Burlesque of the Damned

Zombie Stimulus Package

2009-02-09T13:15:00.001-08:00

It's hard out there for a zombie.

Maybe moreso than for even people--I know that'll be a little tough to take, especially for those of you effected harshly by our sad economic climate. But think about it. With so many people out of work, hours slashed, or just worried about the future, spending their time at home because they can't afford to go out to dinner, a movie, or the bookstore, zombies are just shit out of luck. Why it's getting so you people will forego a frickin' coffee.

Zombies. Are. Starving.

There's no one on the streets and the dead are piling up on park benches and on their friend's couches, insides growling with hunger (or the odd rodent).

It's a goddamn epidemic, is what it is.

Amanda Feral's feeling the brunt of bad economic decision-making, too, but she's got an answer to all the madness (granted not the most altruistic answer, but an answer nonetheless). A multi-faceted solution-focused plan to get people back on the streets and into the arms (and bellies) of their zombie friends (also to get people buying her second memoir, Road Trip of the Living Dead*)

That's right...

It's a Zombie Stimulus Package, people!

How's that, you ask?

You want to go out to dinner, but it costs so damn much that you grab a box of mac 'n cheese instead. That's a shame. With Amanda's plan in place, you have the opportunity to march your sad ass right on over to the Olive Garden, or the Outback, or even the Cold Stone Creamery (for you carb addicts). She may even spot you some gas money, or a coffee, or some such.

It's kind of like a contest.

No, it is a contest!

With three ginormous huge prizes!

First: Dinner and a movie!

You and your lovely date/sexual target can dine at a restaurant of your choice as long as it's either (Cold Stone Creamery, McDonalds, Outback Steakhouse, Bonefish Grill, Chili’s/On the Border/Maggianos, Damon’s, Uno Chicago Grill, Red Lobster, Pizza Hut, Baja Fresh, Cracker Barrel, Olive Garden, Cheesecake Factory, or California Pizza Kitchen) and doesn't go over the $50 Amanda's willing to load on the card (I told you Amanda's going through hard times). You'll also be on your way to see some fine cinema magic (at a Regal or AMC). A prize package totalling an ungodly $75! She might even be persuaded to throw in a signed Happy Hour, or a pair of her panties, in case you don't get lucky (Or Ricardo's for all you ladies out there).

Second Prize: Coffee and the Gas to Get There!

That's right, fuel up times two! You could win a Starbucks gift card and a gas card, too (as long as it's a station that Amanda can get to around here, Chevron, 76, Texaco, Shell, you know, big name ones). This prize package is worth a whopping $25 and ought to get you within bite radius of a few zombies, so...I mean, good times.

Third Prize: Books, Books, Books!!!

Amanda knows you people love your "urban fantasy," so she's unleashed her ghost writer on some of his peeps to gather up a basket, at last count there were 10 books in there. Some signed some not. Authors like Michele Bardsley, Dakota Cassidy and Jaye Wells are throwing in some of their own books and some of their favorites as well and no, obviously this won't get you out of the house, but you could promise to read them in a shady park, or under an overpass where you might be more readily accessible. That's...if you were a thoughtful person.

Now...

What might it take to get in on this fantastically stimulating contest?

Simply, preorder a copy of Road Trip of the Living Dead, from an online retailer (like Mysterious Galaxy, Powell's, Amazon, Barnes and Noble, or Borders) or your local store (though that will require an additional step cuz you'll have to scan) and forward the receipt to Amanda...

zombiestimulus@markhenry.us

I'll announce the winners on February 24th. For the rest of you, that's when you should start seeing books hitting store shelves, though it might be closer to March 1st, hard to say.

Good luck, everyone

...and if you don't win, might I suggest simply taking more walks, alone, without weapons.

* For a taste of Road Trip of the Living Dead and an interview with said ghostwriter, Mark Henry (who loves to take all the credit), check out Tale Chasing for a virtual Reading! Chapter One to be exact.

Pondering...

2009-02-02T09:03:00.000-08:00

I haven't blogged over here in quite a while and wanted people to know, that if you liked Burlesque of the Damned, then you should check out my new blog.

In fact, go there now!

Barely Escaped Winter's Assassination Attempt..

2008-12-14T19:07:00.000-08:00

Barely. But in the end, here I am safe and sound and ready to recap an eventful weekend that will forever be known as Team Seattle Con (Oh...but Richelle is seething at those words). Three straight days of togetherness, mockery, and HIGH art! I've already talked about Cherie and Caitlin's signing (and if you're reading this on my Burlesque of the Damned blog, sorry, I've all but abandoned my 1st born blog these days, you can catch up here), which was fantastic and if you're local and you missed it then you suck.

Saturday was a long one, cleaning the house, shopping for groceries and liquor like it was my secret shame (the first one is), also setting up the upstairs for holiday craft time! Made my Sandra Lee Meatballs (Semi-Homemade, bitches!) that involve French Dressing, Orange Marmalade and soy sauce, and an alternative XXXmas playlist. The theme of the night did seem to be porn, as Caroline found the Directv porn channels now included BONUS movie descriptions. And with fine cinema like Who's Nailin' Paylin and Dr. Filthy's Cream Poles 5, who doesn't want to know more?

The drinks of the evening, because I'm certain you want to know, were the Peppermint Stick Martini and the Caramel Apple Shot!!! So guaranteed to give you a hangover, all you need to recreate the experience is have a friend slam you in the back of the head with a carving board.

Here's the specs:

Peppermint Stick

1 ounce Peppermint Schnapps
1 1/2 ounce Creme de Cacao
1 ounce Half and Half

Shake with ice and strain into martini glass, add candy cane for garnish and to turn that shit pinker than panty stains!

Caramel Apple (and dear God help you, this tastes like melted sex)

1 shot Sour Apple Pucker
1 shot Butterscotch Schnapps

Shake with ice and pour yourself one fat ass shot, or two polite ones for guests!

Every year we have a white elephant gift exchange (which is apparently not politically correct, though I'm not sure I understand why, nor do I care, in case you're considering explaining), because where else could you acquire these fantastic parting gifts?

That's right! You're not seeing things. That is the KISS trivia game in keepsake tin box alongside the Spongebob Squarepants digital thermometer! See that big blocky safety head? Now I won't keep losing thermometers in my colon (YAY!!!). Synde got me the Travel Writing book, which I totally love and if I could would be my second job for sure. She was thoughtful enough to wrap it in this lovely paper...

....which, if Sid Haig doesn't turn your cold callous Holiday Heart into Tiny Tim's goose-eatin' bundle of hope, then nothing will.

Remember when I said holiday craft time? Well I wasn't kidding. Here in this candid but, I think you'll agree, poignant still life, Team Seattle (and auxilliary, but minus Kat and Richelle), make with the creation of gift bags and tags...

They also made with the naughty talk, but I'm not supposed to bring that up.

Today, we went to Ellen's Cookie Party, hoping the entire time not to be snowed in and forced to break the bank on some $300 a night hotel (Seattle's a tad pricey in the accommodations department. Here's TS (not transsexuals) engaged in pastry decor and blurry as hell--did I mention I was hungover?

My primary order of business was the creation of the ultimate in zombie cookie outbreaks, but the best I could manage were this pair of corpses suffering from matching traumatic brain injuries (I am particularly proud of the gingerbread man's severed arm gore)...

In this shot the lovely and talented Kat Richardson is really too excited about hot apple cider. Really. Too. Too. Too. I did try some and it was delicious as were the plethora of cheeses and charcouterie.

Zombie cookies aside, what cookie party is complete without a non-descript mystery cookie? Here's mine...

I'll make it easy for you in handy multiple choice format.

Is the above cookie...

a) Bleeding Heart of Fatima.
b) Dreidel gone horribly wrong.
c) Festive holiday but plug with unfortunate crunchy residue.
d) All of the above.

That's all for now. Thanks for playing!

A Whole New Website and 4 Other Things

2008-12-01T14:40:00.000-08:00

So this is one of them 5 things posts. I'm really just touching base to tell people that the new website contest had a bit of a glitch and at least 10 contest entries got marked as spam. Ugh. If you think that might be you then head on back to markhenry.us.

1. Like I said, markhenry.us has a totally new look and it's actually a for-real website now with lots of fun content, a section in Amanda's voice (Amanda's NSFW voice, I should say) and some cool zombie extras. Check it. I mean, if you want...oh...this:

2. Caroline and I went to see Quantum of Solace over the weekend and while we didn't love it as much as Casino Royale, it's still leaps and bounds above the Remington Steele travesties and don't even get me started on Dalton, cuz I'll vomit all over this keyboard.

3. Speaking of the weekend, on Saturday I got to be all grown up and go to lunch with new author adults, including good friend Lauren Dane, who you'll know from video blogs of her her and partner in crime, Megan Hart on Dane/Hart. Her first New York book, Undercover is out TODAY. You'll be needing to pick up a copy of that little sexy, poste haste. Especially when you see this cover, it's totally bonerfied!

4. Do you guys send out Holiday cards? We do. And I'm addressing some this afternoon. Probably won't get to them all due to low word count guilt. I really need to finish another chapter on The Dark Rites of Joe Barkley before I'm forced to flagellate myself.

5. Shit I can't think of a 5th one. If you were me, what would be my 5th thing?

Newsy Stuff!

2008-11-26T13:02:00.000-08:00

Now that True Blood's over I didn't think I'd have all that much to look forward to. You see, Caroline and I had been going over to our friend Jo's house, along with my best friend Kevin to watch us some nasty vampire shit. And when it was over I was feeling a little let down. So when I got home, I checked my email and found out some awesome news!

The organizers of the Dreamin' in Dallas conference, okayed our (along with celebrity scribe, Jaye Wells) workshop and will even be footing my travel and hotel bill. This may not seem to be a big deal to you guys that travel for a living, but when you're a midlist author, conferences are expensive and the travel to get there and stay is rarely paid for by anyone but your dwindling bank account or nearly maxed out credit cards.

So I'm totally peeing myself. Plus I'll get to see Jaye and our friend Leah again, and of course, the lovely and talented Dakota Cassidy and maybe even Michele Bardsley (who coincidentally is the subject of today's Barely Sane Interview at the League. Check it cuz there's an awesome contest, too).

In other news, tomorrow's Turkey Day and I'll be cooking side dishes and pies tonight along with the rest of America. But tomorrow, I'll be thankful that I finished the final tweaking on the redesign of my website.

The Grand Reopening of markhenry.us is Monday, December 1st. Complete with a contest, lots of vulgarity, Amanda, Wendy and Gil reviewing movies and shit. You don't want to miss out and I'll be sure to remind you.

What are y'all gonna be thankful for?

My Favorite Things!!!

2008-11-18T15:23:00.002-08:00

This is Oprah.
She gives away her favorite things.

This is me.
I don't.

Come look at them anyway.
Over here.

Hangin' with the Belizians

2008-11-12T09:31:00.001-08:00

Finally, the conclusion of the cruise into terror blog!

If you'll recall, when last we talked, the ship was rockin' and shaking and generally keeping your intrepid hero awake all night. I got up before dawn without a single apneaed moment of sleep and shambled through the rolling ship. Interesting because on a ship that carries nearly 3000 including staff, I ran into 5 people total. It was creepy. The boat groaned and grated. It was totally what I needed, to get a feel for the ship for Amanda book 4. Well worth a sleepless night.

That morning we pulled into the bay off Belize City--it doesn't have a deep water port so we were tendered in (see how I pick up on the lingo?). Here's what you need to know about Belize City: from the water, it's gorgeous. Seriously.
Caribbean colorblocking in teals and pinks and blues create a Disney-like wall between the cruise trade and the reality. Almost exactly like a Hollywood set, all facade. Remember the cruise malls that mark the beginning of every excursion? In Belize the dichotomy between the whitewashed tourist entry point is so severe, if I'd never been to a third world country before I would have been shocked, I'm certain some of my traveling companions were.

Maybe they should have picked up some Darvocet for our trip into the jungle (only $25 for 100 tabs! and No Prescription--I'm not saying I'm a prescription drug addict, but if I were, I'd be cruising more often). Here's the signs to prove it (though honestly, as far as you know I made these myself and taped them up on my back door.

Alright, so we leave the mall because I'll be damned if we're going to pay the cruise sponsored excursion folks $50 per person to drive us out to the howler monkey sanctuary. We thought about going to the zoo, but though better, 3rd world zoos can come off as simply sad, or worse infuriating. Because travel is about taking risks sometimes, we went out into the city and talked to a woman who set up what could either have been an awesomely cheap tour (she was willing to haggle, which made me feel better--$20/head sits better with this cheapskate) or the beginning of a horror movie in which we'd be sold into white slavery (I'll jump all the way to the end scenario since none of our families would be able to afford any sort of ransom). I'm totally serious on that one - just ask mine...

Kidnapper: $50,000 or your son gets it.
Mom: Yeah. You're going to have to send the body to the Mountain View Memorial Park on Steilacoom Boulevard, thanks.
Kidnapper: How 'bout $25,000?
Mom: (chuckles) click.

See? It was a bigger risk than you thought.

Our driver was fun and gave us the whole messy rundown on the place, pimples and all. Which made me happy (but you know me, I do love to pick a scab). The howler monkey sanctuary was an hour into the country, so we saw tons of stuff including a number of homes (for lack of a better word) that had simply been abandoned, either because they were built on bad pilings or the owners had run out of money and left to work in America for more construction money.

I'm not going to lie, when we pulled into someone's yard and our driver said, "Here we are," I was pretty sure we were about to die. But Kurt the owner of the house was totally nice, hospitable and super knowledgable. The Sanctuary itself covers a large jungled area in which several families have adopted human counterparts, living on their land. We simply bypassed the "official" guides, and went directly to the people's houses (forcing them to snatch their wet underwear off clotheslines). Caroline was mortified initially, I kept looking over and she had this fight or flight look in her eyes. Poor baby.

We were in Kurt's uncle's yard when we heard our first howler monkey. Kurt called for them first and I thought his voice was loud (I also was still pessimistic at that point, so I thought we might be being taken for a ride), until I heard the monkeys respond. Jesus! They're loud. Someone in the group was like "OMG how big are they?" Turns out not so big.

We followed the howling to Kurt's cousin's house and sure enough, they were hangin' everywhere. Here's Gina trying to get her hand back from one. Apparently she wants more bananas...

Only the longer we stayed, the more pissed the dominant male got...

How awesome is that, he's pissy? Plus, we got to use these Belizian flyswatters that were like self-flagellation devices. I had to buy one for home, since mosquitoes love me more than life itself.

Our driver took us back another way, so he could show us the prison...

...(which looked pretty much like the rest of Belize except for the fence), a big graveyard, with aboveground vaults because Belize is below sea level...

...and this awesomely misguided sign...

...Uhhhhhh. What?

We drove back through the center of the city and really, in all honesty, it was kinda scary. The closest thing I could compare it to were images of Soweto on TV. Very shantytown, only with actual buildings. It probably didn't help that when we got back it was to the strains of a pounding tropical downpour. Still. The poverty made me even less impressed by the cruise mall, we decided to do our shopping outside the gates at the local stands. Nice people, most of them and everyone spoke English, so it was pretty easy to navigate.

Did I mention it was raining?

Two of us got soaked on the way back to the ship, our catamaran had a roof but was open on the sides, we ended up standing near the boat captain.

All in all, Belize was definitely the most interesting place we visited. It certainly had a visceral effect and that's what I'm after in travel. So...success.

The rest of the cruise was at sea, at some point we passed Cuba, but it was night so you couldn't see anything but the lights of Havana in the distance. So, let's breeze through...

The night we left Belize, this carcass was hanging in our room, we call it our towel vulva, but I suppose from this angle it kinda looks like a howler monkey (I'll give them the benefit of the doubt--though really if you know there are drunken adults stumbling into the cabin, why not go all out with genital towel sculpture?

We came up with a particularly heinous zombie scene at this table in the bar (and by heinous, I do mean offensive to nearly everyone--expect that in book 4), Kevin nearly siezed...

The next day got me caught up on my reading and drinking...

...and as I'm losing steam here by the second, let me wrap all this up with the final towel carcass of the trip. The dreaded Dead Turkey Towel!!!

If you think it's something else, please share. The next morning we got our bar and tip bill, which was excessive...on our part, granted. Cruises are a great value for people who don't drink.

I was actually really surprised that I enjoyed it as much as I did. Gained 5 pounds, though. Damn you Royal Caribbean!!

Where should I go next?

6-Things Revolution!

2008-11-05T11:31:00.000-08:00

Qwill tagged me with the ubiquitous 6-things meme. Which I'm now forced to comply with, simply because she's so nice. But instead of following directions, which I'm known to disregard anyway, I decided to come up with my own.

Here you go...

1. If you're reading this meme, consider yourself tagged.
2. Post these directions, or directions of your own making on your blog.
3. Post 6 pictures of what's going on in your life right now. They don't have to be interesting, so don't worry.
4. Give each a title.
5. Bask in your artiness.

Damn Straight

Morning Consititutional

Intestinal Fortitude

Orphans

Emotionally Detached

Self-Imposed Cubicle

So, there you have it Qwill. I hope you're happy with what you've started.

A Special Announcement...

2008-11-04T06:35:00.000-08:00

BITE THE VOTE...
…ON SUPERNATURAL TUESDAY

Tired of the same old bloodsuckers? Cost of medical insurance so high, you wish you were immortal? Between death and taxes, you're leaning toward death?

Whether you're human or not, everyone has a voice in Broken Heart, Oklahoma. YOU can Bite the Vote and choose the candidates that have forever to keep their promises. Unlike *other* elections, voters who cast their online ballots will be entered to win an awesome prize package with goodies from Michele Bardsley, Dakota Cassidy, Renee George, Molly Harper, Mark Henry, Jackie Kessler, Richelle Mead, Jaye Wells, and MORE! (Complete listing at voting site. One winner will be chosen.)

Bite the Vote at:
http://www.BrokenHeartOK.com

And don't forget to check out the newest novel in Michele Bardsley's Broken Heart vampire series: WAIT TILL YOUR VAMPIRE GETS HOME.

Read Chapter One and Order here.

A New Week...

2008-11-03T09:46:00.000-08:00

...time to get some shit done. I've been working on The Dark Rites of Joe Barkley for too long and having a really hard time shutting down my internal editor to get a flow going. So, this is the week. I joined up for 70 Days of Sweat. Primarily for the accountability, though if anyone's up for wordcount wars that'd be awesome, too. Anyone? My goal is to finish Joe and start the third Amanda book, Battle of the Network Zombies, within the 70 day period.

Over at the League, I just announced the winners of the last two Halloween week winners, you might want to check over there, just in case.

The awesome and gracious Amy Menden interviewed a bunch of us zombie writing types for West Virginia's Grafitti magazine, you can check out the story here. If you dare!

Last thing.

I'm getting really close to relaunching the website and though I've asked several of you for questions for Amanda, Wendy and Gil's FAQ, I don't think I've asked my entire flist. So, if you have a question, spill. Nothing is off limits.

Weekend Round-up: Hellfire and Brimstone Edition

2008-11-02T16:42:00.000-08:00

Halloween started off with a nice surprise. A certain box...

...containing an unspecified number of copies of a certain item (hint: it's got tons of fucking typos and zombies doing horrible things including but not limited to getting their groove on in a filthy camper and chowing down on teen potheads). Hmm. I'll have to figure out something to do with those, huh?

Halloween was, as always, a highlight of the year. The goddaughters made me proud in dark fantasy personas, evil fey and witch. I couldn't have been happier. We ate enchiladas--I slaved over them all day--and watched The Thing and some Lovecraftian piece of crap from the 60s. Good times.

Saturday morning, Caroline and I watched 2000 Maniacs, which is my new favorite party movie. I'm going to have to buy that shit, it was so awful and stupidly gory that he had a hard time breathing and containing bladders from all the laughing. Seriously. Town celebrates their centennial by killing Yankees in pretty hilarious ways. Blood Feast was up next starring exactly the same people and looks to be a great double feature if we ever get to it. Which we might have had Richelle not scheduled the Team Seattle Halloween Shenanigans for that night.

Drum roll, please.

I went as...

Mophead!

What I found out in my pursuit of a disturbing pornstar coiffure is that cotton mop dreads want to make my face break out in a horrible rash. So Mophead was retired after the first hour of the party. Here's more shots from the Bacchannal (however that's spelled)!

Cherie and Caitlin were winners in the costume contest, sexiest and scariest, respectively. So they were totally pleased with themselves and their prizes. What wasn't a prize? Oh this...

If Richelle offers you a little bag of these nasties, it's because she either hates you or is trying to kill you. Big-ass candy fail!

Now, I'm off to watch two weeks worth of True Blood and eat Caldo Verde and too much cake. Hope everyone had a great Halloween and/or Samhain!

I'd love to know what you did, but I'd really rather know what you wish you'd done.

Cruising the High Seas...10 Feet High

2008-10-29T12:17:00.000-07:00

Officially, there were 6 of us traveling on the little boat seen above, though with our infant companion we made 7 and she was seriously awesome...bait. The waiters spent so much time hovering at our table, goo-gooing over (I'll use her super secret name here) Amy, they must have felt they needed an excuse, so they brought extra appetizers, entrees and desserts. Oh yeah, I gained like 5 pounds in 5 days. Quite an accomplishment since we were walking enough to get blisters and shit.

I don't know if I've told you, but at each port, there's a mall. Well...kinda. It's really just a collection of shops that sell the same stuff you can get in town but for three or four times the prices. What's weirder is that the cruise line put on this seminar to tell you where the reputable shops were. It think you can guess where. Also. Who goes on a vacation to buy loose Tanzanite? Is that anyone's goal? Crazy.

So, like Key West, Cozumel was another excursionless day. We opted to save the 600 dollars it would have cost us to travel 5 hours to the mainland and down the coastal highway of the Yucatan to Chichen Itza only to have a single hour to visit. Not. Going. To. Happen. Besides, Cozumel has their own ruins and a van rental split 6 ways was $21 per person. The choice was easy. Plus our rental car guy knew the skinny on some free-ass nachos and we all know those taste better than ones you pay for. Not that we're cheap. Or not just that we're cheap. I travel a lot and the best stuff happens when you're spontaneous and get lost in a place. So that was our intent.

