The Joy Of Early Morning

                                            

I know you think I am being sarcastic. Normally I would be. But today, I am just being my overly happy self. Okay, so I am exaggerating a lot. That is what I do so Nananana. Wow. Not even three lines in, and I am already off topic. So let me get back to the point of this blog. I forgot for a second there but now, I remember what I wanted to talk about.

Most people hate early mornings, but I love them. I have always been one of those people that only need a few hours of sleep. Hell, I was even born a month early. Momma always said I was just done percolating and decided I was ready to come out and see what early mornings were likes. So like a good baby, I arrived at 6 am. I have always woken up at that time and if I sleep later, that means I am sick. 

Some of you know that I am up every day at 2:30 am when most people have only gone to bed a few hours before. I normally go to bed between 11 and 12 and wake up about the same time my alarm goes off. It takes me around 5 minutes to wake completely up. But as soon as I have my shower, I am good for about 12 hours. I get myself ready and feed the evil kitties then I am off to work. My shift is from 4 am to 12:30 or so. When I get home, I usually talk on the phone with a certain someone who shall remain nameless. Mia. I then take a nap for about 2 or 3 hours, depending on what I did at work that day. Again, it takes me a few minutes to wake up. But then, I am on Facebook and yappin the evening away.

Now back to the topic because, once again, I wandered away. The reason I like early mornings is because everyone else is not up. Most of you know that I am anti-social on my best day. I have found that I get more done early than if I wait to do things later in the day. I also have a ton more energy. I can go non-stop for longer if I get that early start.

Another reason I like early mornings is because as a people watcher, it is just fun to see people out and about trying to wake up. I am not kidding. I have seen people walk into doors and walls. I love to see the women who are not completely awake walking in high heels. It is like watching a kid on a skateboard trying to do tricks. You know they are going to fall so you just have to stand and watch it happen. They don’t think it is as funny as I do. The guys are almost as much fun to watch. They are the ones who are walking around aimlessly trying to remember why they stopped at the store or where something is. I know they are just as clueless as a toddler trying to figure out how to open a baby gate. Kids are the best. Any parent that has to wake up their little heathens knows the joy of a badger that has been cornered. Every time I see one of these little darlings reminds me of the reason I never wanted kids. Those little suckers are dangerous. I have heard screaming like someone was dipping them in a vat of hot water when all that is happening is they are being put in a cart. Then there is the whining. OMG, THE WHINING!!! I just want to run to the pharmacy and grab the Benadryl and put them to sleep and, if that doesn’t work, there is always my friend Jack Daniels.

Working at the butt crack of dawn is sometimes better than going to the fair and watching all the freaks come out and wave their freak flag high. 

So are you a morning person or do you believe the day starts at 10 am?

Sinfully Sarcastic,

Shmuttmeister

Words

These are the most powerful things in the world. Most people would say weapons were more powerful but the use of weapons usually comes after some serious words are spoken or written. Words are the way in which we communicate with each other. They show our hopes our dreams and even our evil thoughts. This brings me to the point of this blog, Wordsmiths.

 Most people just call them writers but to me it is more than just writing.  A scientist can be a writer.  A Wordsmith is someone who can bring a feeling to a subject.  These are the people who fire up our imaginations. They bring even the mundane things to life but just putting them on paper and adding their talents and thoughts on the subject.

It takes a special kind of person to put words on paper.  I never thought I would be someone who would attempt it. In my family my sister Jean is the writer. She was a very quiet girl who felt things and expressed them through words. She used to write all the time but now she has devoted more time to reading and I think she has given up the writing completely. She always said she did not have the drive it takes to be a writer. I think she should still be writing even if it is just for her. Even people who have no talent for the written word should at least put words on paper if even just for themselves. I think by writing you can ease your everyday burdens. No one ever has to see what you put just the act of putting it down will sometimes help clear your mind.

Some people think I am an ass kiss but to me wordsmiths may be some of the most important people in the world. I am talking about anyone who can communicate and bring a crowd to its feet. Think back to history class yep way back for some of us. Remember the history teacher talking about one of the most powerful documents ever published was a pamphlet called Common Sense by Thomas Paine.  It brought the cause of revolution to the everyday man and woman. Had Thomas Paine never written that document would we all have possibly still have British accents,  but then again maybe not but the world would sure be a different place today.

