off and he goes back to wherever he came from. I love Michael--he's such a smart designer and I love Laura's classy stuff too. If either one of them wins, I'll be happy.

And I absolutely MUST catch Million Dollar Listing again. I need to know if Barbie, Ken and GI Joe might possibly hook up for a menage in the hot tub of a million dollar fixer upper. LOLLOL

DC :)

Project Runway--Dear, Jeffrey...

Um, been catching bits and pieces of episodes here and there and today I managed to get a whole hour to watch an entire showing. I don't know what the final designer wins--I don't know anyone on the show or even favor anyone at this point. Well, that's not entirely true, but nonetheless, I don't much care who wins except for this one guy--JEFFREY.

Darling? You're a self-important, posturing STUPIDHEAD who spent overmuch time in the mirror with a hairbrush when he was a teen, wishing he was Prince.

Good luck with that.

Until then, do me a favor--do us all a favor. Next time you hit the CVS, locate and actively purchase the pills that will help you to behave like an ADULT. Buy the BIG BOTTLE. K? LOLLOL

The challenge for these up and comers was to make an outfit for a jet-setter. They had 75 bucks and 12 hours or something. 12 hours that Prince Jeffrey managed to spend at least some time tearing up some other chick designer and her mother. Don't know how mom got in there, but he couldn't shut up about it. Maybe he lost the last challenge, I dunno. I do know, had you shut yer mouth, spent more time on that purple thing you deemed jet-setting chic, you probably could have wowed those judges, leaving no room for anyone else to even have come close to beating your ass.

Cuz honestly, even if those crazy designers liked your cheesy rip-off of an outdated, Purple Rain outfit, you still suck in the decent human being category. Competition is a great thing. Everyone wants to win, but is it really necessary for you to roll your eyes and make faces when those fancy designers and buyers for big-time mags like somone else's design too?

Don't be such a baaaaaaby. Quit bein' a girl and make your gender proud.

Oh, and the other guy-- the one with the white hip-hop cargo pants and shirt outfit was a gozillion times better than those black, faux leather, studded jeans and purple jacket concotion you made was. So here's a big eye roll and a neener, neener, neener on YOU. LOL

And I don't care if you won the challenge either--I still wouldn't wear what you made to a tag-sale, let alone on a plane to Paris. Where do you go in your jet-setting mind when you jet-set, anyway? I'd use that jacket you made as a pillow before I'd wear it on a plane.

Oh, and another kudos to the chick who made the dress that I probably wouldn't wear on a plane cuz really, if I fall asleep, my legs are bound to go east and west and that could be problematic. LOLLOL. However, I loved the dress. Classic, nice lines, flowing. Spectacular!

I hope Jeffrey has to eat your shorts for being such a poopy head. LOLLOL

Dakota :)

Paging Dr. McDreamy...

Watched the Emmys last night. I don't usually watch. However, for lack of anything better on, I did. I hate the cheesy jokes that usually fall flat, but I love to see who's coupled up--what they wear. The rest I could do without. LOL I say, skip the banter, gimme the goodies. We could have like 2 hours less of stupid fru-fru if we got to the heart of the matter. Plus, Barry was on in a very sweet tribute to Dick Clark.

However, I did note, fashion ogler that I am, there were really some uber-hot dresses this year. I gotta say, there were only a couple I wouldn't wear to a tag sale. Now, that said, keep in mind, this is just my personal op. You don't gotta like it. LOL

And I have one very pressing question--I think I lost sleep over it last night--who in theeeee hell was with Dr. McDreamy from Grey's? Was that his woman? I'm just going to say this to her--EAT A SAMMICH. Holy smokes, she's skinny. I had to say that, I know it sounds awful, but she needs a bucket of chicken wings-- pronto. LOLLOL

All right my fashion rundown--Cuz I'm such an authority. LMAO

Eva Longoria-o (?) --Desperate Housewives -- not sure how to spell her name-- whatever. pretty dress, very Marilyn Monroe. Didn't blow me away in it. the top of the bodice was kinda pointy. But still, attractive.

Ellen Pompea--Grey's Anatomy--OMG! Her dress was sooooooooo in her color wheel. Stunning purple. Not too bright, not too lavender-y. Wasn't crazy about the wispy, fringy stuff on top, but I can overlook that cuz she rocked the Casbah.

Tracy Gold--didn't see the entires dress, but she's clearly eating at least a carrot stick a day again. Kudos--her face was radiant.

Leah Remini--King of Queens--is baaaack and she looks great. Lost all that baby weight. Loved the dress, hated the color on her. Too dark. Just sayin'

Kim Raver--24--Hellllllllloooooooooooooooo--I know I say yellow isn't in ANYONE'S color wheel, but she looked spectacular in a soft yellow. Though she had a style that seemed to be very popular this year. The booby show-er.

Kate Walsh--McDreamy's wife on Grey's Anatomy. You know, she does look like Katherine Denueve (sp?). Fabulously statuesque, loved the style of the dress--needed more color.

Calista Flockhart--join McDreamy's woman in a sammich. In fact, hit the buffet at like Denny's. I joke, but she could just be naturally thin. It does happen. However, she's been heavier. She wore black. Okay dress--hot man on her arm. LOL

Kyra Sedgwick--Kevin Bacon's woman. Um, one of the dresses I hated the most. She looked very pale in it, wrong color and well, it looked like a prom dress that I don't even think the girls these days would wear. All those tiers and ruffles and fru-fru. Why is my question? LMAO

Virginia Madsen--somebody got a boob job and it wasn't me. Either that, or the makeup artist she used just ran outta highlighter. LOL. Plunging neckline, and believe me, if my ta-ta's looked like that, I'd leave 'em hangin' out too. LOL Hated the lacy pattern to it and the purple sash under the girls.

Jaime Pressly--My name is Earl--love this show, love her portrayal of extreme trailer park trash on too many recreational pharmaceuticals. LOLLOL. She cracks me up. Nice color, and what a hard body. Overall, nice showing.

Ali Shawcat--Darling, who are you? Tip from me to you--melon? not in your color wheel. I could only see your lips and I don't recognize them. LMAO

The chick who is forever pissed on 24--Dont' know her name. Always bent out of shape, not particularly attractive in the show, but I gotta tell ya, WOW. She had some makeover. Pale pink dress, flattering to her petite-ness and she simply glowed. Fabulous!

Felicity Huffman--Desperate Housewives--WOW. She proves that over forty is A-okay. Loved her in the dress, but it did look a lot like Kim Raver's. It was just a toasty almond versus pale yellow. Still, rock on, sistah. You got it more than goin' on.

Sandra Oh--Grey's Anantomy--Oooooh, Sandy. Sigh. Loved the color, really gotta question the ruffles on the neckline. Why, why, why??? The necklace? Tooooo much for your wee body. Otherwise, cute. Love her character on Grey's.

Lisa Rinna--Niiiice lips. DO they come with a pump? LOL. I'm kidding. Oh, and okay dress, if not typical.

Alfre Woodard--Desperate Housewives--Darling? What are you eating? You looked tres fantastique! Loved her hair, her dress, her tude. She's got such charisma.

Katherine Heigl--Grey's Anatomy--This--THIS is my pick of the night. Oh, honey, you outdid yerself! Pale, peachy, creamy, soft, long, figure hugging dress and your hair? Perfect. Upswept, but not severe and normally, I wouldn't advocate such dark eyeliner on such a pale chick, but it soooo worked. Superb. The entire package. Might even have revived poor Denny if he coulda seen it.

The men--only two made a big impression on me. Both Grey's Anatomy alumni. Dr. McDreamy--I don't care what anyone says, I thought he was hot back in that movie he did with kelly Preston way back. He can totally wear the scruffy, unshaven thing like nuthin' else. Hot, and hotter. Still, I hope he took his woman for sustenance after the big shebang. Sorry, Just can't get over how skinny she is. LOL

Isaiah Washington--OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH, this man oozes hot. I love him on Grey's. Love his serious, nostril flaring, surgeon's dedication. Love his funny, quirky, romantic side. Dude can rock a tux too. I noted he was ALONE. Hmmmmm. Maybe he needs assitance?

Dakota :)

A SHAMELESS PROMO

but not mine. LOL

Remember I told you all R had a movie star nephew? We saw his movie premiere in Austin last October.

Well, I didn't reveal his name cuz, well, I didn't. Anyhoodles, I'm going to now :) You might not know the name, but you'd probably recognize him if ya saw him on the tube. His name is Dax Shepard. His mom sent me an e-mail today to tell me that his latest will be out soon and I told her I'd mention it even if Hollywood won't :)

Dax started out on Punked with Ashton Cucher (sp?) and (do you have any clue how bizarrre it is when R tells me Dax was on the ranch with Demi and Ashton? surrrreal. LOL) then played an astronaut in Zathura. I'd just seen him in Without A Paddle, which I rolled around the theater over, just before I met R.

This month he's in two movies. Employee of the Month with Jessica Simpson and Dane Cook and a movie called Idiocracy. The latter of the two is coming out with no premiere, no advertising. What the hell is Hollywood thinking anyway?

The guy who directed it is Mike Judge. He did Office Space and other stuff that escapes me now, but I'm positive it was hilarious.

So, I thought I'd give a big ole shout out to the erotic community and tell you to go see this movie. Cuz I'm all influential like that. I just know my 12 fans will come through for me. LOLLOL

Dax is a very nice guy. Grounded, a riot, has an uber-nice girlfriend, likes kids, good to his mother and his characterization works your funny bone like nobody's biz.

The movie opens SEPTEMBER FIRST in only nine cities. Again, I ask, hellllooooo, Hollywood. Whatever is up your ass? Plus, it's got Luke Wilson in it and I gotta tell ya, I like snarky in a guy. I like it more when he's sorta cute. Luke is kinda (only a little) cute. Not like my R, but cute. The premise is something I wish I'd thought of myself and you really can't go wrong with a movie Dax is in.

Here's a quick blurb--Private Joe Bowers, the definition of "average American", is selected by the Pentagon to be the guinea pig for a top-secret hibernation program, set 1,000 years in the future. He discovers a society so incredibly dumbed-down that he's easily the most intelligent person alive.

Go check it out if you can find the time to giggle your butt off.

Dakota :)

I am, I said

to no one there.

Know that Neil Diamond song?

I play it every bloody time I finish an MS and that's pretty much how it was today when I played it. No one was there and really, no one cares. LOLLOL

I am, I cried. I am said I.

Today I played it cuz I finished my proposal for my agent. I feel omnipotent. Snort.

'Tis truly awful. I'm sure of it. However, I'm purty darned proud that I managed to write out a proposal for a book that has only five flippin' chapters actually written and my fly by the seat of my panties filler for the rest.

Color me astonished that I did it. I'm not a plotter. I SUCK at it.

But somehow, I got thirty damned pages of blood, sweat and wordage out of it. It's all shit, I'm sure.

However, I am, I said. LOL

Dakota :)

It has been like forevah

since I blogged. LOL. I just realized it's been almost a month. But a crazy one.

Oh, and I have nothing of interest going on at ALL.

Except one small thing...

I've been watching too much Oh! The channel that breathes.

Has anyone seen that show with Janice Dickinson? She's an ex-supermodel. One of the first of the super-breed. And don't you fricken' forget it. She sure as hell won't let ya.

I sit in utter amazement as I watch her crazy, neurotic ass go 'round in circles.

She owns some new modeling agency and I gotta tell ya, if she were my only way into the underfed/cellulite-less/perfect skinned world, I think I'd want OUT.

What a train wreck she is. That's probably why I can't look away. I mean, this is worse than Cyote Ugly was for me. I'm all in, baby.

I'd watched her on the Surreal Life and then on Tyra Banks show as a judge for Top Model and I thought most of it was just drinking--but methinks there are some lost brain cells in all that dying to her hair she's done.

She screams, she carries on, she vents, she reminds everyone who their daddy is, she whines, she wobbles after her "coffee", she treats modeling like brain surgery, she blames, she behaves horrifyingly and no one has slapped the shit out of her yet.

I'll give props to the chicks that model. Yay, you. I'm sure it's really not as easy as you all make it look. But it isn't like you need a degree in swishing your ass and making a go-see on time. Get a grip. In the scheme of worthy causes, I gotta put ya at the bottom of my list. Kudo's to you for making a living like that, but what Janice is willing to make some of her models to do to get a gig, kinda made me want to wretch.

Oh, and wonder what exactly SHE did to get where she is.

I could almost respect her if she were a bitch that had a purpose. Some bitches can be bitches who have intellect and don't come off like diva's. They may take charge and piss you off, but they get the job done.

But NOT Janice Dickinson. She's just mean and a mess of issues ten therapists couldn't fix. She takes those issues out on everyone around her and in the meantime, she loses accounts, sceeches about it, then begins all over again.

Yeah, she's still got a killer body. Yeah, she looks great for her age--whatever that is, but Lawd. Someone needs to save her from the public at large.

Though, I gotta admit--it's fantastically, deliciously dysfuntional. Keep 'em comin', please. This writer is eatin' this up like a free lobster buffet. LOLLOL

Dakota :)

FORTY-TWO, 42, FORTY-TWO, 42, FORTY-TWO,42

Get the pic?

Guess who's FORTY-TWO?

LOLLOLLOLLOL

It's R's birthday today! Yay!

Know what he wants to do?

No, not that...well, probably THAT, but he wants to go to Chili's for his birthday dinner.

Such a simple man, my R.

Join me in wishing him FORTY-TWO more, would ya?

Happy Birthday, honeybunny!!

Love,
Dakota/Bunny :)

An author...

...and a friend/fellow collegue of mine at Changeling Press is in need of medical equipment.

See below--

Natural disasters like floods, fires, and disability often hit without warning, leaving chaos in their wake. When a crisis hits our friends, we all want to help. The Save The Quiet Kitty Fund is here to help authors in crisis.
From time to time, many of us have organized a short term pool to help an author in crisis — short term crises that called for short term solutions. The Save The Quiet Kitty Fund is a designed to be a longer term solution.
The online writing community is made up of so many people who come together to share in a universe that exists only in cyberspace. We come to know people like they’re members of our family, even if we’ve never met them in person. Beyond cyberspace, however, reality sometimes intrudes. Most authors are self employed, and only have health insurance if they maintain their day job, or if their spouses’ employer provides family coverage. Even when Medical insurance is affordable, sometimes a preexisting condition may keep an author from being eligible.
Our friend Camille Anthony was diagnosed in 1989 with Pulmonary Sarcoidosis, caused by exposure to asbestos while an employee of the State of California. (There is a pending class action lawsuit against the State of California which has been in Pre-Trial hearings for almost a decade.) Camille is now a full time author with no health insurance. She’s in stage four of Pulmonary Sarcoidosis and can’t get health insurance because of this pre-existing condition.
Camille has been hospitalized several times in the last 9 months, and her illness has progressed to the point that she requires oxygen around the clock. The lung disease has caused peripheral heart problems, mainly myocardial regurgitation in the right chamber, similar to congestive heart failure. In CHF, the left side stops. In this case, only the left side is pumping. The fibroid lesions caused by the sarcoid are encroaching in on her heart, attacking lean muscle tissue. This also makes movement difficult at times as the muscles throughout her body are slowly being infected as well. This is a disease that mirrors autoimmune diseases, while not actually being one.
Oxygen and hospital bills, as well as other medical expenses, are long term needs. The irony is, Camille makes just enough residual income from her writing to keep her from being eligible for Medicaid. Since Medicaid turned her down, the medical equipment company now wants their equipment back.
We hope to raise enough money, with your support, to not only cover Camille’s current medical expenses, but to help other authors in crisis.
http://www.savethequietkitty.com

Dakota

Happy Anniversary, honey :)

So, today's the day.
Yep, it's been a WHOLE year of R and Dakota as a couple.
Yes, Honey and Bunny have made it to the 365 day mark.
DC and The Champ are officially about to celebrate 12 months of bliss.

I hafta say, I thought we'd be ovah month two. Because we were friends first and I truly believed in my gut we'd screw it up by involving sticky emotions that are best left for break-ups and nasty divorces. I told R that often--we were doomed. "Don't worry, honey," I'd say, "after two months you'll be sick of me. My charm wears off. I'm a lot of work mentally. Trust me." When we hit two months-- I told him month six, he'd really be sick of me ect.

Now R would always laugh and say, "Didn't you say that last month, Bun?" And well, yeah, I did. I think I said it every month for the first few and then I gave up because R was so dismissive about it. LOL

Most of you know we met on a date site. E-mailed a lot, Im'd even more and date two (the first second date I'd ever consented to go on, mind you), I decided we would be friends and nothing more. I'd never laughed as much with someone, never had as much fun, never chatted endlessly with someone of the opposite sex as much as I did with R. I t was easy. Too easy. Thus, in my mind, a relationship other than friendship was out of the question. He was too much fun to risk losing to the ugly stuff that can happen when you become a couple. We'd break up and I'd lose someone I loved being around. No can do.

And as you all also know, R had other ideas. He took it like a man and continued to laugh with me when I would send him some of the crazy e-mails I'd get from other guys on the site. He'd ask me about the booooring dates I continued to go on with a smile plastered on his face. We went to the movies. We had dinner. We still Im'd every bloody day and late into the night--we talked on the phone all the time too. Sometimes upwards to 8 hours. Yet, I still didn't get the big pic. I was busy encouraging him to hit up another chick I thought he liked.

But R had the pic already painted and he bided his time, kept right on being my friend until a crazy phone call about what being my boyfriend entailed--a long and torturous three day war in my never quiet head--a challenge, and a smack down kiss in the parking lot of Barnes and Noble changed EVERYTHING. That kiss, the one I thought surely one of us wouldn't end up feeling, rocked.

So we became a couple on the 26th day of July after an IM about my doctor's appointment, where I mentioned I'd offered the doc sexual favors for free medical services-- cuz I have NO ins. LOL. Course, I was just joking, but R decided it was time to remind me that if we were going to be exclusive, I couldn't offer my sadly sagging wares to anyone but him. Unless I would allow him to do the same. Which gave me pause for thought. Which is EXACTLY what I'm sure his intent was. Sneaky bastard. So he asked for my hand in friend and I still thought we didn't have a shot.

As much as I loved being with him, something horrible was bound to happen. We'd break up and I'd be right about how we just should've stayed friends. There was no going back cuz when I break up with you--you have to hand over all of your shit, plus the toilet paper and if I'm really pissy, the spinny thing that holds the toilet paper roll too. LOLLOLLOLLOL

However, each month I fell more in love with him and for the first couple, I struggled with that. I remember distinctly when I knew I loved him. It was very shortly after we'd begun to see each other--even before we were exclusive--ten days or so before we'd even contemplated anything physical. Well, we'd contemplated, but we waited until it was right. Wow, did we contemplate. LMAO. He'd come over to my house for the first time and we were going to watch a movie. The moment he sat on my couch and put his arm around me I knew. He used to say we were like peas and carrots--we just went together, ya know? I don't think I ever believed you knew when you found the right one, but you do. So don't sell yourself short if you ain't feelin' it. Cuz when you do feel it, there's nuthin' like it :)

But that didn't keep me from being a freaked out mess. I cried that night after he left because this just wasn't what I wanted or planned on. My idea of a boyfriend wasn't falling in love. It was someone to hang out with, boink occasionally and see a movie. Courtesy of HIM, of course. LOL. I was too busy with a new career to end up with someone who'd suck the life out of me. My experience with relationships thus far meant I had to give up everything and make my SO the center of my universe. I just wasn't up to it.