The highway that circles Cozumel (if you could call it that--see left), while fairly flat, was subject to erosion just like its beaches, most of them on the windward side of the island were closed in recovery from some hurricane or something swirling in the southern Caribbean (this becomes important later). The potholes were invariably oceanside and were really little cliffs, dropping a good three feet. Luckily for us, we passed two cars the entire drive around 2/3rds of the island, nearly an hour. But we found this little stand in the middle of nowhere called Allmost Free (compared to the port mall it was) and bought some crap, if for no other reason than to say things like "hola," "gracias," and "andalay!" We didn't actually say that last one, but I thought it. Here's Jo wiping the sand off her feet and pondering coral necklaces and windburn...

Our next stop was the ruins at San Gervasio, which is down another one lane road straight into the jungle. A guy met us in the parking lot to say that they were having a bit of a problem with mosquitos. The moment he said it, I looked down at my legs to find three of the fuckers sucking me dry. And they hurt. Normally you can't feel 'em slide that proboscis inside of you (did that sound dirty?), but these were like Hepatitis vaccine-sized needles and you could feel every single one. I don't know if we even finished listening to the guy, rather ran straight to the gift shop to buy DDT or something. Hell, I would have rubbed on Diazinon crystals if it would have kept the little vamps off.

Despite frequent attacks, the ruins were pretty cool. Except. There was a religious group praying for the victims of the heathens (read, Mayans) and singing God Is In His Holy Temple from the hit film Poltergeist 2 (not really). Totally inappropriate and I'm fairly certain their rudeness was the cause of this giant lizard stalking us around (I could be wrong)...

Did I mention that Cozumel was a tad on the warm side? We were in full on 100-squared (temp/humidity). Nightmarish but we hydrated like good little boys and girls.

My best friend Kevin harvested what he assured me was safe, organism free agua. No. No. This post is not going to degenerate into a diarrhea-filled cliché. Not a chance. Swear to God. So, back to the ruins. Apparently the Mayans enjoyed living in squaty windowless pyramids--who doesn't? We were just itching to find the one covered in singing vines to begin our descent into hell. Instead, we found the source of the mosquitos. The trail leading to the main pyramid (the one you pay to see) was completely flooded with several inches of standing water. Not cool. Malaria was eating away at your humble guide's mind. But surely there was another, dryer way.

Not so much. But about those ruins. Here's an example...

Oh wait...no. That's where they keep Samara.

We never did find an alternate path to the main site, probably due to the excellent maps found along our route...

Clearly not big on upkeep. Oh well. Fun nonetheless and we picked up some maraccas! Meanwhile, back in the van, we followed the loop back to Cozumel City, which is really more of a low village with a strip of resorts lining the beach. It looks like this: poverty, poverty, poverty, luxury hotel! Like Russian Roulette with platinum visas. We stuck to the town, primarily because we had no clue where the highway continued. They're not big on signs. Or traffic lights...

...still, it was pretty easy to maneuver. Except for the surprise work zones where no one was actually working. We were unperturbed, with two things left to do (dawdle on the beach and secure some free nachos) we found our way back to the highway or road or whatever. If you make it to Cozumel, let me tell you that Albertos has some mean nachos and the fish tacos were excellent as were the guacamole, Pacificos and Mexicokes (seriously Coke tastes better in Mexico, WTF?). Plus, the restaurant was just some tables on the beach with a plywood dancefloor. Can you say 2 birds 1 stone?

On the way back to the rental car place we caught up with this interesting creature. I'm not saying it's a chupacabra for sure, I'm just sayin'.

Which brings us to--what in Texas Hold 'Em is called--the turn. The captain, heretofore known as Daredevil Sergei, let us all know that due to a tropical depression in the south, we'd be experiencing some rough waters on this coming leg of the journey. Understatement. Totally.

10 foot waves don't seem that high, but there was certainly a lot of this going on...

They even have special bags that show up on all the rails to hold the sick bags, unfortunately when they're empty they can hold something else entirely. When you're sick (which I wasn't but many were) what's the one thing you can't resist?

The one thing?

Wait for it...

Were you thinking all-you-can-eat midnight buffet served on the pool deck in gale force winds? If you did you're a winner. We opted just to watch. Also we were stuffed from the binge to end all binges at dinner. The only thing to do was drink the $5 specials all night. Can you blame us?

Later, on the way to the room, I found a wall decorated with photos and celebratory shit, among them this treasure...

I swear to God, the picture was developed quick cuz that pina colada was the drink of the day. It was apparently important enough to warrant expediting. I can't blame them, really. It's classic.

Moving on...If passengers hadn't earned their sea legs before, they did that night. The ship was rocked and slammed for about 7 hours straight. 7 hours which I didn't sleep. Our cabin was near the hull and every time we hit a big wave, it sounded like a bomb going off. Finally nodded off at about 5:30 in the morning with a wake-up call at 7:30. Good times.

Good times that even that night's towel carcass couldn't improve on...

Question: if this one is so clearly a rabbit, then what the hell was the first one (see previous post)? Freaky, right?

Is It Time To Stop Doing Tina?

2008-10-27T09:06:00.000-07:00

What do you get when you mash-up two of my favorite TV shows?

See more Kristin Chenoweth videos at Funny or Die

Linkerbation!!!

2008-10-27T08:02:00.000-07:00

First of all, the League of Reluctant Adults is throwing a HALLOWEEN SPECTACULAR this week with tons of authors, publishing peeps and bloggers lending their favorite halloween scare. There'll be plenty of fun, lots of contests and ghoulish fun so make sure to stop by several times per day.

Also, I'm interviewed by Jana over at Reality Bypass and because there's very little people don't already know, I'm giving away a signed copy of Happy Hour and a cover flat of Road Trip of the Living Dead.

Last thing. Shannon (sadieloree) and Starbucks.heaven both won cover flats a while back and have yet to email me. I'm starting to feel like you don't want 'em. That's making me feel bad about myself. You don't want me to start cutting again, do you?

A Friday Five

2008-10-24T10:59:00.000-07:00

I'm too lazy to figure out what links all these things so you get the obligatory "Friday Five." Sorry.

1. Yesterday, Team Seattle descended on the super swanky Hotel 1000 to meet up with fellow zombie scribe, Carrie Ryan. Dellacorte has her on a whirlwind pre-pub tour and though we only had a brief lunchbreak with her, she's been assessed TS associate worthy. We took her to the always filthy and delicious Mae Phim (where, as Cherie will attest, it's safest to only order traditional Thai dishes, lest your stomach roll like a barrel over a falls). We chatted about zombies, chocolate, our unwholesome love of our mutual agent and partook of the infamous and endless paparazzi sessions (as shown here...)

2. Interested in a free online horror novel involving a giant shark and a probably doomed dysfunctional family? I know you are. How could you not be? One of my favorite horror guys, Joe Schreiber (Chasing the Dead, Eat the Dark), has put out some awesomeness in the form of STILLWATER. You won't even have to wait for the installments, it's posted in its entirety. Here's the first chapter.

3. The always gracious and thoughtful Catherine Schaff-Stump reminds me that Happy Hour of the Damned was the October Book Club read for the ever ominous sounding Mindbridge Foundation. You can read her notes of their meeting and an interview with me on her blog.

4. Next week is the League of Reluctant Adults Halloween Spectacular. Make sure to swing by every day for tons of spooky posts by your favorite authors, publishing industry folk and even some mega-bloggers!

5. It's Friday. Time for a video...

I'm not sure who Tom Chaplin's channeling but I'm digging the 80s pop feel.

Guess the Towel Carcass and Win!*

2008-10-22T11:01:00.000-07:00

See that there? That's the Royal Caribbean Enchantment of the Seas. We just got back from a five day jaunt on that monstrosity and lived to tell the tale. I'll have you know it was our first cruise--I totally don't include the three days of humid hell aboard that Naval frigate that evacuated my family and me from the Phillipines a while back (that's another story entirely)--and despite some bumps and grinds and nausea, we had a great time.

For 40 year olds.

Oh yeah, it was one of those trips. Celebrating the year our social group turned a conjoined 40. Caroline, Kevin, Gina and I have known each other since high school and figured we'd do something special to commemorate the event. Initially, we wanted to do one of those villa vacations with our own pool and staff, but as other friends dropped out that option became more and more financially impossible, until finally we were left with cruising (not that kind).

We flew out to Ft. Lauderdale on Air Tran, which we all hoped was either the Vietnamese nail salon of airlines or at the very least outfitted with velvet curtain swags and trannie stewardesses. Neither of these wishes came true. Though it's not a bad airline as we came to find out. No frills, but aren't they all nowadays?

We got ass-raped by the Limo van driver at the Ft. Lauderdale airport, who got us to our hotel in ten minutes, for the low low price of 70 dollars! Does anyone smell brain cake? The Courtyard, at least, was a nice little boutique hotel overlooking a yacht club. By the way, everything in Ft. Lauderdale is overlooking some yacht. The 7-Eleven, the porta-potty, the welfare office. All have views of million dollar vanity toys. Here's our view...

That's Jo and Kevin lingering in the shadows like a couple of peeping toms. Creepy if you ask me, but that's their schtick. Anyway. We killed the rest of the evening eating at Bubba Gump Shrimp Company, which is not nearly as much fun or as retarded as it should be--will someone tell me why the waiters aren't wearing leg braces, cuz that would be too awesome, maybe?--and walking on the beach where we intruded on some filthy couple doing dirty things to each other in the closed lifeguard stand. When will people learn that you're supposed to be ashamed of your body. It's like they grew up without parents.

Cruise ships, as it turns out take a long time to board. So ours, which was scheduled to leave port at 5:00, began boarding around noon...or was supposed to. We got all Floridian and had breakfast on the water at some outdoor nightclub that slings eggs in the A.M. Of course, by the time we were done, I was covered in a sheen of humidity that never really seemed to leave me. From there we were gouged again by another van driver, this one only charged 8 dollars per person for the 5 minute drive to the cruiseport, so our butts only bled a little bit. Though at this point, looking back, I could have killed a bitch.

What they don't tell you: there's a big ass line to get on the boat. I've yet to see this part of cruising on any travel channel show or commercial. And why is that, when the experience is so magical and not at all cattle-going-to-the-slaughter? Seriously, the line moved quickly. Into another line. And from there into another line. The Enchantment of the Seas holds 2500 guests and although I don't think the ship was sold out, the warehouse was pretty damn full of people mooing and shit.

Here's what else they don't show: everywhere you go after you check in is like a red carpet. Paparrazi snap your pictures like crazy. I'm serious. They come out of the woodwork with their cameras flashing. It's insane. I'm not gonna lie. I loved it. I miss it. The pictures show up the next day in the gallery on board and you can buy even the most hideous depictions of your drunk ass. The ones with your eyes closed. The ones where you're asleep on a deck chair, frying like bacon. Oh yeah. Us Weekly shit up in this bitch.

So we get to our cabin, which looks like this on the RC website...

Roomy, spacious even. And looks like this in real life...

Nearly as small as my New York hotel room (you may remember). The first night was a pretty great precursor. Casual dinner (which doesn't mean cut-off shorts and midriffs) was sorta swanky and the food was amazing and plentiful. Nearly bountiful. We left wishing for a bucket. There was a comedian who told poo jokes which, wonder of wonders, I laughed at. And hooch. Daily special hooch. We'll get back to that.

The next morning we woke up in Key West. Well just off the coast and around 5:30 A.M.. That's when the bow engine blasted to life like a battle scene from Platoon. What the? It's hard enough to sleep with some of the rocking but dayam, the noise. I took the opportunity of an early wake up call to cram my fat ass into the cabin's shower. Seriously like shoving spam back into the can. I'm not kidding.

Key West was pretty fun (I know you have a hard time believing it Stace!) and not the land of drunks, date rapes and dick bongs (see right)...or not just the land of drunks, date rapes and dick bongs, they also have drag queens! And conch. Whatever the hell that is. It seems to be best fried in some sort of fritter, though we didn't try one, rather opting for the less scary Key Limeade. We walked down steamy Duvall street and passed a shitload of cool architecture, smarmy bars and tee shirt shops geared toward infant pirates, on our way to the Ernest Hemingway House to see those damn 6 toed cats.

Here's a couple of buildings, just cuz I liked 'em...

The Hemingway House is actually a compound of several buildings and despite not actually believing that the cats would be lying around everywhere, they were. Lots of them. The guy told us they had like 50 and they all have celebrity names. One lady on the tour got bitchy about spay and neutering and the tour guide went crazy on her ass--which was no stretch for this guy who was seriously insane. Needless to say, I was in heaven. Here's Spencer Tracy gettin' pissy with a ho...

I'll leave you with two more shots. The first is the actual toilet that Hemingway shat his bowels into between writing sessions...

I had to reach my arm through some bars to get that one...

...and second, the obligatory towel animal that found its way into our cabin every night. We never could quite tell what each was, so they became known as towel carcasses...

Any guesses?

Next Port O' Call: Cozumel, Mexico, where we drank Mexicokes. Tune in for that shit.

*No actual prize will be awarded beyond the glow of your sinful pride.

Wednesday Blogging

2008-10-08T09:44:00.001-07:00

Hey y'all. Announced the winner of the Jeanne Stein contest over at the League, blogged about the high cost of promo and started up a Road Trip of the Living Dead cover flat contest so go. Now.

If you're bored, or even if you're not, you'll be entertained by Lauren Dane's back-up dancing skills over at DaneHart. I'm not joking.

Lauren, her friend April, Caroline and I went to see Santogold last Saturday and now we totally have to have back-up dancers. Could you be the one? Speaking of Santogold, she was awesome. But what's up with three opening bands? Santi didn't hit the stage until 11:00 and by then I was feeling horribly old and cranky. Though Lauren seemed to be taking it all in stride live-twittering weird shit about me all night. She's precious that way.

Anyways. I leave you with horrible concert photography. If I had a camera that could take a decent picture, that'd be awesome. Then I could have captured all the 80s-ness of the event.

Weekend! Now with more Team Seattle, Gaiman and Dead Perverts

2008-10-04T10:14:00.000-07:00

So it's morning and I did what I do every morning, made some coffee, fed the dogs, watched a little TV (and I do mean little, because I couldn't make it through the piece of crap that was Sanctuary on Scifi--Christ on a cracker what a pile). And instead of settling in to my manuscript, I'm busy hunting for distractions.

Blogging is as good as any and I've got lots of stuff to draw on. Take last week, or as it has been renamed...the week of many packages (not that kind). Take this one here, which was addressed to one Amanda Feral. I was concerned that it might be a human limb, so I did open it in public, just in case someone might alert the media (the police, sure, but that's really secondary to publicity, don't you think?). Inside was a N'Awlins themed care package from one of the awesome Glamazombies, Rebecca.

Needless to say, it was time for a midweek cocktail party for two. I think you'd concur, that was the best course of action. I didn't recall Hurricanes being quite so strong or so sweet. Damn. I was nearly knocked over, of course.

The next day, the cover flats for Road Trip of the Living Dead arrived (now with Amazon pre-order link for your purchasing/tagging needs). There were like 25 of them so I figured I'd end up giving them away sparingly. But then a couple of days ago, I got a fat package from Kensington. It must be crapping cover flats in NYC, because there are at least 200. I'll have to think of a contest. Maybe you could help in the comments. While you're at it ask Amanda some questions for her FAQ on my new website (COMING SOON!).

Last night, a truncated Team Seattle spread our urban fantasy all over the University District--and yes exactly like butter. We met up with TS Associates, Synde and Ellen (who is not a sock puppet, but Cherie's for real friend) for coffee, chatter and some Pagliacci...

...here's another one of Synde, giving us her critique of the guards at Folsum Prison. Then it was off to get Methodist at the Neil Gaiman Extravaganza. It was definitely a wet one and standing in the rain is not my favourite activity (did you see what I did there, Kit?), but we managed by making fun of Neil unmercifully, as is every fabulously wealthy celebrity author's curse. We saw Ciara, who's becoming a fixture at these author outings and is bound to be caught up in the swirling maelstrom of Team Seattle any day now and tried to find Lisa Mantchev, who was clearly hiding from us or squat-walking (if you know Lisa, you know she's statuesque). We were denied.

Though we did get 4th row seating. Which was awesome. Here's a totally blurry Neil now, reading Chapter 4 of The Graveyard Book.

The entire chapter. Granted, he reads awfully well and the British accent was, well...fitting. But the pews had no padding (do Methodists?) and my ass was begging for a cushion within 15 minutes. Begging turned to bribery and then threats. Chapter 4 took well over an hour to read. But we did get to see the Dead Perverts and that's always fun, including the newly minted Audrey pervert (nice to meet you!). Though I noticed, San made a comment about my newly dyed tresses over on his livejournal. Which forces me to show you what havoc I've reeked...

If this is the extent of my midlife crisis then Caroline's in luck. I think it's a little dark, but after doing the count I'd definitely lost the battle with the grays and was hovering at 40% of my natural color. Call me rash. Vain. Whatevs. They had to go.

Anyways...so we did get to see clips from the upcoming Coraline movie and learned that Gaiman was working on an Anansi Boys script, but by the end of the event we were dragging. So Caitlin and I headed back south. About fifteen minutes later, I realized I left my camera in the bible holder at our pew. After multiple exclamations of Fuck! Ranging from the simplest, and previously stated, "Fuck," to "Fuck Me" (which has no erotic connotations, in this context), to the always appropriate "Fucking idiot."

Caitlin calmed me down and we raced back to the Methodist Temple and pounded on the front door. Luckily Art and Duane and the crew were still inside tidying up and the religuousness of the venue halted any thievery.

That kind of brings you up to date. Remember those questions I asked you?

Guest Blogging

2008-10-02T09:02:00.000-07:00

...Today over at Bitten By Books. Halloween ghoulishness and traditions. That kind of thing.

There's a Halloween Cornucopia at stake, and an Amazon giftcard if that does anything for you.

Hey Y'all Want Some Amazon?

2008-10-01T08:47:00.000-07:00

My infrequent, unscheduled and only moderately sane urban fantasy interview series continues this week with author Jeanne Stein (Legacy) and a chance to win a $25 Amazon gift card!!! You might want to check that out, seeing how that's three free books and all (4 if you get in on the 3 for 4 paperback deal). You'd best go there now.

Also, turning this into a bit o' links post. Michele Bardsley asked a few of her friends (me included) a very important question (read not...at all) over on her blog.

And while we're at it, you know who's got a book out this week? Richelle. That's right you can pick up Succubus Dreams from many a fine retailer and swoon over the writer guy who kinda looks like John Cusack and laugh at Georgina's smart-ass mouth.

Back to work...

Wouldn't It Be Weird?

2008-09-26T12:21:00.000-07:00

To have your life documented on film as a child and that show up on youtube after you'd achieved some measure of notoriety...or not. I'm thinking about those British documentaries 7-Up, 14-Up and so on and so on. Remember those? We had to watch them for my graduate program and they really are interesting and intrusive and sometimes uncomfortable. Watching these normal kids grow up into some fucked-up adults (in some cases).

So yesterday, I was goofing off as I'm wont to do and I came across this Oprah clip...

...which is touching in a rich latch-key kid kind of way. So it's surprising that this little girl is actually Chantal Claret from Morningwood.

And here they are performing Easy...

What can I say? My procrastination knows no bounds.

Things...

2008-09-24T09:56:00.001-07:00

First up, I got my blog on over at the League. It's all about brains and zombies and poop stains. Whatever. It's officially the end of my blog rut. Cuz it's all gross and I likes it. So check it out. Next week, Jeanne Stein will be swinging by for a fun little chat they may or may not end in death and dismemberment. Then again...

Are y'all twittering?

Cuz I totally am.

Come on down!!!

Also, as you may have heard, TEAM SEATTLE is doing a friend drive. Why not stop by either our Facebook or Myspace and show us some love, we'll gladly return the favor--cuz we're cheap like that. And Jesus Christ on a cracker, leave a comment or three or seven. We loves us some comments.

I'm a bit chipper just now, because I heard back from my Mom. She just finished Road Trip of the Living Dead and loved it (well as much as a mother can love hot necrophilia, homeless masochists, smarmy chthulu and GORE). Her words: "Much smoother than the first, funnier."

Then she was off raving about J.R. Ward and Colleen Gleason. Dark Lover this, The Rest Falls Away that. I'm going to stop supplying that woman with books, I swear to God.

One more thing. I'm kinda lovin' Uh Huh Her. Maybe it's the unicorn.

Take a Spin on the Blog-o-Whirl!

2008-09-22T10:21:00.000-07:00

Two weeks, people. I suck. So this might be a longish guilt-driven exploration of the end of my summer vacation, if I'd actually had a summer vacation rather than a summer of procrastination and then feverish catch-up for deadlines. Potato, potatoe.

Let's start with Terri's visit.

For those who don't know, Terri is an awesome friend, I met through Dakota and Michele. She's helping me with the horrific and gargantuan task of reimagining my website (which will be happening soon and I'm intent on adding tons of fun content like Amanda's club reviews and a gossip vlog from Wendy--if it all works out right).

So Terri was travelling all over the place like a vagabond and ended up in Seattle, so I had to roll out the red carpet. She brought along her friend Tate (who's shown up in another Terri post, if you'll remember). Here's some of the stuff we did...

Sat in traffic. There's nothing quite as "Seattle" as sitting in traffic. It doesn't matter what time of day you visit, I'll always be able to arrange this particular memory. It's primarily because the geniuses at the Dept. of Transportation thought it'd be a good idea to take a four lane freeway and gradually decrease it to 2 lanes as you get closer in to the city. Insanity.

Our first real stop was Pike Place Market, which is always bustling and touristy and such. We tried to capture the Seattleness that is the fish throwing but people didn't understand that the mongers only throw fish that have been bought, so there were people standing around waiting and mongers standing around waiting and then...

This guy stalls out in front of us, because he couldn't get through on his Little Rascal (apparently that's the button that makes the magic happen). Um...I have to admit, I took like three shots of him, but now i can't think of anything funny about it. People may think that Pike Place is this open air extravaganza because that's what you see on TV, but primarily it's a rickety old mall that unveils itself down an array of staircases and ramps that lead further and further in to the bowels. Where you can smell pee and buy such sought after home decor items as...

...and Box-O-Knives...

Here's Terri and Tate standing out of the way of the herds...