In modern times it still takes an amazing person to write the words to fire up a nation. Could you imagine politicians just saying what they thought,*shuddering* I gives me hives to imagine it.  There is a reason there are speech writers. Not everyone has the ability to put the words together in a way that is not just meaningful but can bring passion to a subject. Some would argue that a good orator is the one who brings the passion and to a degree it is true but you still have to have the words to communicate.

It is a travesty that there are still people in the world who are illiterate. I could not imagine what my life would be like if I never had the opportunity to learn to read.  I know my life would be a lot less enjoyable. I am always surprised when someone tells me that they don’t like to read. I don’t understand this concept. How could you not want to take a journey around the world and hell sometimes out of this world without ever leaving the security of your own home?   I work with people who haven’t read a book since high school.  When I ask them about it they tell me that it is boring and I always tell them that it is that they just haven’t found the author who ignites their imagination.  I always feel the need to take them to a bookstore and find them a book or hell even a magazine that brings passion to their day.

I mostly feel that television and movies have taken the place of books for so many.  Now I am not bashing tv hell I love it but I realize that there is more to a show than the actors and directors. Most don’t see the connection between books and their favorite shows.  Unless all they watch is reality *shudders*.  If you talked to a television writer they would tell you that they are inspired by another author. It could be anyone from Stephen King to William Shakespeare. I love to ask authors who are their favorites.  Sometimes they surprise me with their answers. To me there really are no bad authors just authors who either have not found their voice or have not found their audience.

Now who are has inspired you to read or who has made you want to put pen to paper or fingers to keyboard?

Sinfully Sarcastic,

Shmuttmeister  

Righteous Perverts Chat..... How did it all get started ?

My first book, Perfection - Eternally Three, was published in September 2009. I was thrilled, as you can imagine. It had been a lifelong dream of mine to be an author, and I’d finally reached that goal. A few months later, I was invited by Black Raven Reviews to be the author spotlight for an online text chat. I’d never done that before, but had a blast with the readers that came to it.

I had so much fun over at Black Raven that I decided to host some of my author friends in a chat room. The first chat was in December 16, 2009. I went back in my documents and found the date. Wow. Amazing it has been that long ago.

My very first guests were Shayla Black and Melissa Schroeder. More authors approached me to host them and more readers started showing up. Tina, Luna, Tara were some of the first readers to show up week after week. At first I called the Wednesday night event – Kris Cook’s Chat, but later, Sophie Oak came up with the name Righteous Perverts, and that stuck.

The list of authors that have been to RP’s chat is so long. Names that you see on the NYT, USA Today, Amazon, and other bestseller lists today and up and coming authors have been our guests. Here’s just a few off the top of my head: Lexi Blake, Shayla Black, Bella Andre, Eliza Gayle, Eden Bradley, R.G. Alexander, Sophie Oak, Chloe Lang, Cat Johnson, Annabelle Joseph, Laurann Dohner, Mari Carr, Mia Ashlinn and so many more.   

A little before my accident in April 2012, I let go of the reins completely of RP, though the reins had actually been in the hands of the readers for some time before that. As RP approaches its fourth year anniversary this December, I want to say thanks for all the amazing support you give to romance fiction and the authors who write it.

On a personal note, I was absent from the writing desk for over a year. The accident had an impact on me in many ways I hadn’t expected. After the long drought, I am back writing. I hope you will forgive me the time off. As of the writing of this blog, I am finishing up Misty’s Bondage Diary, number three in my Diary series. The next three books I will be working on is a gay shifter series that I’m so excited about.

Thanks for having me today, RPers. I love you all.

Kris

The Choice

Yep, I am one of the few people still alive and kicking (well, some days) that still buy print books. I know. I am really old fashioned. I still call cds albums, too. And yes, I do still buy cds as well. I am technology challenged, and I am not afraid to say it. If I need new entertainment technology, I go to work and hit up my boys. They really aren’t my boys. Everyone just calls them that because I haven’t killed them yet and I enjoy talking to them. I tell my boys what I want it for, and they get together and pick out what I need to buy. Then they tell me how to use it. See, I have set up a vast network of nerds and geeks for all my tech questions. That way I don’t have to learn what anything is because it is just going to change in six months. I am smart like that or dumb, depending on your point of view.  Now that you have my lack of technology down pat, I can move on with the reason for this blog.