And again, R taught me differently. He let me breathe. I could relax. Nothing made me happier than when I was with him and we were always together. Whenever we could be. Yet, my "girl" friendships didn't suffer, neither did my writing or my relationship with my sons. We spent hours and hours kissing goodbye, (my fav sport BTW. Snort) at my front door (in the garage too) and when we finally, well, ya know... er, WOW. LOL. Who knew? Who knew it happened with such frequency? Who knew it happened like THAT?? LOLLOL.

So I spent a lot of time thinking well, huh? This wasn't turning out the way I'd planned, but it wasn't turning into the major energy, life-force sucking deal I'd expected either. So I went with it and I kept going with it even though I was panicked over how in love I was. I knew R loved me too, he just hadn't said it yet and I sure as shit wasn't saying it first. We spent tons of time together and each month or event we shared I'd mention that after said month or event, he'd be sick of me.

Still, it didn't happen and month two, R told me he loved me. At a stoplight on a covertible ride. I said it back and finally, I decided to take the bull by the horns. When we IM'd that night (as is our usual goodnight after seeing each other), I told him (yes, I TOLD him LOL) that he knew as well as I did that we were "it" for each other and as freaked out as it made me, I said it. Something I'm just not so good at. He agreed in his all knowing, but not condescending way. We had this sympatico I couldn't deny--we just were. Of course, he knew that too...

Just yesterday, when we drove past that very stop light, R reminded me it was where he told me he loved me and that's only one of a million reasons I love him.

He has the sweetest heart. He's considerate. He's consistent. He's thoughtful. He tells me every day in one way shape or form that he loves me--how pretty he thinks I am. He soothes me. He tells me if I'm overreacting. He talks to me-- not at me. He makes me laugh harder than anyone else. He's the most awesome kisser evah. He holds my hand wherever we go. He encourages me. He remembers the little things. He massages my neck when it hurts like hell and even when it doesn't. He never fails to make me feel like I'm the most important part of his life, yet he never makes me feel like I'm soley responsible for his happiness. He loves my dogs and cats. He never gets mad because he has dog and cat hair all over him. He just smiles and says it can be washed.

He's waaaaay cute. He lets me be me and believe me when I tell you, me being me can be A LOT. He interests me. He can keep up with me mentally. Not an easy task, I tell you. He makes me secretly smile and giggle when I think about him. He's good to my sons without trying to show them the "ways of a man". He was never pushy with them and he doesn't demand that they do anything other than be themselves.

He has a strict moral code that mirrors mine. He's soooo good to his mother. He's incredibly smart. He makes me feel secure in our relationship without knowing he does. He demands nothing of me but my honesty. He has a calm about him that always eases my inner freaked out. He doesn't pressure me, but he's made his intentions clear. He knows I'm hesitant about that very scary word (you know, the one that involves Elvis and his Chapel of Love in Vegas? LOL), yet he's willing to wait me out.

He includes me in everything--knowing where I left off in my last relationship, he never gives me reason to doubt him, but he doesn't do it in an obvious way that makes me feel stupid about my trust issues. He doesn't let my doubts and worries stop him from being who he is and showing me how he feels about me. He doesn't hold a grudge. He kinda acknowledges my worries by letting me know he's heard them and then, walks all over them. LOLLOL

R truly is a prince among men and I'm eternally grateful I finally listened to him when he knew better than I did. It's been the best year of my life ever. R taught me that you can be friends as well as lovers. That just because you're involved doesn't mean you have to give everything else up. You can still be an entity all on your own AND enjoy the benefits sharing your life with someone else brings. You really can want to be with someone all the time and not feel stifled. You can also be apart and miss each other, but still connect. You don't have to run out of things to talk about either, but silence isn't necessarily condemnation. It can bring you quiet comfort. A peace like no other.

There's no one in the world quite like you, honeybuns. You make me laugh like no one I know, sigh all girly-like over the little things I thought I'd forgotten about and most of all, you've captured my heart with your patience and uber sexy persistence. You're the best thing in boxer-briefs that's ever happened to me and I love you like a buttload.

And a BIG thank you to my very good friends in Babeville. Jaynie, Erin, Maura, Michelle, Isy, Pam, Bonita, Lisa and everyone who encouraged me to stop being such a wussy and just do it. You were all full of love, advice and support. I'll always treasure that.

So, happy anniversary, honey!
Love,
Bunny :)

B-I-N-G-O

I think I'm a little in love with the game--even if it confounds me. I rediscovered it when R and I went to Austin and his family was here for a movie premiere that his nephew was in.

His nephew took R's mom to play Bingo and we all went along. I lost, but I had a blast.

I lost cuz Bingo ain't what it used to be. It's not just up and down and diagonal anymore. Noooooo, now it's shapes and stupid stars and stuff called six packs. Nonetheless, I was fascinated by the little old ladies shushing everyone when they called the numbers. I mean, you could see them on the big TV screen, but they got crazy if you talked. I couldn't believe the number of cases of beer you could stash in a GEO--everyone needs refreshment whenst daubing the shit out of their 12 sheet spread, oui? It's tiresome, thirsty work. LOLLOL

I was mesmerized by the number of troll dolls these women use as good luck charms. I thought they'd long since been sold at a tag sale in 1985. I couldn't stop giggling over the fact that R was accused of taking someone's lucky chair and the nice lady kept giving him dirty looks because of it. She was seriously vexed over it. He offered it back, but she refused, then whispered bad things about him to her friends. LOLLOL

I couldn't keep up because I kept messing up my damned shapes. My brain just doesn't work in multiples like that, ya know? How in theeeee HELL am I supposed to keep track of not only the shape of the state of TX, but the freakin' numbers that form it??? What kind of friggin' moron thought I could use both sides of my brain at once? LOLLOLLOLLOL. Just didn't work out for me

However, I told R we had to take his mom when we went to visit this summer because she so enjoys it.

So me, the Midge and R went to IN to play BINGO. It's bigger money than in MI. We went into it as a team. If anyone of us won, we'd split three ways. I refused to play with anything but a green dauber. Green is the color of money and man, can that money be big.

For some. Snort.

Anyhoodles, small town America is really underrated. It's got it's own complexities. It's own dramas. It's own clique. And they were definitely clique-ing. It was horrifyingly apparent that I didn't come from IN, but it's okay. I had fun anyway. Well, except for when I was so busy concentrating on my freakin' six pack in square two (hoping for a nine pack) that I TOTALLY missed the six pack in square one that I already had. I had BINGO for crap's sake! I just had it on my own time--not on the Bingo chicks clock. I could have screamed because the bingo 'ho-ing tart in front of me called out Bingo, but it was MY bingo she had. LOLLOL.

I mean, I had all the right stuff too. The Midge had loaned me her good luck charms--I had some praying hands (which I promptly placed on the number I needed to score as we went), a bunch of little doo-dads that I couldn't identify and a fake bingo ball. Alas, they didn't work in my favor. Like at all.

But guess what? The Midge, in all her bingo playing glory, won. Not Bingo, but a scratch off card. The bingo ladies float around table-to-table with them and disturb your bingo chi when they try to sell them to you. I wanted to tell the nice lady to piss off, I was too busy trying to make shapes to buy scratch off cards, but The Midge bought some and she won 150 bucks. Yeaahhhhhh, thass what I'm talkin' about :) Cold, hard, bingo scratch off cash, baby.

I'd show you the pic of my honeybunny with his dauber, but blogger won't have it. But isn't he dreamy? Even when he's playing bingo. LOL

Dakota :)

I'm STUCK :(

For crap's sake and I HATE it.

So, I'm writing a proposal for my agent, right? Five chapters and an outline of ze proposed book.

No big thang you say, yes?

Oy and Vay. It's killing me. LOLLOL. Here's the thing. I'm a pantzer. I write as I go. I don't know what's going to happen after chapter five. I didn't know what would happen in chapter two until I wrote it.

I have amassed 30k thus far. I need another 60k to complete the book. I wrote the proposal up to chapter five, but again I say, chapter five is WRITTEN. I can outline all the details for that. I don't have chapter six through 9 gozillion yet. I can't outline what I don't have.

I hate that I don't plot shit out before I write it. I just write it. I get a crazy title in my head and I go. However, the joy of just writing a proposal is this--you don't have to finish the book if no one wants it, right? Or you can shorten it to fit an e-pub yadda, yadda, yadda. But for some reason, I can't seem to just do that.

Frankly, that sucks big, fat weenies.

I know what I think might want to happen, but the outline still won't be as detailed as the first five chapters outlined are.

See my rock and my hard place here?

Arghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!

LOL,
DC :)

The Midge :)

That's what everyone calls R's mom. She's like June Cleaver and Marion Cunnigham all rolled into one 78 year old on fire package.

I love her! She's a hoot.

So, I'm fresh back from my vacay in MI with R at his mom's and we had a blast. I had no Internet which was nice and stress free. I spent a ton of time sitting on her back porch and just hanging out, watching the lake.

R's mom lives on the lake in the heart of Amish country and it's really beautiful. I love Amish country because it reminds me how much I love the handcrafting my own wood thing. I really have to invest in another band saw, eh? I saw LOTS of cows. I managed to pet the one cow who's the meanest of the bunch. He liked me. Go figure. LMAO

So, while R slept most of the day away, Midge and I hung out a lot. She has a very quirky sense of humor and she isn't afraid to say what she means. LOLLOLLOLLOL. She said many things she meant. Snort.

Every morning, while Prince Charming slept, we had coffee together and sat on her swing on the back porch. A couple of days we went into Shipshewana (sp?) and hit the Amish stores. Good thing we drove, cuz I brought back some stuff :) We had lunch and shopped.

In essence, we bonded.

It reminded me that life can be simple if you let it sometimes and I was willing to let it be as simple as possible while I was there.

R and I saw his best friend from his middle school days too. He's getting married in HI next year. He asked us if we had any news. I said not like that we don't LMAO. We went bowling with him and his fiancee. Yes, I bowled a 62--so? Then we played miniature golf where I fared better. It was fun.

R's hometown is so small it has very little to offer in the way of entertainment--so we made our own. LOLLOL

Dakota :)

Dear R...

Have I told you how much I love you lately?

Have I told you how manly and uber-sexy I think you are?

Have I told you that I don't mind if you wear the pants in this relationship--cuz yer swell at it.

Have I told you how much I appreciate that you're in touch with your feminine side?

No?

Then let me show you------------------->

LOLLOLLOLLOL

Sigh, ain't he just the dreamiest evah??? And REALLY secure, eh? LOL

Real men DO wear tiara's.
Dakota :)

The truth about Dakota Cassidy

Hookay, so since I began posting my crazy pics and messing with things, I've gotten like seven or eight e-mails asking me some questions. The e-mails come from folks who calim they're too chicken to post.

I say, aw, c'mon, I'm EASY. LOLLOL. Anyhoodles, I'm going to answer some of their deepest darkest questions--yep, right here. Try to cover your mouth when ya yawn, would ya? LOLLOL

Yes, that pic really IS me. I swear.
No, the hot scowl wasn't intentionally sexy. I really was mocking supermodel-dom when R said give it to me, baby after the TJ concert. LOLLOL
Yes, my hair isn't really that color. Figure that out, why don't ya? Snort.
Yes, YES, YES, I really AM involved. Even if technically (on paper) I'm single, but NO I don't want to get matching tatoos with you. Thanks, but I'm not much for pics on my body. I bore easily and I just know if I had your name tattooed on my tookus, we'd break up and I'd be stuck with the name Humphrey on my ass. However, thank you again, the gesture was lovely and well thought out.
No, we can't date. I AM NOT AVAILABLE. But if ya wanna be like friends, I'm good to go.
Yes, God help me, I really will be forty VERY SOON. You can't see the wrinkles because I'm too clever for even a camera. HAHAHAHAHAHAHA.
Yes, I am a techie-tard.
No, I don't want to see your computer skills. LOL
Yes, I really am the person responsible for werewolves who are adopted in the pound by their heroines.
No, I really don't think Steven Speilberg can make a movie out of that concept, but again, thank you for the compliment.
Yes, I really do believe in Santa Claus. Call me fodder for the masses.
Yes, those really are my eyelashes with some SERIOUS mascara.
Yes, my eyes really are that color. I don't wear contacts--see dork personified blog about my eyeglasses.
No, when I stuck my tongue out in that pic it wasn't meant to entice you ala Gene Simmons. Sorry if you're shorts got uncomfy (I swear, I really got an e-mail asking that) LOLLOL
Yes, Angela Knight really is my friend, funny lady. LOLLOL
Yes, I changed the pic because that mean Daun Ann made me. LMAO
No, I don't know why the links to the books don't work. God, what do you people want from me? LMAO
Yes, I really do love Jaynie and Erin equally.
Yes, everything I've ever written about R is true--he really is THAT good to me.
No, we can't have an affair.
No, I really won't make fun of you if you post. I might TEASE you, but I'll never be cruel. Unless you call me names first--then it's ON. LOL
Yes, we really do have a yahoo group called the babes. Yes, the name began because I used to tease everyone on the groups about un-babe-like behavior.
Yes, I really did compete in beauty pageants.
No, I wasn't Miss America.
No, I won't tell you the funniest title I won.
Yes, I'd kill for a tiara--try me. LOL
Yes, it's true, my tiara's are gone--but I won't cast any stones in the direction of NJ...LOLLOL
No, I don't use hairspray unless I absolutely must. I hate it.
Yes, it's really okay if you give me a bad review.
No, I won't make a voodoo doll out of you if you do.
Yes, I like all kinds of opinions.
No, you don't hurt my feelings if the review is bad--it just makes me work harder.
Yes, I thought up the word yummy-licious (as far as I know) and I think it should be a mandatory Webster entry.
No, fucktard isn't an original DC play on words. My buddy Jaci Burton turned me onto it.
Yes, I love power tools and can use almost all of them.
No, I won't build you a treehouse. I just can't fit it in with my log cabin gig, ya know? LOL
No, I won't tell you what I sleep in--ask R, I dare you. LOL
Yes, you really will know if you've found "the one"
Yes, I really do have teenaged sons--at least one--want him? He's cheap...
No, I can't write your life story right now, though it was very interesting.
Yes, I still have all of my original teeth. LMAO
No, I don't like liver and you can't change my mind. Not even if you serve it to me with champagne. But thanks for the offer of your culinary prowess.
No, I've never made whoopie with a vamp/werewolf/ghost. I swear, I make it ALL up.
Yes, UNO really CAN involve more than one round of play :))))
Yes, UNO is a euphemism for SEX.
No, R hasn't asked me to marry him.
No, I don't know what color my particular choice in Clairol is, but I promise to look the next time I buy some.
Yes, Shelly Laurenston and I are friends
No, she isn't really scary at all--either that, or I'm just too dumb to notice. LOL
Yes, R really does help me think up titles.
Yes, I really did get not one, but two agents by just being a dumb ass. I'm sorry if that upsets you, but it wasn't my intention to make you angry with me because I did. It just happened like most everything in my life does. Quite by surprise and totally unexpected.

and the single most asked question of all--I can't answer because well, Erin and Jaynie would beat me up and I am askairt of them. LOLLOL

Dakota :)

I don't want to brag...

Or maybe I do. LOLLOL

OMG--I have the BLOG POWER and I feel like Cyber Woman. LMAO. Do you guys have ANY clue what it's like to own a blog and always have to rely on the kindness of your friends to help you change stuff.

I'm techie-tard.

But not anymore!!!!!!!!!!!!

I know how to put pics up--add links to other cool blogs and today, I learned how to fricken' put my own damned pics up in my profile. I even cut the size down all on my own. Well, my buddy M sent me the directions, but I'd just done it when I got her answer.

HAH!

I feel so--so--aglow--sexy--WOMANLY

as evidenced by this pic above. LOL. Actually, that was taken after Tom J., but now that I have the power to put pics up--I can't stop myself. Jaynie taught me how and she's created a MONSTER. LOL

DC :)

The Book Bitches

rock--and that's all I hafta say 'bout that :)

Love you ladies,
Dakota :)

Snails and puppy dog tails...

and mouthy yaps and hormones and dirty underwear and more towels than a bloody spa...that's what little boys are made of. LOLLOL

Have I posted about my sons lately?

No?

How could I have missed the op to totally rag on them and how they're driving me nuts?

It was out of love and the big hole I have in my tongue so I would keep my mouth shut.

Now, it's out of frustration. Snort. I thought this summer would be cool because they're older and can amuse themselves.

Um, no. Not true. The oldest has a part time job, only on weekends. So he's here all week long.

In my office.

Talking about stuff that makes no sense and keeping me from working.

My youngest is a bit better at entertaining himself except when it comes to EATING. Of which he does much and there's never anything to eat in Castle Cassidy because well, they eat it ALL. Then, like the garvones they are, they blame each other for the lack of food.

I'm tellin' ya, one more fight over an ice cream bar. One more crazy scheme to clean the garage and paint the garage floor, one more fricken' time I hear, "Maaaaaa," one more rap song and I'm moving OUT.

Or downsizing, cuz someone HAS to go. LOLLOL

Dakota :)

It just keeps going...

...and going, and going. The 15 minutes is well over on my egg timer.

Honest, it is.

So could we please let this go. And you ALL know what I'm talking about. More craziness in blogshphere. I know someone is trying to help, but I don't know if they've helped or hindered.

We don't all have to be friends, but we can at least stop the madness, yes?

I say we do that like NOW. Whaddya say? LOL

Dakota :)

Are we done yet?

Is it over?

Have we arrived at our destination?

Cuz I'd sure like to get there if at all possible and SOON. I need a shower from the all the road shmeg. I think it even got under my nails. God, I HATE that, but how can you avoid it when it flies everywhere?

I'm road weary and there's been nothing but whining and fly gunk on my windshield.

I really did try to find other things to amuse me so I could drown out the whine.

I've changed the radio station at least 100 times to try and find something new to listen to, but I kept hearing the same bloody song. After awhile, that same fricken' chorus in my head became mundane. I think it's destined to end up on the one hit wonder charts.

So could we find the Motel Six now, please? I say we call this particular journey a day. Most times I try to find something positive in every journey I take. However, I can honestly say, this journey? Not so much. It was waaaaay drawn out and filled with gaping potholes of filthy, disgusting sludge.

So what's say we call it over?

Cuz this trip is old, tired, BOOOO-RIIIIING. Trite, droll, a big honkin' YAWN and soooooo officially OVAH for me-- and right up there is what I have to say about THIS trip.

