Adrian for Brandy

This here Adrian-a-rama is dedicated to Brandy.
Enjoy !!!

The runner up and my choice

OK, so you'd probably have chosen the other guy or Adrian Paul for the winner. There was this other guy, but he is WAY too buff, beefy and bulky to make me do more than cringe. I guess I'm shallow, but body type does matter. I don't think I like a neck as big as a thigh.


Anyway here's a smattering of poses that I just liked. I've posted some of these here before, but not all. Imagine my glee when I found them All in the Same Frame!

Alan for his fans

Nothing more needs be said. Right ladies???

Dapper is as Dapper Does...

He is stylish, isn't he?

If Norman Bates was a Biker

Someone is not getting enough sleep, I fear.

Actually, I just fear.

I liked the outfit originally. Its what drew me to the picture. Once I got a look at the visage, the hair on the back of my neck went up.

The play of shadows is sinister.

I wish I really knew the ID of this model .
Why?
He'd go one way, I'd go the other. I would NOT be walkin' either.

Would you?

Mr. Warburton does the voice of Kronk in the Emperors New Groove and the voice of the Wolf in Hoodwinked. Imagine my surprise. A voice which gives life to silly, seriously mind-challenged cartoons, could be a buff, masculine and drool worthy specimen of male yumminess!!!! OK, He played a live action The Tick and had to wear a ridiculous brignt blue costume....it's the Man, ladies that has me sighing in typical female adoration. **Whew!** 

Another view of romance

What's the title?

The Soldier and the Princess?

The Merc and Mary?

The Pink Fairy and the Green Machine?

Petticoat Platoon?

Guarding Pinky?

What are your thoughts?

Glorious, Romantic and Inspired ART

I wish this was bigger. There was no artist attached that I can credit this to. Credit is surely deserved because of the beauty invoked here.

Clash of the Titans?
Olympic Love?
Poseiden and You?

Put your own spin, but enjoy the view!

Men who Dream

These two photo's are like a snap shot of when men dream.

One lays back and contemplates the possibilities, eyes focused on a distant point that only he can see.


The second seems like he was in the middle of getting either ready for bed or getting dressed - but something stops him in mid-stride, all movement arrested. You can almost sense the thoughts being worked through.

What do you think they're thinking of?

Water Theme

To give balance to this blog, I can't have,
( well I could but that would deprive you of some beautiful art .. true art as the case may be,)
only guys being showcased.

The sky, rays of sunlight and the mermaid are so well done, how can I not appreciate this artists vision.

I don't know who did this, but they are really talented!

SQUEEL!! Nathan Kamp!!!!

NOW I can see why he is so appealing to place on all those romance book covers. He is versatile, virile, sharp and sexy.
*sigh* I'm not sorry to say this, but I really enjoy staring and oogling and dreaming about this guy here. So, Move Over John DeSalvo! Nathan is THE MAN!!!! And the Alpha hero, and the Dark Hunter, and the models for those great chest shots on all of Karen Marie Moning's Scottish/Druid Highlander series books. It's not a wonder I was so enamored! There's been a Druid spell put on all us romance book readers. And we couldn't be happier. Right ladies?? **swoon**

























Also, A quick aside, I dedicate this happier post to Eve. Thank you for being you!



Um, this is MUCH happier.
*sigh*

I love romance.

Things you'd never suspect

If you've viewed this blog site, you've seen some wonderful expressions of the joy of being alive.
Celebrations of the human form. Although it's true that they are predominately bent towards men. That's because I'm female and thats how it goes.

Here, as on my other blog, I may seem outgoing. I can laugh, write pseudo-humorously and speak about pretty much anything I want to - within certain parameters.

The one thing that may not show here is my fear.

Failure.

All humans have it, experienced it, run from it, or the hardest to do - face it.

There was a blog that I was placing comments on. Getting along - so I thought. Sometimes, when a person "gets carried away", they can become, silly, irregular, irreverent and unable to identify a certain proper boundry. Etiquette, if you will.
Whether this occurs in person or in writing, boundries DO exist.
The trick is to figure it out.