Next stop--after a brief tour of the downtown area where we found a block full of day laborers, right after I told Terry I didn't think we had an area full of day laborers (I was woefully uninformed, though oddly pleased)--was the Ballard Locks and the hunt for Hershel the Hungry Sea Lion (seen here, yet again escaping my keen papparatic skill (yes, I know, I just invented the word)...

Every damn time. It was the seagulls fault though. Hershel couldn't eat his Salmon in peace, they kept dive bombing him. We decided ultimately that the Locks suck. Even with a full lock of boats, the water elevator is so anticlimactic that we could see ourselves aging. There's only one cure for boring tourism and that's chocolate. We hauled ass to Theo's an awesome artisanal organic chocolate factory in Fremont, where we took a tour in exchange for fee chocolate. Unfortunately, we were coaxed into tasting the cocoa nibs...

Dear God, "nibs" do not taste like chocolate anymore than coffee beans taste like coffee. And despite what you might think, we didn't get a ride down the fuckin' chocolate river. I wanted to bust up the place once I found that out.

Additionally, we were surrounded by tour-goers that were totally invested in the idea of cruelty-free chocolate. Now, I don't know about you, but I could really get behind some child-labor chocolates, particularly if that's what it said on the label. Embrace it!!! Anything for tasty sweets.

We picked up Synde and headed for our rendezvous with Ms. Richelle Mead...

...who showed up just in time for some cruelty-free mojitos...

And then all was right with the world. Had a great time with Ter and Tate and look forward to Tate showing up at some of our events, which she'll do, lest she be judged, viciously.

Had another author event last weekend, Lauren Dane (seen here ignoring the adorable Ciara) celebrated a year of caffeine-fueled productivity (though from the amount she wrote, I suspect someone was chasing the dragon).

You probably know Lauren from her dirty watching of the porno with fellow author Megan Hart at Bring Me My Hookah. We gorged ourselves on Eggplant Parmesan and an assortment of pastas, chianti and basil mojitos. Much gossiping ensued and I met up with a friend from High School, who I hadn't seen since graduation (Hey Christina!). Here's the big group shot of the people who survived until the end...

Caroline took the shot and noticed that Lauren's husband was watching us like we were insane. Like we were practicing for the papparazzi or something. Which, of course, we are.

I'll leave you with this obligatory Cherie-guilted animal image. I give you Linzey begging for food at dinner...

Do with it what you will.

Blogging about Blogging...

2008-09-17T08:53:00.001-07:00

Over at The League of Reluctant Adults. Won't you join me in my misery?

Also. Sorry about not being around much. My internet access has been fucking up royally. I can barely get an email out without losing connection. I'll figure it out, but 'til then. I guess I'll be sporadic.

I'm Really In It...

2008-09-10T11:35:00.000-07:00

Did y'all see Garden State? Do your remember the scene where Zach Braff was in the tub with Natalie Portman and she looks at him and says, "You're really in it." Hmm?

Well, I'm there.

Bogged down in a to-do list that seems endless and over-extending myself as usual. It kind of explains why I haven't been touching base as much, though, there is this...

But I've got a guest blog due on Friday that I haven't started it. Primarily because I have no clue what I want to write about or what people would even be interested in. So, I'm asking for help. Reaching out.

What would you like me to blog about?

Ghost Blog and Stuff!

2008-09-03T06:54:00.001-07:00

1. Caroline and I went on a ghost hunt. Check out the evidence over at the League.

2. I've been watching tons of PBS and Agatha Christie mysteries. Call it research for Book 3 of the Amanda Feral series wherein I mingle an English country murder mystery with reality show skanks and puffy nipple fat. While watching an episode of the Mrs. Bradley Mysteries (which is awesome, by the way--Diana Rigg can do no wrong), guess who popped up at a private school music teacher? The Doctor. David Tennant was looking really young, too.

3. My hunger for Dragon Con pix has been sated. Thank you Marianne Mancusi and Jeanne Stein. And can I just say...Baltar!!!

4. Santogold tickets go on sale in three hours. I'm so there!

5. Is anyone else hoping the Fringe is the new X-Files?

Glamazombies Activate!

2008-09-01T15:15:00.001-07:00

For those of you who aren't members of the Glamazombies (the yahoo group devoted to all things Amanda, sick humor and procrastination), I probably should mention that we've been known to get together and hang out. Usually this happens in conjunction with some convention but last week there was a convergence on my turf.

On Tuesday, Kit Kittredge (seen here flipping the bird just like the American Girl she is) and I drove up to the new and improved Southcenter Mall (you may know it as the Westfield Shopping Town--I refuse to call it that on the grounds it sounds insane) to meet Terri, her friend Tate and Rachel from Bitten-By-Books. I can't remember the place where we ate, but they had Pomegranate mojitos that tasted exactly like soda! Why are those going to cause me to blow a liver? I can't resist the siren call of their deliciousness.

Who could?

Terri, apparently, twisted Tate's screws to read Happy Hour of the Damned (in stores now) before we met and I was relieved that she had a good time with my zombie skanks. Rachel was her usual sarcastic self so you know I appreciated that. Here's Terri and Tate now.

For those not in the know, Terri is traveling all over the place dropping in on her favorite peeps (yep. I'm one). Right before us, she paid a visit to Dakota Cassidy and Michele Bardsley for some maniacal Rock Band gaming (you can check that shit out on her blog). Personally, I'd have to be loaded to play that game...or alone. The singing in public is not my favorite.

It was a short visit with the ladies as Ter had to keep moving on up to Canada (she'll be back for another action packed photoblog later this month). Afterward, Caitlin and I hit the Barnes and Noble in Tukwila where a RAUCUS reading of Supernatural Witch's Canyon commenced. I'm not sure it was appreciated by everyone, but Kit does a hell of a Dean impersonation. We did get to visit our books, Caitlin's newest, Pure Blood was on the shelves and is likely on your local bookstore's, as well. Might I suggest you check that out, poste haste?

On Friday, Caroline and I met up with Virginia, her husband Pete and Synde for some sightseeing in the ever-so-traffic-ridden downtown area of Seattle. In the international district, we introduced the Pittsburghers to Bubble Tea (a milky/fruity concoction laden with black pearl tapioca and occasionally coconut jelly rectangles). Apparently, boba hasn't made it's way east so much and Virginia didn't take to it like I'd hoped. Ah well an acquired taste, I guess. We grabbed some lunch at Yuwajimaya (korean bbq and kimchee), Synde showed off a large uncircumcised dick...er, geoduck...

...and then we hauled ass to the Seattle Center where the Space Needle is located. I've been up once and that was enough. We ate dinner in the spinning restaurant and if that doesn't even sound like a bad idea, imagine it in reality. Virginia and Pete went on their own while we got typical and swung by a Starbucks and waited. Then it was off to the mecca for all urban fantasy disciples (since they have everything paranormal), the University Bookstore. I found Dean Lorey's Nightmare Academy in its original cover--I'd been looking since Conestoga and had resigned myself to the paperback reissue when this baby peaked its lovely head from the shelf.

After a horrific traffic jam downtown, we changed dinner plans and met Richelle, Kat, Rachel and her husband Cliff at Jai in Fremont. Many foods were consumed, but I was most concerned about the bovine blood sauce on a menu titled, "for the adventurous." No. We didn't try it--tempted? absolutely. In this shot, Virginia and Richelle mug for the camera (are you aware it's impossible to take a candid shot of Ms. Mead?)...

...always with the smiling.

After several plates of Pad Thai, Pad See Iew, Panang shrimp, Gai Ga Prau and curry fried rice, we dragged our bloated asses off to a bar. Kat mentioned that it would be just our luck to get to the bridge just in time for a boat to pass and guess what? Just like a true jinx, the alarm sounded and the gates dropped, leaving me plenty of time to test out my newest gang tag.

What do you think?

I love that it straddles the line between wholesome and nasty, and that asterisk just screams, "there's a hidden footnote on this bridge!" Who can ignore the allure of the hidden footnote? I dare you.

Cheap drinks and conversation is a recipe for an awesome Friday night, no matter how you slice it. Kat clearly agrees.

One thing though--and Richelle insists that all bars smell this way--I kept catching a urine smell. Not the kind where you're sitting near the bathroom and a puff sneaks out with the last drunk leaving the John. NO. This was long-term leakage (Thank you She Devil for that line). It was like someone was too drunk to stumble to the toilet and just whipped it out for some under the table relief. But...like I said, the drinks were cheap. It's amazing what you'll put up with for cheap booze. Writers.

This was the chance to hang with Rachel and Cliff as they're off to the wilds of western Kentucky--God help 'em. Here they are in a shot not involving Cliff's tongue (oh yes, they're naughty)...

The Blentz Funeral Home is the bar's next door neighbor (so you probably shouldn't order the short ribs) and Synde and I couldn't resist doing a little late night exploring. Here's a shot of the parlor...

...I took it through the window in the front door, hoping to catch an orb or a weird shadow. Still, it turned out pretty spooky, if I do say so. Which is the perfect preview of tomorrow's photo (and video) blog over at the League.

Caroline and I went to Port Townsend this weekend on a ghost hunt. Were we successful? You'll have to check back tomorrow.

* Lick 'Em!

Disaster Strikes! And Other News!

2008-08-29T09:53:00.000-07:00

Of course, I'm being dramatic. It's not that big of a deal, it just feels like it at 6:30 in the morning when you find out the website you devote so much time to down.

Remember that blackout we talked about over at the League of Reluctant Adults? Well it's happened. You can still see the site, we just can't access it to add anything new. So, over the weekend our trusty and reliable internet stylist will be working around the clock to bring back all the snarky posts about nothing in particular, disgustingly obvious self-aggrandizement, interviews bordering on clinical insanity and the occasionally helpful writing and/or publishing advice that you need to get you through your day.

In the meantime...

Why not listen to my new fave Santogold?

...and this time here she is with N.E.R.D. and Julian Casablancas...

...while you read an interview. Kerri-Leigh Grady asked all the right questions. Or read an awesome review of Happy Hour of the Damned over at Green Man Reviews.

False Alarm!!!

2008-08-27T08:17:00.000-07:00

The League of Reluctant Adults narrowly avoided a blackout and to celebrate, I've posted an interview and a contest for an Amazon gift card.

See who I've got tied up in the League Lounge!

5 Things or Whatever...

2008-08-25T08:37:00.000-07:00

I'm a lazy blogger. I'm resting my laurels firmly atop the 5 things make a blog post idea. Pathetic and sad, but--hey--I'm not complaining, God bless whoever thought it up.

1. SKELETON UPDATE!!!

Aw hells yeah! The skeleton is holding up better than the Holy Ghost. Still solid enough to pick up without any of the goo. Thanks Gina, this is quality product, you can be my "Grow-Your-Own" pusher.

2. Why am I addicted to Million Dollar Listing on Bravo? Anyone? It's not even a good show. They've gathered three of the most irritating metrosexual real estate agents in Los Angeles into an hour of freaky bowl haircuts, drag king style beards and whining. Every time I watch, I wish it were a first person shooter.

3. Sunday we went to the farmer's market in Olympia for Sand Castle Days, or whatever the hell it's called. There's something weird about trucking in sand for the event rather than hosting it at an actual beach. Still it was kind of fun, particularly the sculpture of cats giving a dog an enema (Caroline insisted they were vaccinating him, but I know different).

4. Pull tabs are AWESOME.

We used to gamble a lot, or what I should say is...we used to gamble our money away for very little fun and even less profit. Last night, though, while eating the most Americanized Chinese food known to man, I sunk $5 into some tabs and came out of the deal with 75 bucks! Is nice.

5. It's been a long time since I've done a book review on here and I've read a ton of awesome books, so expect my thoughts on Lamb by Chris Moore, The Miracle at Speedy Motors by Alexander McCall Smith, I'm the Vampire that's Why by Michele Bardsley, Mistress of the Art of Death by Ariana Franklin and Countdown by Michelle Maddox. I'm also putting the finishing touches on a disturbing domination fantasy/interview with Michelle that will be my post for Wednesday at the League of Reluctant Adults!!!

It's All About Allison

2008-08-20T08:35:00.000-07:00

These Are My Gifts.

2008-08-18T07:56:00.000-07:00

Anyone remember that line? 10 points at the end, if you can ferret through all the movies clogging your heads for that bit of crazy.

Now, the line does have a bit to do with this post, because this weekend I've been verily blessed with several gifts. And I mean "gifts" in the tangible sense and not an egotistical lookie-here-how-I'm-gifted sort of way.

First up, courtesy of Gina, comes this care package to soothe the edges of my Friday deadline (which I kicked in the ass, I'm happy to say)...

I didn't need to open the handmade and stamped envelope to know I was going to be shitting myself with glee about the contents, it's enough that readers even think about doing stuff like this (of course, now I must stalk Gina in a very scary way, but I figure she knew that going in). But I did open it and promptly ran for a bowl of water and the camera. Couldn't resist, not after last year's Holy Ghost/smegma (or is it shmegma?) mishap.

So, we'll be dropping in on Mr. Skeleton periodically. I fully expect that this time, the growth will be positively spooky.

Next up--and this may be more of a curse than a gift--Smokey.

I really don't have anything poignant to say about my little shitter, except well...here you go Cherie, another cute dog pic. THE TONGUE!!!

On Sunday, Caroline and I went to see Ben Stiller and Justin Theroux's skewering of the Hollywood asshole-set, Tropic Thunder.

I loved it. and not in a heartwarming way.

Tropic is my kind of movie. It celebrates the offensive and shanks political correctness in that thoroughly tongue-in-cheek way that can only lead to picketing (I don't know why it continues to surprise me that people don't get satire).

I'm not saying this flick is a masterpiece of comedy by any stretch--in fact it sort of fizzles in the third act (until Tom Cruise reminds us why he's still relevant)--what I will say is I haven't laughed like that since Jaye Wells, Leah Hodge and I came up with official gang sign for Oklahoma (and I nearly peed myself at that, let alone Jaye and Leah).

Sure there are protesters angry about this or that. There always will be. I propose a cure for being offended. Ridicule. If everyone is subject to embarrassing jokes and humiliation then it becomes a joining experience. No one is sacred...or safe. NO ONE.

Do you see the logic?

You get yourself some tough skin or, hell...Darwinism in Effect, y'all!

One last thing...

Patrice Michelle goes to some weird ass places on the weekend. Case in point, The Bunghole (seen above). Apparently, she was with her husband on this latest trip, or at least that's what she says. Many people find exploring the bunghole embarrassing and often keep it to themselves. Not Patrice. She sends pictures.

Thanks for the gifts!

Road Trip Has a Cover!!!

2008-08-13T08:03:00.000-07:00

Check it out.

HERE!

ETA: now with actual cover!!

Death Race 2008

2008-08-11T08:04:00.000-07:00

No. I'm not talking about the remake of the David Carradine car-as-weapon classic where, according to my wife, all the prisoners appear to be "hot." I'm talking about this past weekend.

Do you ever have those days where you feel run ragged? Where you've been so overscheduled you can't even think straight?

That was this past weekend.

Like some top secret memo had been circulated--must drive Mark and Caroline to the edge of sanity--everyone we know scheduled a party. Everyone. Friday night was a barbecue with friends. Not a problem, we normally go to dinner with this group so it wasn't anything out of the ordinary. Ribs, peartinis and talk smutty enough to make sailors blush.

But Saturday was like a death march and that's was after the judgment gauntlet of our dogs who clearly do not like to be left alone...

We had to turn down two invites, including a family B-day party, just from the sheer weight of obligations. First up, Caroline's work peeps barbecue in Bumfuck, Egypt. No joke. When the roads stop having names and you're making a left at the hay bale accident, that's country. Witness also the Willy Nelson soundtrack in the background. Can you say, "Nothing in common." Nothing. Hunting was a major topic of conversation. I thought it best to keep my mouth shut on that particular topic. I did perk up initially when I thought we were talking about human targets, but sadly the victims being discussed were far more honorable.

That said, it was kind of nice, they had a gazebo and a big Japanese bell that I couldn't resist ringing every few minutes. Oh and Margaritas. We were the only ones drinking those, the remainder of the guest eschewing hard alcohol for the comfort of the keg.

Caroline's coworkers are nice. But there was this one guy who sidled over like a bow-legged cowboy, eased himself down into a chair and proceeded to tell us that he'd sustained a horrifying testicular injury (involving a table saw) and that "one of the two" was swollen to the size of a pommelo and had turned black. I suggested amputation. He was not amused.

We stayed for four hours before having to dart off north to Richelle Mead's Storm Born release party...a two hour drive, I might add. And that was without hitting any sort of traffic. The super smart Dept. of Transportation has decided to close one of the most travelled stretches of interstate in Oz, I-405 through Bellevue. So we were a whole lotta worried we were going to get stuck in a crazy-making jam that would force us to go all kinds of Luby's.

But once we arrived, Richelle greeted us just like the perfect 50s housewife...

...with a fresh themed cocktail...

In this case, that scourge of the sea, a hurricane (and yes that is a cheese tower and Cherie and Aric mugging in the background). I did hear talk of Blue Hawaiis making the rounds in martini glasses, but really, why limit yourself? We'd already had tequila in the margaritas earlier, might as well sample the gin, rum and vodka that form the base of any awesome hangover. Am I right?

We played a totally confusing round of Zombie Flux...

Which seemed to either engage or perturb these two party goers (Caitlin and Caroline), I can't decide which. Cherie seems totally interested in Synde's cards, though.

...and that guy's fingers must smell awesome. My buddy Terri will be happy to know that the Kit Kittredge bombshell went off just as expected...

Our American Girl was only slightly annoyed, but inside she was squeeing--I know it. We chatted late into the evening and just before we made the trek home, I made a disturbing discovery in the bathroom...

Heathens!!! We'd been socializing with the ungodly! Don't tell anyone, okay? I can't even be sure who defiled the pamphlet of our Lord's cartoon disrupters, could have been anyone. They were massacring Radiohead on Rock Band, after all.

Anyway, needless to say, Sunday morning (our anniversary, by the way) was not all sunshine, roses and chicklets falling from our buttholes. Nope. It was the kind of swollen headed nightmare reserved for hydroencephalitis victims. Plans started to shave off quick as we crashed on the couch moaning.

We did make it out to see Pineapple Express, which was probably only hilarious because we had killed off so many brain cells in Saturday's rampage. It was slightly less slapstick than Cheech and Chong, with some quick dialogue that I loved and some genuine laughs. I'd go if I were you; just bring a fat doobie and some runts and you'll be fine.

After dinner, we fell out in front of the Olympics. I made a concerted effort to read but kept nodding off.

It's Monday morning and I'm still exhausted.

Anyone else commit timeline suicide this weekend?

My Bloggy Valentine

2008-08-08T11:59:00.000-07:00

Please note: I'll get to the contest winner somewhere in this word salad.
--The Management

When something gets stuck in my head, it gets STUCK in my head. Take this whole My Bloody Valentine thing that I posted about on the League this week. Sure, I've moved on from thinking about the trauma of rewatching the flick, but now the band has taken over my thoughts like a 40s midnight lobotomy in some shady acres asylum.

See what I mean...

Now, I know they're not everyone's fave, but for me a little shoegaze is the perfect accompaniment to writing. No need to worry about lyrics because half the time you can't understand them anyway. Just nod and type, nod and type.

Aural crack.

You know what else is crack? Wade Robson's choreography on So You Think You Can Dance. Here's the crazy rabbit piece he did for the finale (beware nasty pirate copy)...

Creepy enough? It's one of the pieces of the Criss Angel/Cirque du Soleil show Believe at the Luxor. Reminds me a bit of the Triplets of Belville routine he did a while back. Totally addictive.

You know what else is addictive? Buying books. You know what'd come in handy? A free amazon gift card. I just happen to have one right here. Let me pick a name.

Hold on...

Hmm....

Let's see...

Ah, here it is...

POPINFRESH!!!

You're the big ass winner of a $20 amazon giftcard. Email me [me (at) markhnenry (dot) us] and we'll set it up right quick. Thanks for your patronage and remember, the best way to keep a writer writing is to buy their books. If for no other reason, that they look nice on a shelf.

Speaking of books, you know what came in the mail yesterday that was bonerific? My agent sent the ARC of Carrie Ryan's The Forest of Hands and Teeth. I can't wait to chew through it, but I'll have to if I expect to get through all my awesome friend's manuscripts. Soon, though. Soon.

I think that's about all I got. I'm tapped out. Plus, I have to get over to my parents. Their guilt trip has been palpable.

Have a good weekend.

I Finally Got Off My Ass...

2008-08-06T14:41:00.000-07:00

Contest!!!

2008-08-05T09:24:00.000-07:00

I'm a lame ass pimp and missed the opening week of two of my favorite ladies. So I'm making up for it with a contest. But first, let's talk books, or at the very least book stores.

Caitlin and I will be heading up to Seattle in a few hours to do the writing-in-coffee-shop thing followed by dinner with Synde. I can hear y'all now, "On a Tuesday?" you ask. Hells yeah on a Tuesday, cuz that's when the books come out and up here in the wet northwest, that's when authors do their song and dance for the crowd. We have no shame.

Tonight is all about Kat Richardson and Richelle Mead, they'll be reading and signing their brand spanking new tomes, Underground and Storm Born (respectively). So if you're hanging out in the Seattle area, swing by the University Bookstore at 7:00 tonight for some storytime and to have your books signed by some hot chicks (they've got Sharpies and they're not opposed to signing man-boobs, so if that opens it up for any of you...).

While you're there...

You need to pick up Countdown by Michelle Maddox or Rowen or whatever, cause I'm sure she won't mind what you call her as long as you pick up her fantastic romantic thriller. Next up on your shopping list is Hotter than Hell, Jackie Kessler's third entry into the Hell on Earth series, and on your way home pick up some asbestos panties for this read (you don't need those nasty blisters again, do you?).

So, it's contest time and I'm not giving any of these books away. What I am doing is offering up is a $20 gift card from Amazon, then you can get one or two, or a big deposit on all of them if you'd like.

Here's the deal...

Just leave a glowing comment about how excited you are that these ladies spend their time hammering away their fingers to nubs. Blood runs red on the keys people. It ain't all rainbows and moonbeams (like I'm telling you something you don't know.)

I'll leave it open 'til Friday and then reveal the random winner by noon, pacific.

Get on it!

Conestoga or Butts: A Treasury of Photos, Part Two

2008-07-30T13:50:00.001-07:00

It is done...click on the zombie bottle to see the exciting conclusion!