LOLLOLLOLLOL

Dakota :)

Honey, do you love me?

I ask R this often. It's kind of our little joke. He asks me too.

His answer is often on par with loving me like he loves his nether parts--his colon ect. He comes up with something new every single time. LOLLOL

I often answer that I love him more than the Vic Secret Ipex bra.

That's a buttload of love, yes? LOLLOL

But tonight, after a long, not so great day, he said, "Come over and hang out with me, Bun. You need to escape." And he was right. I did need to escape. I was kind of tired of some stuff that's been going on. Stupid stuff that I KNOW is retarded, but I let bug me anyway. Probably because I see the injustice of what brought on my bad day and I wanna react. I disagree wholeheartedly with the crude result of it and yet, my lips must remain sealed because, well, good breeding and all that stupid mom-instilled stuff. I REALLY hate that. LOL

However, they're not sealed with R. I can rant about anything and he gives me perspective, let's me carry on some more, then gives me more insight. In a time of "Dakota is ready to fly off the handle and get her freak on," R is pure genius at chilling me out. He fully admits that he wants to help, but he doesn't have the answers and I fully admit, I just want to rant. I don't really need answers. Just an ear.

And R is that ear.

So tonight when I got home from his house I IM'd him to let him know I was home, he said before we did our ritual signing off, "I love you like a buttload, Bun." LOLLOL. He did, then we say, "niiiiiiiigggghhht," and send like those stupid Yahoo icon kisses to each other.

But it's true. He does love me like a buttload and I love him like a buttload back :)

Dakota :)

40-FORTY-the big FOUR-O

did I correctly convey what I'm trying to say? I shall, not too far down the road, be FORTY.

Now, I wouldn't mind this so much if it didn't mean some things have fallen by the wayside. Like my patience--see yesterday's horribly angry blog. LOL

My hair--is falling OUT. Yes, the top where my scalp shows is decidedly thinner.

My hands, anskles, wrists, knees and other various spots on my back ACHE and SWELL. I did some really stupidly over achiever things as a kid. I now pay for them daily. Yay, me.

I could nap--like a LOT.

And, drum roll please, That pic I'm sharing with you... This, to me, epitomized my growing older. Mock if you wish. I can take it. Cuz I'm almost FORTY and we almost FORTY people will openly mock right back. LOLLOL

Know what the worst thing about this is? They're BI-FOCALS. Because not only do I have trouble with far away vision, but up close too.

Nice, huh?

So, the pic above is me and my new ball and chain. I look like a dork. And do note--I have no makeup on. If you ever wanted to take a potshot at me, now's yer shot. LOLLOLLOL

Dakota--the four-eyed :)

Color me a lovely shade of RED

and it ain't cuz I'm embarrassed.

I'm purty pissed off is what I am.

I'm not going to give specifics, I'm just going to RANT, SPEW, FROTH and then I'm going to let it go. Blogging lets me do that and I forget sometimes how theraputic it can be.

So, here we go--

I saw something today somewhere that was not only crass, but beyond RUDE. It cast suspicion and doubt and was just flat out nasty. it was unecessary and tasteless. Offensive also comes to mind. I don't know what I was thinking when I thought it was okay to be brazen sometimes. Sometimes, it's just NOT. Sometimes it is just tacky. I was decidedly wrong about what's classy and what isn't. Color me chagrinned.

Quite frankly, I'm disgusted.
Disappointed.
Sickened.

Rant over.

Dakota

Tom Jones with me, me, me pics

Big, girly SIGH. LOL
MUWAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA--what a stallion, eh? LOL
This is me and my honeybunny just before Tom began. Isn't he dreamy?
Um, this is me twice. UNfortunately, I don't know how to take it off??? LOL. Anyway, that's the result of some serious primping. LMAO


See Tom in the background? waaaaaaaaaaaay back there? He was singing just for ME. LOL

Sorry they're out of order and there's a duplicate. I don't know why that happened, but that's me and technology for ya. We just don't click. Snort

Dakota :)

Meeee aaaand Mr., Mr. Joooonnes

Mr. Jones, Mr. Jones, Mr. Jones
We got a thaaaaang goin' onn-on.

LOLLOL.

OMG--just got back from the Tom Jones concert and I gotta tell ya, he is AWESOME. Incredible, unbelievable!

Okay, so first, the venue was way nice. The Nokia Center in Grand Prarie. Very classy, very calm, very NOT NIN. LMAO

So, I spent all of today totally excited. I listened to Tom to stoke me and as I prepared for the concert, YES, I did sing Delilah with my hairbrush. LOLLOL


I got all cute-ed up, heels a skirt and curled my hair. I HATE curling my hair because it takes forevah, but I did it for Tom. I had a stupendous hair day. I really did. I was really just hoping for like mediocre, but I have to say, with all modesty, it ROCKED. LMAO

So, I go to R's and we head off to the concert. I'm soooooooo excited. I've waited thirty five years to do this and my heart is just pounding.

We have AWESOME seats. Eleventh row almost center. I'm in my GLORY. The stage is really close and the opening band, Tower of Power is so close I can see the guy singing every word.

But as good as they were, they're just not TOM.

OKay, so cutting to the chase. Tom arrives in all his purple suited splendor with drum rolls and I think I stopped breathing. He was so close I could see his necklace.

And talk about a show!

This guy is SIXTY SIX and he rocks like he's still 25. I swear, he's got it goin' on and if I were a non attached woman, I'd be all over that. He exudes sexuality--moves with the grace of a cat and must have nine-lives to still be cookin' with that kinda gas.

His voice was INCREDIBLE and he sang ALL of my fav's. When he sang Delilah, everyone else did too. When he sang the Green, Green Grass of Home, I sobbed. Because well, it makes me think of Jersey. When he sang Never Gonna Fall in Love...well, I think I forgot everything but me and Tom. he was singing to me and when he does that sob in the middle of it, I sobbed too. What's New Pussycat was splendid and well, there's just nothing like it when he sings, "you and your pussycat noooosssee."

Big, girly sigh.

R--you know, he really is just the best boyfriend ever. He took all the pics of Tom as best he could with my cheap camera. he sat patiently near me while I sobbed, smiled, sang and almost ripped my own panties off.

Oh, BTW, that panty thing? Er, yeah, chicks still do it. "Cept they ain't chicks so much anymore. They're ahem, older women who shoot those bad boys like sling shots. It was pretty funny. He had at least two weeks worth of panties when he was done.

So, all I have to say is--YAY me for knocking another thing off my life list of things to do. Bigger yay that it was so totally worth the thirty-five year wait. LOLLOL
Check out the pics in the above blog :)

Dakota :)

The Book Bitches :)

have an interview there--I'd love it if you popped on over so I don't look like a loser who has NO friends. LOLLOL. http://thebookbitches.blogspot.com/

I hafta admit, I was askairt of Harlot and Trollop--however, they're pussycats and I had a BLAST andwering their questions!

Thanks, ladies for inviting me to come play in your corner of the cyber world!

Hugs,
Dakota :)

What's New Pussycat?

whooooooa-whoa-oa-whooooooaaaa!!!!!!!!!!

Yes, you read that right--I, Dakota Cassidy, next Thursday at 8:00 in the P-M, am going to see TOM FREAKIN' JONES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

It happened quite by accident while I was looking for a concert by someone else. I stumbled over Tom.

Now, Tom has been on my life-list of things to do, er see since I was about five. The lead in to this is, I have an uncanny knack for lyrics--in that I can memorize them after hearing them but once. Mostly I know the whole song after two or three times.

Anyhoodles, my mom was a Tom Jones lover/hater. She was a good Christian woman, so the panty throwing fans thing nearly killed her, but she adored his voice and his good looks. Soooooooo, she had his album and she would play it A LOT. Sorta like a nun who thinks impure thoughts, but doesn't actually participate in them, ya know?

I loved what I called the "Pussycat Song" and upon hearing it only once, I was in my bedroom playing with my stuffed animals and singing it. I can remember my mom commenting on it and saying that I must really like the song because I had taken the time to learn all the words. It's the first real memory I have of being able to remember lyrics the way I do.

I used to BEG her to let me stay up and see his variety show and she would sometimes let me do it. Of course, there was always the disclaimer that I had to close my eyes when clothes were flyin'. LOLLOL. Now again, mom had the car wreck thing going on. She'd watch, eyes glazed at his hunkiness and cringe when women got crazy. I think she did Hail Mary's after it was over and we weren't even Catholic...

I can remember asking if I could go see him--like sit in the audience and she said, "young ladies who are brought up properly just don't go see a man who let's women take their clothes off in front of him," LOLLOL. Cuz, they were all raging sluts. Look at me now, eh? Snort.

For many, many moons I've been caught in a mirror or two, singing to Tom with my hairbrush in hand and love in my heart. I know them all and even karaok-ied and won 100 bucks for Never Gonna Fall In Love once. Yes, it's true. I swear and I never had a drop of alcohol :)

So, flash foward 27 years or so to me and my youngest in the car at the bus stop singing, What's New Pussycat? Yes, both of my babies know Tom's music and yes, they know ALL the words. LOLLOL. I am loyal if nothing else.

So, R says, "if it makes you happy, then I'm happy--let's rock. Would you rather die with a couple hundred in the bank, or say ya saw Tom?" He even offered to pay--I said no way. Yes, I AM an independant woman of my own means. Otherwise known as dumb ass, but hey, he never lets me pay when we go see NIN.

Soooooooooo, tonight I did it-- BAM--I mean, he's like almost 70--he could DIE before I get to see him. Hell, I could too. So, I'm all in, baby. I've spent far too much money, but ask me if I care. I'm 11th row center, I have my lighter gassed, and my panties are velcro'd. LOLLOL I had no clue that most of his hits came out when I wasn't even born and if he doesn't sing every last one that I love--I have to get a freak on. LOLLOL

I'm assuming this is going to be very tame compared to NIN. It's in a classy venue which means I can wear my cute skirt and heels and no one will throw beer on me--er, I think.

So if I can manage it, look for pics of me and my panties with Tom crooning Delilah to me. I mean, his eyesight probably isn't that good--so he won't be able to tell my hooters ain't where they should be anymore, right? From far away, I could pass for 20, right? Or does he pay people to check that out for him? In that case, I'm doomed. I'll bring the duct tape... HAHAHAHAHAHA



Dakota :)

The Sound of Music--By R

Hookay, so we hit the last NIN concert last night and I was going to blog on it, but R felt the urge to put fingers to keyboard and give his version of the events that occurred last night. We share a brain, so I think he's got it covered. LOL

Nine Inch Nails--The end--I hope (for this year, anyway) LOLLOL

So, last night Bunny and I went to the 3rd (and final) Nine Inch Nails concert. And let me start by saying what a trooper Bunny is to endure these with me. NIN isn’t everyone’s cup of tea, and if you don’t like them, you REALLY don’t like them. So, thank you, Bunny for your support and understanding. I know there’s at least one Barry Manilow concert in my future.

So, we found our way down to our most excellent seats, and as it turned out, I think we read our ticket wrong. We were supposed to be in section 100, row H, seats 18 & 19. As it turned out we ended up in section SDA (surrounded by dipshits and assholes), row TMS (take my seat), seats IFDAWBYWC (In Front Of Dumb Asses Who Burn You With Cigarettes) and BTJWC (Behind Tall Jerks With Child).

The show was very good. Trent was his usual angry self, and the band just tore everything up (literally) as it should. In fact, it was SO good that several times I caught our self proclaimed NIN Hater, Dakota, mouthing the words with them. Picture it… the ex beauty queen singing along “Bow down before the one you serve… you’re going to get what you deserve…”. Classic.

But the real story of the night was all the morons around us. Dakota, who smokes like a chimney, was even choked up because of the dude behind us “sparkin up doobies” so big, the smoke was overwhelming. Though he was kind enough to offer us a hit (..we both declined cause we’re… well.. old). Meanwhile his girlfriend was also kind enough to burn BOTH of us at different times with her cigarette. We had seats, but she just couldn’t grasp the whole “personal space” thing.

In front of us was the Jerkweed family. These intellectual superstars thought it was cool to bring their 10 year old son to a concert where the band sings “I wanna fuck you like an animal”. The daughter, I presumed was in her early 20s, was all blonde, tan and cute, with her little belly shirt. But she was one of those girls that I’d be lucky if I could spend 10 minutes with, before I’d just want to choke her because she’s just that stupid. Her boyfriend was doing the drunk “I love you man” thing to the 10 year old, patting him on the head and slurring some jibberish at him repeatedly. Plus, he was tall, and he wouldn’t stand in one damn spot. Just when you thought you could see the stage, he’d move over and do the drunk bump and grind with his dimwit girlfriend.

Patience was definitely in short supply between the two of us. At one point, I had to switch seats with Dakota before she decided to go all Jersey on this poor girl next to her that bumped her while carelessly gyrating to the music. The thing is, we both admit that we’re a little bit old for this kind of thing. However I’ve always been like this at shows. I just want to sit and enjoy the show. Is that too much to ask???

In the end we escaped relatively unscathed, albeit with swollen ear drums, to live another day. So, it’s probably time to start working on those Huey Lewis / Chicago tickets, and planning ahead for a trip to see Barry. DC’s more than earned it. :)

~R – The NIN Champ
and Dakota--not feeling champ-like at all

I should be shot...

How could I forget to mention the highlight of RT for me?

My buddy P, who posts here often called me one night and said she'd heard I wasn't going to the party. yep, that was true. I was whooped and I just wanted to catch some zzzzzzzzz's

However, she said she had a surprise for me.

So I went.

And guess who showed up?

her son Andrew. My angel. I met Andrew when I was in FLA on Spring Break with my sons just prior to my divorce and I fell in LOVE with him. he's such a good kid with a big, big heart. he communicates with me via Paula a lot and I'm always thrilled when I hear so many good things about him from her.

Sooooo, he purposely came to dance with me and dance we did. Well, sorta, cuz again, the music, not so good :)

Anyway, thank you, sweetie--you were one of the BEST parts of RT for me!!

Love and kisses,
Dakota :)

Only me...

Alrighty, so I'm back from RT and I have some stuff to share. Some stuff that I really have to say could probably only happen to a whack like me.

I don't know how stuff like this occurs, if just does, okay? LOL

So, the con itself was great in terms of seeing the fans, chatting it up with them and most of all, haning out with the other two Chief babes, Michelle Hoppe and Isabella Jordon.

As far as the food and layout of the hotel, well, it sucked a little. I had a chicken breast at one party hardy fest that had I borrowed my neighbors, I could have made a pair of flip-flops out of 'em. I don't wanna knock the effort these people put into drying that poor thing out, but someone is an over achiever.

Then the staff...we did find some good eggs. Jim and Stacey were peachy fine. We found some rotten ones too. The barmaid in the piano bar's face would simply crack and smash into smithereens if she dared smile. She had something up her booty and it wasn't BOB :) Getting her to wait on you was like asking Moses to part the Red Sea for the second time. She was cranky and witchy. not to mention, according to Michelle, a glass of HQ costs 15 fricken' bucks. Mark up, mark up, mark up.

The layout--well, it was a smidge scattered and while I'm all about putting another 50 miles on my foot-o-meter, in heels, it was just plain old hard. My feet swelled and so did my face from the humidity. Humid inside the hotel, you say, Dakota? Er, yeah. I think they were trying to save a buck. The way things were set up, you did a lot of lugging heavy things like PROMO items and books to the great unknown, when much mileage could have been saved if they'd just used ALL of the rooms clumped together. What do I know?

The cover models. Sigh. I know I'm infamous for accosting them, but this year was just well, just a sigh...some were past cover models and they tended to be professionals at what they did, if ya feel me. Some were sons of romance authors, which I found sweet. Mostly, I couldn't find them because they had NO table in the hospitality suite and half the time, I wandered actually looking for the hospitality suite. The slicker dudes didn't much interest me. They already had their moments and while they're great, they aren't hungry like the guys who've never done this, ya know? it sets a diff tone for the pageant if they want it more. I had my personal cover model with me, so maybe that explains my discontent?

Yet, we persevered. We had our own little version of party like it's 1999. We laughed our asses off all the time. Took pics, cracked up, took more pics and had lunch in other places where a burger wasn't 12 bucks. The parties just didn't hold the appeal they did last year for me. The DJ was okay, but I think he played the same song list night-to-night. Night two, I wore my street clothes. That's how disappointed I was.

yet, still it was a lot of fun. Expensive fun, but fun just the same. So Michelle, Isy and I were lamenting this fact just before the book fair, which I hadn't planned to do, but my boss at Changeling DEMANDED I show up for. LOLLOL. We were wondering if the expense was worth the discontent we'd seen so many experience this RT.

So I went to the book fair and I sat next to my boss. Selling out was easy cheesy Japaneesie, cuz I'm in an anthology with Angela Knight and all I had to do was say her name and mention it was a never before released story. BAM! Gone. 50 in like 2 hours :) I can sell ice cubes to eskimos as long as it has nothing to do with ME. I am a sucky advertisment for anything DC related.

Anyhoodles, I'm done now and off to find my honeybunny. he's called and he wants to do lunch. I've done my time, so I'm on it. I say that we need to say goodbye to my boss because I don't get to see her often and I like hanging with her.

As I venture back into the room another friend says Angela Knight is looking for me. I MUST go find her. Well, when AK calls, we all drop everything and scurry. I'm kidding. AK is the nicest woman evah, and not at all demanding or diva-like. However, she IS my friend and I'm thinking she needs water or something. Then I wonder if her hot hubby has fallen off the gofer wagon because he's usually so attentive.

So, I skip on over to my bud AK's table, cleared of all debris, cuz well, she IS Angela Knight and she grabs my hand and says "SIT. DO NOT MOVE." Dakota sits and says, "whassup?"

She tells me someone wants to meet me. I think it's like the one fan who knows who I am and they want my autograph for the book we're in together. So they can have like an almost complete sorta thing, ya know? So I ask who wants to meet me and she says Deidre Knight and I think, huh? Who? I look over to the books right in front of the chair I'm sitting in and see that indeed, it is a lovely author who has a stellar cover. One I remember admiring when I saw it somewhere that I can't quite remember. Maybe it was jaci's blog?

Anyway, I really LOVE the cover and I can't think why she'd want to talk to me? ME?

So, I ask.

And my buddy tells me she made mention of me and my genius. Well, she didn't say genius, but she did chat me up and then I think, GOD! I AM a loser. I have all these great friends who drag me along on a path I would never have found if not for their high IQ's.

but I still don't get it. So AK explains that she is also an AGENT. I think I gulped, or considered yarking, but that would have been sickly rude to do on her books. Still, I don't get it. But then, the nice Deidre shows up, smiling and her hand out telling me it's a pleasuere to meet me.

Me.

yes, ME.

I'm thinkin' holy freakin' hell. However, I maintain my thin veneer of composure and smile right back. She's waaaaay nice and so not at all like you'd expect a hot agent to be. Totally yakking with me like we'd done it a thousand times before. She asks what kinds of things I write. Okay, here's the thing with this. if you don't know me, it's got to be hard to absorb the idea that I wrote a werewolf who's found in the pound by his hairdresser heroine in Hoboken. See what I mean? it sounds utterly kooky. it IS utterly kooky. yet, the very nice Deidre thought that was a hoot.

