Oi, it’s dark in here. But hey at least they have some tunes like Nelly Furtado (my editing music) and some Mariah Carey…. Ooh Doritos! *sigh* Nope, looks like snackage is out for a bit. Instead I’ll just have my coffee.
Now, you might be wondering: “She has doritos in a bat cave? Isn’t that asking to get some guano on her?” Well, no. I’m not in an actual bat cave. It’s a reference to the fact that I’m retreating offline for a bit *scoff* Yeh right! Well I do plan to try, but don’t hate me if I come out for some much needed sunlight 
So, the plan is to do some major editing on Dante’s story, add a couple of scenes and create some sub-plots. From there I’ll be moving to the first book in the series to tighten it even more and again, add some sub-plots. Yey me? :/
Well, not to worry guys who are waiting for the next installment of Bound By Blood - I’ll have that up at the usual time.
Preface: Welcome to my serial. The intention of this is to provide a new scene once a fortnight for free for you to enjoy. Come travel with me to a world where hate, desire, action and betrayal collide. This is a fantasy romance, so enjoy.
Disclaimer: My writing is dark, hot and aimed for those over 18. If you are under 18 please don’t read on.
3. Shakra
Talia rose from oblivion with a sense of foreboding. The sound of birds chirping and the bright sun that slashed over her closed lids didn’t inspire her to open them. Her arms rested above her head and with a subtle shift she noted the tightening of—silk perhaps—around her wrist. Inwardly, she assessed herself. Her muscles ached, but other than that, her body felt healthy. There was no pain in her abdomen, nor was there the tightness of stitches within or without. Silently, she cursed the healer that must’ve seen to her. Held captive and alive. A problematic situation that could easily be resolved. She tongued the back of her mouth to feel for the tablet.
“It’s not there. I removed it.”
The soft timbre of his voice filled her head. Sensing the inevitability of the moment, she opened her eyes to find herself in his room, lying upon his luxurious bed. He sat beside it in a wingback chair, his fingers steepled and eyes cold as death. To think it had once shined with love. Now there was nothing.
The vestiges of yearning clung to her and she shook it off. An assassin couldn’t live their life in regret and futility. To live such a way would have killed her a long time ago. She relaxed her body, forcing the staccato beat of her heart to slow. With practiced ease she slowly shut off all the emotions that racketed inside her. Everything from desperation, anger, longing were blanketed by cool professionalism and the hard edge of control. Keeping her face blank, she shifted her arms to ease the pain that screamed through her joints.
As though waiting for her to realize there was indeed no way out of her current predicament, Miksala spoke. “You surprise me, Talia. I didn’t think you hated me that much to kill me.”
Talia raised a brow in dull amusement. “You think far too highly of yourself, your highness.”
He stiffened, his face falling into a mask of anger. “Don’t call me that.”
“Excuse me, Councilor,” she amended dryly.
Miksala released a disgusted breath and stood. His body was now swathed in a luxurious burgundy robe. The traditional garb for one of the royal court. “What did you hope to achieve? Why this?” He flung her headpiece on the bed.
She tilted her lips in a cold smile that often made men rethink their position. Did he think he was that important to her still? That she herself would seek vengeance. She was past it all.
He stared at her, his brows lowering in annoyance when it became clear she wasn’t going to answer him. “The blade you sought to use against me is a master’s tool, not something easily found in the market.” He paused and eyed her carefully. “Are you an assassin?”
She didn’t answer, but it was clear by the muffled curse that it was all he needed. A shadow assassin was regarded as folklore. No one had ever actually seen nor captured one of her order. She thrived on shadow games and death and was the stuff that made children fear the night. How could he know of the blade? It was one of the primary weapons in an assassin’s arsenal and was never left behind. But then, Miksala had always been inquisitive. It’s what made him the powerful man he was today and what cost her her freedom.
