Dita Parker

Saturday, January 19, 2013

That was the week that was

Sweetie daaarlings, what have you been up to these past two weeks? I've been trying to manage four week's worth of work in fourteen days. And in the middle of all that, I've managed to write, creatively, fiction, can you believe it? I guess when you start running on a certain gear, anything is possible, but you run out of steam eventually so the trip we're taking comes not a moment too soon. Tomorrow, tomorrow, I love you tomorrow, you're only a day a-waayy...

My shrapnel-shredded feet healed fast, so I've even been able to exercise almost as usual and am contemplating some sort of workstation revolution. All this sitting, it's getting harder and harder to bear. I don't know why. What I do know is I gotta solve it and soon. Winter returned, which is nice after that dreadful weather we had around New Year's. But I'd be lying if I told you I'm not violently happy to be taking off the skis and skates and stepping into some flip-flops. The sun'll come out tomorrow...

What else? Oh... To any extended family members reading: TMI alert. So. Why is it that what you'd rather post on FB/Twitter is the last thing you can? Because people would go, "I knew it! Nymphos. Each and every one of them." No. Hedonists. At least I am. But I got nothing on dearest, hottest Hubby. He's cooked and run errands, more so than usual, and he knows all work and no play makes me berserk. So one day, Inspector Gadget, conspirator and inspirator and provocateur extraordinaire, surprised me with some toys of my trade I don't remember mentioning or eyeing while roaming selected stores with him. Let's just say it was a massage with a happy ending and leave it at that. What?
I'll grant you those toys are not always worth the money spent but some are, and fun too, and fun is good. Besides, you gotta know what you write. Or was it write what you know? I forget.

What else? If you're in NYC and not doing anything on February 28, (no, that doesn't sound right, if you're in NY and not doing anything, check your pulse to see if you still got one) The Swedish House Mafia would like to invite you to their Black Tie Rave. (Band and crew will work for free and all profits raised will go directly to the Mayor’s Fund to Advance New York City & the Hurricane Sandy New Jersey Relief Fund. Black tie/ballgowns, only. Auction 2 coming soon!) Exceeded my rave limit back in the day, but if you could cover for me, I'd be forever in your debt. No, I'm not giving you a massage with a happy ending, but surely we can think of something else you'd enjoy. 

What else? The awesome contest we have going on 69 Shades is still running so run along and take part if you haven't already! And tell a friend! Tell two!! Don't make me look bad now. Spread the word!!!

I will see you in February then, dearest denizens. And if for some reason you never hear from me again (such is life, you never know, you know, it's tsunami coast and all), behave or I will haunt your ass. No massage with a happy ending for you, my friend. A massage with a medieval ending. Think about that while I'm gone, and be good. Willingly good. Except when you're being naughty. But even then you gotta treat 'em right or I'm coming after you and you don't want that. Are we clear on this? I said, are we clear on this? G o o d. As you were. Or as you wish things would be.

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