Conestoga or Bung: A Treasury of Photos, Part One

2008-07-28T14:12:00.000-07:00

This one's going to be hard to sort out, it was a bit of a blur and I'm probably not alone in the feeling that I've been riffing for 4 straight days, each on less sleep than the last. I'll start at the beginning and we'll see how far we get today. Leftovers will be in my Wednesday League blog (I expect there'll be plenty).

Let's see...

In case you're not aware, I'm completely screwed in the travel planning department. It's not that I don't have the internet-fu, 'cuz I can put some shit together on the cheap, but my luck is a tad sketchy and this trip was no exception.

For starters, if midnight is the "Witching Hour," then 3 to 4 AM must be the time all the evil clowns rush out of their multicolored mini-coopers, butter up the Slip-N-Slides and ride 'em right into unsuspecting coulrophobe's rooms. That's right, my travel day started at 3:30 am. The alarm went off and my heart jumped out of my chest like Bozo had just cupped my genitals.

Lucky for me I'm a planner and have a wife that's willing to blow off sleep to drive me to the airport; I rolled out of bed and into my travel clothes. We were out the door in ten minutes. Whether our drive was a safe one, I'm not sure. It was too early to care, especially without the benefit of caffeine. What I can tell you, it's one of the few times Interstate 5 hasn't had a back-up somewhere on it.

So, I kissed Caroline Goodbye and off I went into the sterile cavern of Seatac airport. Standing in not one, not two, but three different ticketing lines. 4 hours sleep = moron, just so we're clear. I hit the bathroom before the plane boarded and was met by that bright white-tiled glare and silence. It was eerily quiet, if there is such a thing outside of horror movies. I'd put my phone in my carry-on and taken a seat (so to speak), when a gentleman shuffled in to...um relieve himself. That's when it started. The blaring techno theme from Halloween, my ringtone. That shit just echoed, getting louder and louder. I imagined the guy at the urinal looking over his shoulder, worried that some horror movie freak had snapped and was about to attack.

The flight to Denver was fine with the exception of finding that my baggage claim ticket showed that the airline responsible for getting my luggage to Tulsa was still noted as Frontier (they've canceled their route from Denver). So I ended up having to deal with the Frontier Customer Service Center, who were very nice and handled it. But I had to check in with United to change my boarding pass.

Not so nice.

Apparently, United had been very busy canceling flights and pissing people off by the time I arrived, including this one guy with a serious case of dragon breath, who couldn't help pretending he was the only one effected by the long line. I was so irritated with him, in fact. That when I was finally called to talk to an agent, I was sooo nice to her (in a really loud way), taking my time recounting the bag situation, chatting. He groaned and grumbled behind me. I talked to her about the weather and how she needed new flowers for her vase. He whispered some obscenities. I laughed...on the inside. Stinky fucker.

After that, it was time for a drink or "drank" whichever you prefer. I looked at my watch, 11:00 am. Close enough.

When I got to Tulsa, I stood at the carousel, happy to see that my hotel shuttle was sitting outside. The bags started coming and people pulled them from the beltway, one by one. The crowd thinned to two. An older gentleman and myself. That's when the belt stopped.

NO BAG.

NO PROMO.

NO CLOTHES.

NO DEODORANT.

As you can imagine, I was totally glad I spent all that time hunting down the Frontier counter in Denver and coordinating the baggage issue with Dragon Breath and the United agent. The baggage people swore it would be delivered to the hotel by morning, so I decided to let it go (that's not to say I didn't tell everyone they lost it), I just let the anger go. Kind of a big step for me, because really, I had just traveled halfway across the country on my own dime without any promo items to put in the FFF bags and not even a moist towelette to blot my sweaty gooch (100 degrees, Tulsa? Really?).

When I got to the hotel, all that stuff fell away. Why?

These two...

Jaye Wells, ladies and gentleman, with her trusty sidekick of three days, Leah Hodge. Holy crap, I'd chatted with Jaye a few times online, but after a half hour we were finishing each other's potty-mouthed sentences. Even weirder? Leah was doing it, too. You knew people were in for it when after only an hour and a half we'd already started talking about DP and trademarked a gang sign for Oklahoma's favorite marital rut sex act (see previous blog entry for a clue). Did I mention this post wasn't for kids? Oops.

After a few drinks and running into Dean Lorey, who so totally wanted to hang out with the cool kids (hunh Dean?), we met up with Michele Bardsley, Jaci Burton and Dakota (no last name required) for some TGIFriday's mojitos and fantastic conversation. On the drive either there or back, we spotted this bit of word magic...

Um...

We don't have those in Washington (I said this a lot about a number of things, but it was never more true than when describing a business with the word "Kum" in the title). Seriously. I can only imagine the add campaigns.

Back at the hotel and settled into our spot at the bar (where we were taken care of by the astoundingly peppy Bonnie), I can assure you Tiffany Trent DID NOT regale us with tales of naughty animal husbandry. That didn't happen. No cloacal kisses or squid sperm packets were mentioned. None of that, just ask Dean.

On my way up to the room, I checked the front desk and surprise of surprises my bag arrived from the airport. Maybe my travel karma was evening out.

Day two arrives...

And the hotel don't want to have any decent coffee, so we loaded up a couple of cars and headed to one of Tulsa's fine ass booksellers, the Barnes and Noble on 41st and Yale. Drank some coffee with the likes of Ms. Jeanne Stein, purveyor of all things Anna Strong, leafed through magazines, did a dramatic reading from some very naughty erotica involving green olives, signed some books (I only had one, though the manager insisted there was a big box full of 'em in the back) and then absorbed Jeanne's brilliance...

My first panel was at 2:00. So after a quick trip to Sonic, I settled in behind the panel table (have I mentioned I hate separations like tables? Can't stand 'em. Think they impair fluent conversations. What can you do?). The panel was called Urban Fantasy: It's Not Just for Chicks. Seriously? I thought it was referring to readers. When Mark Del Franco, who moderated, said that it was about male protagonists, I swear my gulp was audible.

Uhhhh...

Now, I know some people think that's a drag queen on my cover, but last time I checked, totally pre-op. But anyway. It turned out fine. There was a really big group for the first panel, and that was exciting. Melissa and Jeaniene were running around like producers. Good times.

After, I met up with this group of heathens...

We went to dinner with a big group to the Cheesecake Factory--apparently no one eats anything but gentrified chain food while at conventions--who am I to complain, as long as I get my pomegranate mojito, which was awesome! I was really happy to see dinner conversation getting a lot more "real" and totally got to know my peeps on a much deeper level. I did worry a bit that we came across like a clique, but seriously the filth level was up to Coochcon 9 and I'm not sure how many of the other authors would have been able to put up with it.

When we got back to the hotel, Kit Kittredge, American Girl rolled in from a horrific day of traveling (please disregard the Xanax daze)...

...with all kinds of injuries and tired as hell, but not so much that she couldn't attend the totally impromptu (even though we bought alcohol earlier in the day)...

Here are some scenes of the madness...

...

Then, travelers full to the brim with noxious blue liquid, we headed to the famed 4th floor for all the after hours haps. But there weren't any. Seriously. And we looked. Now, I'm not discounting the little fencon get-together, but clearly that was wrapping up when we knocked. The only action we saw came steppin' into the hallway clad in just a t-shirt and a nasty case of pillow-face. I said. Just a t-shirt. I've been told the tip of his wein was danglin' but I've blocked it from my mind. Doesn't stop me from making up fun little Okla slogans though, does it?

That's all for now. Saturday was a big day though, so expect tons more when I blog on Wednesday.

Cheers.

It's Kuming!

2008-07-28T08:35:00.000-07:00

Conestoga Schedule and Stuff...

2008-07-23T05:02:00.000-07:00

Tomorrow, I'm off to Tulsa Oklahoma, to either die in a twister or from the heat, I haven't decided. And all for the Conestoga 12 and Fangs, Fur and Fey Minicon. Here's my schedule, for those who'll be there and want to track me down.

Fri 02:00 PM - Executive Urban Fantasy: It's Not Just for Chicks
Sat 09:00 AM - Executive The Elusive Snark
Sat 11:00 AM - Signing
Sat 02:00 PM - Chairman Reading: Happy Hour/Road Trip of the Living Dead?
Sat 03:00 PM - Executive The Business of Being a Writer
Sun 10:00 AM - Executive Dark UF/Horror

Along with some speed dating, boozing it up and racing across the street for some Sonic!

Speaking of being there. Who's all going?

Since You've Been Gone...

2008-07-22T08:02:00.000-07:00

Oh wait. It's me that's been gone. Silly.

Caroline has been chastising me for the past week to blog. It seems I've brought blog dishonor to my family. The conversation, though, is not nearly as formal and polite as would proceed a samurai's hari kari. More like: "It's been ten days, Mark. What are you doing with your time, beating off?"

Sigh...

So here it is. What I expect is what people read this blog for...

A BIG ASS PICTURE POST WITH A SIDE OF CRAZY!

Let's start at the beginning, for a change.

This past weekend was the Pacific Northwest Writer's Conference, which I didn't really attend so much as deprive its attendees at a shot at one of New York's fine ass editors. That's right folks, Heather O. was in town, tearin' it up.

Heather's one of those people that "just gets it". "It" is the knowledge that there's humor in everything and it should be commented on profusely. Fun involves being on the verge of a bladder malfunction, at all times. This weekend saw its fair share of near incontinence. That's like a 5 star time, people.

Thursday was low-key and cameraless so I'll skip that one (mostly bookstores and Nava-jo sammiches). But Friday. Friday was the booksigning, so Caroline and I drove up early for dinner with Heather at 13 Coins. If only 13 coins were all it cost. We could have had a better meal with a jar of Ragu and some roadkill. Never again.

Here I am outside the signing, basking in the glow of my pseudofame...

Actually, that's the last bit of the sun, burning my retinas off. The main hall of the conference turns into a Russian sweat-box in the early evening and they didn't even provide bunches of painful switches to flagellate ourselves. Thank you architects!

Quite a few less attendees this year and though I'd like to tell you that I sold out all 9 of my books, I can't. Only 4 people stopped to talk and buy, despite my gross approachableness. Ah well. It was just time killer until I could meet up with Caroline and Heather for erotic readings, mojitos and naughty cake (that was its actual name, I'm not even kidding). There were also hash browns of mucho goodness, tres Idahoan.

Saturday was the Urban Fantasy Worldbuilding Workshop and it was a workshop, I assure you. Team Seattle met up early to put the plan into action. Here's my recipe for the perfect conference workshop: 25% quick and informative lecture, 75 % fun small group activity. Needless to say, them shits was a hit! In my small group we came up with a rainforest fae world and even plotted out a horror-filled novel involving Eco-luxe resorts, scientists and creepy howler monkeys. Awesomeness. In fact, speaking of Team Seattle, here we are, now with 50% more crotch shot!

Oh my God. So after this little shindig, we opted to use our free dinner tickets and slid into the back of the awards dinner. I would have stayed for the whole thing, if it weren't for the main course. Heather hit the nail on the head, when the lids came off the plates, the whole room was flooded with the intense aroma of dirty aquariam. Nasty ass halibut. I never saw so many people snapping for wine in my life. Alcoholism serves at least one purpose, getting you through bad conference meals.

Too bad none of us are alcoholics (though we play them on the internets). I think it was Cherie who was first to start chanting Taco Bell. After the free wine we were outta there and chompin' on crunch wraps, like God intended.

Which brings us to the main event...

The Sunday to End All Sundays!

After the 13 Coins debacle, which, of course, I suggested. I was determined to provide the touristas with some awesome food choices. So out came the trusty internets for some serious foodie google. Best Breakfast in Seattle? Check! Awesome fishy? Check! Cupcakes you'd sock your mama for? Check-check!

Sure Caitlin grumbles when she's forced to haul her ass out of bed at 7:45 am. But that's the price you pay for an awesome Seattle tour. We snatched Heather out of the Hilton Lobby a little after 9 and off we motored to the Emerald City. First stop, the Hi-Spot cafe. Can I just say, the Bengal Benedict is made of deliciousness. Hollondaise sauce is far too pedestrian for the Hi-Spot, so after the eggs are done poaching, here comes the curry! Mmm. Heather's spicy corned beef hash was salacious and Caroline's "Wake up with Zorba" omelette had the yum factor of feta and tomatoes. Caitlin wasn't raving about hers, so you'll have to interrogate her separately. After we ordered, we noticed that the people next to us had ordered a big-ass cinnamon roll as an appetizer. Breakfast appetizer? I didn't know that was an option or we would have totally made that happen.

Stuffed and sated we embarked on a most auspicious tour of the Lakeview Cemetery. Monumentous, even. It seems July 20th is the anniversary of Bruce Lee's death and there was quite a ceremony going on, replete with incense, Mardi gras boobie beads, and tons of flowers. Here's Caroline looking for some bush action...

Can you say psst? Caitlin was forced to judge.

Prepare for the money shot...

I find that when touring around a friend, it's important to include drive-bys of all the places they won't be enjoying, like the ice cream cruise, the EMP, the Duck and the wonderful historical significance of Pioneer Square. We made sure to note how wonderful it would have been to go to the science fiction museum, which Caitlin pointed out was indeed an activity that one would be regretful if they hadn't seen it prior to their deathbed. Yep. We made sure to point it out.

Heather was appropriately regretful.

We just didn't have the time, had to see a man about a dragon...

...and some delicious pasture cake...

Graveyards and grocery stores, where else do you expect I'd take a visitor? Uwajima is a Seattle landmark a massive Asian grocer with a food court to die for. We came for bubble tea, but sadly that shop had closed, so we settle for Pocky sticks in several varieties. For those not in the know, Pocky are unsalted pretzel sticks dipped in deliciousness. Make it a habit and not the pasture cake. I'm in love with that product name almost as much as the tasty Calpiss beverage.

We met up with Richelle Mead in her neck of the woods, where the Fremontians like to sell bongs on the street and celebrate body odor. It was fantastic. Heather even found this lovely Carmen Miranda by way of Bulimia hat...

A fruit hat just won't fly here. Nope. Those are donuts, bon bons, cupcakes and ice cream cones. Hypnotic! I don't care who's singing wearing that, I'm listening and then vomiting.

We found Richelle lounging around Theo's chocolate, an artisanal chocolatier that puts together combinations that shouldn't work but do, much like an urban fantasy author might do. That's probably why I'm a slave to their coconut curry chocolate bar. It's insane. Delectable. Weird.

Fremont is a land of photo-ops (Lenin, massive rockets, statues of people waiting for busses dressed like transvestites), but nothing compares to the Troll...

See that in his left hand? Oh yeah. That's a real Volkswagen bug. We had to walk three blocks uphill to get to this treasure of tourism and you know what that means...time for some hooch, as captured here in this shot I lovingly call, In Lieu of Lunch...

We ended up at the Matador in Ballard, which has another Sunday market and shops like Bark where you can purchase dog tags that say things like "slut" and "chien lunatique." We couldn't find one representative of Smokey, though (and since, Cherie demands more "Cute dog pictures" here's one to remind you...

...that I might need a talent wrangler. But not more than Richelle needs sunglasses, wanna see bloodshot?

Seriously. Not an awesome shot, but damn, look at the blood!

Let's make it clear that no tour of Seattle is complete without the dinner then desert reversal, so after we'd finished off Archie McPhee's bin of bacon bandaids and bedpans, we headed off to Trophy. You may have seen these handfuls of cupcake heaven in Martha Stewart Living. These babies are next to Voodoo Donut when it comes to Satan's own confections. My favorite...

...mmm hummingbird. Spice cake laced with banana, pineapple and coconut topped in God's own fat, cream cheese frosting. I just gained weight typing that.

Then, it was off to our final locale, Flying Fish for the most delicious ass Poke you've ever eaten, and fish tacos, and seafood hotpots, and Thai crabcakes and hilarity. And that's about it. Tour complete.

Except for this (found while heading back to drop off the Mead)...

If you were ever confused as to the purpose of spring break, I think this bit of roadside art clears it up for you...

That's right. Poorly executed titty art. What'd you think it was about, dripping bloody fingertips? Right after this shot, the happy, as indicated by their skippin, lesbian couple (seen on the right) stopped and glowered, their frolicking ruined by misogyny, as it oft is.

So our tale comes to an end and I promise to be around more often. After all, Conestoga is this week and there's sure to be all sort of travesty lurking in Tulsa. I'll go warm up trigger finger.

Um...Researching Sex?

2008-07-09T08:00:00.001-07:00

You Got Your Hooker in My 4th of July! No You Got Your 4th of July in My Hooker!

2008-07-07T09:07:00.000-07:00

So I'm exhausted. Not just physically tired from this morning's workout but brain-tired like I've taken a handful of Benadryl--only I haven't. I get this way after long weekends with too many obligations. And this one was packed.

On Thursday, which is the new Friday, I got an email from a friend reporting such. In a flash, my plans for a leisurely night of Last Comic Standing and a few chapters of reading gone. Our regular Friday fun was bumped up. I use the term "fun" loosely, as it's a bit of a rut. Dinner, some shopping, coffee at a bookstore. Seems boring, right? Luckily, the actions don't determine the entertainment, it's the people...and our friends are nuts.

We ended up at the fireworks stand and spent too much money on things that go boom. Question: since when are mortar fireworks "safe and sane". We intentionally avoided the reservation this year to model civic responsibility for the Goddaughters and yet, the Fire Department approved stands seem to be selling the exact same fireworks (for double the price). Do I smell kick-back?

Anyway. The 4th was a good time. I made German potato salad, which feeds an army and turned out really well. Brisket, Crab, Ribs, good stuff. Especially when the time came for the ritual new baby lemon taste!

Oh yes.

A couple we know recently adopted a baby and right around the 1-year mark--as is our tradition--new babies get their first taste of that sourest of citrus fruits. Oh the smoosh face! How we love it. We were not disappointed, that little face scrunched up like a cat's anus and then she went back for seconds.

Which totally reminded me of this major lapse in judgment...

Saturday, we returned to the scene of the crime, devouring leftovers like a cloud of locusts, completely sated until someone--I think it was Caroline--opened her demon mouth and suggested Dairy Queen. Seconded quickly, we were off to the most disturbing fast food bunghole on the planet. Let's talk briefly about location. South Tacoma Way has had its ups and downs. New projects roll in and force certain ladies-who-aren't-walking-for-their-health to change their route. Moving from in front of the Filipino grocers and taquerias to the aging strip of grease peddlers.

So we pull in, nearly clipping a particularly thin lady in skin tight jeans, stilettos and a weave that started about two inches above her forehead, a Klingon without the ridges. I know what you're thinking. Hey Mark, lay off, at least she had the common decency to wear the uniform.

I'll give you that. Because the next one was wearing a stained t-shirt that rode up the sides of her ample belly which was modestly covered by the cotton shorts she'd pulled up so far as to expose the sag in her granny panties. This is not a good look for lounging around the house, let alone attracting some quick work and a twenty dollar bill.

We would have been mortified, if it weren't for the fact that this Dairy Queen was being operated by gang members and more specifically the Bloods. You'll need to clear your heads of some stereotypes here, cuz this was a diverse bunch--Tacoma gangs are a proudly inclusionary bunch, color blind in their initiation decisions (call them avant garde, but a white kid can just as easily bust a cap, or at least we've found that to be true).

Not everyone in the joint seemed to notice, though the clues were everywhere. For me, the tattoos gave it away as did the preponderance of red clothing, red bandanas and an overtly hostile attitude toward the customers. I didn't need to see the butt of a gun poking from the Blizzard maker's sagging jeans to know we were in a bit of danger. Or at least in danger of going off our carefully planned diet. So we sat quietly and gorged. Any loud nose sure to be met with a barrage of bullets and the tinkling rain of shell casings. Who knew soft serve could be so hardcore?

Sunday was a bit more relaxed. Grocery shopping and zombie movies. Zombie Honeymoon was, of course, a hot mess, just real crap and I ended up shutting it off after the first hour. Sentient zombie or no and totally incongruent with the title, it was being played too seriously. I did finally watch Romero's Diary of the Dead and while it wasn't a complete pile of crap (see also, Land of the Dead) it didn't work for me. Except for the mute Amish guy. He was a surprise and probably should have been the main character.

So now I must recover. Just a little nap ought to do it...

The Really Big (Like Way Big) ACCIDENTALLY DEAD Giveaway Contest!

2008-07-01T06:35:00.000-07:00

Today, July 1, 2008 marks the release in the second installment of the Accidental series, ACCIDENTALLY DEAD, by the totally fabulous, utterly amazing, stupendously brilliant, always in her color wheel Dakota Cassidy (She made us say that--all of it. We fought back. Don't laugh. We did. It got ugly. She threatened us with heinous acts of yellow. She won.).

ACCIDENTALLY DEAD picks up with über potty mouth Nina Blackman and her newly acquired vampire woes (not to mention his undead hawtness, Greg). Here is a link to Amazon (We are subtle, aren't we?)

In celebration of Nina's release, and because Dakota's such a bitch--er, so charming, we're having a scavenger hunt where you can win big! (Don't whine. Didn't we say killer prizes were involved?)

So here's what ya gotta do—Visit the blogs of Michele Bardsley, Mark Henry (that's me), and Toni McGee Causey (in that order, people) then hit Dakota's blog and get yer quiz on. That's it! All entrants who post correct answers in the comments section of Dakota's blog will be thrown into a random drawing. The prizes:

* Dakota's giving away a signed copy of THE ACCIDENTAL WEREWOLF, a $15 Amazon Gift Certificate, and an RT tote bag from RT 2008 filled with some goodies!

* Mark's upchucking an autographed copy of HAPPY HOUR OF THE DAMNED (and maybe another surprise or two … it's a purge, darling, you never know what'll show up).

* Toni's offering an autographed copy of BOBBIE FAYE'S VERY (very, very, very) BAD DAY and other Bobbie goodness. We promise she won't blow up another bridge (at least not near you).

* Michele's spewing (again … gah! Can she get control of that spittle issue already?) an autographed ARC of WAIT TILL YOUR VAMPIRE GETS HOME and some Broken Heart swag.

Those damned contest rules: Entries must be posted to Dakota's blog by midnight (CST) Wednesday July 2, 2008. All correct answers from participants will be placed in a random drawing. ONE winner will be announced on Dakota’s blog on July 3, 2008. The winner must contact Dakota to collect the prizes.