I'm likin' her more and more. So then she says, "Got anything I can read?" So I make mention of the book I have in my hand. I'd gotten my author promo copies of Whose Bride Is She Anyway? and think, GAWD, it looks like I planned this and I swear on my sons lives, I didn't. So I say, sorta and I explain and she takes it and opens it and loves the subtitle and again I think, huh. Verrry opened minded. This is the book NY said no to because I just didn't get the hot stuff in there soon enough. it was like chick lit, ect. I figure, at least it's a good representation of my voice. I sold it to an e-pub and let it lie.

So, I've taken up enough of this nice ladies time and I really need to let her do her book sigining thang. She says she'll read my book and I tell her I'll e-mail her in a week, totally believing there was no way in hell she'd even remember me in a weeks time. But I hug the crap out of AK and say thanks for the plug and leave on my cloud. I mean, I think I floated out of there.

However, next day comes and I'm looking through Whose Bride and thinking, "Jesus effin' This is the worst drivel EVAH. That nice Deidre is going to roast weenies with this." I decide that that's okay. My career is going well and if NY isn't for me, s'alright. I'll just keep on keepin' on.

Okay, so I did have a wee sad moment where I kinda thought if only I had done this or that with the book. Then, I let it go. Rejection happens all the time and I wouldn't be smart to dwell. So, me and the honeybunny have a nice lunch and we go off to the Internet cafe in the hotel to check e-mails.

And I get an e-mail. I think it's from a fan because it's titled, "Meeting you at RT." I did have like three fans, so it wasn't like crazy unusual, right? LOLLOL

I skim to the bottom and it's from...yes, Deidre. I swear on all things author like, never in a mill did I expect to hear from her again. Then, before I read it all, I figure she's being nice and telling me I suck in a polite way. I did. It was a quick response and really, what else could it be?

Au contraire, my friends...she says that Whose Bride is utterly compelling and she and her husband fought over the shot to read it.

Yes, yes I DID have drool coming from the corner of my mouth by now because I'm near catatonic. She likes me. nay, she loved me. She said so. Honest to God. She also says she'd love to represent me. me. Dakota Cassidy. me of the wise assed remarks and snarky heroines. Me who thinks the word yummylicious should be in the dictionary. ME.

So, I tell R in utter disbelief. He smiles and says, "I knew it, Bun. how could she not love you?" I call my friend Michelle Hoppe who comes downstairs and we squeeeeee together like little piggies. I probably shouldn't be posting about it either, cuz the ink isn't dry on my contract yet. LOLLOL. I just sent it out, but I guess I can't get into too much trouble. Can I? She could change her mind, yes? OY. LMAO

So, here's my point. not just that an agent who gets my stuff likes me. Not just that this agent was as easy to talk to as your best friend. not even that it happened so easily I should be smacked for having so much good karma.

My point is this--this writing is cut throat sometimes. I've mentioned it before and I lay low for most of it, but it bugs me nonetheless. I see all sorts of jealousies and acts of random shitiness. BUT I hooked up with some way cool people who like me. Just me and think enough of me to want my success on all fronts. yes, they push and shove sometimes, but they know me well enough to know that I'd NEVER do it myself. I'm too shy about stuff like that. I know, demure, wallflower Dakota. LOLLOL

It's true. it really is. When it comes to my work, I never think I'll measure up. But my friends like Sheri (my CP editor), kate Douglas, Angela Knight, R and a host of others think I do.

obviously, they ain't ashamed to say so either. For me, I think I'm going to keep trying to ignore the petty crap that I've posted about before. it kinda means so little when you're surrounded by people who are not only successful, but want to share that success with you. Don't care if you have a piece of the pie, cuz they go and get another fork so you can split it TOGETHER.

I am blessed in the belief of my good friends. Friends I'd never ask for favors from. Friends I wish only the biggest of things for. Friends I hope someday will know I learned from their example.

This RT reminded me that I was getting cranky and that sometimes, that's okay, but mostly, it won't be what you want to look back on. You want to do what I was struggling with this past month.

You want to let the shit lie, bury it in a nice grave so you can't smell it anymore and celebrate your blessings. Every last one :)

Dakota :)

Tiara wearing wannabes...

Ahem. Okay, sooooooooo just back from RT and I have MANY stories. One of which I'm sure will leave you kinda goin' WTF?

K--so y'all know Shelly laurenston and I are buds, yes? Well, we still are. Another con down the hatch and we are still copascetic.

Sorta.

There is one little exception to this friendship. I've already explained that we are the antithesis of each other. Shelly being the rough around the edges half of my polished perfection. LOLLOLLOLLOL. In other words, she snarls. I cajole. She is dark--I am light. She's hard liquor. I'm a Mimosa :)

We meet in the middle because she adores me :)

However, we have now had an incident that marred the beauty that was once us as a couple.

Here's how it went down.

Location--hilton Bar.
Perp--Joy of Joyfully Reviewed
Witnesses-- Michelle, Michelle's sister Terri, Angela Knight, her hunky hubby, Susan ( a fan), R, Isabella Jordon and some other people I can't remember through my open mouthed horror.
The crime--impersonating a beauty queen. Easily 12-life, if u ask me. LOLLOLLOLLOL

So, we're hanging--doin' what we do best, having a good giggle and in general causing a ruckus when out of the fricken' blue, Joy gives SHELLY a present.

Shelly--not ME.

Whatever.

So Joy is all excited when she hands Shelly something pink. Now we all know pink is IN my color wheel, yes? however, Joy's eyes skimmed right over mine and looked right into Shelly's and handed HER something pink. A sparkly something pink and we ALL know how much I love sparkly pink stuff. I'm still not done sobbing...

I digress.

So Shelly (fakefakefake) proudly places this pink, sparkly upon her head like she's all in the know and would even have a CLUE as to how to wear one properly.

Wanna know what it was?

A TIARA!!!!!!!!!!!!

yes, that's right--a tiara. A pink, fricken' girly tiara. That JOY gave her. Joy. Did I say JOY?????

Well, Ms. laurenston is VERY proud of herself. She turns to Dakota, rather smugly and smiles like she just won Miss Galaxy and a scholarship to beauty School and dares me to challenge her right to wear a TIARA.

heathen. Fake. Dime store beauty queen. Faux sash wearing wannabe. LOLLOL

Okay, so I was a little less than gracious about this because I mean, really, WHO should have a tiara? me or Shelly--I'll rip your colon out through your ass Laurenston?

Exactly.

But it's okay. I can take it. I've never lost a tiara before, but I can be a gracious loser.

not :)

So, next day comes and I haven't gotten over my unending grief that my stalker fan Joy has given Ms. Laurenston a TIARA. A pink, cheesy one, but a tiara nontheless...JOY. Did I reiterate JOY?????

I pass Miss RT 2006 in the hall and I give her the old Dakota eyeball. I mean, she does have my bling, right?

Shelly narrows her gaze at me, sucks in her cheeks, reaches into her big ole Shelly Laurenston bag and snatches out that fake dime store tiara and places it on her head like she'd been wearing it forevah, with an eyeball to me that could rival any italian's evil eye. She throws her shoulders back and saunters over like she'd done a runway in her time when we all know the only long stretch of wood she's familiar with is a bowling alley lane. LMAO I'm kidding.

And she dares me, nay I say, defies me to deny her right to wear her cheap, two-bit, so absolutely not in her color wheel tiara.

And that was just freakin' it for me.

I had to whip out the mac-daddy of all beauty queen accessories.

A CEPTOR.

Yep, I have a ceptor. I got it from somewhere that day. I can't remember who, but you know what that means, don't you? I WIN. MUWAHAHAHAHAHA

I hate to be showy, but ceptor beats tiara every time.

Know why?

Cuz I can grant wishes with a ceptor.

beat THAT, you wannabe!!!

LOLLOLLOLLOL

Dakota :)

Happy Mother's Day! Oh, and RT

For all of the moms I know and love--may this day bring you the appreciation you so deserve. For all of your endless support, hard work, dedication to the cause known as raising the sometimes spawn from hell, I salute you!

Now, my mom...well, my poor mom got rid of me early. When I was 18. I got married and scurried off to play house. When I got divorced, I came back. Poor mom. LOL. It was her suggestion that we move in together when I chose to move to TX due to cost of living. She offered to watch the kids for me if I needed to work a full time job and when my writing worked out, she offered to do everything I can't because I'm always on some kind of deadline. She goes to the bank for me. She picks my sons up from after school stuff. She makes me food she knows I won't get around to eating, but makes it anyway, hoping one day I'll actually eat it. She bakes. She skims the pool and tests the water. She pulls weeds. She does almost everything I did when I was a housewife.

OMG--I married my mother. LOLLOL

Anyway, my mom is seventy and counting, but you'd think she was 45 the way she scurries around this house. I'd have never survived without her after my divorce.

My heartfelt gratitude always--even if she does love Angela Knights books better than mine. LOLLOL

Now, RT. I'm outta here on Monday. I'm pumped. I'm packed. I'm primped. I hope to see some of you there and the folks that can't make it, I wish ya could.

Check ya in a week when I'll have incriminating photos of cover models and R or something. LOLLOL

DC :)

Dateline--Dakota May 12, 2006

I'm whipped like cream, people. LOL

I have run hither and yon, taking care of errands and stupid, pissy little things that must be done before RT. Like, making sure we have enough food in the house for my mother and sons, finishing every last stitch of laundry I can find. Making a list of the things I've done and crossing them off with satisfaction only to make another.

So, here's what's new.

Finished yet ANOTHER novella. Call me prose 'ho. LOL

Did edits on the last piece of 'hoing I wrote.

Weeded my gardens.

Read two books--Oh, BTW, if you guys get over to Changeling anytime soon, pick up Sierra Dafoe's Devarian Exile. I read an advanced copy (cuz I am SPECIAL, got that? LOL) and holy smokers, it is HOT. Not just hot, it's lush with detail, vivid and beautifully written. Read Shelly's too :)

Missed R.

Watched Idol and SOBBED over Chris leaving. I love them all, these last four, but that really killed me. He'll shine anyway, so I feel better.

Missed R.

Packed all of my crap in just two suitcases and one is actually small. I'm telling you, my butt might be bigger, but my choice in clothes--not so much. Snort.

Had my hair trimmed -- not happy about the last layer of hair, but made her leave it. I have really long hair, like three or four inches past my bra. Went and had the usual done, layered in three layers down the back and the last layer looks choppy to me. What do I know? However, she wasn't whacking it off, cuz I like my length.

Missed R.

Waxed my legs. Punched myself in the jaw when I did. When I rip, I rip, baby. LOL

Missed R.

Changed my sheets.

Got really annoyed at someone and considered that hate-mail thing I was talking about. Decided not to because well, I AM the nice author. LOLLOL

Missed R--then thought about buying a BOB.

Nixed that idea in favor of watching more Coyote Ugly.

Got invited to do an interview with the Book Bitches.

Freaked a little. Freaked some more. Trembled in fear. Then agreed to do it because I really dig Harlot. Told them if they hated my book, I was okay with it. Hurt me. LOLLOL.

Had my nails done and my poor ugly toe. FINALLY I won't offend the masses with it's sheer horrifying appearance.

Bought mother's day cards for my mom. Happy mother's day to everyone!

Now, I'm going to go rest because I still have three more days till Daytona and I just know I've forgotten SOMETHING.

I swear, if I get there and I've forgotten my super-duper shimmer lotion--you'll hear me SCREAM. LOLLOL

Dakota :0

My compadre Shelly Laurenston

K, so Shelly is my bud. We met at RT last year and we bonded...well, just cuz we bonded. I don't have an answer as to why. She is NOTHING like me. She's as tough as I'm not. She could careless about split ends and having her nails done. That's not to say she doesn't have good hygene--she does. LOLLOL. She mocks me for being a girly-girl OFTEN. I mock her back :)

However, like I said, we bonded. I think it was the continuous record, breaking times the DJ played, "I like big butts" at the parties. Yes, that's what bonded us. I think what happened was I was in front of her on the escalator and I turned around and asked if she was making fun of my butt and sang the song. Thus, when we saw one another, I sang the song and Shelly sang along. I am contagious :)

I'm kinda like a habit you want to break--you just can't because I'm your secret indulgence, ya know? Anyhoodles--Shells Bells did NOT want to like me. But by cons end, I was sitting on her lap and making her gimme a kiss.

Like I said, I'm like porn. You don't want to admit it's naughty and it cracks you up, but you can't help but flip to the channel to watch anyway. LMAO

Sooooooooooooo--my buddy Shelly and I, we talk all the time via e-mail and she was the first person to meet R when we went to LA. We had lunch and gabbed like the girly-girl she pretends not to be. LMAO. Not to mention, we've had long conversations on the phone about our careers ect.

Which brings me to this--my buddy sent me her soon to be released book today. Geez, will she get in trouble for that? Doesn't matter, I'll go buy it anyway cuz I wubs her. Well, she sent it to me because she put me (along with some others) in her dedication and then she made me cry. Much like the girly-girl I am. Shelly has a dedication in one of my books too--she doesn't know it cuz it's not out until June, but I just finished edits on it. I dedicated it to her because she knows a good kick-ass comic book hero like no other.

Okay, soooooooooooooooooo, in this writing thing, I don't care who ya write for. I don't spend time being jealous if you accomplish more than me. I hope you hit it big. Hence, I've made some friends that I'd keep as friends even if I never wrote another word. Some of us authors ignore the pub we write for (you know what I mean) and bond over different stuff. The rarity with Shelly and I is we don't much care who writes where. We're just writers. She's got her gig. I've got mine and it's kewl.

Shelly is one of those friends that I mentioned above and she has a book coming soon from Samhain Publishing (look, Angie--I mentioning the competition (gasp). Novel, eh? LOLLOL) It's called The Disressing Damsel--book 2 of the Dragon Kin.

And it is utterly awesome. I didn't read book one, but I didn't need to. I'd write you a review, but it'd sound all gushy and well, then you get accused of all sorts of unsavory things I have no time to defend. I loved the book and I would have loved it whether Shelly was my buddy or not. I would have loved it if I didn't write too and I was just a reader with no writing experience.

All I can say is--go buy this book at www.samhainpublishing.com the moment it's available. I had a FABULOUS two hours in this world she created and I hope you guys will too.

Dakota :)

Dear Stupidhead...

I am really having a shitty time of it these days and I can't quite say why. No, it isn't just because R is out of town. It began before then.

I was once a patient woman. I could tolerate almost ANYTHING and still smile. It's the beauty queen in me, I think. I learned early on when competing that shutting your pie hole and smiling till your facial muscles hurt was encouraged.

I do that a lot. It's probably what kept me married for so long. In fact, my dentist said my teeth were shifting and beginning to spread because I was clenching them at night, he suspected. Once he gave me that info, I caught myself doing it all the time. During the day...

So anyway, lately I'm finding that harder to do. I mostly keep my opinions to myself and if I do express one, it's always done with the utmost tact.

Yeah, I know what you're thinking. Dakota tactful? But you'll note that if I reply to something controversial or even confrontational, I do it with a great deal of tact. I used to do it without thinking.

Lately, I'm clenching my teeth to keep from saying some pretty crappy shit. I swear, I have a list of people I want to send, "Would you shut the fuck up?" e-mails to.

I do and I don't want to say it nicely. I just want to spew, "Shut the fuck up, you self important, legend in your own mind, bitch." I want to ask, "Whhhhhyyyyyy do you go on and on like the buzz of an annoying dentist's drill? Who said anyone gives a crap about all of your pretentious horse pukey? Did you know that I've always thought you were a nasty know it all? Did you know that I'm worn down from hearing your superior rants that you pass off as doing all of us a favor by calling it advice? Could you PLEASE stop thinking that you're the only person on the planet? Cuz we here on the planet disagree."

I'm telling you, there were several moments when I almost did just that. "Dear__, You got a lotta nerve there. Balls like church bells. Guess what? You suck. All you do is cause trouble with your opinions. Just your breathing makes me nuts. I say we vote you off the island."

That sounds harsh, yes? I suppose it does but it's how I'm feeling as of late. Do you think it's because I'm getting older and my hormones rage like gale force winds? Is it from always being nice? Like all of my life?

Is it just that I've reached the point in my life where I don't much care if you know I don't like you, but society says I can't gouge your eyes out with a dull nail file without serving a prison term?

And my problem is that I honestly almost sent one of those e-mails. I sent it to me first, read it and then canned it. But the urge to click send was but a notion away. And I didn't even care if there were reprecussions, cuz I was ready to get my freak on. It was like a wave of pure, unadulterated pissed off.

I've gone 'round the bend, haven't I? The proof of that is that there's no LOL anywhere in this post. I'm thinkin' that's just not kosher. I always LOL at SOMETHING.

SO I blogged about it as therapy. it's keeping me from whipping out my hit list and ending my online career with the big bang.

Snort.

Dakota--still not LOL-ing :)

Baby come back

LMAO

So, R's been gone nigh on two weeks now.

TWO WEEKS.

We talk on the phone every night and watch our shows together while his puppies, Mindy Lou Who and Mikey-Mike cuddle with me. I have found, I have less of a reason to "bunny up" as R calls it and quite frankly, I miss my girlie stuff. I miss the other stuff too. LOLLOL

My UNO cards have all but dried up and turned to ashes.

My lips (once described as pillows by my mate) are untouched.

My Chapstick sits night after lonely night-- UNUSED.

My cute clothes, neatly folded in my dresser, remain.

My THONG cries out for flesh. Yet its cries fall on deaf ears.

My mascara has gotten kinda gooey.

My nails are worn to nubs -- tap, tap on a desolate keyboard is all they do...

My blow dyer probably blows dust bunnies by now.

Not to mention my hair...

My cute sandals will never be broken in at this rate.

The name "Bunny" is but a distant, faint memory.

The word boyfriend, fainter still.

R better get home soon. I REALLY need a shower. LOLLOLLOLLOL

I miss R :(

Dakota :)

Dear MAD

Um, I just wanna grocery shop.

Yes, yes, you're a valuable entity in the war against drunk driving.

However, if I choose not to openly whip out a twenty from my John D. Rockefeller wallet, cut me some slack, would ya?

You have no clue that I send a check to MAD once a year, now do you? You couldn't know because you were too busy shoving shit down my throat.

Know why I do that? Cuz when I was three, I was in a car accident with my brother who was five. My mother and my brother and I were hit by a drunk driver.

My brother was killed.

I had two broken legs--17 stiches in my fractured skull, a broken collar bone and a jagged scar under my chin where something (no one seems to know what) jammed under my chin.

My brother, who at the time I was sitting in front of on the seat (no seat belt laws in 1969) shoved me forward and under the dashboard. He was catapulted through the roof of our Volkswagon Beetle.

He died on impact.

