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Beatrice Goes Hollywood. Copyright 2013 Totsymae

Beatrice Goes Hollywood. Copyright 2013 Totsymae

Do I look stunning or did Totsy do a whack job on me? Today people, you can call me Holly Wood. That’s right, I’m all about the fabulosity and I just had the driver, cab that is, drop me off at the hotel, as I’m going to The Oscars. Have you ever been? I didn’t think so. However, I’m not here to boast…much. You see, I’m trying to talk Totsy into writing me into one of her novels. Well, not write me in so much as make me the star, okay?

I have this idea that it should be a romantic comedy with a twist of mystery, set right here in Hollywood. As you well, know, I’m all about getting the Hollywood scoop to you. And what do I have for you today?

Well, you know Kim Kardashian and Kanye are pregnant. They’re looking at buying a 15,000 square foot home. So they can’t find the baby, I suppose. There’s serious talk about The Bradgelinas getting married. Don’t believe the hype, people. While this event may or may not happen, I find it really interesting that a date was set after Jennifer Aniston became engaged. Angelina is more than a notion, don’t you think? Don’t ask me what Paris Hilton is up to. She’s disappeared into the yonders, as that country Totsy would say.

Anyway. The big scoop today is the scoop Oprah got on Lance Armstrong for enhancement drugs while riding his bicycle. Well, Lance is a proud man and baffled even the queen bee, but no worries there, the IRS wants their five million dollars from Lance and the IRS on your A.S.S. will break anybody down. You see, Lance was dating Sheryl Crow some years ago and when she had that scare with breast cancer, he flew off like a care-free bird, never to come back to be a support to her but well, Lance, I hope you have all the support you weren’t willing to give. Me being a Godly woman, despite my gossiping, I wouldn’t want anything else for you.

You see, once Totsy turns me into a Hollywood star by writing me into her book, I may be tempted to cheat the government too. They want more than their fair share and well, just say I’m looking out for my future deep pockets. You feel me?

I must cut this session short today, people. I’m sitting here dressed to the nines, expecting room service and forgot I was checked into the Motel 6.

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countdown

About the book:

As an avid gamer, sports fanatic and TV and film graphic designer, Geneva Cass is literally “One of the Guys” and has been best friends with Jackson Rhames since junior high. If her geeky-athlete persona wasn’t enough to keep her a dating pariah, her disdain for anything pink, frilly, or remotely connected to weddings, is sure to cement her single status.

The door to her heart revolves until Aaron Michaels, an ambitious, smooth-operating acquisitions manager, sweeps her off her feet and tries to uncover the sexy, vixen burrowing
inside her. But while Aaron is away on a business trip, Geneva pairs up with Jackson to celebrate the new year. A few days of reminiscing about the good ol??days, spark more than a little curiosity about what might have been, and a single kiss between friends, changes everything.

You may purchase Countdown to a Kiss at Barnes & Noble and Amazon for your Nook or Kindle.

About Kandie Delley:

Mystical lands, adventurous kick-butt divas, and super-hot romances are just the tip of the iceberg in author Kandie Delley’s literary gems. Her stories feature strong women, their adventures, and the men who love them.

Kandie lives in North Texas by way of the California coastline and the emerald forests of the Pacific Northwest. In her leisure time she travels, and enjoys graphic design, filmmaking, and spending time with her family!

Her current release, “Countdown to a Kiss” is her first sensual southwest romance!? Check it out and tell a friend!

For more information visit: http://www.kandiedelley.com @kankan929 on twitter

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“You Want This” Watercolor/Ink on paper. Copyright 2012 Totsymae

Remember a few days ago when I told you had I a secret I was embarrassed about? Remember that? Well, here goes…

It was a typical morning in the villa. Me getting my lunch together in the kitchen, after eating a light breakfast and tidying up and whatnot. What wasn’t so typical was the knock at the door. Naturally, I go to myself, “Who could that be?” Right? Like anybody who wants to know the answer to that question, I answered the door. Click-clack, clack-click, went my sandals carrying me toward the door, where my hands turned the handle. Who’s standing there with a big pearly grin? None other than Norbit, which ain’t his real name but it’s the first one that comes to my mind on account of how I was thinking when he left my little villa.

“Good morning! How are you? That was so sweet of you to leave the cream for my foot.” He’s grinning all over the place and shines brighter than the sun, which I’d also let in when I opened the door, with his work gear in hand.

“I didn’t leave any cream for you.” I’m looking at him and wondering why this would be such a big deal that he’d have to stop over early to see me had I had been the one who’d done this deed. I mean, I knew about the foot all swollen, which he showed to me the day I moved into a new villa, but I’d thought it was a lot better since I last saw him.

“Really? Someone left the cream and I thought it could be no one but you.” He looks at me disbelievingly ’cause he really wants it to be a woman so there’s potential of getting some poo-nanny in the very near future or probably right then and there, before he got on the bus he was walking in the direction of  prior to detouring into my villa.

“No, it wasn’t me, Norbit. Maybe one of the Canadian guys left it for you.” I say this ’cause Norbit’s Canadian and these guys tend to visit and chat it up with one another.