Go on with yer bad selves (and remember visit the blogs in the following order)…
Michele's Blog
Mark's Blog
Toni's Blog
Dakota's Blog

******************************

And now for the interview!

Me: Now, you know I've got a hard-on for bitchy protagonists, so I'm psyched about ACCIDENTALLY DEAD's Nina. Tell us about the decision to switch to a new protagonist rather than continue with Marty.

Dakota: I get bored--like really bored. I'm kidding. Well, not totally--Marty's story was ovah and she got her HEA. She said so, and I'm all about moving on. Nina, being the pushy broad she is decided it was time everyone hear her tale of whoa (and no, I didn't spell that wrong--I meant whoa. Like whoa, WTF?). I love a chick who has no sensor. I also love a chick who needs to be tamed. Nina applied for the job--she totally fit the job description--I hired her :)

Me: Here's a scenario. You think the camera crew following you 24 hours per day is due to your newfound celebrity author status, until you are lured to a shabby trailer home in the country--and I use the term "home" loosely. What's inside?

Dakota: A party for me hosted by, Michele Bardsley, Renee George, Jaynie, and Terri (some of my closest BFF's). It's their idea of a "cocktail party". You know, BBQ baked beans, roasted armadillo, and Cheese Whiz? OMG--wait till they read this--LOLLOL. I'm in deep shit :)

Me: People are going to want to get their copies of ACCIDENTALLY DEAD signed with some special personal note. What are you gonna jot in there to keep your fans happy? Something naughty, I hope.

Dakota: Nina says you're a perv--she's right, isn't she? I can promise you this--it won't be about unicorns and frickin' rainbows signed with hearts over the letter I :)

And now, lets ask La Nina some stuff...

Me: Dental hygiene is important to you. Any plans for a late night dental clinic, if you know what I mean?

Nina: Yer a freak, aren't you? A flippin' perv. I knew it. Late night this, you weirdo fucktard.

Me: Ouch. My mother told me that cursing was an indicator of a poor vocabulary. To which, I always respond: If that's true, then why do they always ask what's your favorite curse word on The Actor's Studio with James Lipton? She usually shakes her head. That said, what's your favorite dirty word?

Nina: Your new nickname--see above :)

Me: Meow. What's the one thing that sucks about being all vampy, kitten?

Nina: Stupid questions about it?

Woah, this kitten's got a whip.

***********************

That should be enough for you to get the right answers for the contest. Remember to head over to Toni and Michele's before you end up at Dakota's for the contest. Don't leave your responses here or they won't be counted. Seriously.

Now go!

Catching Up wit Boring...

2008-06-30T10:58:00.000-07:00

So this weekend was eventful...and by that I don't mean it was interesting or notable, only full of events. One of those jerky gas guzzling weekends where you find yourself in a new spot every hour, barbecues, Thai food, shopping, more shopping, Birthday get-together, even more shopping.

You get the picture.

I was able to sit my fat ass down on both Saturday and Sunday mornings to get some reading done for my book club (no...not the league book club, that one's kind of taken a back seat to a to-do list that scrolls out across the room and out the door Looney Toons-style.

Sat in a gas line like it was the 70s all over again. $4.09 at Costco is 25 cents less than anywhere around here and so found myself angling with 51 other cars for some savings--and oh yeah...I had plenty of time to count.

Discovered that Jamba Juice's Strawberry Nirvana tastes so much better with a spoonful of peanut butter in it. Just like a pb&j, if it were served in a nursing home and you weren't pissing yourself--which I'm totally not judging you if you are. In fact, piss away!

Cool news over at the League! I'm not giving anything away, but I will say we've increased our sperm count.

My P.R. work for the Fangs, Fur and Fey minicon is starting to spread. Today Barbara Vey is pimping it out over at Publisher's Weekly. Go check that out and comment!

Hmm...

Let's see. Anything else?

Oh yeah.

Today was the 7th day in a row that I hit the gym. It's a lifestyle change so if I can keep this up for 28 days it should settle into habit...or is that how long it takes to kick nicotine? I don't know, but I am feeling better.

One last thing (and I'll have to post a picture at some point). I shaved Chaz bald, yesterday. Now he looks like Dobby the house elf.

Later.

Promo Madness!

2008-06-25T08:39:00.001-07:00

Over here...

Friday Night Videos

2008-06-20T16:33:00.000-07:00

Guest Blog and Contest!

2008-06-18T07:58:00.000-07:00

J. F. Lewis, author of the urban fantasy STAKED, is guest blogging--right now--at the League of Reluctant Adults. He's also giving away a signed copy to one lucky commenter. You better head on over.

Author in a Hotseat

2008-06-16T15:04:00.000-07:00

I'm the object of Bitten By Books' strange obsession with zomedy authors today, all day. Swing by for the interview and ask me a question or just poke me while I squirm in the shackles. One lucky sadist could win a "Mark-ed up" copy of Happy Hour of the Damned (you'll have to go the website to see pics of that monstrosity) or a $30 gift card to Amazon so you can get a book that's not a hilarious descent into zombie hell full of hot necrophilia and senseless bloodshed--I can't really imagine what one of those would be like, but who am I to judge?

See you there!

An Interview & a Contest

2008-06-14T08:43:00.000-07:00

Get over to the League NOW. Dakota Cassidy gives me shit. Do I give it back? Um...yeah. Then we give you shit.

And...I guess I made it out of that zombie mess. I love Blog Like It's the End of the World. Put it on your agenda for next near.

ETA: link fixed.

Portland Was a Mistake

2008-06-13T16:55:00.001-07:00

I lost Charles on the bridge. Not in the sense that we got separated but in the way you refer to a close relative when they die. I lost Charles. Like that. 'Cause for sure that's what happened. He died. And he won't be coming back. I always thought it was funny how those stupid people on reality shows seemed to form bonds so quickly, abnormally so. Extreme and unusual situations must call for an escalated sense of intimacy, because I'm feeling the loss. Hard.

As we reached the top of the wreck, we were met by scabrous mass of flesh in a stained magnolia sun dress. The woman--well, she used to be a woman--carried a baby in one arm as she pulled her morbidly obese carcass up the opposite side. She cooed at the thing in vibrato, her moan rattling with loose sputum. Charles tried to maneuver away from her, but she forced the baby ahead of her--well, not really a baby anymore, either. It snapped at the soldier from the zombie's hand like a puppet. A hungry teething puppet. It clamped on to his earlobe before he could slap it away. And I knew in that moment it was over. Charles' eyes changed. One minute horror, the next resolution. He knew. He scrabbled down the rail side of the bridge and tossed himself over. It's not the kind of fall he could survive, or swim away from. If zombies could swim, they'd certainly need functioning limbs.

He didn't scream, all the way down, while I beat the things to stillness with a tire iron. I climbed down the other side and resisted peeking over the rail. There were a few more shambling about but those were slow enough to avoid without too much effort.

I found a motorcycle with a bit of gas left in it. I'm going to try to make it through the city. It doesn't make sense to go back. There's nothing there anyway. Maybe someone made it to the safe house.

Alive...

2008-06-13T13:15:00.001-07:00

We're on the bridge that crosses the Columbia River between Washington and Oregon, Vancouver is behind us and Portland looms ahead, a haze of gray tinted in sunset pink only we know that's from the fires and not anything romantic. We're going to have to get out of the car here. The drive was harried enough and mostly on the shoulder with plenty of stops to roll other cars out of the way. Bands of undead roam the freeways picking at meat from burning cars like it's brisket. We've had a few close calls. More than a few.

Kayleigh is running a fever and the dark circles around her eyes threaten to cave into her skull. She's stopped talking. Charles and I are leaving her behind. If I had a gun, I'd shoot her in the head before she had a chance to slake off her soul and hunt. I should have left them both behind in the library, then I wouldn't have to make these kind of choices.

The bridge is impassible.

At least thirty cars are piled on the southbound span, an accident that kept building until it was a wall. The air is thick with the putrid scent of burnt flesh and scrabbling rot. A chorus of moans seems very near, though we see no zombies, right now. I suspect they're on the other side.

We're leaving now. Going to climb the hulking wreck.

If I had a gun, I'd shoot myself.

Update

2008-06-13T10:55:00.000-07:00

I'm mobile posting from a car. It's not mine. Driving south on Interstate Five. With me are Charles, an enlisted man from Ft. Lewis (long since overrun with zombie hordes and hazy with smoke, like streets after the Fourth of July), and Kayleigh, a barrista from the local coffee shop. She's shivering in the back.

I found Caroline's car in the parking lot at her work. The door was hanging open.

The building teemed with the undead fuckers. No screams. Bad sign.

I fear the worst.

At last count, Jaye and Anton were down, too.

If it weren't for Charles and Kayleigh, pulling me from the heap I'd become, I'd have died right there. The zombies streamed from the doorway as soon as I got out of the car.

We just passed Maytown, the auction yards are still. Smoke rose in crooked columns on the horizon.

The EBS just stopped dead on the radio. Now, it's all fuzz.

WTF?

2008-06-13T08:39:00.000-07:00

The problem with the Emergency Broadcast System is that you have to be watching TV or listening to the radio. Where are the air attack sirens that used to litter small towns like mine? I'm sitting on the floor behind the checkout counter at the library, there are a few people huddled in the employee lounge, none of them librarians--the librarians are all shambling in the stacks. Dead.

When I woke up this morning, the neighbors were in my house. The neighbors? We never even talk to them. We are NOT good neighbors. So you can imagine my surprise when the guy next door bumped into me as I came out of the bedroom. Or maybe you can, since this is spreading everywhere. Steve is his name. Was, actually. He tried to bite me. BITE me. WTF? Luckily, we rarely put anything away, so the cane I used as part of a Halloween costume two years ago was nearby.

Let me tell you, it's rarely pleasant to bash in someone's head before one's first mug of coffee.

There were two more downstairs, one of them didn't have her legs; she bumped into fallen dining room chairs like one of those disabled kids in a helmet. I noticed her first by a nasty trail of sludge draining from those ragged amputations. As I stepped into the stairhall, her head twitched in my direction. One of her eyes dangled from a gash across her face, bouncing against her cheek from the nerve like a tether ball. The other groaned from back near the kitchen, a deep echoing sound that had me scurrying for the front door before I could even think.

Outside was a complete mess. On the front walk, instead of the newspaper, an arm flayed out in a crooked "v", a bit of shoulder attached, probably the paperboy's. The other neighbors seemed to have been dealing with the situation a bit longer, as the streets were nearly void of life--not movement, mind you--but the living. Garage doors left open, empty.

Ours was too. Caroline must have left before it started.

From off to the right, the cul-de-sac, a pack of neighbors scrambled to their feet from around a mound of gore and bones way too big to be just one body, more like five. One of them pointed toward me stretching his dripping arm in my direction. Was he moaning to alert the others? It seemed so. The rushed me at various paces, some quick, others shambling like the zombies of film.

So I ran.

I know what you're thinking. I should have been prepared for this. Me, particularly. We even put together a manual. The League, I mean. A Zombie Preparedness Guide. Where is it? In my office.

And I'm at the library. I can hardly believe I made it here. I swiped this laptop from a local coffee shop. I don't think the owner needed it, unless he could type with his toes.

I'll try to connect with the League. They'll know what to do.

I'm moving on.

Lux Interview

2008-06-10T09:24:00.000-07:00

Bethany Hensel, the senior writer of Lux magazine, caught up with me at my sumptious waterfront villa. You can read about our conversation here or here. Please note that opening line, truer words were never written.

Oh...and Jesus Christ on a cracker leave the woman a comment or two. She just got herself a TV talk show, for fuck sake.

Book Report: The Accidental Werewolf by Dakota Cassidy

2008-06-09T09:21:00.000-07:00

The Accidental Werewolf hit my radar right about the time Happy Hour hit the shelves, it seemed to be everywhere I looked, intentionally, I suspect, and often in much shorter piles on the new release tables, hurting my book's feelings...and mine. Still, who could argue with that cover? So purple (lavender, actually), so cute, so...ironic. I intentionally didn't buy it--oh it was perused enough, I assure you--but to purchase it would be heresy. A comedic paranormal chick-litty type thing? Oh no, isn't that what I wrote? It could stay right where it was, thank you.

Then, by chance, I met the author at the Romantic Times Convention and it was like we were separated at birth--along with one Michelle Rowen. I could see the deviance in her eyes, her words dripping with sarcasm and a vibrating Cathy Moriarty growl. There were subtle differences, of course, my words don't drip as much as they ooze from festering open sores, and my deviance is a tad more malignant. I feared the worst and it was true. Dakota Cassidy was actually nice.

Damn!

You know what that meant; I was required to read her book (and interview her-Saturday, June 14th at the League). Oh, the humanity...or was it humility? So I snatched up a couple of her books at the RT book fair (Cuz yeah, there'll be an awesome giveaway on Saturday, too) and steeled myself.

As it turns out...

The Accidental Werewolf sucked me right in. Here's the rundown: Marty Andrews is an ambitious up-and-comer at Bobbie-Sue Cosmetics, landing the big accounts, upgrading to the ultra-fashionable Lavender suit and uh...wait a minute...sprouting more hair than a chia pet in 100% humidity. It seems the drool-worthy guy who's been hanging around isn't just eye candy, but a furreal werewolf. And, now, so is Marty.

Marty's pleasant persona goes out the window when those canine hormones hit and that's when I fell in love, the minute she went snarky. And those barbs are funny. Nina, one of Marty's associates, is pure spitfire with a pottymouth (and I think we all know I dig that).

Now, I know AW is a paranormal romance and all, and those reviews are supposed to mention the "hero", but I'm not interested in that. Yeah, there's a guy in it. The sex was pretty hot and the situations cracked with an off-kilter humor--the kind I think my readers will get off on. The villains are villainous and the heroine is just like us...clueless, egocentric enough to think we're invincible. Real.

So...here I am. Against my better judgement, pimping Dakota Cassidy's werewolf chuckler--I'd almost be ashamed, if I didn't enjoy the damn thing so much.

Nicely played Cassidy! Nicely played.

Gush: A Celebration of Perverts and Hipsters

2008-06-05T08:14:00.000-07:00

It's hard to say exactly when I popped a reading boner for Rayo Casablanca. My best guess is about page 44 of his twisted debut pop-culture massacre, 6 Sick Hipsters. Here's the line that really got my juices flowing (even moreso than the ultra satisfying body drop in chapter one, which I lovingly compare to watching the remake of House of Wax, just to see Paris Hilton bite it--67 minutes 20 seconds into the film--and best done with a living room full of friends, the sound off and the stereo blasting something sweet like Book of Love)...

"At Trisomy 21 all the waiters and waitresses had down syndrome."

Now, excuse me, but if you've stumbled onto this blog from my Amazon page, where I'm forced to be publicly decent, then this might come as a shock, I'm not exactly politically correct (that's not to say that I'm screaming racial slurs or flipping off the elderly) and I don't like my reading material to be either. Nothing stumbles a plotline quicker than a "what about the children" reference, unless it's done with the authors tongue pooching out his cheek like a mock blowjob (thank you Tom Perrotta). Praise Jesus, Sick Hipsters fulfills my naughty needs on all counts.

So what's it about, right?

Well, someone's knocking off hipsters in Williamsburg, Brooklyn, a serial killer with a pop culture brain like Paper Magazine on fiche. It's up to a gang of coke-fueled, acid-tongued, coffee shop elite to ferret him out. Casablanca blends the sharp wit and pointed social satire of Palahniuk with the cinematic absurdity and pathos of John Waters on a good day (let's say Serial Mom). The book has so many enviable lines that at some point I'll have to stalk and kill the author--and isn't that the ultimate compliment?

Snatch up 6 Sick Hipsters today wherever hipsters shoplift books for a cheap adrenaline rush.

Speaking of Palahniuk, my book club just covered his ode to sex addicts, con artists and colonial reinactments, CHOKE. It seems this guy is all I've blogged about over the last week and a half. The consensus of the group was a resounding "ick", which, of course, left me the lone voice of dissent...again (see Tom Perrotta's Little Children, see also Jeannette Walls' The Glass House). At the very least, Chuck gives you something to talk about, might I bring up the John Grisham debacle of 2007? Granted that choice came from a member who doesn't normally read, so...

Let's end this with the finest book trailer of the year, again for Chuck Palahniuk's Snuff...

A Winner and an Update

2008-06-04T09:49:00.000-07:00

According to the livejournal poll thingie, Jaye Wells wins the pornification contest and her very own set of anal beads.

Congratulations Jaye!

I've made some decisions about blogging, which at one point was taking as much time to do as I was devoting to my writing. I'm going to post here on Mondays, the League on Wednesdays and there'll be one more thing, but I'm going to hold off on that announcement until I've figured it out.

Anyway, speaking of blogging, I talk about it in today's League post...

Beware: Filth Ahead. No. I'm Serious.

2008-05-30T07:45:00.000-07:00

Last night, Caitlin, Synde and I met up for an evening of overpriced Mexican food and an author event that will sparkle in my memory like a diamond. Actually, that's a little dramatic, it's more like a cubic zirconia...only harvested from a dirty asshole instead of a test tube.

I'm talking about Chuck Palahniuk, of course.

Do you see anything out of the ordinary in that picture? I'll give you a second. Actually, that's a bit of a trick question, since the blow up sex doll is totally normal for this particular reading.

We got to Pacific Place to pick up Synde and sign some stock at B&N and then it was off to dinner, where I was really good on my diet. One bite of rice, a few beans, mostly protein in the form of carne asada tacos with manchega, I'm figuring the corn tortillas were max 30 carbs so I can live with that. But then, carb temptress Caitlin, insisted on desert. Mexican donuts with hot chocolate dipping sauce. Mmmmmmmm. In my defense, they were more like donut holes and not nearly as good as I'd have thought.

So then we were off to see the man, but got there way to early which forced me to shop the book area and find the most appropriately filthy author swag I've ever seen. Behold...

Some of you pervs are going to be spitting your drinks across your monitors and then there are others--bless their hearts--who'll be saying, "what's so dirty?" Maybe this hint will help them out...

That's right people, the bookmark is for your book. The beads are for your ass (if you need a thorough explanation of that, just ask). Now don't worry, I got some extras to share and I'm fairly certain they haven't been used, so at the end of this post we'll do a little Chuck Palahniuk anal bead contest (one I don't expect will be reported about on Urban Fantasy Land--winks to the girls).

I also picked up Chuck's walking tour of Portland, called Fugitives and Refugees. I've been excited about reading that since Caitlin's mom raved about it last week. Anyway, we found a great spot to sit and chatted about sex toys, books, authors and other petty dramas. Turns out we had plenty of time for talking since, Chuck signed books until the cows came home (about an hour).

But, Chuck mustn't be questioned. He knows how to throw an author event. And that's what it is an event. Not content to simply read a bit from his new book SNUFF, in which an aging porn star goes out with a (gang)bang, Chuck kicked off the show by throwing about 50 blow up sex dolls into the audience. The first male and female dolls to be completely inflated won copies of a book (sorry, I can't recall the name, though he was pushing short story writers like Amy Hempel), but this guy sure wanted one...

Next up was a reading of an original story written specifically for the tour, it's called LOSER and was funny and thoughtful. Chuck never fails to surprise. Just when you think he's going to gross you out, he makes you think. The tale follows a frat boy who drops acid just as he's called up to play the Price is Right. Awesome.

Afterward, Warren Etheridge of the Warren Report interviewed Chuck about the new book, disturbing influences and the CHOKE movie (my review of Choke will be up next week on the Burlesque blog). At one point, the term "gang bang" was flying around so much, I thought I was at my own reading, but a family got up and left. Warren had this to say, "They must have thought Chuck was the Newberry Caldicott winner." There was no excuse for leaving, Chuck did hand out earplugs to those most likely to be offended.

We watched the trailer for Choke...

Blew up some more dolls...

One last thing. I mentioned a contest to win that anal bead bookmark and thought of the perfect thing. Bastardized Hollywood porn titles. If it could hang on the Lusty Lady marquee, I want to see it. Here's some examples...

From Snuff...The Importance of Balling Earnest, Snow Falling on Peters or, perhaps, Lay Misty for Me.

Some of my favorites, In and Out of Africa, Shaving Ryan's Privates.

You get the idea. So line 'em up in the comments and one of you can have these shiny blue booty beauties to do with what you see fit, all before next Friday. Just think of the possibilities.

Gettin' Shit Done!

2008-05-28T13:26:00.000-07:00

Okay, so today started out with me completely scattered with too much on my to do list and not enough interest in a single thing to get any one of them done. Plus, I'm really busy staring at the back yard, so...

If you'll recall, last week it looked like this...

And now it looks like this...

Two days was all it took them. We would have been working on it for weeks and ending up with nasty sciaticas. It's insane. Dario and his guys were animals, they didn't even take breaks. I would have hoed up a weed and then sat on my fat ass for longer time than it took to hoe.

Anyway, so I'm happy with that. What else?

Oh, this...

You'll want to head over there because, part 2 of the weekend post has been committed and there be Friday the 13th stuff.

Scattered or no, I finally got some work done, thanks to my friends at the Glamazombies.

Lost Weekend. Also, the Glamorous Life of the Debut Novelist, Part III

2008-05-27T08:29:00.000-07:00

Not really. No alcoholic fugues or anything, just a long one. But tons to report.

Saturday was Crypticon, which was fun though woefully underattended. Doubly sad, because for the horror fan, it was a cornucopia of movie stars, or at the very least, solar flares.

I didn't really know what to expect, the cons I've attended so far have been of the large scale variety and the last time I was at the Doubletree in Seatac was Norwescon. That con topped out at 3000 attendees at last count and the halls were packed with people.

Crypticon? Not so much. In fact, when we showed up, the place was empty and about 5 people were in line at registration. Spoiled, as I am, I skipped the line and asked a staffer where "pro check-in was". She just stared and pointed at the line. Which was quick and everyone was very nice, just new at the whole thing (like me). The panel I'd prepared so hard for, The Year in Horror (yes, I actually prepared this time) was listed in the program as TBD. An insert listed it correctly but didn't identify the location. I know. I know. Growing pains. First year of the con. Got it.

While we waited for the panel at noon, we toured the expo area. Dear God. I hate to say it, because they were all very nice people, but it was like a celebrity hospice center. I can't be certain but the only person in there with an active career was Tony Todd (Candyman, Chuck). Again, I could be wrong.

