100th Fantasy Man Friday

It’s finally here! The 100th Fantasy Man Friday. Woo-hoo!!

I’ve had so much fun with the Fantasy Men over the last couple of years. They started as a way to stir my creative mind while writing. I never expected so many people to enjoy them as well, but I’m glad they do.

I’ve displayed a lot of gorgeous man candy on this blog. Some of them were muscled gods. Some had adorable smiles (not many since I seem to like brooding men). Some were mostly naked. Some were all naked except for boots (hello, do you remember Mr. Thighs???? Yes, I’m still talking about his thighs two years later). Sometimes I’ll get a lot of comments as other ah, connoisseurs of man join in my “What would I do if…” moments. Sometimes I don’t get a single comment but I get hits galore.

Needless to say today I want the comments. Y’all heard? I want comments because those comments (and any sharing you do) will earn you points toward winning an autographed set of my Veil series and a set of romance trading cards. Yup. I’m giving away smoking hot erotic paranormal romance filled with vampires, werefolk, fairies, demons, Amazons, and even a Minotaur. All you have to do is the following to earn points:

10 points – Tell me what you would do with today’s Fantasy Man (the more amusing the better! and try to keep it a little clean)
5 points – Subscribe to this blog
4 points – “Like” me on Facebook 
3 points – Follow me on Twitter (@danicaavet)
2 points – Share this post on any social media

Sound easy enough? It is. Trust me, math is not my forte, so I wouldn’t make this complicated. The most points you can get is um, *breaks out the calculator* 24! So, for a chance to win, do one of the above, or all of them! The contest will run from the opening of this post today until Monday at midnight. I was going to announce the winner on Monday, but decided Tuesday would best.

And now for the fantasy man. I searched diligently for today’s man. Several times I had to stop and fan myself because rar! So here he is, the 100th Fantasy Man!

Um…heh. I feel like Butthead right now, just going Heh. Heh. Heh because there are no words really. Except…I never knew tighty-whiteys could be so darn mesmerizing. I generally admire a man who wears boxer briefs, but uh…I’m revising my beliefs the more I stare at this picture. *goes back to look again and again and again*

Happy 100th Fantasy Man Friday, y’all! Good luck in the contest!

Cajun French: Pishnik

I’ve noticed a lot of people have found this blog through word searches for Cajun French. If you’ve just joined the blog because of my Cajun French lessons, welcome!

Remember that book party I had back at the end of September? Well, the attendees were kind enough to share some more Cajun French words with me. I saved them in my phone and promptly forgot about them until this weekend. I was holding baby Bennett and we were once again discussing nicknames for him. They’re very important, you know.

Anyway, I was holding him and staring at his cute little face and thinking he was just a tee-niney thing (tee-niney is a phrase we use here for itty-bitty). I’ve always wanted to nickname someone Flick. Flick sounds quick, sharp, with a little sting, right? Well, that’s when I remembered I had these awesome new Cajun French words on my phone. I pulled up my notes and there it was: Pishnik, (pronounced how it’s spelled). It’s Cajun French for flick.

Of course now I’m using the word for something sweet and wholesome, but at the time (you know, an erotic paranormal romance book party) the conversation went something like this:

Hostess: There’s pishnikwhich means flick.
Me: Pishnik? It sounds dirty, like “Oh my god, he pishniked me all night long!” or “I would love to pishnik.”

And yes, now I’ve changed my mind. I can’t use this word for my nephew. Maybe I’ll just call him Flick. There. That doesn’t sound dirty, does it? How about y’all? Have y’all pishniked anyone lately? *snickers*

Tangerines are like Oranges

Today marks the last orange song for October. Now that I think of it, I should’ve done a series of songs for Octoberfest. Lots of German bands, maybe a polka or two, but no, I went with colors.

I could’ve gone with a song I’ve never heard before, but when I decided on the orange them last month, this particular song was foremost in my mind. It came out in 1993 by a band called The Flaming Lips. Orange does not appear in the title, or the band name, but it does show up in the lyrics. Which is kind of cool if you think about it since orange doesn’t rhyme with anything.