E books vs Print books. Now that is the question. I like both. Most people only do one or the other, but I am a book whore. Yep, you now know my secret. Okay, it really isn’t a secret.

Let me start with print books. I love them. I like being able to hold them and have the weight in my hands. It makes me feel like I am really reading. I know it is stupid, but I love it. Then there is the smell. Yep, I smell my books. There is something about the ink that leaves a smell. I feel like when I open a new book and smell it, I am going on an adventure. I don’t care what kind of book it is. I am going somewhere away from my real life.

I know I am freaky, but I am sure that there are others out there that have done the same thing. One of my favorite things about print books is the covers. I totally pet them. Yep, I am sick like that. But I love being able to run my fingers across the book. I look like I am molesting them, but it is okay with me if people see me enjoying my books.

Wait. Does that make me an exhibitionist?? I guess that question will have to be answered in another blog. Damn it.  Now where was I??

Oh yeah, the petting. After I pet them, I like to sit and peruse them. I look at all the information on the author and all the copyright dates and strange things they put in the front of the book. I, also, like reading the dedications and acknowledgements. Those tell me a lot about the author. But none of that is here nor there.

I eventually decide whether I am going to buy the book or not. Normally, I buy it right then and there. Now, I buy a lot of my books from Barnes and Noble. Why, you ask. Shouldn’t I buy from a local store? I would. But there are none around here so B&N is my only option. After I pay for the book, I go and get a hot chocolate or water—depending on the season. I pick out my comfy chair or the table with the chair to the wall (yep, I am paranoid too).

What does most of this have to do with print books vs ebooks? I am getting to that, I promise. Now, as I sit there reading, I get the feeling that I am actually getting more out of the story. It is all about the atmosphere. I see others sitting reading and enjoying their books. It makes me feel like I am part of what is becoming a smaller and smaller club. You know the one I am talking about—a readers club. The one where people use their imagination instead of waiting for the tv show or movie to come out based on the book. Now, before I get smacked around on that comment, I do love to watch movies and Lord love a duck, I love television. I just think sometimes you get more from the book.

But again, that is another blog. Damn it. Now I need to move on before you get bored with this blog. Shit, I probably lost you about two sentences in to it. Oh well, I might as well give my betas some more to read—just for fun.

Now, ebooks. I am not sure what I feel for them. I do not yet own an e-reader. Yep, I heard all the gasps from everyone. I read on the computer. I understand why people like them. There is the fact that you can carry it around and not dislocate your shoulder. You have hundreds of books at your disposal. The joy of being able to read your smut without anyone knowing what you are reading and why you have that dreamy look on your face.  I get all of that. Then there is the convenience of not having to leave your house to buy a book.  Some days I love that. My personal favorite is that most of the authors I have been reading get their books out in ebook form first. I love not having to wait endlessly. I do not have patience at all. I read that a book is released, and I want it asap. That is the most important thing about ebooks to me.  As I get older, I notice that with the computer, I make the print bigger too so that is another point in favor of the ebook.

Yep, those are about the only things I can say that I like about ebooks. I guess, at heart, I am still a physical kind of woman. I like the feel of books. I like being able to carry the book and show that I am a reader. I want to be able to go to book signings and actually have the author sign a book that I can put up in my library (yep, my bookshelves do not really qualify as a library but you know what I mean). If you take me to a big house, the first thing I look for is a library. I love walking into a room and being able to see all the books. The option of pulling one book out and going on a trip around the world, snagging a different book and falling in love, yet another book will break my heart when I read about someone’s hardships. I guess I will always be a 19th century kind of woman, one who loves the atmosphere of a library.

Sinfully Sarcastic,

Shmuttmeister

Don’t Hate Randi Alexander Because She Loves Cowboys (Sexy Excerpt and Giveaway Included!)

Thanks so much for hosting me today, Tina. I’m always amazed at how much you do, and how many people admire you for just who you are. *siffles* You’re so cool!

Okay, now that I’ve buttered her up—figuratively, of course—I can talk about my favorite subject: Cowboys. I’m proud to say I write cowboy erotic romance. While I’ve received mostly positive feedback on that sub-sub-genre, some people curl their lip. “Like, farmers? And country music?” I bite my tongue then smile. “Yep, just like that.”