Some people can dance the line and never cross.
Some people make sure they never get close.
And some people are clueless . They fail.
They topple right over and embark on a journey of "foot in mouth" syndrome, their eagerness turning to an unpleasant over-zealousness, digging themselves deeper and deeper into an emotional pit that once they start spiraling downward, are helpless to stop , even when, at one point, the proverbial lightbulb turns on, it's too late. Fledgeling friendships are damaged. Their own self-esteem is damaged, confidence is undermined and the threat of shedding tears, whether inside where no one sees or on the outside but shut behind a bedroom or bathroom door so no one can see , bursts forth in throat shredding bursts. They are a failure.

At that moment, they fear the judging , the misunderstanding and are bent over in emotional turmoil knowing that they screwed up but feel powerless to change the situation or to adequately apologize. Again, Failure.

The feeling of being isolated, that there is no comfort for them, is a very physical pain; hits somewhere in the solar plexus. Their stomach churns and clenches and feels heavy. The burden of loss , of embarassment settles always in two places. Throat and stomach.
Throat burns from trying not to cry. A painful lump grows to inhibit easy swallowing.
The stomach has that "punched-in" feeling.

The result: You end up believing you are less. Failure.

When you say or do the wrong thing that causes someone to choose not to be friendly to you any longer, it creates the same physical pain. Failure as a person. Failing at being someone that others are pleased to know. The hurt is unbearable. The feeling of self-worth is compromised. The sadness , all encompassing. Paralyzing. Depressing. A pity party for one. On and on it goes. Feeding unto itself until it consumes whatever hope there might be.

Fear. Fear starts to overshadow every decision. Every thought. Over thinking becomes a
self- fulfilling prophesy of doom. Worrying what others think. Of you. about you. Failure.

From then on, everything you think of doing: hobbies (writing), life, ... all are threatened by fear of failure. So you do nothing. Because you can DO nothing; at least, nothing right.

I did that today. Failed.
No more blogging with a certain someone that I kind of respected.
My stomache hurts. It cries acid. I overstepped a boundry. It's too late.
I hate this feeling.
The loss.
Hate it.
Forgive me.

Just because I liked it

Inspiration for Were-Bear Romance Story - truly.

This is the closest length of hair to Merry Gentry I've seen!

My Question, How long in years does this represent.

Have you read any of LKH's Anita Blake series? Have you read her Merry Gentry series?

If you have, then you know my question.

Are there any guys with hair THIS long in the world? For real?
Because, these are the hair lengths her MEN have!!!!

I want to see one!!

Clue me in..someone!

I just liked the coats - dusters they be

Ever since I read Dead Beat by Jim Butcher and he describes Harry Dresden wearing a duster, I wanted to have a picture in my mind what a duster looked like.

Now , I do.

Another view to keep

I liked the bucolic setting.

I think bovines are beautiful.

But I still eat beef.

Some Days, It's how we feel

I miss this show.

Lucy Lawless.

She was an awesome Xena.

Until it got really weird at the end.
Like they couldn't come up with better
ideas?
Hercules and Xena.
Both started out with originality. Fun. Earnest.
Ended with an acid trip. A Bad one.
**sigh**

**sigh** Classic

I just love a fierce warrior kind of hero.

To post a personal " I'm so proud moment"

I've always had an agreement with my DH not post pic's of my kids on the internet. But I was so proud of my son's work. I "disguised" his face so I could share my parental pride.
I mean, look at that hat! He and the teacher made it. And he did all the work, they just verbally guided him.
Look at Horton! He drew that freehand!
I am SO proud of him!
That poster thing he's wearing, That was my rushed costume. One side of it anyway.

While I was there, lots of adults would come up to him, were "wowed" by the hat and actually took the time to lift the "poster" and read and look at every thing on it. He would even mention that he had another one in back, and he had to twist it around. I saw them read that side too, no rush to get away. There were almost 200 kids doing projects of "Famous Americans" in that gymnasium.

It was the first time I saw my son shine outside the parental home. It was a good day.
Remember, if you want to see clearer detail on the poster, click the picture and it will load in better detail. I hope.

Oh, now this just captures the essence of Romance

I kid you not. When I see this, I don't think
"Bodice Ripper" I think
"Kilt Ripper"

And you KNOW what she's saying, right?

