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Friday, September 12, 2014

Deadsville is Out!

 
 
Deadsville is Available!


Tavie has just died, but that isn’t the end of her existence.  Instead, she ends up “living” in Deadsville, where the dead play games, look for entertainment, and wonder when they will move on.  Reapers walk the streets occasionally, taking “deadies” who are ready to move on.  All of that’s normal until two deadies are murdered in a way that the residents of Deadsville have never seen before.  They need someone to figure it out before more bad stuff happens.  They need Tavie, that is, Detective Tavie, as she was known in the living world.  Tavie isn’t exactly happy about the promotion to Deadsville Sheriff.  She sees gods of the dead, people who died in bizarre ways, and is presented with a mystery that requires unusual creativity to solve it.  And that’s all before the dust settles from her arrival in the land of the dead.  Nothing in Deadsville is ever boring.

Deadsville – An Urban Fantasy/Mystery
 


Monday, September 8, 2014

Random Stuff OR I'm Just Going to Blog Whatever

I'm polishing up Deadsville.  It's at the formatters and I have to fix stuff before it gets epublished, which happens.  In the meantime people keep asking and I'm all like, "Soon.  Soon.  Soon."  It's not that I mind people asking.  (I don't.)  It's just that it's a little frustrating for me because this part is out of my hands.  I would rather be all super uber controlling.  Anyway, soon.  Soon.  Soon.  Here's the teaser cover.
She reminds me of Kay Lenz from the 70s.  Who remembers
Kay Lenz?  I think she was most famous for being married to
David Cassidy for a few years.  I was totally
jealous because I thought David Cassidy was hot
stuff.  Shaun was pretty hot, too, but I don't
remember who he married.  Oh those preteen
hormones.
In other cat news, the new cat is all like "Pet me, pet me, pet me."  The old cat is like, "Why are you petting him, bee-yotch?  Now I have to eff him up."  Then the moron jumps on the cat with no name.  The cat with no name (who does have a name but it doesn't sound as cool as the cat with no name) decides he's had enough of the moron cat and swats him upside the head.  The moron cat decides his manhood has been insulted and jumps on the other cat again.  Hissing and yowling commence until they've had enough.  Usually the breakaway collar of the cat with no name is the only casualty.  Feline melodrama.

The cat with no name likes his food, I'll tell you that.  We've never owned a "fat" cat before.  The vet told us we need to put him on a kitty diet.  He weighs 15 pounds and he's supposed to be around 12.  (I haven't told the cat yet.)  When I get up at 3 am to pee because my beloved daughter broke my bladder when I was pregnant, the cat with no name assumes I'm getting up to feed him, because what else would humans be doing at 3 am?
It's a Westside Story thing.
He mmrrrrs at me, follows me into the bathroom, and I just adore (not) being watched while I take care of business, then he tries to trip me while he leads me out the bedroom door and down the stairs.  (If he can lead me downstairs I will go into the magical place where there is FOOD, and it will be dispensed unto the cat with no name who turns into Hoover Cat.)  Instead I go straight and climb back into bed.  Then the moron cat gets up to straighten out the cat with no name and more melodrama ensues.  This is concluded by me finding ear plugs to put in so I can go back to sleep for an hour or two.
I figure this is what is happening when I can't see.  I can hear it, though
even with ear plugs.
Let's see.  It's hot and humid in Alabama.  That sounds like the name of a bad country song.  I'm going to melt if I have to put up with this much longer.  I don't even think the cats like it that much.  They come in from the enclosed porch with their little ears back.  The moron cat is clearly pissed at the cat with no name for the high humidity and blames him accordingly.  ("You did this, asshamster.  I'll eff you up again.")  But the cat with no name weighs more than the moron cat.  (That weight is good for something.)  So it ends up being an acrimonious draw.
I know it doesn't really fit with hot and humid, but I liked how the cat
was ninjaing the dog.
Finally I have started writing Bubba 6 or otherwise known as Bubba and the Ten Little Loonies unless I come up with a better name.  But then I figure who else could I insult?  Say this out loud, "I yam sew wee todd did.  I yam sofa king wee todd did."  Say it faster.  There, I've probably insulted everyone else that I previously missed.  (I did that to my father-in-law once but it wasn't funny because he never got the joke.)

I read a recent review of Bubba and the Zigzaggery Zombies in which the reviewer complained that I had too much political commentary in it.  I might have to go back and re-read it again because as I recall I pretty much dun both dems and repubs equally.  I might have dinged the tea party, too.

Okay, I'm out of cute memes, so I'll leave you.




Wednesday, August 27, 2014

Moron Cat Vs The Cat With No Name

Okay recently I was forced into accepting a stray cat into our household.  Pretty sure my arm was behind my back.  For some reason I made the mistake of feeding the cat from up the street, who looked anorexic, and the dinner bell rang for every stray within a mile, plus raccoons, possums, and possibly a few chubacabras visiting from the Caribbean.