One would think the American institution of the hard-working cowboy would be sacrosanct. Doesn’t everyone love cowboys? I guess not. I have followers from all over the world who wish they lived closer to this continent so they could actually see a real cowboy. When I win the lottery, I’m going to bring 100 people to the USA, we’re going to charter a jet and fly around the US and Canada just to see all the different types of cowboys. Who’d like to come along?

Cowboys are that perfect mix of alpha-male and soft-hearted lover. They appreciate a good horse, a rare steak, and a sexually adventurous woman. They’ll pull over in a rainstorm to pick up a stray dog, but will take a swing at anyone who really deserves it. Many cowboys are shy from the long hours alone watching cattle wander the range, but if you catch up with a rodeo bronc rider at the bar after they’ve won a buckle, you’ll never get a word in.

Some cowboys are even musically inclined. In my latest release, Chase and Seduction (Book 1 of the Hot Country series) Chase is a real cowboy besides being a country western star. He’s rough-ridin’, horny, and hard lovin’, but he knows how to seduce a woman until she’s hot and ready for anything. (Lucky Reno!) Enjoy the excerpt, and check out the giveaway I’m offering below.

Book Excerpt  of Chase and Seduction: Backing up to the bed, Chase pulled her with him and sat, her breasts at his eye level. “Beautiful, Reno. You’re beautiful all over.” He licked a circle around her areola then took her into his mouth, holding the nipple in his teeth while teasing it with his tongue.

She grabbed his shoulders to keep upright as pulses of sensual delight traveled from her breast, through her belly, and down low to her core. “Oh yes, that feels wonderful.” Watching his lips on her, feeling his soft hair brushing her skin was nearly sinful, and totally heart wrenching. How could she be so attached to this man so quickly?

He used his fingers to arouse the other nipple, and the two contrasting motions played a crazy game of sensual tag. Her cunt contracted, and her pussy lips moistened.

Chase drew a deep breath. “Baby, I can smell your scent.” He kissed the deep valley between her breasts. “You want me now, don’t you?” He looked up at her, licking the swell of each breast.

“I want you now and all night, Chase.”

“Show me. Get naked.”

She stepped back and pulled her panties down, bending forward to show him another angle of her breasts, and she could almost see him salivating. When she grasped her shoe, he growled. “Uh uh. Those stay on.”

“Mmm. Kinky.” She peeled off her panties and fired them slingshot-style at his chest.

He caught them and brought them to his face, breathing in deeply. “Mine.”

A delightful shiver coursed through her. “My panties?” She sounded breathless.

“Your pussy.” With blurring speed, he stood, snatched her up, and had her laying on the bed, with him on all fours over her.

“I’m dizzy,” she teased.

“You’re gonna be a hell of a lot dizzier in a few minutes, beautiful.” He suckled her nipples languidly, each tug of his mouth echoing in her pussy with hot bursts of lust that swelled her lips. He sucked at one breast then the other, back and forth, a clever foreplay of his hot mouth on her, then a moist, cooling sensation as he moved to the other. After a minute, her hips responded to each long pull, thrusting upward, wanting more.

Chase nibbled a leisurely path down her stomach to her belly button. His tongue in her ticklish spot caused ripples of desire to shoot directly to her core.

He kissed lower, easing down her belly, driving her crazy with impatience, but wild with anticipation. He reached her mound. “Open for me, baby. I want to see every inch of you.”

* * * * * *

Head to my website to read the entire first chapter.  

Leave a comment for your chance to win an E-copy of Cowboy Bad Boys plus a trading card and some fun swag.

* * * * * *

Thank you!

Blogging Art

Yes, this means I am printing out my favorite blogs and making a collage of them. I think that may take me way into the creepy zone, and I really don’t want Sophie Oak to take out a restraining order against me. Actually, this blog is about writing blogs. Kind of stupid, but I am watching Kevin Smith’s Burn in Hell video, and I am feeling kind of goofy.

I know that my writing skills are that of a fifteen year old girl, but I like to think that at least I am saying what I feel. I do not ass kiss or lie in my blogs. If I say something then it is what I believe. If I am remembering something, maybe I am a little fuzzy on the details, but I do try and write it the way I remember it. Perspectives from each person will be different. I may remember something one way and someone else remembers it differently. I am fine with someone else writing a counter to my blog and yes, if you write it we will post it—unless you are being disrespectful to either us or authors.

