But It's a Dry Heat

Archive for July, 2011

Win a Free Copy of The Music of Chaos!

Win a free copy of my quirky urban fantasy, The Music of Chaos.  In addition to a free book, the winner of the contest will also get free “arts” by me (Small Kokopelli or angel wall art).

It’s easy. Just click this link to go my contest page over on Romance Junkies. There, you’ll see the following question:

“What is the name of … ‘the brave soul who had dared the displeasure of my company’?”

The answer can easily be found in Chapter One of The Music of Chaos. (Seriously, you can just skim through the text. He is the only other person in the scene.)

The contest runs through August 31, 2011, so you have time to enter multiple times. While you’re there, check out some of the other authors/books that are participating in this contest.

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“Blind dates are always a train wreck.”
By day, Regan O’Connell is a highly respected project manager. By night, she’s a Wolfe, a paranormal agent working for a vampire syndicate.

Her two worlds collide when a co-worker sets her up with tall, dark and sexy Jason Lake. Jason is a Holder, a member of an ancient, all-human organization dedicated to policing the activities of things that go bump in the night. Things like half-vampire Regan.

Falling for the wrong guy is the least of Regan’s problems. There’s a murderer on the loose, and his favorite weapon is chaotic magic, an erratic force with the power to rip holes in the fabric of the universe. And the best way to catch the killer is to get close to Jason, the man who is not only her enemy, but her prime suspect.

Season of the Witch

Two armies face each other under the desert sun. It’s Christians vs. Muslims in the world series of genocide, aka, the Crusades. Our heroes, Behmen (Nicolas Cage) and Felson (Ron Perlman) trade witty repartee via dialogue stolen from The Lord of the Rings’s Gimli and Legolas. I.e., whoever kills the most enemies gets a beer at the end of the day. Their leader, Holy Knight Guy (HKG), extolls them to fight for god.

Really?  If god is so frickin’ almighty, why doesn’t he fight his own battles?

The battle ensues and it’s religious nutjob fighting religious nutjob.  I don’t know who to root for in this mess.  Behmen? Because this is the first time in several greasy-haired movies that Nicholas Cage has washed his hair?  Yey, shampoo!

The boyz emerge victorious and (more…)

There’s No Mystery; I Just Don’t Care

Alternate Title: “Why This Excerpt Sucks.”

PROLOGUE 

“They’re coming,” said Mary.  “They should be here tonight.”

“Tonight?” said Bob.  “That soon?  Can anything be done to stop them?”

“No. Nothing.”  Mary stared out the window, clutching her shawl around her shoulders. “It will be worse than before.”

“The last time they came, it was (more…)

Race Cars, Not Dogs

In which I ensure that I never sell any books to anyone in the greyhound racing industry.* (*No, I’m not calling it a “sport.”) Like I give three shits.

You would think, given the proliferation of casinos and other forms of gambling, that greyhound racing wouldn’t exist at all anymore. Sadly, there are still a few pathetic fools who spent their money at the dog track, meaning there are still thousands of dogs being bred and fed to the gristmill of racing, every year. Obviously, people who work directly in the industry will defend its practices, claiming that reports of cruelty aren’t typical (they are) and that their dogs are feed caviar and steak every night.

More distressing are the turncoats in rescue groups who support and apologize for this corrupt and inhumane industry. They are the ideological equivalent of (more…)

A Troll on an Elevator Is Still a Troll

Once upon a time, on a little Celtic island, far, far away, a lovely princess was cornered in an elevator by a drooling troll. The troll propositioned her for sex, and the princess turned him down and fled the elevator as soon as she was able.  A while later, she posted a vlog where she suggested, to trolls everywhere, that cornering princesses in elevators, isn’t going to lead to a Happily Ever After, or even a Happily for Ten Minutes Naked.

And trolls everywhere emerged from under their bridges, outraged–OUTRAGED–by her cruel admonishment. Never mind that it wasn’t “cruel.” The trolls were furious, and couldn’t believe that anyone would impede their right to be creepy. (Apparently the right to be creepy is inextricably entwined with the pursuit of happiness in the Troll Bill of Rights.)

Shorter version: An army of creepy assholes have their man panties in a knot because an uppity woman suggested that they not act like creepy assholes.

What struck me about this debate is that (more…)

Buy My Book, So I Can Afford Pest Control

A study in lunacy, Kirby-style.

Saturday morning and I’m staring at dirty dishes from breakfast and inventing excuses for not washing them– “It’s against my religion; dish soap causes cancer; dishes come cleaner if food is allowed to set.”

I hear a startled yelp from the bathroom and my husband emerges from our bedroom, toothbrush in hand.

“What wrong?” I ask.

“I was bending over to spit out the toothpaste; I spit, and a centipede came out of the drain.”

This, of course, would have been the end of the story for people in full possession of their sanity. At Casa de Kirby, however, we don’t kill beneficial insects.  Centipedes, who snack on house-destroying termites, fit the definition of “beneficial.”

I hand him a plastic food container. “This should be big enough.”  I scoop an envelope off the table and follow him. Operation Centipede Rescue is on.

In our bathroom, my husband is leaning over the sink. He positions the container, trying to get the centipede to climb in and be relocated.

The centipede putters around the sink, antennae tapping, like a blind, bewildered old man.  (Centipedes don’t have much in the way of eyes; more like a little cluster of nerves that sense light.) Despite being blind, it manages to avoid the container. I try to nudge it into the container with the envelope. Success! Its front end  heads in the right direction.

Now, halfway in the container, the centipede inspects the smooth plastic surface, and then turns around and heads back down the drain.

This is where saner people would have squished it.

Instead I get the long-handle brush that I use to clean the fish aquarium.  Justin and I poke at the obstinate bug and it marches farther down the drain.

This is where saner people would have turned on the water full blast and washed it down the drain.

Instead, Justin sighs and heads out to the workshop.  He returns with a wrench.  “Get me something to catch water,” he says. A minute later and he’s removed the drain trap. (I married McGuyver.)

The fucking centipede is still in the drain, its antennae wiggling inquisitively, but not budging, not even when pushed with the brush.  This goes on for a while until Justin finally gives the drain pipe a hard whack and the obstinate bug tumbles into the plastic bucket below. Soon after, the creepy-crawly is outside (and probably none-too-happy, as it hasn’t rained in six months and centipedes like moisture).

Why bother with all this? Especially for a creature, that by my own admission, is “skin crawling up and down my back” creepy?

Well, there’s plain old karma and mercy.  Then there’s the fact that a six-inch-centipede in a drain, may have originated from said drain, and so flushing it doesn’t exactly keep it from marching right back up the drain. I’d rather not revisit its creepy face when I’m brushing my teeth.

And this was a really big centipede, at least seven inches.  With our luck, it would have clogged the drain.

Besides, squashing big bugs is nasty business.  First there’s the chitinous crack, followed by a spray of gooey ichor.  Next, there’s the splattered bug parts, legs (ugh, hate bug’s legs) and other crunchy bits to remove.

Mercy is just a lot less messy.