Once, she was perceived as an orphan living at the Temple of Shez with other misfortunate children. It was the cover they lived by. In the village they were in plain sight, yet hidden in darkness. What truly went on beyond the massive doors of the church would shock even the hardest of men. Yes, she was an assassin, but one born into it.
Now her secret lay bare before him and she was shamed by her lapse in concentration. She’d let her heart rule her head and now she was captured.
“You won’t get any information from me, if that’s what you think.”
A cold smile tilted his lips and he stepped forward. “Is that what you think I want?”
Talia kept her face devoid of emotion even though confusion, and yes, a little bit of fear trickled through her. What else did he want from her? He had within his grasp a fabled assassin. One would want to know who had sent them after him. But no, not Miksala. Truly, she’d underestimated her position. She angled her chin and stared at him with frigid disdain. “I can’t see how I would be of any value to you, why not kill me now and be done with it.”
He chuckled, a sound bereft of any humor and he shook his head. “Oh, you are valuable to me.”
Her traitorous heart took flight and she swallowed hard against the burst of joy that flowed through her and demanded a voice.
“Oh no, to have an assassin under my command is far too delectable to pass up.”
Talia sneered at him, even as apprehension sluiced along her skin. “I would never be in your command.”
He arched one smug brow. “You forget with whom you decided to play with.”
That was just it. She didn’t know whom she was assigned to kill. It wasn’t part of her training to ask questions. But if she had, would she have ended his life or face the blade herself? The price of failure was death. Even now, he tested her will and her heart. His presence washed over her like the sun, touching her in places that’d long since grown cold without him.
He stepped even closer, his scent of sandalwood and berry washed over her and tickled a memory locked away in the depths of her soul. Damn him. His gaze ran over her body and Talia could feel every brush as though he’d touched her. Mastering her emotions was a task she’d long been familiar with, and now he tested it with his brash observance of her person. The lust in his eyes blazed and her body answered in kind. Desperate to maintain control, she stared at the ceiling and calmed her breathing as she recalled the creed in which she lived by.
Death is cold and so must I be cold.
Vengeance is hot and so I must strike when the opportunity is hot.
Life is always a calculated move, and so I must calculate every move I make.
Survival and death is my creed and I shall live by it.
With command over her body, she effectively shut down every emotion until nothing was left but cold determination.
He brushed the back of her hand along her cheek and jawline. Talia swallowed hard and resisted the urge to either jerk from his touch or press into it. He was making a mockery of her training. Effortlessly he tore away her control and turned her into that love sick woman she was once.
“Such lovely skin,” he murmured. “I always thought you had a beautiful neck. Pity now, all I want to do is strangle it.”
Talia heard the frustration beneath the casual air he tried to display. She chanced a glance at him to find his gaze on her neck, his gaze pensive, as though he were recalling a time long ago when dreams seemed within reach.
“Do it,” she whispered. She was dead anyway.
His hand jerked back and clenched as though to eradicate the feel of her. He looked at her then, his green eyes determined and hot with anger. “You would prefer that. But no, I have a better solution for us both.”
He clapped his hands and the door opened. Three men entered and a young woman. In the woman’s hands was a shackle made of shakra. The ebony stone glimmered ominously and Talia’s heart dropped. He wouldn’t dare!
The shackles were bespelled with the name of the wielder; the person who would have control over her body and punish her accordingly should she disobey. Her training had once subjected her to shakra. It was a punishment for a rebellious student. Memory of a time where misery and pain reigned came to the forefront and she whimpered.
“Ah, so you do show emotion,” Miksala commented dispassionately.
Talia snapped her head toward him. “I will not bow to you.”
He laughed again. “Oh, but you will my dear.”
Talia glanced up at the headboard and pulled against the restraints. The fabric tightened over her wrist, but she didn’t care. Like a snake, she writhed on the bed in a desperate attempt to release herself. But it was too late.