What should I do for next month? I’m thinking blue, or brown, or yellow. What do you think? I’m saving red for Christmas and ruby for February.

Today’s song is “She Don’t Use Jelly” by The Flaming Lips. I hope you enjoy and thanks for sticking around orange Wednesdays with me!

When I Was Younger

Looking through my local paper, I noticed that this week is Humans vs. Zombies week at school campuses across the country and the world? I read the article, seeing that my old university has participated in HvZ since 2005. Then I had to pout because we never had fun stuff like that when I was in school!

Of course, that might be because we didn’t have zombie movies at that time. No, we had the Scream movies and I Know What You Did Last Summer. Maybe if 28 Days had come out in the late 90s, we might have started thinking about the zombiepocalypse instead of our friends killing our families. In fact, we were doing a lot of fighting and stuff, but not against cool things like zombies and ghouls. No, we were fighting ourselves. Literally. Hello, Fight Club.

Now though, kids in college these days have the option of joining in the fight against the dreaded zombies. How cool is that? I discussed this with a friend of mine. We lamented that kids these days have no idea what college was really like before the fun games on campus. We actually avoided studying the old-fashioned way: By sitting at the Student Union and playing pedro (a card game common in south Louisiana). We’d wait for Crawfish Day with great anticipation of food and beer. We’d stay out all night on weeknights only to show up for class with bags under our eyes and heads about to implode. That’s the way it used to be done.

Not pretending to be zombies and playing tag around campus. *sniff* Although, if we had had this kind of game going on when I was in college, it wouldn’t have been very sporting. I mean, we smoked and drank, so we’d have been zombies within seconds. Now isn’t that an amusing thought? A plethora of drunk zombies stumbling all over campus trying to snag cigarettes and pizza slices instead of humans. *snickers* We weren’t that bad, but it’s a funny thought. It could even be a zombie movie spoof! Bwahaha!

Ah well, I suppose each generation has to have its vices. What would you have done if humans vs zombies had come out when you were in college?

A Great Big Blank

I have no idea what to talk about today. I could go on and on about my precious nephew and how he smiled at me while I was putting him to sleep, but really, that would totally ruin my rep, wouldn’t it?

I could talk about how I ran over my bare foot with the trash can when I was putting it out to the road on Saturday morning. Seriously y’all, if you’ve never had a full trash can roll over the very edge of your foot before, I wouldn’t recommend it. All I can really say is thank goodness I’m wearing thick boots today.

I could also talk about the severe whooping the Saints put on the Colts last night. I went to bed in the 3rd quarter, but I wake up this morning to see we won 62-7. 62-7! It reminds me of some of the games my college football team played against the bigger Texas schools. You know the ones I’m talking about. Their cheerleaders would run out into the end zone after a touchdown and the male cheerleaders would do push-ups to equal how many points they had on the board. By the end of that particular game, the boys could barely lift themselves. I think we lost 65-10. *wince* Needless to say our band spent more time jeering at the refs, making up cheers, and trying to play the fight song to rally our team. *snort*

Regardless of my lack for anything truly entertaining to say, it was a lovely weekend. How was yours?

By the way, I’m blogging over at Dark Temptations talking about my idea of a perfect Halloween.

Fantasy Man Friday

This has been an amazing week. We have a new addition to my certifiable family. I won’t bore you with a gushing description of how adorable my little garden gnome of a nephew looks. I swear it. And he does look a bit like a garden gnome except he doesn’t have a beard. If he had one, I’d name him David the Gnome.

Anyway, things have been going well. The writing is coming along. Sort of. I wrote two synopses this week and sent them both off, fixed a major plot problem in my second novella, and have ideas for the next one. Those reindeer sure know how to have a good time, I tell ya. *fans herself*

To top it all off, today is Fantasy Man Friday! And it isn’t just any Fantasy Man Friday. Today marks my 99th fantasy man. Ninety-nine gorgeous men have paraded their muscled bodies across my blog in the last two years. Okay, maybe it was more like ninety-six men since I did re-post some favorites. But you know what this means? This means next week will be my 100th Fantasy Man Friday and I’ll have to do something very special.