So, while I naturally sympathize with your plight for money--BACK THE FUCK OFF when I want to grocery shop in peace. Ot's bloody hot in TX and I don't want to have to fend you off while my Haggen Daaz raspberry ripple melts and you fuck with me.

When I tell you I don't bring checks with me or my debit card to the store because I charge it on my Discover Card so I can get miles points and save myself a buck or two sending my kids to NJ, trust me. I'm telling the fricken' truth.

If I say I already gave to your fine non-profit orginization, trust me.

So, the next time you see a poor, tired mom on her way into the Kroger to buy food for the masses--watch your step. More importantly, watch your sales pitch. Cuz it's damned abrasive.

I know the stats on drunk driving, shithead.

My family IS one.

Thanks.

Survivor of MAD vigilantes at my local Kroger,
Dakota Cassidy :)

Piggybacking (again)

Sooooooo, I was just at Karen S' blog and she did a review for a book by someone who writes romantic comedies and thus, the battle WAGES, baby. LOLLOL. Only not between the author and Karen. I dig the chicks name who wrote the book--it cracks me up. Never read her stuff, but again, my life is so small, yet chaotic that I just don't have the time. Also, she writes romantic comedies and I'm sure she's hilarious, but it's hard to make me laugh. I think the only person to ever do that like LOL in a book was Sandra Hill--genius IMHO. I hate going into a book, thinking I should laugh and not laughing. I can understand how some people feel that when it's labeled "comedy", you feel gyped if ya didn't chuckle.

Besides, it's like Karen said. Humor is subjective. Some people get a good giggle from slapstick comedies, other's won't always get the jokes in your dialogue. Comedy is fricken' hard shit and don't let anyone tell you otherwise. If it's forced, harder still.

Such is life.

Okay, so I read the review and all in all, it wasn't horrifying. Not even a little and I've read one or two of hers that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. It was honest enough and Karen said what she felt about the book in clear, concise terms. She didn't bash (well, there was a semi-harsh thought or two, but it wasn't cruel by any stretch. The Anna Nicole Smith joke made me smirk). it made me snicker once or twice and thank Jesus and the 12 apostles it wasn't my book. The nice author posted back a cute rebuttal. She took Karen's words and twisted them to make it seem as though Karen had raved about the book.

Good on her, I say. She can take it like a true champ. That takes moxy. it also shows a humble streak a mile wide. Some things you can explain to a reviewer and it's justified, other's you can't and it isn't worth it. Not everyone is going to love you like Harriet Clausner. Which brings me to a question--who in the hell IS this woman HC and why do I hear her name bandied about in hushed whispers???? Could I get an answer to that sometime this new moon? I really want to know.

Anyway, here's my beef. A blogger (kind of anonymous, but not--she uses a name, but it's a generalization on the word PUBLIC) got a wee bit upset with Karen's review. I'm gonna guess that she was sticking up for an author she likes--HOWEVER, what is it about these people that makes them Sooooooooooo confrontational? Heaven's to mergatroid, why does it always have to be a rush to defend the author when someone else really IS allowed to have a flippin' op? It's not like Karen called the nice author lady a lowdown 'ho. She didn't accuse her of sleeping with anyone to get the book published.

God, is it me, or is that just tiresome as of late? Karen did a REVIEW. Does this mean the world shall tilt on its axis? Did it register on the Richter Scale of how dare you?

And then, we get nitpicky. Other people jump on in and say stuff like, "please don't use the name such and such public because you're not a representation of me." Lawd, almighty. Gasoline on the fire, baby. I mean, c'mon. Karen responded to the lady who was tweaked and so did some of the others--with some very well thought out responses, I might add. So can't it just be let go at that? I guess this public person has a right to her op too, I just wish to the high Heavens she didn't come off so crazed. it's pretty easy to say, "I disagree with you, Karen. I love this book like I love a good screwing." End of saga.

We're not talking saving lives here people. It's a book review, not a permanent cure for erectile dysfuntion.

So, here's a thought. When going in to defend your beloved proser (is that a word? LOLLOL), if you must, could you do it with some chill factor involved. Don't get so damned excited if someone doesn't like your fav author's work. I gotta agree with Karen, you're only doing them a disservice by becoming confrontational.

Breathe before ya type--it's wonderful to have loyal, faithful fans (I know, cuz I have like 20. LMAO). But it isn't so wonderful to feel like you have to defend that fan when they come off like no one's op matters but theirs. Diplomacy is a true gift. I'd send it for Christmas, but Neiman Marcus is all out...

Oh, and to the nice author lady? LOOOOOOOOOOVEEEEEEE the cover. Love, love love it.

So got any thoughts on what makes people get so nuts? The author didn't. Why do some of the fans? Isn't it like liking a certain brand of ice cream? I like chocolate fudge chunk, you like chunky monkey?

What's the scoop? Ohhh, I made a pun. LOLLOL

Dakota :)

Coyote Ugly and Dogs

Couple of days ago, I had NOTHING to blog about. I had the blogging blues. Jaci had it too. Must be going around. LOL

Now, I've got a few spinning and that happened in my bout of insomnia just last night. Who knew so many crazy things were on? I channel surfed and I found myself sickly compelled to stick with a reality show called, Coyote Ugly... It's on CMT.

Vixen bartender-ette's all vying to win 25 grand in this bartender competition. The woman who owns this actual bar called Coyote Ugly, is the judge of this contest. Now I'm going to assume it's based on the movie Coyote Ugly and to be a coyote, one must be a sex kitten with a bottle of Jack Daniels and a pair of hip huggers.

On the rocks, please. LMAO

I was literally astounded at these women being critiqued for not only their looks, but their dancing skills. Helllllloooo this isn't "Making The Band" with amaretto liqeuer laced kick ball chains. It's fricken' servin' drinks to men who are gonna leer down your shirt. If you have to have the moves of J-Lo while you watch the froth on a beer--I say, call it a day. However, I hear bartenders make some cold, hard cash--so this could be the dream of a lifetime.

Then, I moved onto Dog--The Bounty Hunter. Is it me, or does he look like a WWF wrestler? LMAO. Man, could I sit and snark on this guy for a coons age. Though, his efforts in catching bail jumpers is duly noted and admired--he still need a haircut. His wife had me rolling around on the floor with her very big blonde hair, big boobs and loooong nails. I like them as a couple and I think HW is a safer place because of them. I think...

Then I watched Oh, Baby something, something I can't remember on A & E. LOLLOL. It's about this couple who boink (I think it wasn't meant to be long term) and end up having a baby. Sadly, it was like watching kids having kids. This poor baby needed to go to the parent dept of it's local Toys R Us and demand a refund-- IN FULL.

And OMG--the Lifetime movies are like reading subscrition romance novels. I was immediately sucked into "To Walk Again" and something with a devil in it. I can't remember the names because they blend, ya know?

Then, I caught some of Judge Alex--who are all of these judges anyway? Judy, Rowena, Alex, Marshall? Nontheless, Alex is a hottie--so I just watched for the eyeball candy. He was kinda cute and not too off the wall.

Cheaters--wow! Who knew there was a show where you could catch your cheating spouse and get some therapy all in the same day on a sidewalk no less? Had I only known, I could have been an entire series of stories for this clan of infidel spotters. LOLLOL

As I began to wax and wane, I caught the last bit of this juicer/blender/slicer thing and I can tell you, that late at night (4:30) you can find a million reasons to justify buying one. The guy who does the info-mercial had me glued to his schtick. Had I not been feeling too lazy to get my ass outta bed and grab the CC--I'd have one today, fer sure.

So, next week, I fully intend to stop whatever I'm doing and catch the stunning conclusion to Coyote Ugly.

LOLLOLLOLLOL

Dakota :)

Jane and Jayne :)

Okay, so I googled myself today. Something I rarely, if ever do, but gave thought to after reading Karen's blog and seeing the funny stuff she came up with when she googled herself.

So, I'm skippin' the light google-tastic and I come across this article on this site devoted to (I think) e-books. Never been to the site the article was on. Anyhoodles, I find this quote from these two women, Jane and Jayne. I think how cute, cuz my next book has a Jane and through the whole daggone thing I kept spelling it two different ways. I had to globally search to correct it. Dimwit that I am.

Anyway, they were talking about their blog where they're going to do e-book reviews. They said this about me (hence why I came up in google)-- "As for Jayne and me, these are pseudonyms. We are trying to maintain some online anonymity, or else I don’t know how we can continue to review books with the title Chunkybuttfunky by Dakota Cassidy (which really strains the maxim to “not judge a book by its cover/title”)"

My first thought was--oh, would you lighten up? It was. LOLLOL. I know it's a crazy title, but it's the heroine's user-id on an online dating site and ya gotta admit, it's not exactly another My Beloved__ fill in the blank. Snort. But that's okay--everyone can have an op. It stirred up a lot of comments with the unusual title, so this wasn't ground breaking news.

Then I thought, holy hell, I've kept two people in anonymity because I've embarassed them with my title choice. Apparently, Jane and Jayne are a lawyer and a doctor respectively. Their blog is going to contain e-book reviews. I say, YAHOO e-books. The more press the better. What I didn't get was why they felt like they had to remain anonymous. I changed my name not to protect anyone. I don't care who knows what I write. My sons could careless. I changed it because my real name is on par with something like Buelah Montoya and NO ONE is going to buy a book from her. LOLLOL. I also changed it cuz it was damned fun. However, what's the big deal about reading a naughty erotic e-book if you're a doctor or a lawyer? I dunno.

I'm sure they have their reasons for not revealing their real first names. I'm good with that and I'm even okay with the mean stuff they said about my title. LOLLOL I'm hoping their reviews aren't bashers. I kinda think that's mean, but so far, the couple I've read were nice enough. You can hate a book--or even a title (I'm grudging here, ladies. LOLLOL), but I hope that that whole "let's set it on fire" theory isn't something they'll practice--again, it's okay to have an op. So if it turns out that way, then, I'm cool.

So, go take a peek at Jane and Jayne--or Dear Author at http://www.dearauthor.com/. They support e-books and no matter how they feel about my title--I'm behind that 100%. Check them out for yourself and read their upcoming reviews on some of the e-books they've purchased just recently.

Dakota--of the maxim strain on one's anonymity. LOLLOL

I'm kidding :)

A big, fat nuthin'

You know, I've had five or six blogs that I've written and then erased. I can't get that bloggin' feelin', if you know what I mean. I don't feel very witty as of late.

I got nuthin'.

Nuthin' important.

Nuthin' amusing.

Nuthin'.

I am lethargic about blogging.

Just thought I'd let you know, my will is gone.

Sigh...

Dakota :)

The pile

Soooooooo, R has made his bachelor pad a home-sweet-home and I gotta say, it looks really good.

However, I don't know that I like it much and I helped decorate. It isn't that I don't like the decorations, I do. I mean, I picked them out, for the love of Pete.

What I don't like is they just aren't him. I called him pile man when we were cleaning and boxing stuff up. Cuz he has more piles in his house than a hemorrhoid. I began to feel like I was snooping and I really, genuinely wasn't. But there were many and I had to move them to dust. So I tried to just push them out of the way and then I'd yell, "Pile!" He'd laugh and say "Nopilesnopiles."

Anyway, as we're cleaning and stuff, I'm not liking the lessening piles and clutter because that's just R and now, I feel like I'm wiping "him" away with my dust rag and Mr. Clean.

So, today I see him after two days apart where he worked like a demon to get stuff done for the real estate agent and I wander into a whole new world.

A world I'm uncomfortable with. A world of carpet with fresh track marks in it from the carpet cleaners. A world with countertops that have no piles. A world with an office that has family pictures sitting on the very clean desk where there is a COMPUTER. I had no idea...

Even his garage is kinda sparkly. I like the old one--the one with dirt bike parts and grease and crap all over the place.

Maybe it's the change part I don't like? I mean, I'm a clean freak and piles are something I don't much take a shine to. I like order, calm or I can't breathe.

So WTF?

What the hell is my problem, I ask you?

Maybe this was the bad thing?

No, that can't be. The bad thing is horrible. It sucks the life out of me. It takes my money too, BTW. It leaves me all curled up in a ball in the fetal position. This can't be the bad thing. It's a PILE, for crap's sake.

Maybe the piles represent something to me that's subliminal?

How retarded.

I don't know what's wrong with me, but I want out.

Got some advice? Words of wisdom--or even not so much wisdom? I'll take what I can get. LOL

Dakota :)

Something wicked...

...Dakota's way comes.

I'm telling you, something bad is going to happen. I don't know what and I don't know when, I just know it'll happen.

I know this because the last time I had this bad feeling, The War of the Roses broke out :)

It's the same every time. I wake up with a tight feeling in my chest and it has nothing to do with my chest being perky. I also have the stomach clenches and my gut is in a knot a sailor couldn't unravel. I can't breathe from it for a few minutes and then, it lingers like peanut butter stuck in my throat with nothing to wash it down with, ya know?

I've learned to trust my instincts, which I didn't think were too terribly honed until I realized, I'd awakened with this feeling before on several occasions. Um, they all involved some extra marital activities, but WHATEVER. LOLLOLLOLLOL.

Hence, many bad things happened. Now, I fully welcome the instinct. I just don't much like the wondering. However, blogging has given me an outlet to spew my worries over bad karma. I'm hoping this will ward off the bad ju-ju's.

Not likely, but I'm giving it a shot in the dark anyhow.

So, like I said, I have a bad feeling and that leads me to create a gozillion scenarios in my head for what could potentially rock my world.

it isn't good to have a brain like mine sometimes. I suppose I should have always been a writer, cuz I can create 100 diff stories for the bad thing that will happen to me all at the same time. Whats worse, I can make them seem very logical and convince myself I'm on target. Honest to God, if I had a couple of minutes, I could convince myself of anything. And then, I pick, recreate and pick again. I lose focus on everything else in favor of the bad thing that's going to happen to me. This is when I can no longer multi-task the way I usually do. It imobilizes me.

So, for the past couple of days, since I woke up with the bad feeling. I've been picking. It's what I do. It's what I excel at. Like just a minute ago, the entire blog I'd written about the bad thing disappeared because I hit a key I've never hit before.

See? Something bad is determined to have me.

If I could just figure out what it is, maybe I could whip the bad thing into submission. But that's the beauty of the bad thing--it sneaks up on you and it isn't ever the bad thing you thought it most likely would be. It's usually FAR worse.

Oy.

Something bad is going to happen. So when the bad thing happens, I'll give ya a heads up. LOLLOLLOLLOL

Dakota :)

VOTE FOR JAYNIE

she's up for best blog of the month at FAR reviews :)

All ya gotta do it this--put VOTE in the subject line and send the e-mail to farnews@fallenangelreviews.com

Then, tell them you want this chick jaynier.blogspot.com to win :) Then, go read her blog and see why she should win.

GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO JAYNIE!!

DC :)

News Flash--Dateline Dakota April 16th

Snort. I figured I'd just do an all inclusive thing cuz I'm kinda wasted from my folks today. They know how to waste me like no other. Daddy popped by to wish his princess a Happy Easter. It's never terribly happy after my parents hang for more than 15 minutes, but that's another blog.

On to my whine :)

Okay, first--R has to be away for THREE weeks in MI. He's taking over for someone there while they're doing something I'm not sure of. LOL. It's what he did here in Dallas, but doesn't anymore because a mean car company that shall remain nameless sucks. However, did I say he was going to be gone for THREE weeks? THREE. Oy. He's leaving his puppies with me if all goes well when they meet my puppies. I can't stand that they'd have to be in a kennel. It would make me sad for Mike and Mindy. They're hot-dog puppies and soooo cute. He's also decided to sell his house while he's gone. It will give the agent loads of time to let folks browse house buy-us un-interupt-us, ya know?

So, because he's selling, bachelor that he is, he has like NOTHING in the way of decoration. But, he does have a girlfriend who knows how to make warm and cozy in 100 bucks or less. So, that's what we did today. We made nice. Tomorrow, we make more nice :)

Did I mention he'll be in MI for THREE weeks? Three. one-two-THREEeeeee.

K, then I had a perfectly horrible week with my oldest who put the hor in mone. I am tired. I want out. I even wrote a fake ad for him on E-Bay. Kids can be sold, you know. I'll fix his ass. I'm a writer. I'll have millions compelled to buy him ( so maybe it'll only be ten, but whatever). I'll make a profit. I'll invest it and then, I'll buy a god damned nanny for number 2 son and she can deal with his hor's that will surely moan when he hits 15. HAH!

Have I said R will be in MI for THREE weeks? Uno-dos-tres (don't know if I spelled that right)

Oh and then, I read a pissy rant from someone about trimming posts. She gets digest and it "upsets" her that they were only short responses or something. It's on a loop I don't post much to, but nontheless, it made me wanna say, "Would you shut the fuck up, you whiny, egotistical piece of shit. If it were that importan-tay, it would have said it in the subject line. You don't want to frolic with everyone else. You only want to post and when you think we're all in need of a good superior BITCH. The only time you post is when you want to 'ho yourself, complain about something that doesn't suit your princess perfect world or when you want to offer critisisms." Wah, wah, wah. However, due to incredible restraint, I refrained. I swear to God, there's always just ONE person who's so self involved they have to be the spermicide on an otherwise, potentially fantabulous procreation session. Makes me want to scream. Again I say, I refrained...

But I tell ya, some damned day, when my balls inflate to epic proportions, I'm shedding this damned beauty queens diplomatic skin of mine and lettin' er rip. I'm going to leave carnage in my wake. I mean blood and entrails hither and yon when I go. When I do go, I'm going BIG. Loud and proud.

Did I mention R's leaving for THREE weeks? Three and just before the RT convention. The poor man will get back two days before we have to leave for Daytona. But he has to work and I know that. I just want to complain about it.

Oh, and that toe I told you about. Holy Jesus did I ever have a problem. It's infected and had a fungus (bleh), so the doc said it was good I had it done because it could have eventually infected the bone. Then, I'd lose my toe. Nice, huh? I told him whack it off, I'll learn to balance. Then, for a precarious half an hour or so, I thought I might lose the nail. However, I was granted respite. Yay me and my now very ugly toe. R and I watched the whole thing. Poor R gripped my hand for all he was worth. He was very nice to me when it came to after the surgery though. Yet, my toe is very ugly, but getting better. By all that's thigh-high--I WILL wear those boots at RT. I'd better after 450 bucks for ingrown toenail surgery.

Then, my comp screen died. Fucker. Yes, I said fucker. I had this thing for a year and a flippin' half and it DIED. The stupid monitor just didn't want to play with me anymore. S'ok. I showed it what's what. I bought a new one for fricken' 345 bucks. See me stick my tongue out at it.