“Oh, nooooooo! A guy wouldn’t do such thing for another guuuuuuy.”

“No? Hmmm…” I couldn’t think of who knew about that foot but me, so I could see how he narrowed the foot cream dropper-offer to be me.  “Well, I don’t know who could’ve done it. Maybe you have a secret admirer.” I think it could’ve been my new villa mate but she’s stuck in her room all the time and not that it’s any of my business, but I suspect her to be looking for a husband online. No, she wouldn’t care that much about Norbit’s foot.

“Well, thank you for stopping by the other day. I really enjoyed talking to you. I had a nice time. Hey, why don’t you come by later, around five-ish. Would that be okay?” He gives me a pensive look and since he ain’t bad to look at and tends to have a lotta shit to say, I think, why not. Besides, he’s a fun guy and I kinda figured him to be the white male Canadian version of me, only in an extraordinarily extroverted way.

“Oh, okay. Five is good,” I tell him, as I’m figuring out how I’ll work him in around my work-out time, which is usually at seven if I don’t go early.

He steps closer and asks for a hug, which is normal for him to ask the non-Muslim women folk. Then, he leans in. I turn my face to the side when I see that his lips could very well land on mine and he ends up giving me a smack on the cheek.

“Look, you have a good day, alright? I’ll see you around five.” He’s still bright and cheery and I’m feeling strangely peculiar about this slight twist and tangle of our relationship. Early on, I’d decided I didn’t want him to like me that way.

“Okay, Norbit. Same to you.” I watch him limp out carrying his attache case and it feels as though I’ve shunned my husband a kiss before he’s left for a hard day’s work. I feel embarrassed for him limping off that way and me thinking how goofy he looked doing so, after this awkward kiss over some foot cream.

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"Mr Goodfoot" Acrylic on paper. Copyright 2012 Totsymae

His fingers, like icky putty to the touch. She didn’t want him touching and nibbling her neck. Why they ended up in the bedroom for him to prove he was no good at fucking, again, she couldn’t rightly fathom. She felt like a dumb ass while her head banged and knocked whatever sense she had left against the headboard.

She looked him over. Sweat beads lining his forehead. Him feeling good and shit. Suddenly, came the ugly face, ’cause he was no looker anyhow. Then, he collapsed and fixed his mouth to ask, “So Babe, when you riding the pony?”

(c) 2012 Totsymae

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Pen & Ink/Photoshop Image on paper. Copyright 2011 Totsymae

His name is Kindness Fred and came to me in an email. Just when I’d given up all hope, my life changed and all I’m seeing are fireworks and now, I’m balleting through the house and shit. You would be too had he snagged your email and laid the following rap on you:

“Hi dear,am miss kindness fred I am attracted to yourprofit. I am very romantic, caring, passionately and lovely. I have a bright future and also very hard working. I believe that you are the man that I will share my dreams, and my future without disappointment. One thing I am promising you is that you will never regret of knowing or having me in your life.so i will like to know more aboutyou and to get along with you soon so write to me directly to my email here;and also i will like you to send me your pictures whenyou will reply me back.so that i will send you my pictures through your email Box you will send to me thank you my dear lovely one.I will be hoping to hearfrom u soon,kindness.”

I know he thinks I’m a man who’s got profits  and all but we’ll work that out so he’ll love me for the fly diva I am. In the meantime, my heart’s been doing the proverbial cartwheel in my chest at the prospect of finally meeting my Prince Charming, who’s got the suave gift of love letter writing. Whatever should I do, folks? Cupid’s shot the bow of unrequited love through my unsuspecting heart. Oh me, oh fucking my.

To see more Art Every Day by other artists, well, go back and click the link back there. As always, nice having you folk stop by my little place here.

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"The Divas" Mixed Media on paper. Copyright 2011 Totsymae

Publicly reveal that she can’t control her bladder after having six children. The mother of the Kardashians did it. Now, all I can think of is that she’s bigger than most women down there and I kinda wonder how’s the sex been in the bedroom for her and Bruce, which makes me a little embarrassed for him (and by the way, doesn’t he look really plastic?)

Publicly scratch herself below the waistline. Yeah, I know men folk do it but it’s more acceptable for them to not give a shit. If a woman does it, she immediately becomes the poster child for being a stank-nasty bitch, starting to border something like a slut and looks as if she’s got a nest of crabs in her underwear but it’s totally okay if a guy is approaching her and she doesn’t wanna be bothered with him. Such defense mechanisms can be useful to ward off bootleg men.

Wear thongs if she’s overweight AND bends over in public for all the world to see. I’m not discriminating on larger sized women but honestly, if a woman absolutely feels as if she needs something like a rope or string to cut her ass in half, it looks much better on a smaller woman. I’m average in size myself and wouldn’t risk my reputation in this manner. Remember, should you option to do this regardless of my good and  practical advice, bad news travels fast. If I happen to be the one, unfortunately, privy to seeing the crack of your ass and I’m feeling a little wicked, I wouldn’t give a second thought to painting you up and exposing you here on this blog.