Okay, who knew they make milk bones
for Chupacabras?
First came the Cat with No Name, a white with charcoal gray-spotted cat who we couldn't quite get a good look at the under the tail to determine the gender.  (Turns out he was a neutered male.)  Then there was a skinny cat with white socks who was all male.  (Not neutered, really not neutered.)  The one with the socks vanished.  (I don't think good things happened to him.)  Then another cat showed up, a black one with a white bib and paws.  He was horribly skinny.  He was also not neutered and very friendly.  So he got to go to the vet first.  Turns out he was sick with feline leukemia and worst of all, had no teeth in his upper jaw.  The vet said he'd had a hard life.  I take no joy in admitting that the best thing to do was to have him put down.  (I know people are going to hate me for it but we have a healthy cat and he's already gotten worms from one of the strays.  It's sad but we couldn't take care of the sick one.)
I am not a monster, I swear.
Since that cat had feline leukemia I thought for sure the Cat with No Name would have it too.  They'd been hanging out and sharing food bowls.  I had just got the cat to trust me when we dumped a towel over his head and shoved him into a cat carrier.  (Which is the sort of thing that happens on docks or at frat houses.  Sometimes at republican and democratic conventions, too.)
It turns out they make a lot of sad cat memes.
So after $250 later we found out that the CWNN was disease free but not very happy with the amount of needles that had gone into his butt.  HIM and Cressy both went on a shopping spree at Petsmart and the CWNN came home with us, rechristened Splotchy, because I don't get to name pets anymore.  (I wanted Dr. No or Sarcamanga or something cool like Goldfinger.)  Everyone was happy but me and the new cat.
Now I'm just getting silly.
Megaroy, the Moron Cat, was not pleased.  While it was great that cats hung out on the porch and gave him worms (True story.) it was not great that they came inside, inside his terra firma, his abode, his turf.  Splotchy went under a bed and stayed there for about two days.  Then he tore out all the berber rug in front of the bedroom door.  What fun and joy.  Then he realized the grub was free and the darkness under the bed wasn't so bad.  He came out, started exploring, and Megaroy was further alarmed.
The return of...da da dah...LadderCat.
Two weeks later and Megaroy has thawed out but is dismayed that Splotchy doesn't want to play let-me-bounce-you-into-the-floor and is not impressed by the sideways scamper.  Splotchy could also be known as the diagonal cat who longs to trip you while going up the stairs.  If your leg and his side aren't connected the universe is wrong.  This is a cat who is looking for a pet to happen.  He pretty much ignores everything but pets and food.  We might have to put him on a diet.

Yesterday cat WWWIII occurred.  Megaroy has decided that sniffing Splotchy's butt is the thing to do.  Splotchy has decided that he'll put up with it until he didn't.  Much bad language ensued with things like "Get your fricking nose out of my butt, diphose!" and "If your butt didn't smell so bad I wouldn't have to sniff it up, dingwa!"  And Splotchy has now conquered Megaroy in a display of street cat dominance that left Megaroy in the dirt.

Our house is never really boring.
And there he is...Splotchy.

Saturday, August 9, 2014

Minutia and Other Random Stuff

Warning: Fat Woman may use big words like minutia and minutiae and expect readers to understand them.  Ranting may be involved.  Subjects could be changed very quickly.

I just learned, just now, that the plural of minutia is minutiae, and I feel compelled to share it.  There you go.  With that in mind I found two memes relating to minutia.
I need this t-shirt.
Then here was a classic explanation of the difference between minutia and minutiae.  (There's an extra e in minutiae.  Also it's plural.  Just sayin'.)

Could not be simpler.

So now for an abrupt change of subjects.  Recently someone complained that...wait, I have to insert a spoiler alert here.

For anyone who hasn't read Bubba and the Zigzaggery Zombies, I will be making a reference to the plot of the same and I don't want anyone to say, "OMG, Caren, you totally spoiled it by making me read the blog before I read the book.  You wanker."  Or something like that.  So attention, spoiler, spoiler, spoiler.  If you haven't read Bubba and the Zigzaggery Zombies, and you desperately want to read Bubba and the Zigzaggery Zombies, but just haven't got the chance, DO NOT READ PAST THIS POINT.
Spoiler for George R. R. Martin.
(Why does he have two middle names?)
See you did it anyway.

All right, recently someone complained that I skipped the whoopee scene between Bubba and Willodean.  There it is, in a nut shell, no pun intended.  They actually complained that I skipped the scene and what the hell was I thinking by doing so.

Consequently, I was thinking about the complaint.  In all honesty I think the Bubba series aren't the kind of books where a gratuitous scene should be included.  Furthermore I hate coming up with ten synonyms for the male member, (penis, tool, peter, phallus, Johnson, schlong, willy, wait I have to stop to laugh) and I've been known to giggle while writing such scenes.  Basically I don't usually write them.

I went looking for romantic memes and I found pulp fiction covers, which are almost as good.  (This counts as a change in the blog, but don't worry I'll get back to the other thing quickly.)
 
I love this cover.  I might have to go and read this
book.
Anyway back to the complaint.  I decided that I would write the Bubba/Willodean love scene and post it on my blog.  Just for those critics.  Here it is:
Bubba looked into Willodean's eyes.  Willodean looked into Bubba's eyes.  The bedroom door shut.  Several minutes later, "WHOO HOO!" was heard. 

There you go.  That's as explicit as I'm going to get with that.  Just for that one complainer person.

But to make up for it, here's some more funky pulp fiction covers.
This looks newer but it's also really cool.
I love this one, too.  It doesn't get any more
succinct.  She wakes up screaming.
It's implicit.
 

Who doesn't like a jungle babe looking at a
great ape whipping men?

Seven bone chilling tales.  Seven.
Golly.
And my favorite...

If you're going to have a radioactive redhead,
she should be a badass.  It goes without
saying, although I said it anyway.
All right.  Enough blathering.  Back to Bubba 6.