Then, R's been looking at houses online and stuff. He's found a few, but not a lot that makes him smile quite like the Aspen did. He's not feeling good about a pre-fab cuz he thinks they look like trailers. I like them. I think they're cute. What do I know? It isn't my money. I'm hoping another job comes through for him soon. He's still sort of doing work for his families company, but he's needing something less precarious. The downsize in house will help. I guess he could live with his mom if he had to.
In MI.
Did I say MI???
He might be gone for longer than those three weeks. LOLLOL

Have I said R's going away for THREE weeks? Yep. Next Monday. Right in the middle of everything too. I mean, 24, Medium, CSI, Without a Trace and Idol are all coming to season's end and I'll be without my television partner.

I just don't think I can go on...

Have I mentioned R's leaving for THREE weeks? It may as well be three years. Maybe this will be like detox, eh? Ya know, I'll be all cold turkey and have the shakes and stuff. I am pathetic.

I'm going to go crawl back to the pathetic cave now and count my blessings while I still have fingers to count them on. God only knows what could happen to them in light of my toe. LOLLOL

Dakota :)

The tan report (for Jaci)

K, so it's been two days since I got the spray on tan. Now that I've told the ENTIRE blogging community I'm a fake, I figure people are going to see me at RT and look for the orange glow in the distance.

But au contraire...I'm pleased to announce, I have a lovely glow about me and not the kind that's like in the dark, ya know? LOL

That first night I got waaaaay dark and waaaay nervous and I don't recommend you like hit the sheets with another person that might tend to be damp, cuz it'll leave handprints on yer ass. Snort. Poor R had an orange hand after he let it rest on my thigh. He tends to be sweaty (well, who wouldn't be around me? I got a way of freakin people out) and when he moved his hand, it was orange, but it washed right off.

Anyway, I looked like I came from a whole other background for a time there, but the next day when I took a shower, it washed away the residual and I'm happy to report, I have a lovely glow that's a burnished copper :) I'd love for it to be a bit darker, but this is just fine.

So, if we meet at RT, you can point and call me a fake :)

Dakota :)

Beach Bunny Bingo

Sooooo, today I decided to try the air brush tanning. I really have tried to stay out of the sun, or be protected when I do go out, swim ect. However, I really look much better with a tan. I've done the bottle stuff and it works, doesn't look orange, but it's a pain in the hooters to have to freakin' do it everyday. I loathe the tanning booth. I can't sit still long enough to do it. It makes me crazy and I feel like I should be fightng my way out of this capsule thing.

So--I look into this and find out all the bodybuilders are into it. Immediately, I come to mind.

NOT. LOLLOL

Well anyway, I figure it has to be less of a hassle and it's only 20 bucks. Totally worth a try for me. I want to do it before the con so I know if I'm going to bleed on like some big author, who I won't know is big, cuz I'm stoopid about fame and then, have to explain it's my spray on tan, it could be uber embarrassing, ya know?

Anyway--off I skip to the salon with my little strapless bra and panties.

My air brush arteest is like 20 and he's got a killer tan, an even buffer body and I watch as he interacts with all the 20 yr olds and think, "Dude, you are SO in for a surprise when you see THIS body half nekid. I'd wipe that smile off my face ASAP, were I you." LOLLOL

So, I get the briefing. I see all the lovely maidens with their tanned, highlighted abs of steel and I'm READY. Bring it, baby.

We go in and I disrobe.

Snort. Just like I was at the gynecologists--to which I tell him, this is kinda like that, eh? Seeing as I had to bend forward so he could spray under ze old butt cheeks. He giggled while he was sorta between my thighs. Wiggles eyebrows :)

Anyway--he suggests I go dark because I'm dark-haired and naturally, I tan kinda berry-bronzy, ya know? I say okay, cuz the worst that can happen is I can't leave the house for ten days because I look spooky tan. But I don't mind because what the hell. I onl;y live once and I want to do it bronzed like a Goddess. Oh and just before I go in, I get this sticker--a pair of lips, so I'll see just how dark I am after. I put it by my belly button. LOLLOL

So, I'm all naked and hanging onto these bars to hold my arms up and he's spraying and I think, this poor man. I mean, he just tanned a bunch of cheerleaders, how sad that he's now tanning a saggy almost 40 yr old. SO I ask, "Tell me, do you like call your buds up and go, Holy shit, man, you should have seen the broad that was just in here. If her ta-ta's sagged anymore, she'd have to tuck them into her waistband?"

He laughs so hard he drops the air brush can thingy. He says he never does that. I warn him that if he does, I'll know, cuz my ears will ring and I'll tell his mother. LOLLOL

Now, this whole airbrishing thing is really an art form. I mean, he was very careful of my toenails and fingernails and around my hands and all sorts of stuff. Honestly, for twenty bucks, having to look up at this saggy body staring down at him, I hope like hell he has some GOOD bennies for all the effort. He even itched my nose for me...

Okay, so now I'm done and I have to stand in front of the fan and dry, bent over, arms out, neck up. It was like a Pilates class, I tell ya.

However, I am TAN and I do mean TAN. I look like a Native American now and for some reason, my lips look super big. LOL. Oh, and the lips on my belly are really kinda cool. LOL

Anyway, I dress in my loose clothing and skip on out to face the 12 year olds with beer can crushing butts and they all "ooooooohhhh." I curtsy, cuz I AM tan. LOLLOL. They all want the color I got. Bronze something or other. I do have a bit of orange, but he said once I shower, that will wash away. I hope so, or I'm not leaving the house for TEN DAYS and my knees have a white spot when I bend. Ya know, the wrinkles? Other than that, I'm good. I can fill in if need be with my bottle goop.

This is supposed to last 10 days--we'll see. Anyway, my belly is more tan than it's been since I was 25. Except that windshield washer effect--you know, the one you get when your boobs hang over your ribs and swiiiiish? Yeah, that's the one. I have it because I must not have been totally dry. What do I know? I felt dry...

So, after I shower tomorrow, I'll let ya know if I still look like a Goddess or a big, fat ORANGE.

LMAO

Dakota --the tanned :)

Alpha, Beta, UNO

I have but one thing to say.

When playing the game of UNO, it is (and unbeknownst to me until I was taken quite unaware ) PERFECTLY acceptable to demand that you're partner (after leaving your house to let his dogs out), turn right back around and bring his UNO partnering butt directly back to your house (now that you're demon seed are asleep) and DEMAND that your UNO partner satisfy your craving (well, it HAD been six days. LOLLOL) for a rousing game of UNO.

I had no idea these rules applied to me. I was always the Beta UNO player.

Alas, I have found, it is perfectly acceptable to "swap" roles and pretend you are the Alpha UNO player.

I am very good indeed at the role playing gig.

Curtsy :)

Dakota :)

The Aspen part deux

K, so tomorrow my honeybunch and I are going to see the Aspen, live and in person. If you'll recall, this is the name of the model home R is planning to build once he sells his bigger house.

Now, if you'll also recall, this is the model home he oft refers to when he mentions our future. It's also the model home I found myself confessing to thinking about living in with him, like the dumb ass, big mouth I am. OY.

So, today, I look at the model home online again and I get a little tingle. It's really cute and 3000 sq ft smaller than what I live in now. I could probably clean it entirely in an hour or less. Whatever will I do with the extra time on my hands.

There's always UNO. LOLLOL

R often says, when we talk about the Aspen, the word "we". We can do this or we can do that. We can move the fireplace for more room. We can paint whatever color you like, Bun.

We.

I'm not much afraid of that word anymore, though I will admit hesitation about making plans for the future. My future was once mapped out for me. I was going to be married and retire with a person I once thought I loved. I was rock solid on that front and well, that didn't quite work out, did it? LOLLOL.

Now, I'll grant you this, I love R waaaay more than I ever did the ex, in a very different, freeing way. It's far more mature and we definitely have a much better start than I ever did with the ex. We haven't even had our first fight yet and he's my most fav peron in the whole, wide world to hang out with. I never tire of him. I always laugh with him and no matter the situation, stressful or not, we manage to figure it out. Maybe because we think so much alike. I was bored and tired of the ex, month six. You'd think I'd have had a clue. Nontheless, we did have plans and we were going to retire and all that stupid crap, that is until he retired in other places. LOL

So, what I'm saying is, I've planned far in advance once before, only to have it kinda yanked out from under me. Of course, the yanking was what brought me R. So, I'm torn because I'm grateful I finally know what the real stuff is and I have a guy as totally perfect as R is and that I figured out who I am. But I worry that if I keep getting these stupid warm fuzzies over our future, I'm jinxing myself. Retarded, I know, but there was a time that I would have never believed the ex would do what he did, ya know? Things change--people change, promises were made to be broken in many cases.

Yet, I'm kinda excited. The Aspen represents a lot of things to me and obviously, to R too. It represents a time when we can be together, just us. It represents a blending of our lives together. It represents the END of bachelorhood for R. Snort. It represents the closet he'll never have any space in, cuz I got a lotta clothes and shoes. LOL

So I'm spending a lot of time trying to keep stuff in persepctive, but I drift. It's the drifting that should worry me. Yet, most times, it doesn't. I keep in mind that, NOTHING and I do mean NOTHING could ever be as horrible as my divorce was. I survived. My sons survived. No one can ever do that to me again, because I'm not afraid of much anymore and I can take care of myself. Like I said, not much scares me.

'cept maybe never making it to the Apen.

OY--OY--OY.

Did I just say that? LOLLOLLOLLOL

Dakota :)

Time to say goodbye :(

I had a sad moment today. I went to a blog I often visit. One I visit because it once had some pretty funny stuff going on. However as of late, it seems to have become uber critical and a bit full of itself.

No, I don't mean the inspirational ladies blog. That's a given. LOLLOL

I was sad because at one time, it seemed the snarks were intermingled with some life lessons and stuff, but as it's grown in popularity, the sole purpose seems to be critical of nearly everything and everyone. It's lost its heart for me and there once was one. Now, it's just about stuff that's got this mean overtone. Like it's gone out of it's way to over-snark for the laughs, ya know? Sometimes, being so critical isn't necessarily funny as it is kinda, well, critical and above all, insecure. Picking at every small detail in life can be so trite and droll and today, it finally got to me. It also began to irritate me that so many people sorta jump on the snark-wagon and picked fun too.

Less than perfect people, agreeing with a less than perfect blogger, I'm sure. It's the HS/bully theory and the gang of people who help the bully gather round, thus making up the crowd the bully so craves.

Lame.

Nonetheless, it depressed me a bit. So I think I have to say goodbye for fear I might snark back and upset the apple cart, something we all know I avoid. It was a staple for me for a time. All good things must come to an end, eh?

But it doesn't make me less depressed about it because I miss the fun it once was. A little controversy, mingled with a little lighthearted snark.

And NO, Jaynie, I'm not telling you what blog it is. LOLLOL

it's MY secret. Just give me poor babies cuz the joy in my blogging world has lessened some.

(sniff)

Dakota :)

Somewhere down the road

The Copa--Copa Cabana calls to me. Know where it calls from? Flippin' Vegas and there will be no Weekend In New England for me, cuz Barry isn't in New England--which, I'd like to add, would be MUCH cheaper to get to.

He's in Vegas. He claims he's staying there and not doing anymore concerts anywhere else. Me and Barry, we're like Ships that pass in the night. Maybe we just weren't meant to be? I think We're Losing Touch.

See, if BM were in touch with me--he'd know I don't want to cheat him out of his money, but I could use a bit of a break here. I mean, Vegas ain't cheap and neither is Barry's deluxe show package. A two night stay, with floor tickets was like 672. TWO NIGHTS??? I did not Jump, Shout Boogie over this. Believe me. Who wants to go to Vegas for just two nights? And who wants to sit in the damned balcony for the concert of their dreams? Honest, BM is on my life-list of things to do, er see. I don't lust him AT ALL. I just adore him--nicely and without any stalker tendencies, honest.

If Barry knew of my love for him, don't you think he'd want me to listen to his Beautiful Music without wracking up a CC bill for an indulgence I simply cannot justify with RT coming up? I'm telling you, It's A Miracle I'll even have shoes to wear after the fricken' cost of the RT ticket alone. LOL

Do you think Somewhere in the Night, Barry can hear my cry of desperation, filled with longing to see him, just once...I mean, I think about this All The Time. I do. I Made it Through The Rain only to wander into a blizzard of hopeless desperation.

Do you suppose he can hear my One Voice--singing in the darkness? Begging him to give me a damned shot at being the Can't Smile Without You girl. He picks one each concert. They get to sing with him. Do you know what I'd do to be that GIRL? I want it and I want it badly enough to knock people over to get it. Gently, of course. LOLLOL. I won't throw spiked heels or anything, I swear it on R's life. Tee hee :)

Could it be Magic is what I need in order to finally see this man sing to ME??? I just know if he could see the love and adoration in my eyes, he'd sing just for me...to me, WITH me.

Will I ever see Daybreak? or am I doomed to always play second fiddle to that 'ho Mandy? (sorry, Mandy) But Even Now, I'm Ready To Take a Chance Again. (nice, eh? Two songs in one sentence. LMAO).

So, Barry, sugarplum--This Ones For You and I'm Tryin' To Get The Feelin' Again, but ya make it hard on a girl. I'd do the Bandstand Boogie for you if you'd just lower those prices to include airfare. Cuz, When October Goes, I'm going to be really tweaked if I haven't seen you yet.

I don't Write The Songs, but I DO write the books. However, they pay the bills. They leave no room for me to be Somewhere In The Night (did I use that one? LOL) in stupid Vegas with the price of that package. I'll be somewhere, but it'll have little to do with you and the night and a whole lot of ladies of the night so I can save for this, if ya know what I mean. Surely you don't want an over the hill, ex BQ to have to resort to those tactics to see you, do you? I'll only embarass you and besmirch your good name when I scream it as I turn tricks...LOLLOL

I'm Ready To Take A Chance Again, if you'll just give me one. I've been a loyal fan for over 27 years. I loved you when it was not Hip to be Square (okay, wrong singer, but it worked, yes? LOL). I was never ashamed to say it either. Cuz, Love Is A Many Splendored Thing (he's got a new CD with oldies on it. LOL). I'd sit ever rapt, listening to all of your Old Songs if you'd cut me some slack. Hell, what if you DIE before I get to Vegas. What if I die before I get to Vegas?

That would make me sooooooooo sad. You ain't gettin' any younger, baby and neither am I.

So, whaddya say, Barry--can we swing a deal here? Where Do I Go From Here? Tell me and I'm there. Should I have my agent call your agent? I promise, it won't be A Linda Song yer writin' when I'm done with ya (who the hell IS Linda? Wasn't Mandy enough already? Tramps...)

I Just Want To Be The One In Your Life and if I keep Starting Again, we'll both need hip replacements before I get there.

C'mon, B--gimme a reason to look at R and say, Looks Like We Made It.

Love,
Your future Can't Smile Without You girl,
Dakota :)

For my Jaynie :)

Today is a very special day for one of the Babes.

Yep, it's Jaynie. My fav kiwi in the whole wide world :)

it's her BIRTHDAY.

She's like 12, I think. S'okay, I don't care. I'm not even a little jealous that she's waaaaay younger than me. LOL

I'm in LA right now and I missed part of her b'day cuz I was out and about, doing Hollywood stuff, like botox and lipo, ya know? LOLLOL

However, I didnt miss thinking about her. I thought about her today when I had an eclair and I thought, if I could have sent it to her with a candle on it, all the way to Australia, I would have. it would have no calories and wouldn't break her diet. A diet I'm so proud of her for being on. Cuz it ain't easy to pass up KFC. Especially the original recipe, breast piece. Feel me?

So, in honor of my snarky pal, I wanted to give her a special wish here on my blog. Jaynie has a rank in the babes that can't ever be replaced. Each babe is individually uniique. These are the things that make Jaynie so special to me :)

Jaynie has a place in my heart because she was so damned hard to win over. When I first met her, she kinda scared me. She was abrasive and not an easy sell on friendship. However, I persevered and eventually won. LOLLOL. I knew we'd have a valuable friendship, one Id treasure because lemme tell ya, I had to work it to make her like me. I'm all the things I thinkn Jaynie doesn't much like. Girly, girly, girly. I enjoy being a girl as much as Jaynie enjoys picking on me for it. but she loves me for it too. She's one of the first people who just let me be me on the loops and for that, I'm ever grateful. She razzed me, no doubt, but I knew acceptance when I found it and Jaynie accepted me.

I love her because she's snarky and kinda snide, but also because she says what she thinks. It isn't always easy to hear, but she'll never steer you wrong when it comes to what's all real and what's completely fake.

She's smart too. She went to COLLEGE. She knows stuff that often surprises me and reminds me that she's one of the brightest people I know.

She's loyal. I swear--never trifle with Jaynie's friends. She's fierce and protective and she will take you to task if she thinks you've slighted someone she loves.

She's not terribly huggy kissy, so if you get a hug from her, you know it's genuine. When I finally meet her, I'm soooo gonna make her hug me. LOL

She makes me laugh everyday. No matter what, she never fails to make me smile and I'm blessed by her presence on our group.

I love Jaynie and like I said, it's her birthday today--so this is for you, cookie. With love, respect and many, many more to come. My heartfelt wish is that you have the best birthday ever and that you're always a part of my life.

Happy Birthday, my kiwi!

Love and sloppy kisses,
DC :)

Gold is in my color wheel of life

It is and I'll tell you why.

Figure skating.

It's been a love in my life for some 15 or so years now. I think I found it back in the Rosalind Sumners era and have been glued to every competiion and exhibition I can get my eyeballs on since.

Now, here's the thing. I was a roller skater for many moons and when I made the transition to figure skating, it was fairly easy. I slapped a pair of used puppies on, scooted off onto the ice, stumbled a bit for about 10 minutes, then applied my roller skating techniques to ice skating.

In essence, I was da BOMB, baby. I could skate backwards, stop on a dime, do a waltz jump, scratch spin and a spiral on one leg. I was working on Russian splits when my career ended tragically because I was pursuing Ms. Creamed Corn 1980 or something. LOLLOL

Anyway, back then, I didn't watch skating. I didn't begin to watch it until long after my skates were hung up. I didn't pick it back up again because they banned skating on our lake where I'd begun my quest to be the next Dorothy Hamill as a kid. We didn't have an ice skating rink in my small town, so I watched and learned and watched some more. But I know all the elements now. I can tell a triple axel, from a triple lutz. I know circular footwork and throw triples like I know every lump of cellulite on my ass and I want IN.

Not on the cellulite--the skating.

That brings us to today. R played ice hockey with some friends for a few years, so he's a good skater. He said, "Let's go skating, Bun." I said, "It's been 14 years and I think I might be wobbly."

Indeed, wobbly was a poor substitute for my pathetic-ness.

Here in TX, there are tons of rinks and R has one right near him. So, we have a date. Lunch and skating. Long story short, I get my rental skates, slap 'em on and head out onto the ice.

The chill of a frozen tundra, gloriously slick and glassy calls to me. My heart pounds with the utter freedom I'll experience as the wind from my high speed skating blows through my long, lucious locks. I envision myself in a cute little outfit. Ya know, black see through arms, a bejeweled bodice and a LONG skirt by my ankles, so when I jump you can't see my butt.

I step out onto the ice and in my mind, I am The Kwan-anator. I shall own this ice. I'm one with it.