Thick hands dropped over her limbs and subdued her. She screamed out in fury, her muscles straining against the weight that pressed upon her. The cold stone settled over her neck and clicked shut with a snap.
Talia gasped. It was over. Rather than crumble under the weakness she’d long thought she’d conquered, she turned her head away from his deadly deceitful eyes. She was a fool. He wanted to play games with her.
To be continued…
I love my feet I’ve discovered. But recently, I’ve found the soles are getting hard. Eck. I used to get a pedicure every once in a while, but I just don’t have the time or the money for it. So, I have now got a DIY method.
Make your own Foot scrub: Raw sugar/Sea salt or bath salt mixed with olive oil and some peppermint essential oil. — I use vanilla or strawberry, just for the smell, but I believe peppermint has some important properties for the pedicure. 
Start by cutting your nails in a straight line.
Fill a large bowl or foot spa (if you have one) with warm water, the warmer the better. Drop some essentail oil in: Peppermint. Soak your feet for 10 minutes.
Dry your feet and rub your home-made foot scrub into your feet and if you want, along your calf.
Dip your feet in your foot spa again. Leave if for 5-10 minutes, then use either a pumice stone or pedicure file. Get rid off hard skin. Repeat this process a few times until your feet feel smoother.
Moisturise your feet and toenails — yes I did say toenails.
with a file wrapped in cotton gently push back your cuticles.
Now you can paint your nails or leave it.
Once a week - if you can manage it do the following: Heat up a hot pack and place it on a towel. Lather your feet in Vaseline and use cling wrap/cellophane wrap to cover your feet and put some old socks over your covered feet. Place your feet on the heat pack and wrap the towel around you feet to keep the heat in. Keep it there until it cools, then remove the packing and wipe away the Vaseline. Alternatively, you can do this as an overnighter.
There, that is my tip for DIY Pedicures. 
Charlton Heston: October 4, 1924 - April 5, 2008
The great actor to the silver screen has recently died. Originally named John Charlton Carter, Charlton Heston he was known for his chiseled features and compelling speaking voice and for his numerous roles as historical figures and famous literary characters. It was once heard he said that he didn’t have a face for the time he lived in. It was perhaps why he commanded his historical roles so well.
This award winning actor played such phenomenal roles such as Moses in Ten Commandments, Judah in Ben-Hur and George Taylor in Planet of the Apes. These movies I grew up on. I particularly remember him as Moses and Judah. I LOVED those biblical films that were made with such grandeur. I remember the music and the costumes and the spectacular sets made by hand. Actors from this era are a world apart from the actors today.
Charlton was one of the few actors to speak openly about racism and served his time in the army during world war II.
He left behind a legacy of his films that people will remember for time to come.
Preface: Welcome to my serial. The intention of this is to provide a new scene once a fortnight for free for you to enjoy. Come travel with me to a world where hate, desire, action and betrayal collide. This is a fantasy romance, so enjoy.
Disclaimer: My writing is dark, hot and aimed for those over 18. If you are under 18 please don’t read on.
2. Revelation
Miksala gasped, the blade fell from his hand and clattered against the floor. This couldn’t be her. His frantic gaze ran over her body, a dark pool of blood spreading out from beneath her prone form. Heart thundering in his ears, he pressed a hand over the wound, the warmth soaking through his fingers. Everything within him darkened and hollowed out as a sense of impending doom gripped his soul. Desperation licked at the back of his mind and burned through his body as he adjusted her, bringing her into his body. Her head lolled against his forearm and he bit back the roar of misery that threatened to break free.
Behind him, the woman he’d entertained gasped. “By the gods, she tried to kill you!”
Miksala threw a furious stare over his shoulder at the woman who stood several feet away, the sheet her only claim to decency. “Get the healer.”
She blinked at him, uncomprehending. “But she is dead.”
“Not yet.”
“But why would you—“
“Do not question my will. By all that is holy, if you do not get the healer post-haste I shall not be held accountable for my actions.”
