First Word

So, now that I've written this erotic romance, California Girl Chronicles , and it's slowly weaving out to its audience, I've become reflective about it ... after the fact. Hmm ... maybe I should have been more pensive about before the fact . I am actually a little nervous about the critics. I've been very careful to position the book in the press as pure "candy". Why am I nervous? Well, if you review this book from a serious literary perspective I'm afraid you're in for a big letdown. If you read the book from an expectation that you'll have a good time then it's all A-okay. I wrote California Girl Chronicles as pure escapist fun. I also decided to be erotic with the sex without going into porno. The decision was a business choice. We are a funny culture. We're still repressed about sexuality in many ways, but at the same time, we just love our "sex and candy"; we just don't like to admit it. I've decided that like using...

So I'm at this party and I have this fellow come up to me. We're chatting and somewhere along the way, I said, "You know people our age," as this fellow looked in my demographic. He replied, "People our age? How old are you?" I replied, "45," to which he refuted this as truth. It got to the point where I had to have Malia as my witness that I had, indeed, confessed the truth. This discussion then took a decidedly strange turn toward remarks how that just didn't seem possible. Look at the collagen in my expression lines and the resilience of my skin and the lack of wrinkles on my forehead. I have to tell you Friend-Os this was the oddest form of a compliment I've ever received. I began to wonder if he is a plastic surgeon. I half wondered if I should get out the Sharpe so he could prep my face for surgery (of course, the real gist was that I apparently didn't need it), but really odd! It seems now in this beauty-obssessed world, we all a...

I've said this repeatedly. The only fun thing about turning 45 is that I don't look 45. That fact warms my vain little heart. And make no mistake about it, vanity kills ... your wallet. I never thought I would be one to turn to the magic "line-erasing" elixir fondly referred to in the media as Botox, but upon inspection of ever-increasing lines in undesirable places, I succumbed. Many of you may wonder why in the world I would make such an admission. Well, I have been forever irked by those women (and men) who stroke their Botox-injected face and make the false claim that it's "good genes." One glance at the glass-smooth brows of these people and all credibility flies out the cosmetic window. If you're going to belly up to the Botox bar, you might as well admit it. And thus, the confession made with a blithe shrug. Because here is the real deal, once you've done it and see the results ... well, it's like the worst addictive substance. The tru...