Now, that said. I, much like cmpriest, was a bit gaga over William Davis (the Cigarette Smoking Man from the X-files) and Ashley Laurence (Hellraiser) is stunning in person, absolutely beautiful. But I was most excited about the ladies from Friday the 13th. So much so that I reverted to awkward teen years and walked right on by without saying a word. Pathetic.

So, it was 11:30 and time to find the room. When I asked where it was at the info/registration desk, they had to look it up. None of them knew. Bad sign. When I got there, it was a huge room, capable of accomodating an easy 150 member audience. Here I am riveting the crowd with all my internet-derived horror knowledge...

How impressed are you?

Had a good time talking with Michael Montoure, my co-panelist, and Caroline provided for our heckling needs. So it wasn't a total loss.

Went antique shopping, after. Seattle has this massive warehouse antique store by Safeco Field (the Mariner's stadium) and we're always looking for more of our china, which is old and rare (which says less about our taste and comportment than it does about our luck, since we found a setting for 4 for dirt cheap and haven't seen another plate since). Anyway--what would one of my posts be without some potty experience--I had to pee, so I was directed to a bathroom in the auction house. I knew I was in trouble when I opened the door and a blast of noxious gas raped my nasal passages.

There was only one way to describe it: old man shit. It's distinctive; It's deadly.

I gagged. Literally gagged. It got so bad I had visions of Caroline busting into the room and finding me curled up fetal and rocking under the sink.

But enough about near death experiences, because the rest of the night was awesome. Dinner with friends and their cranky new baby, who hummed and snarled but didn't cry (bonus!); then Ladytron and Datarock at the Showbox.

I didn't know much about Datarock. Listened to them a bit on youtube and didn't care for them, so I was pleasantly surprised that they were really entertaining and pumped up the crowd. Loud as hell, though. Ladytron took the stage and were amazing. Songs that I was lukewarm about on the album absolutely rocked live. Plus, there was this couple--actually I think they were friends of different sexual orientation, by which I mean gay speaker dancer and his frankenstein-shoed hag (I say it with love, so it's okay)--that were so entertaining, not since Elaine on Seinfeld have I seen such spectacularly ill-conceived moves. We loved them. We didn't love the princesses with cell phones and no boundaries. Here's Ladytron's latest video, so you can feel like you were a part of it all (except for the fabu dancing, sorry)...

As we were leaving, we noticed the Lusty Lady--our favorite adult movie theater (notable for their fun marquees)--was showing INDIANA MOANS AND THE TEMPLE OF POON. Come on. How can you not love that?

And Damn. I'm going to have to break this post up. I thought for sure I'd be able to get it all in, but my fingers are tired and I still have to go grocery shopping.

Wait 'til you hear about Sunday (with pictures of Mrs. Voorhees!)

Another Tool for Procrastination

2008-05-22T10:14:00.000-07:00

Harrrummmmpppph!

2008-05-21T10:12:00.000-07:00

I've succumbed to laziness.

After two weekends of yardwork, aching muscles and finally getting the front in some kind of order, it was time to consider the backyard. It's been left to its own defenses since I started writing seriously two years ago. It was once a prideful thing and we recieved mucho complementos. Now? Not so much...

So, the landscaper, Dario just left after giving me an estimate and a time frame that I can live with. It's still a ton of money ($800) but to weed, haul, widen the beds, spread beauty bark and even get rid of the scotchbroom behind the fence, I think it's fair. It may not look like much in the pictures but it's going to take a crew of three guys, two days to get it done and maybe another, two is the estimate.

Now, I'm off to track down 8 square yards of beauty bark for delivery.

See what happens when I get paid?

Oh...and there's this...

New Interview Up

2008-05-17T08:41:00.001-07:00

Donut Post...or Doughnut, For That Matter

2008-05-16T14:53:00.000-07:00

Which is it "donut" or "doughnut?" After all, it is made out of dough, so the latter seems likely. But they aren't nuts, per se. So maybe it's all just nonsense. Anyway, I'm done worrying about it and the research would bore me to tears. So let's get on with the post.

I've been to donut Mecca.

I've seen God.

I was chatting about this with my Yahoo group awhile back, as I'm wont to do. But here's the story for all of you. Last week, when I accompanied Richelle and Caitlin to their reading/signing at Powell's--if those two don't need a chaperone, no one does--I was firmly mid-Atkin's induction and thus carbs were a no-no. But being out of state, one loses a bit of motivation. Alcohol does not help the situation.

Well, on many occasions, I've sought out the comfort of a warm donut (I probably should have used the other spelling for that sentence, lest I give the wrong impression). And in Portland, there is a place. A place where the icing flows like manna from heaven onto bulbous pastry so tender you'd sock your moms. What's even better? The recipes seem culled from the depths of MADNESS!

The place is Voodoo Doughnut.

I've attempted to make my acquaintance with this locale many times, always to be denied. I didn't think this particular night would be any different. So, to my surprise, following much debauchery at a Portland pool hall, my companions and I were driven to Voodoo Doughnut. Which was open (as it is 24 hours a day, unless you're really jonesin' or are me--in many cases-- and then it will be closed mysteriously).

Under the cruller chandelier we made our selections.

Mine...

The Cap'n Crunch--though it could have easily been called the Cap'n Crunchberry. Dear God what diet could survive in the presence of such glory? It was delicious. Raised and fluffy and covered a thick slathering of pink icing and an avalanche of forbidden breakfast treats. Ummm.

I just gave myself shivers.

Caitlin opted for the Double Bubble (not pictured). A decision, she insisted, made entirely based on the Double Bubble gum protruding from the center of the delicacy. I don't know much about the flavor, but her jaws were smacking, so I'm certain it was a success.

Richelle had to be dirty and ordered herself a Dirty Snowball...

I'll have you know, the woman ordered that one sight unseen. I was half expecting something yellow to pop out but the donut turned out to be far more enigmatic (yes, I think that's a dollop of gooey peanut butter protruding from the hole, if you catch my meaning.

I'm not saying there's a sexual connotation to the name "Dirty Snowball" but there is another donut that might clear up the issue...

Do we need to even continue this line of discussion?

There were so many weird donut varieties, I thought I'd have an aneurysm, or maybe, someone has jammed the pretzel into the voodoo doughnut's head...

It could happen, you know? Anyway--and I can't stress this enough--the next time you're in Portland, do yourself a favor and cheat on your diet at Voodoo Doughnut. You'll be happy you did...and bloated.

Sick as Shit and Busy

2008-05-12T09:52:00.000-07:00

Those two shouldn't go together, ever. But I'm following through with my stuff. So what you get is...

...and the book club for Stacia's Personal Demons is up and running. Also, the winner of the missing League member has been announced. To prove it wasn't me and because I was goaded, here's my uncensored shot.

Feel free to make fun.

I Want One!

2008-05-07T10:18:00.000-07:00

I saw this clip and couldn't stop wondering: Where do I get me a murderously intelligent, sensually self-programmed non-being?

It also reminded me of Trent's Demon Seed from the new NIN album (free here).

Oh...and I've done my weekly post over at the League!

Whaddup at the League?

2008-05-05T08:48:00.000-07:00

We've relaunched the League of Reluctant Adults. See?

A Winner, a Tease...Yahoo!

2008-05-02T08:58:00.000-07:00

We've got a winner in the Personal Demons contest. Shvetufae over on livejournal came out of the hat. Her best advice...

"When you get angry at what someone else does, take a look at yourself and ask if it's because you're afraid you do the same thing in some form."

Beautiful and sound. Email me your address and I'll get that book off to you right away. me@markhenry.us

*****************************

Over on the League of Reluctant Adults, change is in the air. There's a NEW League coming. Check in on Monday and see for yourself.

*****************************

Now for something really cool. Plague Carrier #1 (mela_lyn) and I have been working on a yahoo group for those of you infected by Happy Hour of the Damned, Amanda Feral, zombies and/or snark in general. I hope you'll all sign up and make it your first choice for distraction.

All Tagged Up and Endangered

2008-04-29T21:18:00.000-07:00

Two different meme tags in less than a week. Most recently by Jackie Kessler. It's that book thing. Here are the rules:

1. Pick up the nearest book.
2. Open to page 123.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the next three sentences.
5. Tag five people and post a comment to the person who tagged you once you’ve posted your three sentences.

The book is CHOKE by Chuck Palahniuk and not for the squeamish or easily offended.

Here goes...

The milkmaid, Ursula, comes out of the cow shed and looks at us with her stoner eyes just about filled with blood.

"If there was a girl you liked," I say to him, "if she wanted to have sex just to get pregnant, would you?"

Ursula grabs her skirts up and comes stomping through the cow poop in her wooden clogs.

***********

And there you have it. But much like I'll throw caution to the wind when I get a chain email, I shan't be paying either of these memes forward.

Here's the next one. Your standard 6 things meme attributed to one Karen Duvall.

6 what, though?

I'll just wing it...

1. My dogs are trying to kill me. I woke up last night at 2:30 with my oldest mongrel panting while sprawled across my legs. The middle child crept up my left side and tried to strangle me by pressing her throat against mine, while the baby burrowed under my shoulder. Why can't I just have regular insomnia?

2. I'm addicted to Bizarre Foods with Andrew Zimmern on the Travel Channel. Have you seen that shit? The season finale is on now. I think he just ate some scrotum.

3. Caroline and I started Atkins again. So far so good. While I'm definitely craving carbs, I'm already feeling more alert and less lethargic. It's only been two days. That says a lot about the effects of sugar and simple carbohydrates.

4. Heard the new Ladytron today. Black Cat. There's a harder edge to it, want to hear it?

5. I'm bound and determined to get Road Trip of the Living Dead spotless and ready for John to hand over to the copy editor...by FRIDAY!

6. The Day of the Dead remake is a serious piece of crap, but an oddly appropriate double feature with Michael Moore's Sicko.

Done.

Books, Books and More Books

2008-04-29T09:32:00.000-07:00

It's a big day for urban fantasy and paranormal romance. Just check out the book birthdays over at Urban Fantasy Land. Break a leg, ladies!

One of the things I forgot to mention in my previous RT blogs were all the free and signed books I snagged. Take a look...

So some of these are mine, but more importantly some of them are for you. Where should we begin? I'm thinking Personal Demons, since I'm throwing Stacia a book club at the League (save the date: May 12th). This one's not signed, since she's trapped in the Tower of London or somewhere, chained to a computer. So how about a contest?

Are you up for it?

Since Stacia's main character is a psychotherapist and I've got a bit of experience with that, let's roll with our best advice. Just leave it in the comments and I'll choose a winner at random. There are no wrong answers.

My best advice: Never go to bed angry...or...resolve the issue before it has time to fester.

I'll draw on Friday. That's it. Go!

Revenge of the Monster Blog

2008-04-24T07:51:00.000-07:00

Now, where was I?

Saturday, I think. The big day. Book fair. 300 or so authors lined up behind tables like buffet selections. The day started off like the previous three: coffee downstairs, checking email, chatting with Kim and Guy, who were the other early risers in the UF bunch. The authors were asked to set up at 10:00 for the 11:00 event, so I showed up at 9:45. I was a little excited and not just for the signing but to meet all my lj peeps.

I found my spot, which was primo, Megan Hart and Kim Harrison. How much does that rock? I had like 20 or so books stacked up and waiting for me at my spot and the overwhelming feeling that they'd be there at the end, too. I set up my stuff and went off in search of trouble.

Looks like I found some and a photographer with a grudge (do I not look gassy?--ladies and gentleman, I present the worst photo of me that I didn't intentionally mean to be wretched--thanks Chris!). Caitlin and Marjorie are no doubt trouble makers. Just look what Marjorie can do...

Awesome, right? It's THE CLAW. She's like quadruple jointed, I think. The whole table gasped when she pulled that talent out of her bag of tricks. After that, I couldn't stop asking her to show it to me. What can I say, I'm a freak.

I even got interviewed on camera (not sure by who)...

They were very nice and whether I ever see the spot or not, I'll always have the evidence to prove it.

I took some shots of everyone at their spots, but Jocelynn already posted all of those, so here's a couple she missed.

Jennifer Estep...

Who's so cute, I just want to squeeze her. And here's Patrice Michelle...

Who's totally gorgeous and has more books than me in front of her (I can't help but think she arranged it that way to wittle away my self esteem). I'll get you Patrice!

The five minute warning rang out over the crowd and I stumbled back to my seat, bumping such luminaries as Cheryl Holt and Leigh Greenwood. I think I even yelled, "Outta my way!!!"

The doors opened and we were swamped with readers. I sold out of my stash in less than an hour and spent the rest of the time apologizing and collecting addresses to send signed bookplates. But for me, the main event didn't happen until Plague Carrier #1 and Todd arrived.

There's Missy (PC#1) and I chatting with Kim Harrison. And here's...

Todd catching up with Richelle. Missy even made me a shirt, which I model in this next shot...

It has a "Hello My Name WAS" image on the front, with a handwritten font that says "Patient Zero." On the back is a cover picture of Happy Hour. I was ecstatic, needless to say. We set up a time to meet with the rest of the LJ group who wandered over throughout the rest of the three hour fair. Who, you ask? sadieloree, brian_ohio (oh yes people, he has a face and not just one big cyclops like we all assumed), sakibebe, reneesweet, and macbeaner (who directed our food choices in the days leading up to the fair, thanks lady! Primanti's was awesome).

You know who else was there?

Ms. Stacia Kane. With so many people stopping by, how could I not set up this shrine (courtesy of Todd) and it got the attention, I can tell you.

At about 1:45 there was a blackout. Like so...

Which I thought was awesome. I was talking to Caitlin and Jeaniene at the time and got this amazing shot in the dark...

Weird, right? It's like instinct for those two (or maybe Barry was behind me). My own picture would have turned out looking like a complete fucktard.

After the lights, I got into the line for the cash registers. Do you think I could go to a place with all those books and not spend 5 times the amount I made in royalties? It's impossible. I've got some giveaways (signed, of course) coming up in various spots over the next month or so. Then it was off to lunch and cocktails with this pack of fine folks...

Great time and steak salads with fries on top. In fact, everything in Pittsburgh was served with fries on top--I worry about their sex industry. August Henry's was the hang (no relation) with the $5 Long Island Ice Teas, so thank the good Barry for that. I got some shots of the peeps...

Who were so nice, I'm probably going to have to stalk and kill them--I mean become bffs with them. That's what I mean. Not kill them. No killing. Killing is bad.

Anyway, lunch was way too short and we ended up racing back to the Hilton parting ways with new friends and snarking the hell out of the cover model mangeant. I got separated from the regular group and ended up in the back row with Miriam, Jeaniene, Rachel and Jocelynn, just ahead of us were Patrice and, I'd later learn, the Rebel Girls of Romance, Liz Maverick and Marianne Mancusi.

Jocelynn and I must never sit together again because I coudn't resist making fun of the models, particularly the one that expressed his romantic nature through "pomes." I also couldn't hold back on finishing descriptions with "in the ass."

Like so...

Madeline clawed at Victor's chest; their passion threatened to consume them...in the ass.

You get the picture. The rest was like I said in my live blog from the event. Crazy. Seriously, cover models acting out the actual covers. I nearly peed myself. God bless 'em.

I don't know that I have anything else for you. We ended the night with more cocktails than should be consumed on another publishing house's dime and the week with more friends than when it began. I met tons of people, booksellers, librarians, reviewers, bloggers, writers and most importantly readers (though I think everyone there fit into that category).

Can't wait for next year in Orlando. We're going to have to add in a second week just to see the sights.

Monster Blog is Gonna Getchoo!

2008-04-21T16:19:00.000-07:00

After my big ass photo essay over on Fangs, Fur and Fey, things got a little hectic down Pittsburgh way. I met tons of awesome people that I can't resist telling all you guys about, drank way too much and slept less than a whore at a sex addicts convention. But, rather than drag this out, I'm going to just throw some pictures at you and see what sticks.

Like so...

Sure, old people are okay, if you don't mind the same faces and stuff, but new people are just...so new. Take this grouping (taken after the AM caffeination).

There are only two old faces in there (mine and Caitlin's). You got your Jenna Black (The Devil Inside), Kim Harrison (uhhhhhhhh.), Jackie Kessler (The Road to Hell), Rachel Vincent (Rogue), Caitlin Kittredge (Night Life) and Jocelyn Drake (Nightwalker). That's an impressive line-up no matter how you slice it--and do slice it.

Let's see who else...

The awesome Barbara Vey, who's really the author's best friend and the neatest lady I've met in years. She even took a video of our Club RT basket giveaway for her blog. Check it out. It's the last one.

Here's more...

Jeaniene and Melissa joined up with the gang on Thursday. With that camera on her hip, I should have asked Melissa to do a picture of me taking a picture of her, as I'm so fond of.

Here's some evidence...

That's from a panel called Demons are the New Black, which I was lucky enough to get in on because I happen to know the Commodore of Urban Fantasy Richelle Mead. Here's what we looked like all talking over each other and just generally smarting off like it was high school again...

I think the only two noobs in this shot are the fantastic Carole Nelson Douglas and fun agent gal Miriam Kriss, though if you need assistance with the other characters, just drop me a comment. The panel went well. I spewed my zombie bullshit and the crowd giggled uncomfortably. You know, the usual.

Anyway, enough of the standard stuff. You've seen it already. Let me get to work.

Weird shit goes down at RT. That's why it's not suited for hotels that aren't under a cloud of dusty construction poison. Cover models freak out, people get bitchy and various body fluids slosh under foot. This is no meeting of the association of accountants, these people play hard.

Speaking of hard, there was a certain gentleman on the scene that caught our attention right away. Let's call him Mophead, for lack of better word. We thought he was simply a poorly styled calendar guy when we took this here photo...

It was later, when one Michelle Rowen secured an EC calendar that we found out that Mophead was actually Christian, the star of a little known "independent" film called M@ximum Thrust. Here he is now mere seconds away from an "O" face...

Score! C'mon, how often do you get a chance to mingle with porn stars? Seriously, we don't live in the valley and in truth, he seemed like a nice enough guy, but God won't someone please tell him that hair is better suited to a barbecue brush?

Speaking of hair. Barry Eisler. Seriously. Enough said.

Because I'm Washington pasty, the Gods sent the sun in the form of Michelle Rowen, who brightened the kids table at Palomino and brought a blush to my cheeks with her saucy chat. It's rare when I find someone that I click with, someone I don't have to worry about censoring myself around because they just get it, like an instinct. She's new BFF #1 (there are 5). Here's a shot with Michelle and...well let's just call her NYT #7...

We ran into BFF#2 at the Faery Ball. I'd picked up Dakota Cassidy's ACCIDENTAL WEREWOLF, when Happy Hour came out, simply because it was the most similar in tone and often was sitting right next to my book on the new release tables. So when Dakota breezed by our table, I couldn't resist going all fan boy. Then...

I heard the voice. Dense throaty velvet. Holy crap. You may not know it, but that's my thing. It is. The lady is funny as hell. We could riff and that's the key indicator of whether someone gets to hang. Dakota can hang whenever she likes. Here she is with Erika (who you'll see more of in a bit)...

Speaking of balls, here's a shot of mine...

Oh...wait. That's my artist's rendering of the Cover Model Reunion Dinner menu (you might need to click it to get the full majesty of my vision.

The ball I meant to talk about was the vampire ball. I gots me some of those realistic vamp teeth glued in threw on the black velvet and I was ready to chow down...

...and there's Caroline, looking forlorn for Patrice Michelle (behind the lens). The vampire ball definitely had some high and low points. Sadly, mostly low. Though I did have a moderately exciting bonding moment with Kim Harrison. You see, we were roughly in the middle of the line when the doors opened and for some reason, a second door opened behind us, leaving us at the end of the line.

I looked at Kim and nearly in unison, we said, "Oh Hells no," and snuck in a side door. When we turned around no one had followed but we got a table and that's the important thing. Later we were dubbed "Bad asses" and promptly bumped knuckles like the Wonder Twins.

This completes my Kim Harrison story.

Other crap happened, including F. Paul Wilson (Repairman Jack) singing Hotel California as an undead butler and Erika arriving in fantastic zombie drag...

Erika and Christine were awesome to hang out with, just really fun and super nice. Erika's costuming skills were way beyond the rest of the attendees and she was robbed at the faery ball contest. 4th? C'mon.

Kensington through their authors a party at Palamino and even though we came late, Kate and Maureen plied us with liquor and cheesy dips. For which we knocked back $40 in free hooch each. Cuz we're naughty. Palomino was our main hang as the service at the Hilton pub was a tad surly. If you get to Pittsburgh make sure to stop in for a pomegranate mojito, they're the shit. You know who we met there?

Heather Osborn and Jozelle Dyer, the fabulous ladies of Tor. These two are officially BFFs #s 3 and 4. After the meet up we were inseparable. Many tried to...and failed. Cut to the quick by are sharp tongues and prison shanks.

The last two days of the con were just way too action packed to tell you about in this post. You got your book fair blackout, the mangeant, the plague carrier and the rest of the lj peeps.

They deserve their own post so I'm calling it quits.

Nearly 24 Hours of Romance

2008-04-16T12:09:00.001-07:00

I'm exhausted, withered and flaccid, just generally, not down there...or anything, though I haven't checked. I could be completely immasculated for all I know--too tired to look. The sizzling estrogen of so many Romance and PR fan is soaking through my pores, I've felt a nagging sense of Regency...I mean urgency to get out of here and explore the City of Steel. A recharge from all the metal skyscrapers might restore my dwindling testosterone, to dip into a phallic reference. But before I go there, lets take a trip on a jet plane...

Like I said, Caitlin pulled up to the house at 3:15 (that's AM) and we drove to the offsite parking for Seatac, which turned out to be the Best Value Inn and Lighted Parking (thank you internets), I half expected to kick the dead hookers out of the way to get into the office, luckily they were only passed out.

Because we couldn't get a flight on Air Lingus (spelling?)--one, they don't fly domestically outside of Ireland and two, 6:00 am is far too early to live out an erotic fantasy--we flew out on Delta. The first leg to Salt Lake was short, a little bumpy, not too bad. We were just super excited to check out the airport gift shops for secret Mormon underwear. Denied.

Flight 2 was where the magic happened. Here's a clue...