Here’s what I’ll do. Of course I’ll post a fantasy man. Duh. But, I’ll hold a giveaway. I’ll give a signed set of my Veil books and a set of romance trading cards (including the brand spanking new *haha, I said spanking!* set for Ain’t No Bull) as the prize. What do you have to do? You have to share and comment. I’ll assign points for everything in next week’s post, so be sure to tune in.

The contest will run all weekend, so be sure to share this post today with all of your friends! Now for the fantasy man…

Yum-my! Rar. It’s almost like he’s waiting for me to finish stripping those pants off. I’m just trying to decide if those are riding breeches, in which case I’ll have to wear an Empire waisted gown and jump his bones, or if those are some kind of sports pants which means I’ll have to dress like a tramp and jump his bones. Meh. Decisions, decisions!

Happy Friday!

Cajun French: Nicknames

As I’m sure you’ve already guessed, this post is about my newest nephew, Bennett. Yesterday I had the chance to cuddle and coo over him like the silly old maid aunt I’ve become. God, did I just say that? I almost said spinster too. Damn me for re-reading all of Mary Balogh’s books the last two weeks!

Anyway, we were talking about possible nicknames for Bennett. Naturally, some people will call him Bennie, which is fine except it’ll mean an instant segue into “B-B-B-Bennie and the jets”. Trust me, it will happen. I thought of the nickname B.D., but his maternal grandparents said no to that as they were both teachers and B.D. means behavior disorder. I may have mentioned that since this is my brother’s child, that might be an apt nickname. Then someone mentioned his little sideburns (They’re sooo cute) and my mom said he looked like Elvis. That became a possible nickname as well, but no, I can’t call my nephew Elvis with a straight face.

And nicknames are important, you know. I know someone nicknamed pas bon which means no good. My dad used to be called Cotton Top since he had white blonde hair. I call my niece Megan, Ma-Meg. My mom is Cookie, my uncle is Bubba, my aunt is Denie. My nephews had an assortment of nicknames ranging from Squatty (because Bryan’s legs would never straighten) to Beast to B, and for Patrick, he was Lou-Lou, Loubie, Patty Wag, Patter-Melt, and now Bobby Hebert (don’t ask). My stepsister is called Shu-Shu by her family because she liked to play with shoes when she was a baby.

I won’t even talk about my childhood nickname since I hated it and will kill anyone who calls me that. Instead, I’ll mention how my brother couldn’t pronounce my real name and called me Pepi instead. That became my nickname among the relatives younger than me while my sister shortens my name like I do hers. Our brother wasn’t as fortunate, being called Philly, Phe-Phe Bug (shortened to Phe-Phe and later Phe), and Charlie.

Coming up with a nickname for Bennett won’t be easy. I figure we’ll wait until he develops a personality. Maybe he’ll be a perfect little gentleman who fits the name Bennett. There’s no telling where this will go, but as soon as I know, I’ll let y’all know.

For now, I think we’ll call him sha, or t-bebe, or patot, or t-tot, or little man.

Orange Crush Baby

Yesterday we welcomed into the world the newest addition to our family. Bennett Richard was born at 7:45 p.m. Weighing in at 8lbs, 10oz and 21 inches long (makes him sound like he’s about to enter the boxing ring, doesn’t it?), he was greeted by a big chunk of his family. Daddy was proud to announce he didn’t faint during the c-section and took numerous pictures…and then had to state quite loudly that his son has huge uh…well, you fill in the blank.

Little Bennett has his mama’s mouth and chin, his daddy’s nose and cheeks, and apparently his Tante Danica’s slant eyes. Since he’s a newborn, I’m going to wait a few months before I say yay or nay.

So this is Bennett: (You knew I had pictures, right?)

Bennett, proudly displayed by his dad with his pawpaw looking on.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And the little boy of the hour, Bennett Richard. He was so cute, I might have cried a little…okay, possibly more than a little, but that’s what aunt’s do.

His little lips were quivering, but he didn’t cry very loudly. Hopefully, he’ll be like his dad that way. Start off quiet and then pick up volume. Kind of like the increasing volume on phones. LOL

Aw, sha, that’s our baby!