It, however, is not exactly one with me or even very friendly. It's like we never mated. Like I'm some cheap one night stand to be used and discarded.

In fact, it doesn't much like me at all. it mocks me. Hell, the other "one with the ice" skaters mocked me too. Silently, but I just know they were giggling like hyenas about what a lame, middle aged, saggy assed woman was attemtping.

I was attempting to STAND. That's all. I really wasn't asking a lot. I was as wobbly as a newborn calf. By hours end, my feet burned like I'd wallked on toxic waste. My toe throbbed in time with my blood pressure.

I kept watching all these little kids zipping around and doing all those damned jumps and I said to R, "Go knock her skates out from under her, would ya? Her frilly pink fru-fru shit is pissing me off and I can't concentrate." LOLLOL

However, I am not to be defeated. The agony and all. Sooooo, I go back. I experience ten-fold the pain I did two days ago, but I don't care. I BELONG on this ice, damnit and I am not letting it have the best of me.

Sooooo, we go again and R says he really thinks it's the rental skates that are giving me such trouble. I think it's age and bad feet from dancing for so many years, but I sooo want to buy into it.

I make a decision. I am buying skates and by all that is Gordeeva and Grinkoff, I shall OWN this. I research online. I hunt hill and dale for yon skates. Finally, I find them. I find them and now, I'm 142.00$$$ poorer, but we're working out our financial debate and convincing each other we can work this out as a couple.

Soooo, I'm back again and this time, I have the magic skates. They will catapult me to stardom. See, during my research, I found out that they have an adult nationals and know where it is this year? Right here in Dallas.

I'm telling you, it's fate, kismet, dreams so cruelly shattered, finally realized. I will train, train some more, train so hard, by next year, I'll actually be able to stroke two times around the rink and my feet won't be screaming, "fire in the hole!"

I put them on. Again, I am Michelle Kwan, Peggy Flemming, Dick- big mouth- Buttons. Still in my own dreams, mind you, but I have the real deal now and I just KNOW it's going to be the magic I need to skate the hell out of a Barry Manilow song in a years time.

or not.

Yet, I persevere. I go again. Things are looking up. I took the kid with me and he fell so many times, I was looking a little like Brian Boitano by days end.

'Twas glorious...

I am not giving up. I want this. I can taste it. I watch all the other little seven year olds like a hawk, soaking up their lessons by eavesdropping. In fact, I stalk them, I listen to the skating teachers. I get so wrapped up, R reminds me my mouth is open. LOLLOL

Then, in a tragic twist of events, I am INJURED. Yes, injured, devestatingly putting my career with Cirque De soleil on ice in dire jeopardy.

I have an ingrown toenail.

it is the most agonizing fricken' thing since I had kidney stones.

I consult my sports therapist ( my mom, but who says she can't have a title?) and she confirms, indeed, 'tis an ingrown toenail with a bloody, flippin' fungus of all things.

Mom had one too. it got infected. She had to seek a doctor and have him like hack it up. I have no insurance. I am doomed to almost be a champion...elusive, fleeting dreams of gold are dashed in an instant.

Well, not so much now that my mom called the doc and it's only 500 smackeroli's to fricken' get me back on the road to gold.

Stay tuned, because by all that is costumed and cute, I'm going to enter the adult nationals in the next couple of years and I'm going to slaughter the crap out of the seniors group if it's the last thing I do.

I'm leaving with that damned tiara, er gold medal if I have to Tonya Harding the lot of them. LMAO

I'm kidding.

Tonya was a pansy. I'm MUCH smarter than Tonya and Jeff.

I'll use aresenic in their Gatorade if I have to.

LOLLOLLOLLOL

Dakota :)

Lasts...

I swiped this from Angie who says I don't ever visit her blog. What the Hell does she know anyway? LOLLOL. I go there, I just don't comment very often cuz, well, cuz they talk about smart stuff, ya know? I'm just not that introspective. LMAO

Okay, here we go. This is called Lasts and I kinda felt like it was easy, cuz I can answer almost ALL of them without having to think too hard. Snicker.

9 lasts:

last cigarette: about an hour ago. God, I love to smoke.
last beverage: Is whiskey a beverage or an alcohol? LOL. I'm kidding. pepsi...
last kiss: last night :)
last movie seen: Something about Heaven with the chick who won the Oscar. Cute as Hell. Can't remember the title.
last phone call: Duh--Prince Charming. aka, R. LOL
last cd played:Um, one I made. A compilation of Stevie Wonder, Michael Feinstein, Four Tops and I can't remember the rest.
last bubble bath: Alone, or with someone? LOL.
last time you cried: Last night in my car because I heard a stupid, sappy love song. Go ahead, make the sign of the "L" on your forehead. LOLLOL

have you evers:
have you ever dated one of your best friends: Well, duh.
have you ever skinny dipped: Yes. In my pool in Jersey, sadly, I was ALONE.
Have you ever kissed somebody and regretted it: See failed marriage of 19 years. Snort.
have you ever lost someone you loved: Yes.
Have you ever been depressed: See failed marriage of 19 years. LOLLOL
have you ever been drunk and thrown up: Nope

7 states you've been to: CA, WA, MI, NJ, NY, GA, FLA
6 things you've done today:Went to Garden Ridge (home decor). Went to Bed Bath and Beyond. Had lunch with my son Cameron. Wrote. Answered e-mail. Paid bills.
5 favorite things in no order: Making my sons laugh. Smooching with R. UNO. Smooching with R. Writing.
4 people you can tell [almost] anything to: My mother. R. Michelle. Sheri
3 wishes: My sons grow into productive, well mannered gentleman. Move into the Aspen Can u even believe I said that? LOLLOL)
2 things you want to do before you die: Go to Italy. See Barry Manilow in his entirety. LOL
1 thing you regret: Staying married for 10 years longer than I should have. I mean, really, who knew? LOL

The Aspen

is a house.

Or a model house that R is contemplating building. He's going to sell his much too big house and buy something much smaller and more manageable financially.

He talks about this Aspen model often. he found it one day when he was driving around and we were on the phone. I looked it up on the Internet for him and it's cute as a button. Tiny, probably a helluva a lot easier to clean than my house and cute. Just enough for a bachelor.

Oh and me...

Sooooooooo, since he found this house, he's made the occasional remark about it. "One day, Bunny, when we're in the Aspen together...When we get to the Apen...We'll get a hammock and spoon at the Aspen..."

Aspen, Aspen, Aspen.

So, for the most part, I, in all of my denial, have thwarted his efforts with retorts like, "I have more clothes than Imelda Marcos has shoes. Where will we fit them? I have chachki's galore, we won't have enough room for them, honey...I need a room to smoke my brains out in when I write, honey..."

To which, R simply ignores me and keeps mentioning it. He never hesitates, he never does it to ruffle my feathers, he just says what he feels and opts to ignore my feeble protests.

Now, we all know from my blogs, I'm pathetically in love. Sickly so. Can't remember what it was like to live without R. However, live WITH R is diff, ya know?

That's like full on committment. The real deal. It freaked me out for a bit and then, the other night, I'm putting away silverware from the dishwasher and I think, "I wonder if R will have enough room for all of my silverware in the Aspen too?" Which leads me to wonder if R will have room for my copius amounts of furniture. Which leads me to wonder if we can use my Egyptian cotton sheets on the bed. Which of course, I've already decided will be MY bed...

In the Aspen.

So, now, I'm all panicking, cuz those thoughts didn't have a hint of fear. Not one. No hesitation, just acceptance, much the way you accept that your roots must be done every six weeks to keep your hair color fresh.

Well, to top things off, gum flapper that I am, I confess these very thoughts to my honeybunny last night.

Honestly, duct tape should be handy on my nightstand to firmly be plastered across my mouth when I get too comfy.

See, that's the prob with R. I don't hide anything from him. Nothing. I was a master at covertly thinking things, but never speaking them at one time. I've lost my shut up skills and I miss them...So we're all watching a movie and smooching and crap and I go off into the bathroom to do something and I say something about the Aspen and when we get there.

Oh, I remember what it was. We were talking about birth control and no babies. We've opted for triple protection, thank you. R and I, at one time, probably would have made a great team in parenting. I know he would have been a wonderful, loving, patient father, but neither of us wants children at this stage of our lives. Mine are growing rapidly and so is my writing career. R doesn't want to be 60 when they graduate. Personal preference, of course. Everyone is diff in their desires, but children isn't something we want and I don't want an oops to be what binds us together for life. I love children, but I'm done with that portion of my life. I love R, but would never want him to feel trapped because we behaved like teenagers, which you ALL know, we're want to do.

So, I was expressing that to R and then, I said, "I'm kinda liking just the two of us in the Aspen anyway. You know, just you and me..."

ARGHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

I out and out admit that I've been thinking about it like I just told him I like mustard on my ham and cheese and then, I turn red because I don't know when to shut the hell up!

R, of course, totally laughs at me and makes me admit that I think about living with him in matrimonial bliss. Then, to soften the blow, he reminds me how nuts I am about him while he snuggles with me and I hide my head in shame in his forearm.

Crimeny! I wanted to crawl under the bed. He pokes me with the Dakota soooo loves R stick and I realize, it wasn't so hard to say it. It was admitting that I like the idea out loud that killed me. I usually put up a much bigger fight.

So, there ya have it. Yes, I think about the time when we can wake up together every morning (or in R's case, late afternoon) and yes, I think about what it would be like to snuggle at night before we go to sleep. Share meals together, not have to say goodbye in my garage, pay bills together, watch TV together without a headset attached to my phone.

Yes, I think about marrying him and how long we can hold out with the responsibilities that bind me to my big house, my mom, who made uber sacrifices to live with me and my sons, who won't be on their own for another seven years.

Yes, I wonder if it won't become very frustrating for him to possibly wait for those things to pan out if it takes the full seven years. It's a long time to wait. Maybe too long.

How cute will I be in a wedding dress at Elvis' Chapel of Love at 47?

Yes, yes, yes. I think about all of those things. I just don't normally spew them with such abandon.

OY. LOLLOL

Dakota :)

Cuz ya gotta have friiiieeeennndsss

You know the song.

So, my buddy P is in town on biz from Fla. She posts here a lot.

She's one of my closest cyber friends and we've been to a con or two and Disney World together. LOL. My mother took us to Dinsey in the Spring (literally) of my pending divorce hell and P came and met me and we hung out and had a girlie day while her hubby Gary and son took my beasts to the water park.

P was a HUGE support to me during my divorce. When I'd forget just about everyone and everything but my worry and misery, she'd send a card or a calendar of hot cowboys. An e-mail, a joke, an article on single moms. She's one of the best friends I can claim since I joined the cyber world of writing e-books. She's among several, but one of the first.

Anyway, R and I are off to have dinner with her tonight. This is the first friend of mine R will meet in person.

Think he's ready for P to question, interrogate, make him sweat? LOLLOL. Nah, P's not like that. She'll tell me how she feels in an e-mail AFTER dinner. LOLLOL

Now, this friends thing brings me to the Babes. A couple of days ago the babes, our Yahoo group, celebrated our one year anniversary.

We three Babes in charge FORGOT.

Yeah, I know, but I was so wrapped up in finishing a book and figure skating (I am Michelle Kwan in my mind. Don't ask, I'll blog later on it) that I totally forgot.

How could I forget such an auspicious event? I hang my head in utter shame. We should have had a big party--given trips to tropical islands away as thank you's.

Alas, we screwed up. LOL

So, this is for all of the wonderful ladies and gentelman who make up the Babes.

Each of you, unique in your own bizarre way (snort) make the Babes what they are. Without some of you characters, we'd have never seen the success the Babes have reaped.

There would be no one to wake up to and razz me every morning. There'd be no Bill to correct my typo's. There'd be no Maura (I found this poor woman on my blog and MADE her join us, poor thing), to make me smile when she sends URL's for shoes that only the tramp she must think I am can wear. LMAO. There'd be no Jaynie, cranky, feisty, but loyal like no other and the mod from the bowels of Hell. HAHAHAHAHAHA.

There'd be no Bonita with advice given like only a loving mother hen can. There'd be no Sheryl with her spunk and Aussie humor. There'd be no Fuzz, who just keeps comin' back for more DC smackdowns (LOLLOL). There'd be no Lisa, sweet as the day is long.

There'd be no Renee, who shares my love of figure skating and my mutal love of her boyfriend Joe. LOL. There'd be no Pam, who can whip up a flight to Daytona pronto, save me tons of money AND sign her e-mail with an exclamation point, and make me smile, multi tasker that she is.

There'd be no Erin, trying to convince us all she's freakin' innocent while we laugh behind our hands at how perposterous THAT is. LOL. There'd be no Angie, who hardly calls or writes, but shows up just when you think you're safe from her snark. LMAO.

There'd be no Anitra, who had a long sabbatical and nearly drove us all insane with worry, but came back and still made us smile. There'd be no Crystal, who tries so hard to follow in Jaynie's evil footsteps, but can't help being a sweetheart. There'd be no Alecia, who pops in and out and is really too funny for words when she drops an occasional bomb, then flits off. There'd be no Shannon, who's blind and makes no bones about the fact that she's not sensitive about it at all. We even let her drive the Babe car, that's how much we like Shannon. LOL

There'd be no Steve. New to the group, but a right fine mate. There'd be no Jason, Crystal's hubby who sings songs with me. There'd be no Cathy, who's been denied much Internet access at work, so she can't play anymore, but we miss her just the same.

There'd be no Joy to complain about us not cutting and pasting, while she stalks me. LOLLOL. There'd be no Sam from France who's soooo sweet it makes your teeth hurt. There'd be no lurkers, who kinda freak me out cuz they watch us and are laughing at our antics, but never say a word. LOLOL. I'm kidding, you don't freak me out...not a lot...LOL

There'd be no Michelle, Isabella and Dakota to torment day in, day out and I can't imagine my life without all of you in it.

From me, to all of you, the babes have been a success because we just have a good time and in that good time, you each play an important role. Something I will ever be grateful for.

We've had people come and go. We've had a heartache or two in the past year. An illness, a budding relationship, ups and downs, no doubt. However, we've all managed to maintain what we set out to do. Skip the endless PROMO, have a place to come and giggle and just be yourself.

Thank you, Babes, for one of the best years of my life :)

Love and kisses,
Dakota :)

Words to live by

So, I got a review today. Now, I don't normally talk about my reviews or books much because well, it's sorta like PROMO to me and this blog has been more therapy than a forum to share my work. Angie put my book covers up and bless her heart, I have no clue how to add more. Snort.

Anyhoodles, I got this review today and it wasn't horrible, but it wasn't great either. And that's okay, cuz I'm all about having an opinion. I've said that before because it's really true. Not everyone is going to like you and not everyone is going to shower you with fives ect. In my time as a writer, I've mostly gotten great reviews. I've had a couple that were so-so. Nothing so awful I want to lay down and die. But my time WILL come. It has to. I tremble at the idea of ever hitting Amazon and having folks call my stuff skanky. LOLLOL. When you get into a bigger arena, there will be more people to comment on your work. The more people comment, the less your chances increase that you'll be globally loved.

However, the reason I'm posting about this review is because the reviewer did a bang up job of explaining what she didn't like and I sooo appreciated that.

If you'll recall the big hulabaloo over reviews on Amazon, it involved scathng reviews that were written with an angry keyboard and had no purpose other than to bash and whine because they blew 6.99 on a book.

Yet, this reviewer, according to her, a fan of my work, was very succinct without being nasty and for that, I was grateful to read what she didn't like done with a constructive slant. She said the dialogue was choppy and she didn't like the pacing. So, in essence, it fell flat for her.

See how easy that is? Well said and totally something I, writer of said book, can understand.

So, I want to thank this reviewer. I won't name her, nor will I direct you to the review, but I will say, the review didn't upset me other than I disappointed her since she was used to reading something of mine and enjoying it. I'll send her off a thank you note for reviewing it too. I want to thank her because she was honest and clear.

In this writing game, as you become more widely recognized, have more books released, you're bound to have some so-so reviews or even some horrible ones. It's a lesson to all of us that if you're already humble about your work -- if you're not running around telling everyone you're the best thing since the development of boxer breifs -- if you're not shamelessly promoting yourself with every breath you take -- the criticism, no matter how big or small -- isn't so awful to hear. You can learn from them and move on to the next book. If you do those things I mentioned above, you believe your own hype, then the fall is much harder to take.

See, you can't fall down the ladder of success, crack a rib and break an arm if your steps are tentative and sprinkled with humility :) You might sprain and ankle, but you can wrap that and be back on your feet in no time.

Dakota :)

AMEN

R is back.

That means, Dakota doesn't have time to come to her blog right now. She can't fiddle in controversy or dabble in mean people.

Her honey has returneth and UNO reins supreme once more.

The land was filled with the echo of cheers heard 'round the globe.

Cuz it means Dakota has purpose once more and she won't be a cranky, mouthy bitch.

Not that she didn't have purpose BR (before R), but AR ( after R) is soooooooooo much more purposeful, don't you agree? LOLLOL

So until R leaves Dakota for yet another car show, Dakota's fingers will be busy and she can't get to her keyboard right now.

She'll be crotcheting.

ROFLMAO

YAY, R is HOME :)

Dakota :)

The Lonely Hearts Club

Happy Valentines Day!

Do you have special plans? Are you going to have an intimate dinner for two -- cuddle by a roaring fire? Spend the night somewhere away from home? At a small hotel? Are you going to drink champagne and feed each other chocolates?

I'm not.

LOLLOLLOLLOL

Yes, it's true. Dakota finally has a main squeeze and guess what? He's working a car show for the week in Atlanta. Can you even believe it? Didn't I say last year that if it was the last thing I did, I was going to have someone to slow dance to a sappy love song with me if it KILLED me.

I did say that. You don't know that because I didn't have a blog then. But I did say it. Last year, I was feeling a little blue on the day made for lovers. I don't know why. V-Day was never a big deal when I was married. Somehow, commercially, it becomes one and the single begin to feel as single as they've ever felt. It never much bothered me before, until I watched all the commercials that would help you find the love of your life.

I felt WAY single last year, so I joked with my son that by GOD, next year I wanted a date for V-Day if it killed me. He didn't even have to be my boyfriend or a steady suitor. I just wanted to slow dance to my favorite love song (see sentimental love song 'ho) and then he could go the hell back to his house. LMAO.

So, now, I've hit the motherlode and I got the boyfriend and the boyfriend can't be here. it is just the way with me, eh?

However, I have a little something to say about V-Day. it never was a big deal when I was married, but it is now that I'm not. Know why?

Cuz now I'm head over heels in love and it makes all the diff in the world. It seems right that I should want to celebrate a day where Cupid draws back his bow and nails some poor schmuck in the ass. He nailed me. He undoubtedly nailed R. LOL

Yet, I can't be too upset about him being gone. First, the man has to work and secondly, everyday is like V-Day with R.