The woman hurried to the bed and quickly dressed, her uncertain gaze flicked to him and the door. She then skirted around the bed and hurried from the chamber, the door slamming with a resounding boom.
Miksala released a slow, ragged breath, his gaze falling on the woman’s face. Delicate and pale, he was certain she was the lady he once knew. No longer girl with a vivaciousness for life and laughter, she was a woman full grown. Her hair, he remembered was the color of deep red wine, was now held back in a bun.
With each passing second, Miksala struggled to keep the panic at bay. Where was the healer? Now that he had her in his arms, he wasn’t about to let her go. He wanted answers, by the gods, and she wasn’t going to pass into the otherworld without giving them to him.
The door creaked open, and he glanced up to see an elderly man glide in. Wearing a black robe embroidered with gold thread, it proclaimed the man as an experienced healer. His ageless eyes fell on the woman in Miksala’s arms.
“What have we here?”
“You must save her,” Miksala demanded
He inclined his head. “I will do what I can, my lord.”
The healer approached and knelt beside them, his dark eyes following the lines of her body. He then raised thin fingers and pressed his palm to Talia’s head, his other hand hovered over the wound. Miksala’s arms tightened around her, watching the healer do his work. Several minutes passed, his body taut with emotions. Still, Talia remained motionless in his embrace. Anger burned through his veins, his heart thumping against his ribcage.
Finally, the healer drew back and sighed.
“What is it, healer?”
“Her soul has accepted the inevitable and is ready to pass.”
Darkness soared through him and roared in his ears. With a growl, he grabbed onto the healer’s robe, the velvet fabric wrapped around his fist as he jerked him forward. “You are a healer,” he grit out. “Do your job or by the gods I shall find a way to make you pay.”
The healer’s dark eyes widened. “But—but I heard she tried to kill you, my lord. Why would you want to see her survive?”
“My reasons are my own. I shall see she is given what she deserves, but on my terms.”
The Adam’s apple bobbed as the healer nodded. “Yes, my lord. But perhaps I could do my job better, by the fire?”
Miksala released the older man, and stood with Talia in his arms. She weighed barely anything, her lithe frame soft and unresponsive. Carefully, Miksala laid her upon his bed, the silk whispering as she settled over it. The healer inserted his body before her, and Miksala stepped back to watch from a distance.
Embers cracked in the silence, and he struggled to stay the old emotions that washed over him. Last he saw her, she had turned away from him, despite their proclamations of love for each other. She had left him adrift in confusion and misery. He was expelled from the village as a disgrace. Anger tightened his chest and thinned his lips. He’d promised himself many years ago that he would find a way to make her pay, even though he still harbored love for her. She couldn’t see it in herself to love him enough to leave the temple of Sheza. As the Goddess of Power, many worshipped her and paid many a nun for fortune. Talia was one such nun.
But now, here she was, ready to end his life. Fury soared through him, the misery that held him in sway burned out under the power of the hot emotion. Why now? After nigh ten years would she seek to make him pay? And to pay for what? As far as he was concerned, he’d paid enough. She was the reason he’d risen to such heights. To get enough power to destroy her. And now, here she was, within his grasp.
The air brushed against his body, and for the first time he noticed he was naked. He glanced down at his body and the blood that coated his arms and torso. Talia’s blood. A shiver rocked his body. Swallowing hard, he approached the bed, noting that the healer had removed her tunic. Immediately, he cut his gaze from her, the wound burning its image in his mind. Guilt mixed with anger whirled in his stomach as he snatched up his robe at the edge of the bed.
Silently, he strode across the room and descended the steps into the bath. The water, heated by pipes hidden behind the tiles, lapped against his body. The blood’s metallic aroma dissipated, swallowed by the cleansing scent of water. He moved to grab the soap and noticed his fingers trembled. He clenched his hand into a fist and dropped it into the water.