How close do you have to be seated near the bathroom to could a shot like that? Pretty close, we were in the last row of coach and desperately wished that the passengers would prefer to take a first class dump, sadly no...coach dumps for us. Why does this happen to you Mark, you ask? Because I'm...me. Luckily, I'm creative and crafty. Here I am sniffing wetnaps to get me through the hard times.

And no I'm not cutting onions, those eyes are near tears. Bless my heart.

As if we didn't we weren't busy enough fighting off the ass attacks, yesterday was tax day. We were lucky enough to get off the plane in Pittsburgh and walk right up to an airport post office. Taxes sent and nearly an hour before the PO closed, too. Who are you calling a procrastinator?

The Hilton, wouldn't you know, is under construction, though our room is nice and quiet, so I can't really complain...nope. Can't think of anything other than the main convention area is a tad claustrophobic. Got to meet lots of cool folks: Jeri Smith-Ready, Jeanne Stein, Patrice Michelle and Ms. Jackie Kessler of the sexy demons. Food, drinks, more food followed. Plans were made to meet up again at 8 in the morning.

What time did I get up? 8:20. I was freakin' wasted, I won't lie--the Caipirinha was like drinking Nyquil on the rocks. Not drunk mind you...wasted. I felt like crap. Three hours sleep only takes you so far.

So Richelle spread guilt through a text to my phone and I was off with the swag for a stuffing party, registration and Martha Stewart style basket creation (oh yes, I gots the pride). I'll post a picture of the majesty later. The test-tubes of genuine zombie plague won't last the day. I've refilled the rack three times, and it was dwindling away quicker than my hair follicles. Lucky, I've got the postcards. Did I mention that the pens didn't show up on time. Oh yeah. No Mark Henry pens.

Why? I think you know the answer. Yep...me.

It was time to get lost in Pittsburgh. Here are some Pittsburghers committing Pittsburghery...

At this time, Caroline and I were busy forcing Primanti Brother's Pittsburgh Cheesesteaks into our gaping maws. Unlike the Philly variety, these babies are loaded with french fries and slaw. Gullet-friendly is the verdict.

Pittsburgh has a real eastern block before the fall feel with plenty of steel buildings and utititarian architecture hovering over old stone churches. It's really quite interesting and beautiful, but...hey, I wanted to be an architect when I was a kid and am still infatuated, a bit.

Whaddya think?

That's by Mellon Bank (for the few Pittsburgh natives on my f-list).

Awesome f**kin' roof, eh?

Disco Stegausoarus, I love you most of all! This guy was in this superweird black glass plaza with a roof like castle turrets (spelling? I almost thought I'd spelled Tourette's, which would have forced me to use various slang terms for vagina. How could I not?).

Anyway, next up is the Fangs, Fur and Fey meet up and some Ellora's Cave party which should totally have a uterus theme, unless someone missed the metaphor.

Back later!

I'm Outtie Dee! RT Here I Comes!

2008-04-14T21:26:00.000-07:00

After one of the most crazy days ever, full of running errands, coming home, realizing that I forgot something, running back out, coming home and then having to do the two hour trek to the accountant's to pick up the taxes which were late getting done--I'm told--as a result of our accountant reading my book (I gladly accepted that blame), I'm finally settling in to relax before Caitlin shows up on our doorstep at the God-awful hour of 3:15 A.M.

I must chill.

...and pack (and apparently blog).

Good thing I can sleep on a plane. Oh...wait. No I can't.

But I can read. I'm finally going to finish Rayo Casablanca's super sick (and awesome) 6 SICK HIPSTERS and jump into some Palahniuk (Choke), which is a great way to gear up for the writing that needs to happen after I get back from the convention. It seems I've been stalling on getting anything substantive done on the new book. Getting ready for a con is a great procrastination excuse, but after I get back no more excuses. It's on. Right?

Anyway, blogging will probably be minimal, as will responding to email. I can't wait to meet all the writers and lj peeps that I'm hoping actually exist and aren't just a figment of my imagination.

See you all there!

Susan? Are You Out There?

2008-04-11T09:26:00.000-07:00

I got an email from Miles at Powell's in Beaverton, you left your signed (and paid for) copy of Happy Hour at the signing. They're holding it there for you!

Book Review: Personal Demons by Stacia Kane

2008-04-09T08:02:00.000-07:00

I've been excited about this book longer than you have--bet you 5 dollars. I've been following Personal Demons since it was a tiny little hook contest entry on the now defunct Miss Snark (or was it Evil Editor?). A radio shrink (think Dr. Laura only with actual insight and ethics) inadvertantly starts a war with the "personal demons" that hang out on the shoulders of every man, woman and child. Awesome, right? Anyway, I took the bait, waited and emailed the author, struck up a neat little friendship, and here I am pimping her out like my favorite hooker (my less favorite hookers find their own dates).

I got myself a snazzy little PDF of this gem because I'm special (and not in a retarded way...well sometimes, but that's beside the point). So here goes...

Personal Demons is a supersexy urban fantasy, some might say paranormal romance, but like all good demon fiction, the sin of lust takes precedence over anything as wholesome as that other L word. Megan Chase, psychic therapist (though the psychic part is a secret), is up to her ears in crazy clients, radio station politics and zombies! After a near fatal attack, she's let in on a little secret: those personal demons she claims to slay on her radio talk show? Um..a wee bit miffed. It seems she's been marked for death, which is really bad timing because she's being tailed by a reporter hot for a story and a demon hot for some tail. To make things right, Megan must do battle with the spawn of Satan (both in and out of the bedroom) and the skeletons in her own closet.

Kane serves up a malevolently entertaining entry into the urban fantasy genre, the action is fierce and the sex is bonerific (I think you know what I mean), her characters are well drawn and damaged, just like I like 'em--Megan, in particular, is so engaging you'll be missing her from the second you turn that final page--and the story clips along with the urgency of an IBS victim with a public bathroom phobia.

Good work, Stacia. I had a feeling it was going to be awesome. But if you don't believe me, check out these blurbs, which may or may not be fictional--who's to say, really?

"Can I have s'more, please?"
--Pip, Dickens Character and Demon Sex Afficionado

"Greyson Dante can pound my dead ass, anytime."
--Amanda Feral, Celebrity Ghoul and Polite Gentlewoman

"Personal Demons? Mine don't seem to give a crap what's going on with me. More like Impersonal. Hmmph."
--Shitney, Waning Pop Star

Playing Catch Up (Now with Added Butcherness)

2008-04-03T10:37:00.000-07:00

Holy crap! Have I not posted since Monday? Something's wrong with me. This schedule is making me feel old. I layed down for a nap yesterday at 3:00 and woke up at 6:30. I never do that. Never.

Of course, I didn't get a whole lot of sleep the night before. That was Tuesday, and so I'll start there.

I was hoping to begin my day by pimping out my favorite urban fantasy chick, Stacia Kane (Personal Demons), but as it turns out, she told me to hold off as the book isn't shipping yet. That made me grumpy. I know how good it is and I can't wait for everybody else to know, too. But, I relented (kinda).

Next up, Caitlin and I met up to get up to Seattle early for the Jim Butcher bacchanalia. Also to catch up with Lisa Lutz (The Spellman Files), who was signing at the Seattle Mystery Bookshop, only we got there 5 minutes after she left, so I'm a big loser. So we goofed off in downtown a bit, Caitlin signed some books at Synde's Barnes and Noble where the endcap is gloriously Team Seattle, we had sushi at Todai, which was great except for the Philly roll (lox and cream cheese) grossing me out.

Then it was off to Victrola for actual writing. That's Caitlin over there doing just that (or at the very least blogging about facebook). By the way, those metal stools were hard on the ass. I'm just sayin'. Luckily the folk art paintings of blood-thirsty bunnies made up for the discomfort and possible hemorrhoids (also known as piles, which conjures up so many images, I'll keep those to myself--for now). Anyway, got some decent work done on a zombie skin care infomercial for the opening of American Minions. Caitlin likely thought I was insane as I often giggle to myself while I'm writing, but she was nice enough to keep her judgments to herself.

By the time we got to the Butcher shindig, it was packed. We ended up packed into chairs in the Mystery section, with this awesome view of Jim...

Oh...I meant NO view. Ah, well at least we had fun cracking jokes with Synde and Jeff, a new guy who hung out with us the rest of the night. It's nice to find people who can overlook the fact that we're generally unpleasant. Thanks Jeff!

The store closed and Jim had to sign a mountain of books, but we did end up going out to dinner with him and he showed us the totally awesome first edition of the Dresden Files comic (on his laptop), which is amazing (the comic, not the laptop), beautifully drawn and has a really fun kick-off story. Jim was fun, talkative and by midnight, looked as tired as I felt, so Caitlin and I drove him back to his hotel.

So, yeah. A late night, followed by an early morning--he dogs are trained to go outside at 7 and once they're up going back to sleep is out of the question. So I dragged ass yesterday, didn't do a damn thing I'd consider productive. What I needed to do was...

1. Mention that Mario Acevedo has taken over the Barnes and Noble Paranormal Book Club, so hit that shit hard and often.
2. Pimp out Rachel Vincent's Rogue, Rayo Casablanca's 6 Sick Hipsters (review coming soon) and Ekaterina Sedia's anthology Paper Cities, which I'm super excited about reading (I pimped Missy Ilona's Magic Burns over at the League, along with a farewell note).
3. Let people know about this super cool event that's going down in Olympia (click to make it bigger)...

Let's file this particular flyer under the glamorous life of a debut novelist, because guess who had to create it? My publicist? No no. Hehe. That'd be me. So if you're in the area, or have a car and are willing to put some miles on it, we'd love to have you. Plus, Artisan is the one with the best red velvet cake evah!

4. Remind people that Happy Hour of the Damned is the League book club pick and today we're talking about spoilers. Come for the gut gravy, stay for the witty repartee!

I Gets a Book Club!

2008-03-31T09:35:00.000-07:00

With the Barnes and Noble Book Club coming to an unceremonious close, my buddy Stacia is throwing me a snarky ass blow out over at the League of Reluctant Adults. Swing by and we'll talk about Happy Hour, maybe Road Trip and apparently designer fashion and eating disorders (though, frankly, I know more about the latter).

Cat Scratch Fever

2008-03-29T13:53:00.000-07:00

It seems I got off my ass and posted a weekend interview with one Ms. Rachel Vincent (Stray, Rogue). Inside, you'll find drunkenness, t.s. elliot, and blatant book whoring. Please to direct your attention here.

Reading Books is--SURPRISE--Entertaining

2008-03-28T09:06:00.000-07:00

It's 9:30 and I've been up since 7:00 watching a retro 60s production of Mozart's comedic opera Cosi Fan Tutte by some Berlin company. It's really quite interesting. Oh...Jesus. Who am I kidding? I'm too lazy to turn the channel. I can see the remote sticking out between the cushions on that chair over there, but it's just a few feet too far away. You know?

Frankly I'm surprised I'm not just exhausted but hung over after last night's reading/signing after-party. But I'm getting ahead of myself. Let's start at the beginning.

Caroline and I met up with Caitlin Kittredge to carpool up to the University Bookstore. We promptly began pumping each other up with claims of superstardom and threats of diva-like behavior. I ended up taking my book to dinner, because I really had no idea what to read, ultimately, I ended up falling back on my Chapter 3 standby. Gang bangs, butt plugs and F-bombing on par with the London blitz = perfect reading fodder. As a special shout out to my best friend Kevin, I also chose to read Gil's British date rape scene. That decided, we were off to the University Bookstore.

Holy crap! There were a lot of people there.

That's about half of them. There were actually people sitting on the floor and some people standing on the sides. We counted between 35 and 40, depending on who you ask. The reading went well. I was told later that I actually got a gasp from someone not expecting my zombie heroine to bite a bitch. A furreal live gasp. I couldn't be happier.

Caitlin read in a British accent, even. Which was fun and gruesome (the story, not the accent). Then we took questions and gave out glow in the dark zombie finger puppets. Good times all around.

Let's see who was there.

Dianna Rodgers and Devon Monk came up from the land of Oregonia just to see me...and make a pilgrimage to John Fleuvog. But guess what Dianna made?

Aw hells yeah. That's a big brain jello shooter (I can still smell the alcohol). That last picture is my fifth spoonful, so I was well on my way to lit. I couldn't have been more surprised or pleased to be consuming brains at the reading. We shared with the audience, of course, some of whom weren't aware they were doing vodka shots. The stunned faces were priceless.

The signing was awesome, I sold out my stock, which seemed like at least 25 copies, Caitlin signed at least that many, if not more. It was great. But wait...what's this?

A gore spattered crime scene Happy Hour of the Damned? I quivered in ecstacy. C.S. Inman (that's him in the green) was the perpetrator of this, my favorite atrocity .

Here's some more peeps, including my friends who thought they'd escape my rampant bloggery.

They were wrong. The tall guy in that first pic is Duane the magic man behind this whole shindig. If you don't know Duane, you don't know scifi/fantasy.

That's all. Must go recover.

Don't Mind Me...

2008-03-27T12:52:00.000-07:00

So, I'm sitting here plotting out and outlining Book 3 and realizing that I'm the last of Team Seattle to weigh in on the Portland road trip...and it was my reading/signing, even. They've already posted pictures, told their little stories, replied to comments. What else is there to say, right?

Right?

Well a bit more, as it turns out. Get this...

On Monday, I rented the van from Chad at Enterprise, who seemed genuinely impressed that I was going to Powell's for my signing, though not so impressed that he didn't turn his nose up at my Mastercard debit card. Apparently, you have to have a "real" credit card to plop a deposit down or you get no Grand Caravan, or a regular Caravan, for that matter. To his credit he got a waiver from his manager (or the dial tone, either one)--I had my suspicions. But as he walked me out, he got me to sign-off on Enterprise insurance. Normally, I would never pay extra, but I'd been waiting for nearly and hour. I'm pretty sure it's part of the sales plan to wear you down with smiles and boredom and then go in for the insurance kill. I could be wrong. Chad are you out there?

Anyway, Tuesday I drive our tired asses (still exhausted from Norwescon) down to Oregonia. Past the new waterpark hotel--which looks frighteningly like a modern meat packing plant--the religious statuary park of unknown origin and scads of billboards proclaiming that heathens such as our selves were bound to find ourselves roasting over a pit while Hell's minions pissed on our charred flesh (I'm paraphrasing).

The hotel was nice and the price right (Richelle is a master travel agent sure to open a side business soon--heads up). We freshened up the naughty bits and took off for the downtown Powell's aka The City of Books, in case anyone was wondering what the title of yesterday's post meant.

For those who've never been there, may I suggest an economy car for the parking lot from Hell. It's a creaking maze of posts that is much better suited to accomodating motorcycles than minivans. Powell's is Mecca for new authors (and not so new). We came to sign the post. THE POST. Here it is, please note the awe.

While we signed, I kept whispering to Caroline to keep snapping pictures. With the plexi-glass being hefted precariously over our heads the whole time, I was expecting a Final Destination-type moment and you guys would have been pissed if I didn't capture author-under-glass.

After that, it was time to hit Beaverton, or Cedar Hills Crossing and the new Powell's (which is really nice as were the staff peeps). Miles, who introduced us came prepared to riff and appropriately made fun of Mario, who responded by giving "possession face." As it was my first "official" reading, of course, I choose to read something absolutely filthy into a microphone, censoring myself only by whispering things like gangbang, buttplugs and motherfucker. What I didn't realize was that...

1. Whispering makes things more interesting (you'd think I'd have remembered this from psych 101).

and

2. It draws children out of the woodwork. Cuz who doesn't like secrets?

By now, I'm sure you've all seen the paparazzi image of a mother rushing her little girl away to the manager's office to discuss a potential lawsuit. If not, swing by katatomic for the proof.

After the reading, I took some questions and realized that a friend from high school was in the audience, which was cool, as well as this little lady...

Oh...my. I know the fangirl in Jill Myles is damning me to hell, cuz that's Meljean Brook (Demon Bound, Demon Night) sitting with our Richelle. She came by to have her book signed and say hi, and she was super nice, so there you go. Got to meet an lj friend or two, as well (Hi Lea! Hi Tami!). In fact, Tami got me this picture of Mario and I signing...

(photo courtesy of Tami Hawes)

After Powell's it was time to ditch the mini-van and sample the various Portland intoxicants. Mario started a game of sick twisted titles that I couldn't resist jumping in on. Sick and twisted degenerating quickly into absolutely filthy. Which was, of course, magical, but I don't think I could repeat anything here without being arrested on indecency charges.

Aw shit, here's a little tidbit anyway...

Someone at the table pointed out that by creating a play on words we could elevate our filth to some pretty high brow humor. For instance, cockrings are funny but not as funny as a cockring of fire, which is the only kind the "man in black" would ever utilize. Do you see how I protect you with the tamest thing I can remember? I didn't even mention spinabifida once.

Umm.

I can't think of anything else, right now. The ride back was somber because we were sans Mario, who'd flown back to Denver for another signing.

Speaking of signings!

Don't forget to come down to the University Bookstore in Seattle tonight, to catch Caitlin and I reading stuff out loud, possibly in accents. 7PM to whenever.

And Just When I Was Beginning to Recover

2008-03-25T07:47:00.000-07:00

I'll be in Portland tonight (7 PM) for a Reading/Signing with Mario Acevedo (The Undead Kama Sutra) at Powell's Beaverton location. The whole Seattle author gang is going down with us. I've even rented a minivan to get that whole road trip experience.

Wish me luck.

Norwescon Afterburn

2008-03-24T08:57:00.000-07:00

Clothes are tumbling in the dryer, leftover swag and suitcase entrails litter the kitchen table and my third cup of coffee is barely eating away at my extreme exhaustion.

Such is the day after Norwescon.

It was a genuinely great experience. Met tons of awesome folks, including quite a few lj-ers (Hey y'all!), cool new writer, artist and bookseller peeps, and new fans (well they'd all be "new" technically). However...I'm not comfortable blogging about rainbows and gumdrops so it's about to get ugly. Uglier than this even...

Please take note of the new grays (each one has its own unique and horrific name). Let's start with gray #1.

1. The Doctor White Gray

Last Saturday, we went grocery shopping with a friend who is apparently trying to kill me, therefore "friend" may be a misnomer. Said "friend" suggested hot Kashi cereal was a "delicious and healthy alternative" to oatmeal. While I'll agree that the texture was interesting, the flavors were stronger and a smaller portion seemed to fill me up, the after effects left a little something to be desired. Over the course of a week, the glands in my throat swelled, my breathing constricted and I was left flush an light-headed. By Thursday, I thought I was having a stroke. Yet, I still went to Norwescon because I had a panel (my first ever). It was about the best horror movies so I figured if I stroked out right there in the conference room at least I'd give the people a good show. The next morning, I went to the doctor panicked and full of self diagnoses. I may have mentioned the word thrombosis, but I can't be sure.

Needless to say Dr. White looked at me like I was a complete retard (which is debatable, even under normal circumstances) and diagnosed it as an allergic reaction. He prescribed steroids and benadryl, told me to lose "at least" 50 pounds (oh yes, in quotes) and sent me back to the con.

2. The Lisa Mantchev Gray

I finally met La Mantchev at the hotel coffee shop about an hour before our panel for writers who blog or vice versa. She was peppy and genuine and we like her (that's the royal we, this time, you can make up your own minds). She had in her hot little hands a shiny new copy of Shimmer, the new issue of Weird Tales with her story Six Scents inside and a packet of perfume samples that correspond to the story.

Needless to say, I was excited. Not since John Waters played the "odorama" card for Polyester had I been so needy. She even offered to let me have it and pay her later. But knowing how flighty I can be, I thought aaaaaah better get the money out of me first. Of course, after our panel I swung by the ATM and got me my monies. Then where was Ms. Lisa? Um...nowhere. Gone. I looked all over for her. I caught a glimpse of her across a crowded room once after that, but nope. As I was leaving yesterday, I ran into her in the lobby, she was sans Shimmer and I was, of course, sans money. Being a generous and trusting individual, she gave me a copy of Weird Tales and the perfumes in exchange for a promise to Match It for Pratchett.

Promise fulfilled Lisa, with bonus gray hair.

3. The Surprise You're a Moderator Gray

When I checked in to the convention I was under the impression that I'd be moderating one of the eight panels. Not so, as it turns out. One guy who was on a few of my panels bagged out of the con, leaving the panel moderator-less. Including the very first one. I've moderated therapy groups, though that was called facilitating--and a weird thing happened that wasn't at all helpful to the panel process. I kept dropping into therapist mode and had to shut myself down before I spoke. When there is a lull in the panel, it's often appropriate for the moderator to bring up a new question or direction and not, for instance, point out the lull and comment, "Is this silence uncomfortable for anyone? Does it remind you of home?"

I think I even said that once, though I can't be 100% positive.

On Saturday, I had three panels back to back and by the third one I was late and supremely loopy. Made a complete fool of myself, much to the delight of the audience and my co-panelists I'm sure. I don't remember a whole lot of it (I'm going to blame Doctor White for that), but I do remember talking about my mother a great deal, zombie obsessions, and recurring dreams. Thank God the swag distracted people.

4. The Dan Simmons Humility Lesson Gray

On Saturday afternoon, there was a signing event of which I was a participant. Norwescon guest of honor, Dan Simmons was signing at the same time, so please note the view of his line, unobstructed by anyone in front of my space. It was quite impressive. At one point it stretched across the entire space.

We did sign programs and books though and had a good time pretending that one day we'd be over there where Dan was sitting, people rolling up with suitcases of first editions for the signing. Hmmm. Who's we? Why these folks here...

And NO, I don't know who the guy is on the right. Anyone care to fill me in? The card says Kevin Radthorne, but I don't think we even introduced ourselves (though in our defence, Cherie Priest was responsible for introductions, or so I'd been led to believe). I could be wrong, but I don't think so.

5. The Caitlin Kittredge I'll Go Emo if You Don't Party Until One in the the Morning Gray

After the lunacy of my Saturday panels, I decided to bag out of the evening festivities, so I walked back to my hotel and pondered room service. You see, the night before Mario and I hit a couple of the parties, one of which was in a hotel room where the centerpiece was a big ass white bucket of toxic waste. The green sludge issued via ladle was both disgusting and oddly satisfying in a weird probably-shouldn't-mix-Everclear-and-antihistamines kind of way.

