I Am Got

Just realised- that title looks a bit like "I Am God". Let's see how many people come here prepared to call me an arrogant douche. Either that, or how many people come here prepared to ask what's the meaning of nipples on a dude.

But I digress.

The real reason for this post is twofold:

One is that I officially got the contract through for Past Pleasures, so can properly announce that it's been accepted by Total-E-Bound for publication. That's right- the mad thing I described in an earlier blog, the thing with Zachary Quinto and Alexander Skarsgard look-a-likes frolicing around in (not really) lycra bodysuits in a future where there's no women...it's going to be published!!!

Not only that, but it might possibly eventually be a series. I have sequels planned, and there's a series title for it (Desire Through Time) and oh God, I'm so lucky. I'm so very lucky. Thank you so much, The Real God, for giving me all of this. I don't even know if you exist, but I think there is some sort of creative power out there, and I believe in it, and am thankful for everything it's brought my way.

And if that wasn't enough, I handed in something else to my editor and...the things she had to say about it. I'm sure I'm not supposed to say anything about this, yet, which is why I'm keeping it vague, but I just wanted to say how amazing it feels, to have someone really get your work. To feel what you intended a reader to feel and love it almost as much as you love it and catch the quote you put in it, from your favourite movie.

There is nothing on earth like that feeling. And I hate to gush on about God or Buddha or Sati from one of Chris Pike's books, but I want to be grateful to something outside myself. Some sort of guiding what have you. And to my editor, who is orsum.

P.S. Just realised this totally sounds like some sort of lameass Oscar speech. Sorry, God, that your thank yous are so lame and probably self-aggrandising. I will forewith keep my thank yous in a tiny box, under the stairs.

Fings What I Like

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Some Stuff I Have Watched And Read This Month

Okay, so:

The Invention Of Lying: Fook me do I ever hate Ricky Gervais. He has all the range of a bollard. A bollard that makes you want to slap it. But the film wasn't so bad- great concept, middling execution. Somewhat spoilt by hi-larious 1950s housewife joke at the end. HUR HUR WOMEN ARE BAD AT COOKING SO GET UP AND COOK IT YOURSELF YOU TWAT.

The Wolfman: Can you imagine a film with a romantic female lead as unattractive, drugged looking and fat as Benicio Del Toro now is? I didn't think so. Also, he was woefully miscast. The intensity Ed Norton would have brought to the same role! How sad. Also, when we came out of the cinema, hubby said: when he was laid on top of her, struggling not to gore her, I thought: he just wants to whip out his giant wolf cock and do her.

Yes. My hubby said "giant wolf cock". He is orsum.

Away We Go: Great film. Moving. Loved it. Maya Ruydolph is a Goddess.

Tha Call Boys: Brace, by Madison Hayes: Hayes could write a sex scene that would make Ricky Gervais and Benicio De Toro sexy. Seriously. The book would be called "Bollard Sexes Up Fat Druggy" and I would buy it and download it and read it and afterwards smoke a ciggarette, even though I don't smoke. That's how good Madison Hayes is.

The Vampire Diaries: The TV show, I'm talking about. Which somehow seems to be a load of 90210 antics and precious little vampire stuff. Listen, right. I don't care about the brother's drug problem. If he turns into Benicio Del Toro in ten years time, so be it. What I do care about are those things, what are they called again oh yeah VAMPIRES. In a show called The VAMPIRE Diaries.

Look, just show Damon without his shirt on biting people for forty minutes, okay?

And here endeth this week's edition of some stuff I have watched and read. You were gripped, weren't you Bertha. I know. Next week: something what I ate on Tuesday.

Mancandy Monday: Damon, from The Vampire Diaries

Because he was one of my first and only book crushes. I crushed on him so hard, I rewrote LJ Smith's books with me as the star.


Which I appreciate would have been weird, seeing as how he's hundreds of years old and I was thirteen. And also it was kind of odd how, in the story, I kept him in locked in my basement. I didn't have a basement at the time, but American stories (Chris Pike, Point Horror, Babysitter's Club) influenced me a lot, and they seemed to have a lot of basements in them.


Though the basement isn't really the odd part, is it. It's the keeping him down there bit, I know. I guess my thirteen year old self knew that I'd grow up wanting to poke men with sticks until they cried.


And although Ian Somerhalder isn't exactly as I pictured Damon, his rosy cheeks and girlish yet masculine good looks do bring out the stick-poker in me. Bad Damon, BAD! Get in your corner! Take off all your clothes! What's that you say? You like it when I tell you what to do?


Oh, Damon. I always knew you'd be this way.


P.S. I chose the picture not because I'm in the pocket of the CW and desperately want to plug their almost-good show, but because that picture Jesus fookin' H Christ on a bike make of sex. My thirteen year old self would have definitely stuck it on her pencil case.