Pass gas in front of her date or even look as if she’s got an upset stomach within six months of getting to know him. I totally understand that farting and shitting is a natural bodily function but women, in most cases, date for a committed relationship. She simply won’t land this new fella if she starts giving in to Mother Nature. That’s why it’s not a good idea to spend overnight weekends with a guy early on in the relationship. I promise, should you decide you want to go on this romantic get-away of camping in the woods, you will have to shit out the food you’ve been eating at some point. You don’t want to put yourself in the position of being absent too long in the “ladies’ room” or have your eyeballs look as if they’re damn near popping outta their sockets from holding back all of what you’ve digested. Trust me, if after that trip you no longer are hearing from this guy you’ve broken yourself off to, it wasn’t ’cause you weren’t fantastic in bed. Absolutely, you were! Men folk are shallow when it comes to this kinda thing. He simply couldn’t get over that as beautiful as you are, something so foul would come from your body. I know you didn’t think it smelled that awful but believe me, it did!

Act like you’re suddenly watching your weight and not eat all of your food when you’re at a restaurant, knowing you’re tilting the scales already. Acting fake ain’t gonna cut it. The evidence is too visible to start making like you and Jenny Craig are best friends and all. Plus, inflation is dipping into everybody’s pockets. You don’t want to look ungrateful AND  fake. He may think you don’t know the value of a dollar.

Eat chicken, especially barbeque, on the first couple of dates. It ain’t gonna matter how cute you try to look, it just won’t go over well. You’ll fight the urge to go to licking your fingers and Lord help your poor soul should you slip up and stick one in your mouth like you’ve forgotten you’re on a date and start acting like you’re in the comfort of your own kitchen. Now, we both know you were raised better than that but that fella you’re dating ain’t got a clue. Should you make this fatal error, you’ll need to quickly get that hump outta your back and remove the chicken bone outta your mouth. Once he drops you off at the doorstep of your home, you’ll need to walk swiftly into the darkness of your closet, repent and pray to God that you even get the invite for a camping trip.

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Illustration and cover design by Totsymae. Copyright 2011

Come Monday morning, Desperita sprung up before the rooster call and dashed her ass in that bathroom with the jacuzzi tub and double sinks she figured she’d be sharing with somebody real soon. That somebody being Bootleg Man, of course.

She showered and imagined him in there with her. Brushed her teeth and visualized his toothbrush next to hers and her imaginings marched her right on down the damn church aisle. Shit, life was about to be better than good for her and folk on the job, in that little school she had second charge of, saw a different stride in her step on that day.

Shit, the way Desperita bounced about in that school, folk would’ve thought she’d overdosed on a bottle of Fucking Happy. Single women, like her, got to rolling their eyes and shit, seeing her all jipper. Being that Desperita was typically a take-no-prisoners bitch, women folk didn’t like all that happy she had going on.

“Hmph, somebody must’ve tapped that ass this weekend,” one of the teachers, Ms Invee, who had staked a claim in celibacy, said. Well, she’d really done it ’cause her back was flat against the wall of not finding anybody to stick with her evil ass long enough to lay down with her.

“I say, that’s one lucky dude,” said Mr. Hardy, as he kept a close watch on Desperita’s ass and seeing her do something like a skip and dance, she was so light on her feet as she cleared students out of the halls.

Desperita was a happy woman though. All she could think about was her conversation with this new man she couldn’t wait to break off a piece to. He blew up her cell phone over the last two days with sweet ass text messages. Well, there wasn’t anything special about what he said actually but lonely and wanna-man-real-bad heifers like her were taken in by the simplest shit.

How U doing?

U up yet?

Been thinking bout U.

Can’t get U off my mind, girl.

Whatchu wearing? was what he’d text her around bedtime and her silly ass would get to giggling and shit, forgetting her mama raising her not to be easy. Desperita wasn’t thinking about no shit like that, obviously. By the time they were done texting on the second night, she took out one of her many sex toys and got busy. Therefore, making Monday a mighty fine day for her.

After she was done making her rounds in the halls, she made it on back to her office where Bootleg Man had sent her more messages to light up her little life.

Don’t work 2 hard, baby.

Y I keep thinking bout U?

U already put a spell on me.

Desperita locked up her office, so nobody would get in the way of her answering back.

Ur so sweet.

He sent her a smiley face, talking about he bet she was even sweeter and he couldn’t wait to see just how sweet she was and he could only imagine what her lips tasted like, on top and below and oh, he was sorry if he went too far ’cause she was such a classy lady and he didn’t mean no disrespect and all that blahsay, blahsay, bullshit that made her think he was just the sweetest and most thoughtful man to come in her life in a long ass time.

Naturally, saying it was okay, that she wasn’t offended by his too soon for alluding to her private body parts, opened the gate for him to basically fuck her over the phone, right there in her damn office. Shit, Bootleg Man reached in his stash of hot sex bank and got to blowing the hell outta that woman’s cell. If Desperita had been sitting in that chair with her ass bare, she would’ve slipped right on outta that leather seat!

 

Copyright 2011 Totsymae

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