Anyway, a slew of text messages coaxed me back to the Weird Tales party where the Seattle Crew (yes we'll be doing a "Step" tour soon) hung out with the likes of--excuse me while I name drop--Gordon Van Gelder, totally interesting publisher of The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction, Jeremy (Fucking) Lassen, publisher of Nightshade Books, all around fun guy and snazzy dresser and John Picacio, artist and party muse. After we left the penthouse, we caught up with Pat Rothfuss, whom I'd never met and had to introduce myself (thanks Cherie) and jaywalked across the street from the con to THE PARTY AT THE END OF THE WORLD. Here's the rundown on that: 500 sweaty people packed in an area the size of a living room drinking cherry and banana Everclear slushies and watching wet t-shirt contests through saucer eyes. Not since high school, I tell you.

Speaking of Caitlin, we both had fairly well attended Easter readings, especially compared to the woman who read before us who had one guy. Eek. Thanks to everyone that turned up for that. Shout out to criada and kaerfel, and the two other ladies that I think were on livejournal, too but I didn't catch their screennames.

And finally...

6. The My Audience Always Knows More About the Topic than Me Gray

Because Happy Hour has so many horror elements, I got sort of typecast in my panel selections. Something that came up in nearly all the horror panels was a movie called The Signal, which seems to follow a similar construct as films like Romero's The Crazies and recently the J-horror of Kairo (Pulse). So you know I had to go find the trailer...

So that's it. Next up is Romantic Times and I have to tell you, I'm concerned.

Norwescon Checklist

2008-03-20T08:21:00.000-07:00

Three and a half hours from now, I'll be making the drive to Norwescon, I've got a few stops to make (to pick up some glow-in-the-dark zombie finger puppets and more jelly beans). Then, I'll muster all my courage and begin the battle with the parking Gods.

Here's what I've got...

• Easter Basket with surprise eggs for my reading on Sunday
• Test tubes of edible "platelets"
• Box of promo postcards (my pens didn't come yet, doh!)
• Box of books for consignment
• Headful of NAUGHTY

What's left to do?

• Charge camera (oh yes, there will be photography)
• Charge phone (I'm certain to be "lost" half the time)
• Formulate actual opinions

Hope to see lots of lj peeps!

A schedule reminder

We Love Them, We Hate Them, But What Horror Films are the Best? Thursday 6:00 p.m. Evergreen 4
Phillip Brugalette (M), K.L. Young, Mark Henry, Lorelei Shannon

Writers and Blogging Friday 2:00 p.m. Cascade 4
Mark Henry (M), Lisa Mantchev, Cindy Turner

Die Laughing Horror's Not Funny! Or is it? Friday 4:00 p.m. Cascade 6
Michael Ehart (M), Mark Henry, Richelle Mead

The Elements of Fear: What Makes Horror Effective Saturday 10:00 a.m. Cascade 6
Philip Brugalette (M), Mark Henry, Christopher Konker

Autograph Session 2 Saturday Noon Evergreen 1 & 2

What Makes The Horny Little Devil So Red Hot? Saturday 3:00 p.m. Cascade 10 18+
Mark Henry, Richelle Mead, J.C. Hendee, Barb Hendee

The Worst Way to Die - Horror Films Have the Answers Saturday 6:00 p.m. Cascade 8
Julie Hoverson (M), Mark Henry, Phillip Brugalette

Crossing Gender Lines Saturday 7:00 p.m. Cascade 6
Michael Ehart (M), Mark Henry, Gordon Van Gelder

It Takes a Village to Raise a Zombie Saturday 8:00 p.m. Cascade 13
Mimi Noyes (M), Mark Henry, Robert Grey, Cat Rambo

Reading: Mark Henry Sunday 2:00 p.m. Cascade 3

Book Review: The Spellman Files by Lisa Lutz

2008-03-18T09:46:00.000-07:00

I think I'm in love with Lisa Lutz. Of course, you wouldn't know it from how I treated her debut novel, The Spellman Files; it sat on my nightstand for several weeks after its release last year, finally making its way to the land that reading forgot--aka my dusty mule of a bookcase. I initially bought the book for its awesome cover, which reminded me of Galt Niederhoffer's A Taxonomy of Barnacles (also banished to the "land" soon after its release--moment of silence). I knew it was a humorous take on the mystery genre, sort of a Running with Scissors meets CSI only cozier, what I didn't know was; it was lying wait to charm my pants off (not literally, I am, as a rule, pro-pants, or at the very least, shorts). It was by pure chance that my book club chose the Spellman's for our February ritual. And by "chance," I mean the person who selected the book (not me) was heavily influenced by another person (me).

Here's a bit of a blurb, any more is saying too much...

Izzy Spellman is searching for a missing person from a decades-old cold case, a future ex-boyfriend and a life away from her crazy family, all of whom are detectives, even her manipulative little sister Rae. Secrets and lies abound as this dysfunctional pack of gumshoes wage a surveillance war that is both hilarious and telling.

Lutz's style is frenetic and wacky and footnoted (so you know I was hooked from the get-go). She's woven a story that in a less-talented writer's hands could have come off as maudlin and sappy into a truly comic tale that speaks to the effects of lost childhood and the cycles of alcoholism, without any of the pesky tear-soaked melodrama. Did I mention I was laughing out loud? Not chuckling, mind you but big guttural guffaws. Seriously.

Well done Ms. Lutz. I'll be watching you, but not in a stalkery way. I'm too lazy to get out of the car to bust a taillight.
________________________________

The sequel, Curse of the Spellmans, is in stores now!

Reason #365

2008-03-18T08:53:00.000-07:00

This is yet another reason why I love my wife.

Upon walking into the living room the other morning, spotting the former Governor of New York's high-priced call girl, who, reportedly, doesn't spread her legs for less than $5000 an hour (4 hour minimum), Caroline could be heard to say...

"That's magic pussy. For $5000, it better have spinning shammie action."

That's pre-coffee.

Swooooooooooon.

Zombie Redux

2008-03-17T08:48:00.000-07:00

I posted this yesterday over at Fangs Fur and Fey, but it was Sunday and I don't think that's a high traffic day, so I'm doing the cross post thing...but I couldn't just post the same old thing, so I added some stuff. You'll see...

It's probably a good thing that the topic of the week is "why we pick the specific creatures we do"--which I'm barely making the cut off for, shameful and pathetic as that may be--because in less than a week, I'm going to be sitting on a con panel about zombies in popular culture, pretending to be all smart and stuff. Now despite the general consensus (not here, I'm not sure who's consensing, or if that's even a word), it doesn't require an academic mind to write a book. Research is undoubtedly done for urban fantasy novels, but I guarantee you very little has been done by me.

Or has it?

Certainly not in the since of cracking open a book on origins or the paleobotany of the Haitian voodou coup de poudre. Nope. Everything you need to learn about zombies can be found on celluloid, thank God. I'll reference carrieryan's post as an example of how zombie authors get hooked on the flesh-eating genre. Of course, I think my long-standing obsession that spans 30 years of film and literature--don't laugh, many would argue Cormac McCarthy's THE ROAD is a just a high brow zombie book--counts as research, so there.

It started in 1978 (a really important year for zombies, but we'll get back to that).

We moved around quite a bit, as my father worked for the feds, and I was always concerned about the timing. If we moved in the winter, would it be enough time to make friends before my birthday in June? Late summer was the best. A full school year to turn chameleon and ingratiate into whatever social group was least adverse to a prematurely caustic sense of humor and an overactive imagination.

My mother, whose fondness of horror movies knew no boundaries or political correctness (thank God), checked out a projector and two cannisters of film from the library (actual freaking film, how old am I?). Inside was that quintessential zombie classic, Night of the Living Dead. We showed it to a living room packed with children in flared jeans on a wall stripped of its 70s art in shades of Avocado Green and Harvest Gold to match the appliances and shag carpet. The blood was black and the screams weren't just coming from the tinny projector speaker.

My 10th birthday was a success, I'd seen my first flesh-eating zombie. Here he is now...

Not particularly frightening, but drape some intestines over his lapels and you've got what I like to call the perfectly accessorized ghoul. Dressed to the nines or not-at-all (seventies zombies weren't at all modest) I was done in; those zombies had me like nobody's business. What was it about these bleak characters? They were obviously metaphors, I knew that back then. But for what? I started hunting down everything I could on my new favorite monster and there wasn't a whole lot back then.

White Zombie (1932) didn't cut the mustard, so I was forced to expand my vision. George Romero's 1973 film The Crazies is probably the earliest precursor to the "fast zombies" we see nowadays (28 Days/Weeks/Months Later). A plague spreads through the population, rendering nearly everyone murderously insane. These folks aren't shambling around in their illness, they're out to get you. I don't recommend it; it's virtually unwatchable but it has a lot to say about vulnerability and government apathy. I only mention it because I know that Romero has come out swinging against the "fast zombies" and yet he really is to blame. In fact, he's remaking The Crazies as I write this. Hello? Bandwagon much? In fact, look what I found...

In 1976, David Cronenberg (Eastern Promises, History of Violence) released his first feature film, Shivers. While there were sexual overtones and a very specific parasitic element to the storyline, it is essentially a zombie movie. The parasites turn the residents of a hip trendy condo building into shambling sex ghouls. Now, don't all race to your Netflix at once, Shivers is Cronenberg, after all, and he's a master of the disturbing, so keep that in mind, while you watch this...

Back to 1978.

I'm a 10-year old zombie fiend and my world is about to change. Dawn of the Dead comes out. I actually talked my father into taking me to this one, something amused me about his disgust and he was the kind of smoker that needed to leave the theater several times to feed the habit (still is), nowadays, I probably would have been rushed to a foster home for a healthy dose of systematic sexual abuse, but back then, well...things were simpler. So I sat in that theater alone, horrified and fascinated as the dead returned to the mall and it dawned on me (get it "Dawn-ed?) that zombies were the perfect metaphor for just about any hot button social issue.

Night of the Living Dead? Racism, isolation, vulnerability to a personal attack (it was the Cold War, after all, and people were conscious of the possibility of Russia launching a strike at any second, or at least that's how it felt).
Shivers? Promiscuity, rampant drug use and the vulnerability to a personal attack.
Dawn of the Dead? Crass consumerism and the vulnerability to a personal attack.

Looking back on it, there's no wonder there's a resurgence in the genre. It seemed to pick up right after 9/11, as soon as we were reminded that we were vulnerable.

I should probably wrap this up by getting back to the initial question, why did I choose zombies? The short answer is 1978 happened and I figured out the concept of metaphor. But the real reason is, I'm still fascinated.

Still. Thirty years later. That's gotta be reason enough.

Happy Hour of the Damned Casting!

2008-03-14T11:34:00.000-07:00

I wish. No no. A while back someone asked who I'd like to see play Amanda, Wendy and Gil, if the Showtime thing ever gets off the ground. I gave some flippant response, but kept thinking about it. This weekend my wife and I settled on Selma Blair as Amanda. She's snippy, has quite a bit of edge and I'm certain she'd get the satirical aspects. Wendy was tougher, but today I thought about that movie Thirteen and how Evan Rachel Wood is this dark bundle of gloom inside this pretty blonde shell, right? Totally Wendy.

So...I went in search of pictures for this blog post and what do I find? Only this...

Now, I have no idea who the girl on the left is, but with that expresseion, she could be Karkaroff. What say you?

Oh...and I still haven't figured out a Gil or Ricardo. Any suggestions?

Some Things

2008-03-13T08:14:00.000-07:00

The League hosts a guest blogger today, Ms. Jaye Wells (not to be confused with the Ms. Jaye from America's Next Top Model) stops by to give us her first sale story. Check it out, I'll bet you know her. Really.

I'm guest blogging about the paranormal in real life over at Graffiti: West Virginia's News Alternative. I'm kinda proud of it. It's like being in The Stranger, here in Seattle, I'm guessing. Though there are no personal ads featuring low-hanging balls or sexy senior trannies searching for discipline or daddies (how's that for alliteration), so it might just be respectable. Joking. I'd totally write a column next to the dirty personals. Our own A.J. Menden has a review of Happy Hour in the same issue. Thanks Amy!

So...I've Been Told

2008-03-10T11:29:00.000-07:00

...that 5 things make up a blog post. I'm more than happy to post about a single item, but if this is the consensus then I'll comply.

1. And this is an important one. A warning for the coffee curious. Starbucks' new Honey Latte smells like unwiped asshole. I'm not joking. I have nothing against honey or coffee but put the two together and you've got a pair nearly as frightening as Skin & Bones (that's the new nickname for the Flockhart/Ford travesty, as coined here.) It's not that it tastes like hot butt (nor do I have any clue what that flavor might be), it's just the ass fume rising off it that turns my stomach. You've been told.

2. Saturday was my book release party and it seems I'm obligated to throw down in the debut cake battle, though I assure you I'm not the winner (that'd be Caitlin--ganache trumps all). So here it is, after all that bullshit I went through with Tasha Nichole, including a $15 up charge making the cake $70 total, here's what I got...

Seriously. It's like she took the cake down to Safeway, gave it to the ambivalent teen with an afterschool job forced on them by by parents they can't stand and said, "Oh...you know, do whatever."

What's worse? It's red velvet--I love red velvet. But that wheel of chocolatey goodness is supposed to come paired with cream cheese frosting. It's standard. This one tasted like butter cream. Dissappointed all the way around. I must offer up my sincerest apologies to Corina Bakery in Tacoma, who should have gotten our business. Their red velvet is the awesomeness, as we found out when we bought one for my wife's birthday party last year. I think my memory is going. Which isn't helped by...

3. Zombies aren't just flesh-eating idiots, but super dangerous cocktails that if consumed prior to your party will render you near incapacitated and with a blurry memory. Sound good? Then here's the recipe I used...

In pitcher add...
1 cup light rum
1/2 cup spiced rum
1/2 cup pineapple rum
1/2 cup apricot brandy
1 1/2 cup sweet and sour mix
2 cups orange juice
2 cups pineapple juice (or 4 cups Dole Orange/Pineapple, duh)
Grenadine 'til it's dark pink
The juice of 1 lime

Stir with a couple of handfuls of ice and serve in a big ass party cup of ice with a float of Bacardi 151 rum (that last bit is not optional). I like a bendy straw, too. Some people like a cherry. Who doesn't?

4. Completely unrelated, unless you count the fact that our party music was taken from the setlists in Happy Hour of the Damned, is this video from The Raveonette's. Jeri Smith Ready, or Goody Jeri depending on your internet memory, blogged about this My Bloody Valentine/Jesus & Mary Chain throwback. Since then, I've been enamored and they've made their way into Road Trip. Here's Dead Sounds...

5. Finally, because I'm forced to do 5. This video makes me want to vlog. I hope it makes you laugh. If not...I'll send you a pitcher of #3 to help.

Aaaaahhhhh! David! We very nearly were able to come full circle, but hot piss isn't quite dirty asshole, still it's all very scatological as my friend Di Francis might say.

P.S. I almost made the 5 thing, but I guess this is technically 6. Jim Hines blogged over at the League and I'm not sure whether that was announced over here at livejournal. Jig's campaining like a m-effer so check it, and buy Goblin War, because if you don't and humorous fantasy becomes unpopular and therefore extinct, you'll have no one to blame but yourselves. No one!

More Opportunities to Spend Hard Earned Cashy

2008-03-06T11:02:00.000-08:00

My homegirl, Caitlin Kittredge is up for pimpery today. So, if you're lookin' for a date, I'm runnin' a special...

Check out her debut release, Night Life (on sale now). Here's some blurbs, some of which, might be complete fabrications, but are nonetheless accurate and I carry no responsibility for fictitious characters comments, got it?

"I haven't been so enamored a shapeshifting heroine since Dee Wallace Stone turned into a were-maltese in THE HOWLING."
--Amanda Feral, Celebrity Ghoul, Arbiter of Style and Social Commentary

“Don’t go to bed with this book—it will keep you up all night. It’s that good.”
--Lilith Saintcrow, national bestselling author of WORKING FOR THE DEVIL

"Night Life will take you around the world, baby. You wanna go around the world, right? How 'bout a half and half?"
--Skinny Yvonne, Pleasure Specialist, creator of the "Tilt-a-Whirl" technique

So there you have it. Would Amanda, Lilith or Skinny Yvonne lead you down the wrong path? Not this week.

ALSO!

Caitlin is guest blogging over at the League of Reluctant Adults, and this time, she's brought the cocktails. So get your asses over there, you sorry barflies!

One last thing about Night Life, and it really is peripheral. Luna, Kittredge's main character is half werewolf and half blood witch. The first time I read that, I read "blood bitch" and I was all "no she di-int." And then, of course, no she didn't. Does anyone remember that Cocteau Twins song?

Humiliation X3, But, Sadly, No Brain Cake

2008-03-04T18:17:00.000-08:00

I've been collecting interesting anecdotes from my first week as a published author, mostly good stuff, but there have been weird, shall I say sinister, turns. Take for instance...

Last Wednesday, being the diligent sales tool, I am, I embarked on a journey of book store drive-bys. For those not in the know, this is where an author hops in his filthy compact car and sputters up and down the freeway, searching for book stores that aren't ambivalent to us debutantes, where he (me) might sign whatever copies they have on hand. It might be an awesome experience, like the one Synde and her friends at the downtown Seattle Barnes and Noble bestowed on me (I'll let the camera speak for me on this one, except to say that she even gave me a cushy brain stress ball) or it could be... less than awesome, like when an independent bookseller looked at me like I was fucking nuts. Lets shoot for a reinactment...

"What's that?" She glances over her horn-rims at the glossy Happy Hour post card I'm passing to her.
"Oh just a post card with information about my book, in case you'd like to carry it in your store." I slip the card between her hesitant fingers, where it's turned a few times and handed back.
"I don't think so." She pauses, looks me dead in the eye. "We only carry bestsellers."

I swear to God. I couldn't make up that bit of horror. Thank God for the brain stress ball.

At the Northgate Mall B&N (which is like the most beautiful, modern bookstore in existence), I walked up to the info booth to ask for assistance--like you're supposed to--and they were awesome, and super nice. So much so, that while I'm signing stock, I hear this over the loudspeaker, mind you I'm in desert storm print cargo shorts and an old hoodie, at least two days of scruff covering my jowls.

"Ladies and Gentleman, if you'll please direct your attention to the center of the store, we have debut novelist, Mark Henry, signing his book Happy Hour of the Deaf. He'll be there for a while so swing by and chat with a real live author."

Did you catch the key word? Oh...yeah. Stop giggling. Deaf. The manager, who was walking back from the music area and presumably the source of the booming voice, looked at the title, spun and raced back the way she came. I'd finished signing by this point and was putting the little signed stickers on each of the books, when the voice boomed again.

"Damned! Happy Hour of the Damned...is the name of the book and Mr. Henry will be with us for awhile to chat and sign copies," he finished as I set the stack back in place on the front table. I couldn't help but chuckle when he yelled "Damned," though cuz, c'mon. Since, no one even flinched through the announcement--there was a distinct feeling of indifference among the customers--I thanked the manager and high-tailed it out of there.

In Bellevue, the nice info desk girl couldn't find my book anywhere. The computer insisted, "In stock." But alas, nothing...nada (are you tiring of my ellipses?). So, I thought to myself, where is the worst possible spot for this to be shelved? It didn't take long to come up with an answer.

Romance.

Sure enough, it was sitting in the new release Romance shelves faced out and missing a good 4 copies. I can just hear those mortified returns--I don't need to remind anyone that this isn't romance, right? In fact, Library Journal has dubbed it "splatter fiction" and "not for the squeamish." Two comments I, myself, love, but a romance reader might be looking for something else.

Say...romance, perhaps. Love, I'm thinkin'. Probably not dry humping, encopretic, and perpetually soused cannibal zombies.

Anyway. All this leads me to this afternoon.

We're having a book release party at my house, because this isn't the city, the house will have to do, plus there'll be plenty of shadowy corners for people to vomit and/or make out. It's--duh--zombie themed, so today, I picked up Caroline from work and we went to order the cake. Can I just say...

WTF? The government needs to stop worrying about regulating oil prices and take a look at the skyrocketing cost of party cakes, cuz Jesus! $70 people! And I didn't even get what I wanted, should have left, but that's my own bullshit and the topic for a never ending analysis that always ends in self loathing and very little insight, so...

I asked the woman for a brain cake. B-R-A-I-N. Gray matter icing deco on an otherwise round red velvet cake. Not too much to ask, you say? Well apparently, you're wrong. First off, I thought she was going to puke up her lunch on my shirt. Her politically correct eyes sprang open wide and dramatic, you'd think I'd left my SUV idling at the curb, coughing pollutants into her otherwise green existance. She said she could do it, but it was going to require a second tier to mold into the hemispheres and that was going to cost upwards of $150.

I told her, "I'm not planning on marrying it, can't you just design a flat image of a brain on the top?"
"It won't look right without the 3-D effect, so...no."
"Well then maybe you could make it look like an autopsy slice, just a sliver of brain draped across the top, all veiny, but ultimately flat."
"I won't do that. That's disgusting." She didn't blink. Her solemn judgment was not comfortable, I must say.
"Hmm. Did I mention this is for a zombie book." I started to shuffle.
"Doesn't matter. Did I mention I'm doing a cake for the Governor in two days?"
I began to fantasize about a mix-up in the cakes and Mme. Gregoire slicing into a bloody mound of brains.
"How about something more cocktail themed?" I suggested.

So there will be no brain cake at my party and I am full of hate. Won't someone boost my self esteem?

It Has Begun!

2008-03-03T09:20:00.000-08:00

I'll be over at the Barnes and Noble Paranormal Book Club all month, so I hope you'll swing by and ask questions, make fun and try to humiliate me. You'll have to register, but with Mario Acevedo taking the reigns in April and Caitlin Kittredge scheduled for May, it'll be well worth your time. It's also a fun forum that I've been hanging out in quite a bit.

If that's not enough to keep you busy, writer bud Stacia Kane has 9 ways to get your grubby little hands on PERSONAL DEMONS, why not swing on over and give her contest a twirl or 9.

Back later with an actual post.

A Real Quick One

2008-02-29T11:18:00.000-08:00

The last of the Unshapely Things Book Club topics is up at the League of Reluctant Adults. Go there now.

I'll be back on Monday with actual, non-promo posts.

Have a good weekend.

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