Pleasant Happenings

I got an absolutely stonking review on Amazon.com. It somehow managed to alleviate all my fears about The Things That Make Me Give In- even the fears that contradict the other fears, like: it's way too porny, and way too foo-foo.

So a big thank you to the wonderful reviewer, whoever you are!

I'm also featured in Scarlet magazine's March edition- there's an excerpt from The Things That Make Me Give In in their Juicy Bit section. You can buy the digital edition here, now:

http://www.scarletmagazine.co.uk/digitalissue/digitalissue.aspx

But I'm not sure when the hard copy version will be out.

And then the lovely and talented Lisabet Sarai went and recommended this blog in her newsletter!

http://www.lisabetsarai.com/news.html

She said my blog is funny! I have no idea where she's gotten that idea from. This is a purely straight, factual, indepth look at the highly important issues of modern society. Like: do you think Ed Helms had a towel stuffed into his underwear, in The Hangover? How come Benicio Del Toro has become so ugly? I like all kinds of weird men- and yet his new ugliness overpowers me! I wish it was some other actor in The Wolfman. Like Matthew Macfadyen! HOMG that would be insane.

I would die of sex.

See? Serious. I'm talking about dying of sex, here. Dying.

Mancandy Monday: Andy, From The Office

Okay, so he's clearly a maniac. I know that. But (if you know who I'm talking about) bear with me, all right? Because here is Charlotte Stein's all amazing totally brilliant earth-shaking list of reasons why Andy Bernard from The Office (American version) would be totally knee-trembling in the sack:

1. I swear to God, I have never seen a bulge the likes of which my eyes didst layeth upon when watching Andy in his underwear in The Hangover. Angels wept, I promise. And they mostly wept because they knew that no matter how much soul saving they did, their cocks would never be as huge as what Andy is shockingly hiding in his underpants.

2. Not that a huge cock always matters, in the awesome-in-the sack department. But seriously. He could impregnate Godzilla with that thing.

3. He goes way way out of his way to do stuff, just to make a girl happy. Like presenting her with the twelve days of Christmas, only real. The amount of birds he had to buy alone! If he doesn't apply that effort to the bedroom, I'll beat him up until he does.

4. And no, I don't mean I want him to buy a bunch of doves and have them suddenly flapping around my light fixtures.

5. You know what I mean.

6. And then there's his complete obedience to his direct superior.

7. Yeah. I'm not going to explain that one.

And if none of those things were enough to convince you to fantasise about Andy Bernard on a regular basis, here is a picture of him, to seal the deal:




I know. I don't know what's wrong with me, either.

Things I Plan To Do This Month

• Write 15k of Control. Have managed 9k so far. I may have a cookie, as a reward.
• Eat lots of cookies, when the headmaster of me isn't looking.
• Write a whole bunch of other stuff, that together amounts to an amount I can't even think about without gasping.
• Gasp more, especially when Sylar suddenly has sex with Peter Petrelli. Because you know that was where things were going, last episode. I'm not even sure if it would have required a gasp.
• Not worry so much.
• Laugh at myself, for imagining that I can fight worrying.
• Use my mind powerz to force people into writing more Heroes pr0n.
• If I have mind powerz, why aren't I using them to force people to give me money, or worship me on Sundays, or summat?
• Stupid list.

I'm Blogging Over At...

Total-E-Bound today, about shoe dropping. Drop by. You know. If you feel like it. You don't have to, or anything. I'll still love you, if you don't. Because you're orsum, okay?

http://totalebound.blogspot.com/2010/02/shoe-dropping.html

Mancandy Monday: Bradley Cooper

If you see this total slut, please do not approach. He is armed and dangerous, mainly with immense suspicious packages in his underpants. I repeat: his underwear is armed and dangerous.

He is wanted for crimes against my sense and good reason, which usually tell me that I don't like blonde, smug looking men who are probably real assholes. So you can see why we here at the Bureau For Stopping Inexplicable Arousal are extremely concerned.

Signs that you have been tricked into man-fancying mode by this horrid, evol romcom starring creature:

You find yourself staring into his dreamy electric blue eyes, instead of wondering why he's lasering you with his weird alien eyeballs.

You experience weakening in the groinal area, whenever he titty-grabs some woman in some film. I swear to God, it's his customary move. He does exactly the same thing in every sex scene he's in. Though to his credit, it's more like he just loves feeling boobies than oh for fuck's sake, honey, do you have to do the same thing every time?

And when he groans really really loudly in said same sex scenes, you whimper.

Yeah, I whimpered. All right? Happy now? You can see why this dangerous criminal must be apprehended, now, can't you.

Call 1-800-tittygrab if you have any information as to Bradley Cooper's whereabouts, in anybody's imagination.