And before you think this post is over, it isn’t. I still have the What’s Playing Wednesday theme to talk about.

 

 

 

 

Continuing with the orange theme today, I have a band their disbandment just last month. R.E.M. was a staple of college radio when I was growing up and became more popular over the years.

Crush was a drink I used to love, drinking it like it was orange juice. In fact, I may have told a friend when I was 13 that I drank it for vitamin C. *coughs* I was such a bullshitter even then! LOL

So you put R.E.M. together with one of my favorite drinks from my teenage years and you get “Orange Crush”, a really great song. I think this one along with “Pop Song 89” are two of my favorite songs by them. I hope you enjoy it!

My Freaky Feet

I know I talked about my sister-in-law and baby Bennett (who’s expected to arrive today or tomorrow) on Monday, but I completely forgot about my experience boot shopping on Saturday!

For the benefit of those who aren’t regular followers, let me just say I’m very tight-fisted when it comes to shopping. Books don’t count. Those aren’t a luxury, they’re a necessary. However, this weekend I found myself at a specialty store to buy steel-toe boots for work.

I’ve decided it was time to invest in a new pair of steel-toes and stop wearing my good sneakers to work. Have any of you ever bought good quality steel-toes before? If not, let me just tell you they’re expensive. As in, I paid more for these boots than I did for the dress I wore in my brother’s wedding last year. Yes. They were twice as expensive as a formal dress. *shudders*

But that isn’t the point of today’s post. Oh no. I had to get fitted for the right boots. The store I went to was small and the sign in the front boasted that the store held over twenty sizes and a range of widths. This was going to be so much fun (insert sarcastic eye roll).

I told the owner what I was looking for. Waterproof steel-toes since most of the time my work takes place in the rain, or after it rains. Before I could even look at the shoes on the shelves, the owner said I needed to be fitted.

I toed off my sneakers and placed my feet in the little metal things that look like torture devices. The man bent over my feet and started taking measurements. He tapped my heels, tapped my toes, tapped the sides of my feet and paused.

Him: This is really strange.
Me: What’s that?
Him: You have perfectly proportioned feet. I’ve never seen that in twenty years.
Me: You mean my feet are perfect? (Go figure it would be my feet.)
Him: Yes. Do you know what this means?
Thinking I’m about to win a prize, or get a huge discount on my boots, I eager say, What does that mean?
Him: It means you’re a freak. No one has perfectly proportioned feet!

I laughed. What else could I do? And it was funny. I suppose my freaky feet broke the ice with this guy, especially since I wasn’t offended and we joked while I walked around in the expensive steel-toes. He explained how shoes should fit and why they should fit that way and told me these boots should correct my knock-knees. I didn’t even know I had knock-knees. *mutters* But I really couldn’t take offense because he made me laugh.

So now you all know I have freaky, perfect feet. Aren’t you jealous?

The Wait is On

I’ve mentioned before that my brother and his wife are expecting their first baby. Well, our little Bennett will make his long-awaited appearance this week. Tomorrow morning, my sister-in-law goes to the hospital in the wee hours of the morning to be induced.

It’s been nearly twenty very long years since we had a baby in our immediate family. I looked forward to my cousins’ children being born, but this is different. This time it’s our baby. I sat with my sister-in-law last night and put my hand on her belly to feel the baby. Of course he didn’t move for me. He’s going to be a stubborn little you know what just like his dad.

We’ve all mused for nine months about his personality, his size (my brother was 11 pounds, 15 ounces and 23 inches long when he was born), how much hair he’ll have, and any number of things. It’s exciting to know we’ll finally be able to meet him.

Pardon me for being a goofy aunt-to-be. My boys, my babies, are grown-ups now although I still call them baby and try to coddle them. Bennett is going to be so spoiled it won’t be funny.

Oh, but what will be funny? I’m almost positive my brother is going to provide me endless hours of amusement in his new role as a father. He’s scared of babies which cracks me up. He’s this big hulking man, but attempt to put an infant in his arms and he starts to freak out. His wife will make sure he has plenty of practice though, I have no doubt.

And you know I’ll have to share all of his stories with y’all, so there’s entertainment in this for you guys as well!