Fury and desire for Talia burned through Miksala. Ten years ago he had loved this woman. Loved her fiercely. But she had betrayed him, no, betrayed them and the love they shared. For years after, he was plagued by her image and was filled with a longing that was forbidden for a youngling priest to feel. She had permeated every part of his being and he was ready to turn his back on the Order. All for her. But instead, she left him and took with her, his soul. He had hated her for the life and dreams she stole from him. And now, here she was, trying to steal his life from him for the second time and in a more terminal way.
Finishing his bath, he dried off and pulled on his robe. At the other end of the room, the healer was still bent over Talia, working to save her life. A glint of something metallic caught his eye and he frowned. He’d recalled she carried a blade, but he’d forgotten about it until now. Retrieving it, he held it up to the firelight. The weapon was perfectly weighted and an excellent tool of death. Its flawless silver blade was engraved with delicate scrolls and wording. Icy trepidation marched along his spine. It was not there for decorative means, but a curse. A curse to make any wound sustained to fester, unable to close. Unable to heal unless the word that only the bearer knew was uttered. He shuddered to think of the fact that he was at the tip of this blade at one time.
“It is done.”
Miksala glanced up at the healer, his frame hunched in exhaustion. “Very well. Send for someone to clean this mess and you may take your leave.”
With a nod, the old man shuffled out of the room.
Left alone with Talia and his thoughts, Miksala eased himself into a chair by the bed and stared contemplatively at the blade. This was one weapon no person could obtain. Even the black market couldn’t easily produce such a blade. He’d only seen such a thing in his readings.
It was an Assassin’s tool.
A sigh of disbelief left him as he cut his regard to Talia. She lay in his bed looking innocent in the face of such clarity. It couldn’t be. And yet, in his hand, the evidence lay bare the darkness in her soul.
Hurt pulsed in his chest and he rubbed an absent hand over it. He should have let her die, should have let her life bleed from her as he bled for her. But he didn’t. Now, in the face of leveled thinking, he couldn’t undo it. It was too late. For both of them.
To be continued…
Preface: Welcome to my serial. The intention of this is to provide a new scene once a fortnight for free for you to enjoy. Come travel with me to a world where hate, desire, action and betrayal collide. This is a fantasy romance, so enjoy.
Disclaimer: My writing is dark, hot and aimed for those over 18. If you are under 18 please don’t read on.
1. Assassin
Crouched upon the outstretched hand of a flying buttress, Talia remained silent as the wind as she awaited her target. Although concealed by the shadows cast by the moon and the mammoth stone edifice, she steadfastly kept herself tense and alert for any movement below. Guards stood sentry on the ground four stories down, unaware that their Chief Advisor and future King would breath his last breath this night.
Canting her head, her finger skimmed her black clad leg to finger the dagger that rested snugly against her thigh. A cold smile tilted her lips as she imagined the outcome of this adventure. It was always the same, but different. Her job often required finesse, but not tonight. Tonight she was to send out a message. What message, she didn’t know or care. Her job didn’t require to ask questions. All that was important was that she got the job done.
Pushing to her feet, she stepped across the narrow ledge and eased the window open with disgusting ease. Ah, the gods shined down on her this night. With an inwardly gleeful chuckle, she placed one foot on the floor, her doeskin covered foot sliding silently against the smooth stone surface. As she slid over the windowsill, she assimilated herself to the room. On the left an inground spa spread out, graced with statues portraying two of the female divinities. Carah the Goddess of Fertility and Ferah the Goddess of Fire. The scent of freshly warmed water and sex hung thick on the air and a ball of disgust curdled in her stomach.
Her task would’ve been completed already had it not been for the lusty woman her target entertained this night. It came as no surprise to her that he would have divinities within his room. Although believed to be a former Priest of the Order, he showed no remorse for using women to satisfy his baser needs. Hypocrisy and treachery seemed to extend its fingers everywhere these days.