Now, on to the next part of this blog.

I have been told that I am a good blogger. I don’t see it that way. I know I have issues with a language that I have spoken my entire life. I write exactly the way I speak. If you have ever talked to me in person or on the phone, you know that I leave words out and get things jumbled up. I once had a teacher tell me that it was a sign that my mind worked faster than my mouth could process it. I just think all my wires are a jumbled mess.

I will never claim to be an author or even a good blogger. I can only say that I try to be coherent and that I am hoping I’m making my point clear enough that people understand me.  If an editor ever read my blogs, they would probably have a heart attack. I am sure that if Christie Von Ditter reads my blogs, she’ll need a drink first.

As I write them, my friend ‘spell check’ is fixing the fact that my fingers always write hte instead of the. I know it is strange but, for some reason, it is almost always typed that way. There are a lot of words I do that to and usually they are the simplest ones. The other fun thing that happens when I am typing is that word loves to underline all my sentence fragments. I do not feel as bad about these because I know of at least one author who has had this problem. I will not name anyone (for a price). I rarely fix my fragments. I figure if you can’t understand what I am saying then you probably shouldn’t read my blogs in the first place.

Now, my biggest nemesis is (can we all say it together) punctuation.  I rarely use anything but periods. Hell, sometimes I forget to use them. When Luna reads my blogs, she loves to tease me about commas. Luna will be the punctuation police on these blogs because she loves it. I hope she has a lot of time on her hands because it may take her forever to get through all my jacked up blogs. 

At this point, I have written 22 blogs. The only thing I have found is that I am a wordy bitch. I never thought I would be able to put 20 words together but for some reason I don’t seem to be able to use less than 700 or so. It seems that I like to blab. I know that is not a shock to several people. Normally, I am a shy kind of person. I don’t like crowds and, if you ask me to speak in front of people, you best have a trash can handy because it could get messy.

I am not sure why I am able to put so much down in a blog. Maybe it’s because, to me, it is more like a letter to myself. I really don’t think anyone will be reading it so it is easier for me to try and explain my thoughts on different subjects.

After, I write my blogs I send them to the other Administrators and to my Beta. They read them and, really, no one has said much about them. I am hoping that it’s because they aren’t too bad. I am sure that before we publish them, they are going to pick them apart and let me know what to fix or just edit them for me (fingers crossed).

Do you blog? Have you ever thought about it? Have you ever found that you can do something that you never thought would be possible?

Sinfully Sarcastic,

Shmuttmeister

What Makes A Good Perv

Flashback to 2008

Fortune Teller: (dramatically waves her hand over a giant, crystal ball) “I see a group of perverts coming into your life. Not today. Not tomorrow. But one day…”

Me: (gasps as panic wash through me) “Perverts?” (gulps) “Like peeping Tom’s in the bushes outside my window? Or like Dixie Normous, Hugh G. Reckhun, Ava Gina, and Dick Harding taking turns whipping my ass?”

Fortune Teller: (rubs her ball, her eyes closing as a look of intense contemplation settled on her features) “You will join these righteously perverted people, and you shall do great—and naughty—things with them.”

Me: (heart pounds) “But, but, but…I don’t like perverts! They’re skeery and icky and....”

Fortune Teller: (her eyelids lift and she pins me with a disturbingly dark glare) “Not all perverts are bad, Mia.”

Me: (arches a brow in disbelief) “Oh really? How can a pervert be good?”

Fortune Teller: “I guess you’ll have to wait and see. Won’t you?”



Okay, so, I didn’t really see a fortune teller back in the day. But dude, if I had and she’d foretold my future amongst the Pervs, I would have run like the hounds of Hades were out to get me or hurt myself laughing—depending on my mood. Why? Well, it’s easy. I always thought perverts were bad. I don’t mean Oh baby, you were a naughty, naughty girl, and now you’re going to be spanked bad. I mean I’ll get you in bed, my pretty and your little dog, too! bad. Yes, back then, I was one of those vanilla people who had a stick shoved so far up my ass I could practically taste it. (Eww! That just sounds gross. But you get the picture.)

At a young age, I was told some rather…false information about sex. I was told that sex was dirty and filthy and horrible. It was something a woman just had to lay there and ‘take.’ It was not enjoyable. It was a bodily function. And I would hate it. To top those lovely thoughts off, I was under the impression that if I ever had sex and (gasp) enjoyed it, I would go straight to Hell. Do not pass go. Do not collect two hundred dollars. Just burning flames with the Devil himself.