Like I said, the essence of romance, style, coyness and innocence:

She looks dreamily into his eyes, her right hand slowly creeping up juuuust about an inch as she breathlessly whispers:

"I want be the the Tart in Your Tartan"

**sigh**

Doesn't that just get to you?

You think you're going to get past me?

I will guard her with my life! You will NOT pass!

The Night, like you, belong to me

If you're an Alpha, do you own the sky?

Welcome to the concrete jungle. Cara had thought coming to the city was running to safety. Anonymity purchased with the loss of open skies, waters unharnessed and broken familial ties was a painful necessity. The myriad smells of a thriving , bustling city would diffuse and erase her personal scent. She was free. Untraceable. Untrackable by her people's traditional methods.

She climbed the steps towards the rooftop of the office building. Her concrete sanctuary. Lunch hour was a small moment in time to relish the freeing experience of open skies and vast vistas. Granted, the towering heights and dipped valleys were buildings and intersections, but it was the closest thing to all that she'd left behind. The only time she allowed herself introspective "if only's "was in the safety of this solitude. Pushing with her back against the bar, she opened the metal door. She twisted her torso, wiggled to the side and tried to keep her balance while juggling her lunch in one hand and a soft drink in the other as she stepped away from the door.

Multitasking is a useful thing.

As she fumbled with the zipper on her lunch bag, she made her way unerringly to her usual spot that had a unhindered view of the hazy hills beyond the city. Mountains really. But so, so very far away.

The wind picked up just then and swirled about her. She breathed in the speaking zephyr. So many scents carried on the winds. So many tales to tell. In the city, many were unpleasant, but not all. Cara closed her eyes, lifted her head and scented. A pang of homesickness struck her heart. A new, yet familiar scent assailed her senses. She smiled. How wonderful it was, this feeling that accompanied such a vibrant sensation. It flashed heat through her body and made the hairs on the back of her nape raise in a deliciously sensual tingle. She'd never before had quite that reaction to her scenting and that puzzled her. Opening her eyes revealed a shock that froze her as surely if she'd been hit with a stun gun. Movement was impossible. Sound froze in her throat but her mind was screaming. "No! No! This can't be. I was safe!"

The focus of her horror slowly smiled in a feral way. Sharp canines hinted behind lips too lush for a predatory male. Sunlight glinted off his sunglasses hiding his eyes, but body posture said all. She didn't need to see the look of triumph and conquest. It was apparent in the way he sat on the concrete buttress facing her. Brawny legs spread wide for balance, naked arms akimbo with one fist resting on his leather clad thigh, powerful biceps flaunted. Shadows played on his chiseled chest , carressing the ridges and valleys of their firmness. Typical physical prowess showed in his shirtless ensemble. He slowly stood, reached up towards his sunglasses and took them off. At no time did his gaze leave her. She was rooted to the floor by its intensity. Folding his glasses, he placed them on the wall. He took one step towards her, possession in his stance. Facing her , all senses naked before her, his voice caressed and assaulted her ears.

"I will always find you."

Shock no longer held her prisoner, anger had freed her emotions. Her voice trembled in rage and confusion. "How did you find me? How did you even get here! This is my space, my place. You have no business here. None!"

His fine black eye brow arched in alpha superiority. His voice, deep as an abyss rumbled in dark amusement, " Cara, did you think you owned the sky?"

Is a picture worth a thousand words?

I awoke, but only to slit my eyes open just a fraction to take in my surroundings, realizing that I'm not waking where I had fallen asleep. My only clue is the vision in front of me. Or is it a nightmare of the maiden variety?

What to do? I spy skin not my own. Indeed, of no one that I know. I see the breadth of chest and sword. I'm not safe, this I realize with startling clarity. However, is he villain or protector? What manner of man would dare confront a lady in such a way? There's only one way to find out. One course of action that I can call my own. Open my eyes.

118 words...trifle short of the thousand. I wonder what else can come from just this tiny pic?

testing icons

testing a new icon

First Test of the Spare

I don't expect comments here.

Only mistakes from trying out different templates, HTML's and whatever tickles my fancy.

So, since starting this one twice so far and already making HUMUNGOUS mistakes,
it seems fitting.

Thank goodness I have a normal blog too.