The soft slide of sheet against skin prickled her senses and Talia stilled, her heart keeping a steady pace as she stared across the chamber as the man rolled onto his back. Save for the flickering firelight directly opposite the large bed on where her target lay in restful slumber, the vast room remained cloaked in darkness.
On silent feet, she glided across the floor to the bed, and eased the dagger from its sheath with an almost undetectable sound of metal against metal. With delicate fingers, she pulled the gauze aside and stared at the two figures lying naked upon the green silk sheets.
Her lips curled back in distaste. Who would dare use the color of royalty on their bed? It was a slap in the face of the missing Royal Family. Squelching her flare of unusual anger, she assessed the two oblivious bodies on the bed. Her job was to dispose of the man, but the blonde woman would be a bonus. She would be doing the world a favor ridding it of this particular screamer. Talia shook her head. No, she had to stick to the plan. Should the woman create a scene, then she would finish her off. Resting on her side and facing the wall, the screamer would pose no problem at all. She could kill the man with one strike and the screamer would be none the wiser.
Her attention shifted from the curvaceous woman to the man and she drew in an appreciative gasp. A sheet lay carelessly across his lap, barely concealing his manhood from her. Strong smooth legs and tapered waist gave way to a well-defined torso that barely glimmered with gold under the ambient rays of the fireplace. One arm lay under his pillow and the other rested over his eyes.
It was such a shame to end the life of such an attractive man. But she wasn’t meant to question the will of the Elders. Her gaze ran over his jaw line, lips and aquiline nose. She always had a thing for lips, the way the bottom filled out just nicely sent a shiver of desire through her. Frowning, she cut off all her emotions. She shouldn’t be ogling her target. Still, there was something about him that called to her.
Her eyes narrowed on the man’s lips once more, a memory long ago tickling the back of her mind. Soft masculine laughter echoed in her head and she knew with all certainty that she knew this man.
No, it couldn’t be…
She stepped closer, desperate to see the rest of his face. She reached out with trembling fingers wanting to ease his arm up and away. If she could just…
Fiery pain slammed into her stomach and stole her breath. Dazedly, Talia stared down at the dagger imbedded there, her fingers clasped at the thick wrist that held it in place. The iron flavor of blood filled her mouth. She looked up into the green eyes, a hank of hair shadowing the fury that lay in their depths.
Talia trailed her bloodied fingers along his jaw line, desperate to feel him this one last time. “Miksala,” she whispered.
Surprise flickered in his eyes as she stumbled back, the slide of the blade leaving her making her gag. Her knees buckled and she fell back against the floor, her vision wavering as the agony spread across her torso.
Miksala appeared and his hand clasped the back of her neck to lift her head. With desperation in his gaze he slid the facial hood from her face.
“No,” the anguish filled voice drifted from her.
This was a good way to die. In the arms of her love. Even if he didn’t love her anymore.
to be continued…
Last night, wanting somethign nice and romantic to read I jumped on fictionwise and forked out $9 for an Ebook written by an author that recently had one of her books made into a movie. I thought, hmm, it’s regarded as a romance, and sounds pretty cool. I’ll get it.
Here is the basic run down of the blurb: Rosie and Alex have been friends since childhood. Then comes the tragic news that Alex is relocating to Boston USA. They keep in contact via email, chat and letters. Everyone sees they are destined for each other, but Alex & Rosie. She makes plans to go to a US college, when she accidently falls pregnant and has to make a decision that will change their lives forever.