Let me tell you, this royally fucked my brain. I was like, “Oh shit! I’m never, ever having sex. My hoo-ha is officially closed.” Before you ask, yes, I called my vajayjay a hoo-ha. Pussy seemed crass. Cunt seemed crude. And let’s not get started on beavers, muffs, honey pots, or snatches!). For years, I was afraid to have sex. Until my hubby came along, I wasn’t all that interested in getting it on—period. I blamed the other boys. But deep down, it wasn’t about them. It was about me. Not that a teen version of me would ever confess that. I’d have rather pranced naked across the football field in the middle of Homecoming. Although, if you want to get technical, I was a majorette so…my outfits were rather revealing. But that’s not the point. The point is that I was anti-sex.

Fast forward a few years…

When I got engaged to my now-husband, I realized that sex was coming my way. At that point, I was more shall we say, willing, to take that journey. After all, I was in love. And my hubby was a damn good kisser and licker and rubber and, well, we’re heading into TMI Town. So, I did it. I popped my cherry. And damned if I didn’t love every second of it.

Well, as luck would have it, two days later I had the Urinary Tract from Hell. Immediately, I tell myself, “God is punishing me!” (Silly, I know. But it’s the truth.) Because of my conviction that I was a horrible whore who deserved pain and suffering for my horrific sinning, I decided that there would be no more sex for me. Not until our wedding night. So like a good girl, I made it…a few weeks. Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know. I’m so not good at controlling myself. Again, I enjoyed myself. And again, I developed a UTI.

At that point, I knew I was definitely going to Hell. There was simply no saving me. This obsession went on until the wedding. And surprisingly, it continued after our wedding night. See, I didn’t understand that sex was good (or at least, it could be with the right guy). I didn’t get that I could have an orgasm and not be a bad person. I truly believed to the bottom of my heart that sex was bad, and I was worse because I loved it.

Several more years pass by…

My patient husband helped me through my issues. I’m sure you can imagine how. And by now, I’m all about sex and orgasms. Still, though, I rarely stepped outside of the box sexually. Ergo, little by little, I started to push my boundaries. Shockingly (or not-so-shockingly), I discovered myself. I saw a whole new side of me. Of course, it was the perverted-side. I started doing things that I had never done before (and liking them). Needless to say, my hubby was a happy man. Thank Heavens, he’s a Perv.

Another couple of years drift by…

I’m having the sex of my life (TMI? I hope not.), and I am happy about it. But still, I had room to grow. How so? I was ready to take the big step into Pervdom. I started out easy—reading erotic romance and watching softcore and glamcore porn. You know, the sweet stuff. Then I moved on to watching porn-porn, the good, filthy kind, and I began talking dirty—really dirty, more like filthy. And suddenly, I realized that everything could be perverted and lewd jokes were a hoot. But finally, the thing that threw my ass to the gutter and held me there was the group that the fictional fortune teller foretold—the Righteous Perverts.

RPers came into my life like a bolt of lightning. And in a short time, they taught me so much about myself and my perversions. They showed me that I wasn’t alone in my Pervdom. I didn’t have to hide my erotic romances underneath a stack of Jane Austen and Edgar Allan Poe (sick mix, I know). And porn was no longer a cardinal sin. It was a good time. Then there was pervertibles. All of a sudden, people understood why I giggled when someone said come or when I saw the number sixty-nine on the side of a bus. They got it, like I did. That did something for me, something I’d never experienced, especially with other women. It was a whole new world, one I never wanted to leave.

That being said, I have realized that the fortune teller was right. We, Pervs, do need to unite. We can do great—and naughty—things together. No, not those things! I’m talking about helping the people who’re ashamed of their thoughts, embarrassed by their feelings, and resisting the kinks that are as much of a part of them as the nose on their face. I’m talking about teaching those people, showing them acceptance and love, no matter what, and giving them a place to fit in, a place where they can be normal without shame or reservation, and a place where there are no recriminations for who they are. In the end, we’ll all be better—and pervy-er—for it. Best of all, we’ll finally prove that being a perv is not only a good thing but also, something to be proud of because we made a difference, albeit a naughty one!

XOXOXO,

-Mia