Captain’s Log 4,464
I took a day off from the contest. Even I was getting exhausted writing all that smut. When I meet E.L. James for lunch, I am going to ask her how she keeps her stamina. Maybe it’s a special blend of vitamins or supplements. All I can say is….after a week of the nasty stuff, I was worn out. If I cannot even WRITE about it every day, how on earth do Ana and Christian manage to DO it at least twice a day? And they don’t just DO it, they goof around for like…..hours.
So let’s pick up where we left off on the I Think I Look Like Angela Lansbury With Fifty Shades of Grey contest. However you wish to interpret that is completely up to you. All you need to do is send me a photo of yourself to poolagirl (at) aol dot com. Easy peasy.
This next entry comes from Big Sister Mia. She is not a blogger or writer of any kind, but she spends a lot of time with me and must enter all my contests so I don’t cry. Whilst shopping at the World Market on Saturday, it was HER idea to pose with the selected item. It was HER idea to enter it into the “competition.” One cannot blame me for everything.
Those big wet Mia Farrow eyes tease Christian and fuel his desire with burning flames of longing. Albeit subtle, the can of spotted dick catches his attention and he croaks, “Ana, I sent you to the larder for beans…..and zip ties! We were going to play Boy Scout in the Play Room tonight!” Ana smiles and bites her lip enticingly. “I thought this dick might give yours a run for the money. Plus you know I never do as I am told.” Christian falls to floor and dents his freshly-pressed black jeans. An errant dust bunny pokes into his copper-colored moppish locks. Mr. Spanky Hand starts to twitch and bumps against the hardwood…..floors. How shall he punish Ana this time? She opens the can with a Swiss Army knife (the whole Boy Scout thing playing out) and begins eating the dick with her greedy mouth. Slurping and smacking, she finishes the entire dick. Eyes closed, she savors the last of it. She tosses the spent can into the trash and looks Christian right in the eye. “You can’t fault me for not eating a nice, big, fat, creamy dinner, Mr. Grey.” He stumbles to his feet and pulls out his own spotted dick. Walking toward her with the dick in one hand and handcuffs in the other, he says, “Hope you saved room for dessert, Mrs. Grey.” My inner goddess is running off to Williams Sonoma for a creme brulee torch.
So yes, spotted dick is pudding. Sort of. You need to Google it for the full effect. So, you can see how desperately I need your photos! I can’t write this stuff without visual stimulation! Well….maybe stimulation isn’t the right word. But you get the idea.
Hurry! You have until September 30th.