Sounds all right yes? Well it wasn’t. I didn’t care that she fell pregnant by a man that wasn’t Alex, but by the time they are both 25 she had a chance to confess her feelings and she didn’t. She took off rather than fight for what she wanted. (Ok, so Alex was on the verge of being engaged, but if Rosie wants to talk all territorial with her friends, she should act like it too). So, He marries someone else, then when Rosie moves on and marries another man, Alex’s gets a divorce. He writes her a letter that he confesses his love when he finds out her husband is a cheater. But the letter goes missing and he refuses to tell her what it said. Then, the man Rosie is with cheats on her - AGAIN. Then she decides to run to Boston - Alex is thrilled, but then all of a sudden the father of Rosies daughter (the one that got her pregnant and didn’t take any responisiblity for over 13years) wants to know Kate (the daughter) And Rosie STAYS!!! But then Rosie finds the letter and wants to confess her feelings but doesnt, so Alex gets another woman pregnant and marries for career advancement. Then, 10years later (when they are 50years old) they finally get it together and I ASSUME has a HEA.
This book was the worst romance I’ve read. Why was it being classed as one. I think it was a womens fic? Not that I’ve read that but this is what a qoute said: “A simultaneously funny and tender novel about what happens when 2 people who are destined together can never seem to get it right” Ok, I wasn’t funny and niether was it pulling any of my ‘tender’ cords. I thought the ‘never seem to get it right’ was going to last a few year - 15years max from their 16th bday - but no, i was ALOT longer. They missed all the milestones that come with being a couple. Kids together, celebrating personal achievments as a couple and all that. I want my hours back from reading it. but alas not so. Damn it. And the think that frustrates the hell out of me - is that is ALL COULD’VE BEEN SORTED IF THEY TALKED ABOUT THEIR FEELINGS!!! For all this chatter over email, IM and letters, they couldn’t broach the subject. Oh, and yes, the WHOLE story is told as IMs, email and letters - I felt like I was reading a screenplay without the actions. I got no emotions about how she was acting while type - just got the screen like I was just CC’d in on all the chats.
Crap Crap Crap.
That is my whine for Wednesday.
2. The pain in my tooth wasn’t from grinding it, but from an infection in the root.
3. After $70 I am told I have to see a Specialist and that my front tooth is dead. 
4. Pain meds don’t just cut it when your mouth throbs all day
5. Going to the Dentist for a Root Canal is scary
6. My Dentist was really nice.
7. Getting the needle in your Gum isn’t as bad as you might think
8. The drill doesn’t hurt when numbed up — sounds like music if you let it. LOL
9. My tooth is just fine and filled up. Although I could do without the anesthetic wearing off!! OUCH!
10. I’m expecting 5 days of throbbing pain
11. I’m packing it in Ibprofen and panadol
12. When numb, I can’t drink from a cup properly
13. Although my lips feel like trout lips, I doesn’t look any closer to being Angelina Jolie lips all for $900
Links to other Thursday Thirteens!
1. (leave your link in comments, I’ll add you here!)
Yes, I am shamed to say it - the last 3 days have been my own personal hell and Sven is kicking my ass big time. The weekend - I didn’t get any time before the computer, the little ones are sick and on sunday we had guests over. Then today - i was hoping for some time before the computer and I come down with a major bug that I’ve been battling for heaven knows how long — and to make it worse - hubby is going to be gone for a week - it’ll just be me, the kids and the bug from hell!
I am not a shamed to admit that I am the biggest sulk when it comes to being sick. I can’t handle it very well, and I would rather curl up in bed and die in peace, but it’s kinda hard when you have a toddler going ‘mum, mum, mum’ and a crying infant. *sigh* But those are the breaks when you have children.
So to make up for all this lapse I might have to up my wordcount or take these 3 days out of my 23days of rest…. I will beat you Sven I will *waving fist in air* I am up to the challenge *dancing to Eye of the Tiger*
- Jeff Foxworthy
- Ron White
- Bill Engvall
- Larry the Cable Guy
- Arj Barker
- Jon Reep
- Eddie Murphey
- Scared Wierd Little Guys
- Lano and Woodley
- Carl Barron
- Gerry O
- Ahn Do
- Debra DiGiovani
- Last one - can’t resist: Davell Crawford
Links to other Thursday Thirteens!
1. (leave your link in comments, I’ll add you here!)