We've been dating nearly seven months now and not a day goes by when he doesn't tell me how pretty he thinks I am or how much he loves me. He does all sorts of sweet things for me that have nothing to do with spending gazoodles of dollars and everything to do with feeding my soul.

He makes me laugh. He makes me sigh. He makes me feel like I'm the only person in the world who exists for him. He rubs my shoulders and my calves when they ache without me ever having to ask. He spoons like no other. He'll spend hours on the phone with me looking at shoes for a convention I'm going to and help me find the just the right pair. He indulges me in plotting a book all the time and offers some of the best selling titles I've had.

He isn't ashamed to tell me he loves me more than his testicles. ROFLMAO. Honest, he said that. Even being gone, he knew how important the Olympic figure skating is to me so he rushes back to his hotel room to call or IM with me so we can watch together. He's going to go to a con full of women for an entire week, I'll drag the poor man around from place to place, we'll hardly sleep, eat very little and when I worried he'd be bored he said, "I'll be with The Dakota Cassidy. How much better does it get than that?" I howled, cuz I'm a small fish in a big pond, but he makes me feel like I'm Jaws.

So you see what I mean? There isn't a day that goes by that I don't feel special, loved, treasured.

So, honey--this is for you. I miss you and I wish you could be here. However, in lieu of you're physcially being here, I figured I'd make my own goopy Valentine for you :)

You are the best thing that's ever happened to me. Bar none, you're the UNO champ of the world. You make my heart skip a beat when you kiss me and tell me you love me.

You make the most mundane chores in life fun and important. You support me and my craft daily. You make me secretly smile for no reason at all, other than I thought about you. You crack me up like no one else. You indulge me when I'm tired and stressed over my sons and this thing called single parenting. You offer me advice that's sane (well, okay semi sane. LOL).

You call me "Bunny". You love Kota Kitty almost as much as she loves you. LOLLOL. You have the purist of hearts and you don't hide that heart from me. You talk to me all the time. You include me. You don't get angry with me when I have an opinon that differs from yours. You've shown me that though you're Mars and I'm Venus, interplanetary communication CAN exist and exist in harmony

You've filled a void in my life I didn't even know I had.
You've subtly changed the landscape of my future without forcing me to change who I am.


You've made me a believer in finding "the one".

I love you, honey.

Happy Valentines Day, sweetie.

Bunny/Dakota :)

Yer not the boss of ME!

LOLLOLLOLLOL

K--so after several quiet days, the blog stuff has begun again and this time, I HAD to laugh. I mean, out loud, rolled around on the floor until I asked my mom to get me the Depends, kind of laughing.

You know the blog I mean. You also know I can't link to the actual post, cuz I'm just not that smart. The nice author lady doesn't think I'm that smart either. She said she wasn't impressed by the intelligence of some folks who responded to her blog. Could have been me, might not have been. I'll take it as a blanket statement and assume, cuz I disagreed with her and NO one is going to boss her around, she meant me too.

Neener, neener, neener.

Okay, so first, I read the bit about how the blog folk are mad at her again. Well, again would imply more than once. Which to me, would imply that you've got the offesive thing down to a science. Naturally, the author has no clue why because said author is innocent of all charges geared toward offending anyone, right? I gotta wonder why she gets so much hate mail or whatever she calls it if she's sooooooo non-offensive. She must make a couple of people mad and two, to me, would imply she rubs a crowd the wrong way, yes?

I dunno, math was never my subject. LOLLOL

Okay then, she wasn't sure why erotic authors would comment on her blogs. She doesn't, in her mind, share fans with us naughty girls (my words, not hers). However, I hate to be the one to tell her, but I thrived on Inspirational romances as a kid. They were the only ones my mom let me read. Yet, I write erotic romances. It's just a fun genre. However, I'm not going to pit the two genre's against one another, but I will say, we DO share fans. Well, duh. How'd ya suppose this all began? Because you offended a shared fan. A fan of your work that wanted to enter a contest you said she couldn't. I can read inspirational romances if I want and YOU can't tell me I can't.

Yer not the boss of me. LOLLOL

She claimed we all "picked up the cry" when one of our "own" (one who obvioulsy drank the juice) was offended. Er, yeah, cuz we agreed with her and I do believe, I agreed with my friend very respectfully. It's true. Yet, when one of her "own" picked up the cry, that's not the same thing? When they agree with her, isn't that the same thing as "picking up the cry"? Only it's in her favor, so I guess, it isn't the same thing as when we cry.

Boo hoo.

Anyhoodles, then she said she doesn't blog for traffic and if I were smart enough, I'd go back and read through the one blog post where she directly contradicts that statment. I just can't remember which post it was. She posted what she did on her blog to begin with for the same reason I posted horse puckey back. Cuz it's horse puckey and she wants to justify, validate her plight, whatevah AND books shall sell.

If you didn't want people to come read your spin, why bother to post about e-mails and contests that no one needed to know about? OY--who are we kidding here??? She didn't do it because she was on a valiant quest to find answers and address her readers. She apparently has them ALL so she sure as heck don't need 'em from Y-O-U. Snort.

Cuz yer not the boss of me. LMAO

She also prefers well mannered people who can have civilized discussions. Sigh, um, okay and what about that particular convo wasn't civilized? it wasn't civilized if you didn't break out the shrine and altar to her, is when it wasn't civilized anymore, is my supposition.

She then went on to say that the kind of bloggers who rant and whip others (readers) into a frenzy aren't the kind of readers she wants. Yeah, riiiiight. You want 'em ALL, baby and if that statement above were true--you'd have never allowed one of your buds to begin those first posts with words like selfish.

Then, of course, the comments began. Again, with the one woman who gets a wee bit zealous in the defense of her friend. But that's okay. it's just not okay for the rest of us to do it too. You keep that in mind, would ya? Do remember your place, you unecessary root of all uncivilized discussion. LOLLOL

Then, the comments got whacky, so prepare to have the comments turned off pronto. One lady said some people put the "more" in moron. However, don't be fooled. That sort of backhanded comment will NEVER whip folks into a frenzy and I wouldn't call it "rabid" at all, would you? She said people were peeing around the perimeter of this authors blog. I kinda liked that analogy. it was funny. I snorted. I did. She said those who baited, ranted ect were trying to call attention to themselves. But never mistake the author's original post as trying to draw attention to herself. No, no. That wasn't it at all. Remember, she was on a valiant quest to post something of interest to her readers...I'd pee in my own backyard if a friend and fan of mine wasn't inadvertantly invited to pee elsewhere. Ya feel me here?

One blog commentor said it best--you generated interest in your books and that can't be a bad thing, can it?

Yeeeeahh, baby. That's right, it can't be a bad thing. If it were a bad thing and we were turning the other cheek, then this newest post never would have happened, would it?

My last blog about it was because I was a bit outraged by the comment off deal. I'm not ashamed to say I like a good discussion. I'm not ashamed to say I blogged because it was interesting and I wanted people to come read about it. Especially because I don't much get into the controversial stuff. Folks are surprised when I do. Every so often a blog posts gives me a reason to piggyback and blog about something other than R and I and our endless twisted romance. Does it bring me traffic--yep. Is that good? Yep. Did I much care if I got traffic before--yep. But I didn't care for the reasons I'll be undoubtedly be accused of. I don't blog much controversial stuff, so the majority of whatever I post is just fun stuff. I want people to read my blog and giggle. In some intances, I want to get ops, but I don't normally blog about much that's problem oriented because I lay low.

Except when I see some pretty blatant crap.

I didn't lay low this time because I was shocked at the rather two faced slant I was feeling after reading the comments. I was raised a Christian and opinions were encouraged, but the high handed arrogant stuff wasn't something that entered into it much. We didn't thump our bibles. We just quietly tried to be good people.

So after my post, I forgot about it until a friend of mine mentioned the newest post. I knew I'd get a giggle from it--so I read and watched and read some more.

See, if this weren't about liking a bit of controversy, if it wasn't about wanting a little pat on the back from your buds, if it wasn't about selling a book, then what was it about? If you're so good at not engaging folks in an argument--then what was this post about? It was insulting and condescending to some of the commentors, 'twould seem. That's what it was. Again, I say, why tell anyone about things that occur privately if you don't want to stir the old pot? None of us knew who trafficked the authors blog. Though she mentions the mucho traffic she had. It doesn't list names so we can all say, "Oooooh, look who was here." So who gave a rats fuzzy butt? Sure, lot's of people looked at it--they looked at it because the author made a bold statement, but she also turned the coments OFF, so there was nothing left to do but move on. She had as far as I knew. Her next post was about cookies, or something.

So why start all over again?

This post was about no one telling this author what she could and couldn't do.

I'm tellin' ya, when I read some of the blog posts, all I could think was, you're NOT the boss of me. It rings throughout.

And it cracked me up.

Oh and it's nothing to her if you read her blog. Man, she has a way with words, huh? Don't you feel all warm and fuzzy when you're dismissed? I had to wonder if her lurking fans felt a bit slighted by the idea that she could care less who reads her blog. We'll never know because they don't post and probably won't after being slapped down. She claims to want to emulate other bloggers who blog about things of interest. Shoot, I sure hope folks don't blog like this all the time about their readers. That's one hell of a form of flattery if she does, in fact, emulate them.

Does she have any clue how utterly crass that last crack may sound to someone who may have already been upset by her "I won't ship to the overseas folks" comments. Talk about digging the proverbial hole in an already big, honkin' ditch.

And you are NOT the boss of her. LOLLOL

Dakota :)

Oh, horse puckey!

Sigh--more controversy of which I had nothing to do with. So, I'm piggybacking because well, I've gotten all ballsy in my old age and I'm allowed to have an op. I try not to have one publicly, but on THIS topic, I do :)

So, Jaynie was upset this week. That upset me. So I went to her blog to see whassup?

She and an author who writes inspirationals had a bit of a tiff over a contest that the author excluded non US residents from.

I kinda thought that sucked. However, this time, Jaynie didn't begin the blog thing. The nice inspirational lady did. She posted Jaynie's comments to her in private e-mails, anonymously. No, she didn't mention Jaynie's name, but apparently, she left out some pertinent goodies and it didn't (in my mind) represent what Jaynie was saying very fairly. Jaynie posted her comments in the e-mails on her blog.

Jaynie's beef--why exclude us folks overseas from a contest? We can promo you here. We might even be apt to skip on over to the ever controversial Amazon and buy your book--pay a ridiculous amount of money to have your book shipped to us and tell people about it here in Australia.

The authors beef--it costs too much to send books overseas. She basically said, too bad, so sad. It was her budget, she could do as she pleased with it and spend it in the best way she saw fit.

If that excluded the extra 7 bucks or so in shipping overseas, cest la vie--she wasn't budging. She also said something a smidge crass if you ask me. especially for an author who writes INSPIRATIONALS. I'd almost expect one of us erotic authors to say, "Kiss my boo-tay", cuz we use words like that, but she said, "This lady believes book giveaways are about thanking readers. Well, they aren't about that at all."

That made me go, huh?

Well, no, they're about attracting readers with a wee tidbit, but it's also about being a nice author chick too. Or I thought it was. She might be raising that skeptical eyebrow at me now, but I thought contests were a back scratcher. Do I have them to increase sales--yep. Do I expect you to rush off and gush. I'd like it, but it won't keep me from sending you one again if ya don't.

She further explained that she wants people to win her books and then share them with various clerks and such in your life. Like your hairdresser and manservant. LOL. She didn't say manservant, but I thought it was funnier.

Anyway, the crux of this was word of mouth is what she hopes to garner from her contests. Sme word of mouth sales, to be precise. Just not word of mouth overseas. Cuz it needs a passport and stuff.

Okay--so the debate was all very nice, except for one woman who really was pretty vehement and didn't make a lot of sense to me. However, she called Jaynie selfish and that was sort of bizarre. There was also the guy who gave us his Dr. Phil-ism on entitlement issues that made me go,"Dude, it's a BOOK, not a divorce." But who am I to judge? I just ignored that and moved on to the stuff I could piece together in full sentences :)

I posted a couple of times and respectfully so. The author and a couple of others posted back, respectfully as well.

BUT THEN (deep breath), after she'd said what she deemed appropriate--made it clear that it wasn't in her best promotional interests and budget to send books overseas--told us all quite gallantly that she wasn't going to be baited into a fight--informed us SHE was not the one to out Jaynie--then, she closed the comments down and said she'd delete anymore that came her way. I'm guessing that means she's not going to post the ones NOT in her favor. She even said it wasn't a forum to talk about how stupid she was. I kinda went, huh again. I can't recall anyone calling her stupid.

I thought CHEAP, but not stupid. However, like I said in my posts to her--I respect her choices and I'd hope she'd respect others if they don't buy her book.

But what really tweaked my nether parts was shutting down the blog and claiming Jaynie's e-mail to her, that she so nobly posted anonymously, was for the INTEREST OF HER READERS.

Oh, bananas! Pluuueease. That's where my busllshit-ometer went, SNORT.

You did not either. You put it on your blog in the first place for that word of mouth thing you hope will happen at the Hairdressers Convention when they pass around your book.

Why would your readers want to know that you couldn't be bothered to include readers overseas?

Seems rather abrasive to me.

She didn't do it for the interest of her readers--she did it for justification--validation. Period.

There wasn't an earthly reader who needed to know they were too much work if they lived outside of your small corner of the world.

Not one.

I was okay with her choice, even though I felt certain alienation was imminent. I was okay with it until she wouldn't let anyone have another opinion, even if it was a strong one and posted it under the guise of blogging for the INTEREST TO HER READERS.

Baloney.

Dakota :)

And as a P/S--I read her blog a bit more and as I dug deeper, she kinda digs being linked to when you use one of her quotes--be it good or bad. She's also very blatant about how immodest she is and she has no qualms about her irritation with people who say, "I don't want to shamelessly promote..." She DOES want to shamelessly promote. Just not in the European market. So my disclaimer to giving her blog traffic, is this--I suck technically. I wouldn't know how to link to her if you paid me. So I didn't :)

Goin to the Chapel...

HAHAHAHAHAHAHA. I bet you DC blog readers thought--HOLY SHIT.

I'm just messin' with yer heads. However, this brought up an interesting R and DC conversation. One we have at least once a week :)

Okay, so R and I are talking the other night about this thang we got goin' on. Now, whenever we talk all serious like, I can give him a gozillion different bad scenarios for every single good one he finds. I worry, I hem, I haw. Do remember, I've not had the best of experiences in terms of relationships. Nor, the best example of someone who wants nothing else from you but what you're willing to give. Oh, and then, there's the fidelity thing. LOLLOL

So, when we talk about the (whispers) future, Dakota gets nervous. Cuz LOTS of bad stuff has happened to her and she doesn't want it to happen again. So, OCD whack that she is, she poses every possible roadblock she can find to see if R will jump, trip, then, fall flat on his tookus. Thus, I can protect myself from a 15,000 dollar divorce. Ya know?

So, usually our conversations go like this, with any variation on a theme I can dream up.

Like Q--how can we possibly live in the same household? I smoke like a chimney when I'm writing. I'd give you lung cancer.

A--I'll get you a room where you can go do your thang, Bunny. Write and smoke to your hearts content.

Oh--yeah.

Q --How can we possibly sleep together every night? I snore.

A--After two weeks, I won't even hear it, Bunny. It'll be music to my ears.

Q--You've been a bachelor for YEARS. How can you share space with someone else? I have practice. I was married. I shared a whole lot more than space for many moons. sometimes, without my permission even.

A--I'll just go riding once a week, Bunny. It relaxes me and then, I'm all good.

Um, Q--I'll make you crazy with my OCD cleaning binges. How can we live together when you only do your laundry like once a year? LOLLOL

A--.....

POINT!

Q--I am more mental work that five women put together. How can you possibly hope to keep up? I'll exhaust you.

A--I'll take a nap.

Q--You finish my thoughts, sometimes even my intake of breath (it's true, LOL). How can we possibly spend all of our time together? We'll never have any surprises.

A--I don't need surprises. I just need you, Bunny.

Warm fuzzies abound. Heart clenches aplenty.

Q--My family is NUTS (see Uncle Harry). How can you possibly deal with them for like EVER. Or until they move on to the afterlife?

A--my family has crazies too, Bunny.

Oh, Yeah? Wanna shake my family tree and see all the nuts fall to the ground? LOL

Q--what if we take a vacay to Utah and we visit a guy who has like three wives and you decide that being a polygamist is your kind of thing?

A--one of you is plenty, Bunny.

Refer to me being like five women at once :)

Q--What IF we make the leap and then, you find the REAL girl of your dreams? I mean, then, I'd be divorced again and I'm NEVER doing that again and then, in order to get the girl of your dreams, you'd have to KILL me. Thus, you could go to jail for murder. It could be sooo bad.

A--Bunny?

Whaaaat?

We're about as good as it gets. it just doesn't get any better. You ARE the girl of my dreams. Yes, all that stuff could happen, but if I can't make the leap of faith with you, then everyone and everything else seems impossible.

R wins.

LOLLOL

Dakota :)

Wanna rumble, er, please?

Maybe just a little?

Here's the scoop. I was saying to R just the other day, "You know, honey, we've been dating six months (far longer than ANY man has been able to keep me--except when it involves a ball and chain and committment and vows in front of God and all), and we haven't had a fight. This worries me." Yes, we had our sxth month anniversary with little or no fanfare. Actually, R slept through most of it. LOLLOL

However, we've not had a single fight in all this time. Not one thing, even his penchant for sleeping round the clock never bothers me. Not his love of motocross, not his obsession with junk food, not his anything.

What the hell?

Surely we're due for a knock down, drag out, tarred and feathered, name calling, brawl, no? How can it be that we haven't fought about a single thing? I know the ex and I went 'round long before six months. I know R and his ex did too.

So I'm laying in wait. or is it lying? I can never remember. Anyway, I'm worried that when we do have a fight, if we do, it'll be the mother of all fights. They'll have to call in CSI when it's over.

I mean, I haven't even sqeulched a fight. I haven't even had to resist one. Not one. I can't imagine what I'd do if we didn't watch TV together every night on the phone when we aren't together. We have a routine. Certain shows on certain days, ya know? if we had a fight and I had to watch Skating with Celebrities without him, I'd be very sad. He even watches dancing with the stars with me. He gives good commentary...

Shoot, I hope if we do have a fight, we have one like on a Friday when hardly anything good is on. LOLLOL

What does this mean? Why aren't I irritated with him? Is it because we don't live together? The ex and I didn't live together before we were married and we fought. For all the time we don't spend in each other's physical presence, forgetting to put the cap on the toothpaste, we spend on the phone, or IM. Surely, by now, we'd have had a fight?

I'm worried. I'm very, very worried. I just know I'll cry a river if we have a fight, but if we don't have a fight won't we explode? I mean, anger overload-us and all?

How can this be healthy? I know Dr. Phil would have something to say about this.

I just want to get it over with. Soon, so we can put it on our checklist of things to do and call it a day.

Honey? Wanna rumble? LOLLOL

Dakota :)

Emema, anyone?

The Cleanse.

Heard of it?