His bones hit the stones with a crack as the guard shoved him to his knees. They weren't normal playing cards; they all had strange metric road signs on them. And they spoke French.
"Brian Keene," said a terrible voice. A familiar voice.
The burlap sack was ripped from his head. On the throne before him sat the most beautiful woman in the world. Her blood-chestnut hair fell in a shimmering cascade below her generous breasts. Her short red skirt revealed several miles of leg encased in several miles of black-and-white striped tights. The ruby platform slippers matched her dress, the four-inch heels of which he knew masked the blood of men's hearts exceptionally well. Her glistening diamond tiara reflected the bright sunlight and scattered rainbows around her, complimenting the fire in her eyes and the glittery flames that decorated her face, surrounding them. Her crimson lips parted in a gorgeous smile he couldn't help but reciprocate, and he damned himself for his lack of willpower at her feet. Those perfect teeth had fed on many a meager soul before his own, and they would feed on many more when his time on Earth was finished. Which he imagined would be about five minutes from now, give or take.
She was the Good Fairy who had given him life. She was the Muse who'd ruined it when he'd asked her to. And now she was the Reaper, here to claim what was rightfully hers.
Five minutes or no, Keene decided to spend the rest of his life being true to himself. "You remind me of a princess I know," he said without being spoken to.
"I get that a lot," she said, sotto voce, and then, "My little Bunny Foo Foo. Whatever am I going to do with you?"
Keene winced. He hated when she called him that. He also hated rhetorical questions.
"Off I sent you, skipping along through the forest, with one warning. Do you remember what that was?"
"Something about field mice?" he asked.
The right shoe shot out and kicked him square in the jaw, the rubies on the toes scraping deep into the skin of his cheek. With his hands bound behind him he couldn't assess the damage, but he could already feel the wetness, taste the blood. As suspected, her shoe still looked perfect, unmarred, and hotter than hell. "I said, 'NO MORE ZOMBIES.'"
"Is that what it was? I'm so bad with French." Expecting the shoe this time, he managed to peek up her skirt before his face hit the stones. Skull panties. The guards propped him back up on his knees.
"I should turn you into a goon," she said.
Keene spat out a mouthful of blood; it shaped itself into a heart on the stones at her feet. "I believe that is the established method."
"And yet, my dearest bunnykins, something about you compels me to go old school." She rapped her emerald scepter three times and bellowed, "OFF WITH HIS HEAD!"
It all happened with a quickness that commanded respect. A playing card obliged and bent himself in half like a table so that Keene's head could be pushed down upon him. He saw the giant shadow of the executioner behind him and had not even the time to wince as the sharp blade bit into his neck, snicker snack. Ninety seconds, he knew. Ninety seconds before he lost consciousness forever. Forever. She smelled like forever.
His head rolled in the pool of blood at her feet and he looked up at her, his new vantage point affording him quite the view, and with his last breath he did the one thing he knew she'd hate, the one thing that grated her nerves more than anything ever had. He'd miss that damn cat.
"Why are you smiling?" she asked Keene's head. "WHY ARE YOU SMILING?!?"
He loved that it was a question she'd never have the answer to. As it happened, he did know a princess, one who had placed his name in a bag with salt and herbs and planted it at the base of her ivory tower by the light of the full moon. She knew a thing or two about magic. And he knew a thing or two about zombies.
He thought about that princess in his last 140 characters before the world went black. Now if only all her father's horses and all her father's men hurried up and got to him before he bled out completely he'd be home in time f--
****************************************
Today is Brian Keene Must Die day. Brian will be killed in dozens of horrifying ways in blogs across the blogosphere for a very good cause. If you enjoyed this humorous little vignette, please consider making a donation to the Shirley Jackson Awards.
Sarah Pinborough, the British Grace Kelly of the horror genre, is riding high--having just won a British Fantasy Award for her short story “Do You See”--and in a few weeks she is up for the World Fantasy Award for her short “Our Man in the Sudan.” Anyone who follows her on Twitter knows that she’s a jet-setting wine connoisseur who’s not afraid of getting down and dirty and telling it like it is. Sarah is completely adorable...and can scare the ever-living daylights out of you. I sent a “little birdy” Sarah’s way with a few fun questions about her life recently, and this is what came back.
Read our interview here.
BFFs: The Soul-Seller, the Necromancer, the Vampiress, and the Princess
What would YOU caption this?
Yay! I sold a story to Jason Sizemore at Apex Magazine called "Poor Man's Roses." It's a 2400-word dark science fiction tale set in the near-apocalyptic far future. It's also a total homage to Patsy Cline. I dedicate it to my fellow author and BFF Kelli Dunlap, who inspired me to come up with the idea (the woman being bled by her husband stuff, not the Patsy Cline stuff. I take full responsibility for that part).
I should have a contest to see how many Patsy Cline references people can guess. Of course, by now I've forgotten how many I actually crammed in.
Turns out, Jason was so excited about this story, he's going to run it in the October issue. I'll be sure to post a link when it's out!
Meeting Paul McGillion
(or: Earth to Atlantis; come in Atlantis)
I mentioned earlier that due to my busy schedule I didn’t have many celebrity sightings this year – celebrity, of course, being someone of esteem that I don’t already have in my phone or on my Christmas card list. The two folks I caught a glimpse of who qualified were Anthony Daniels (C3PO from Star Wars) and Paul McGillion (from Stargate: Atlantis).
Now, there’s a whole story that revolves around the crew of Stargate: Atlantis, a story I promise to tell on the day I meet Jason Momoa and not before. Suffice it to say that it culminated in Janet’s and my hard & fast goal to introduce ourselves to every celebrity within arm’s length, no matter how intimidated, scared, or fangirl we might be.
So there we were in the Green Room. It was late. I was getting punchy. Everyone else was well on their way to being several sheets into the wind. Carl--the Green Room’s very tall bouncer whose job it is to bellow “Last call!” to no objections—offered me some high-octane vanilla cognac from his private flask. Not sure what Mike Lee was drinking, but he was loving the world and tipping well, so it must have been good...but not so good he wasn’t jealous of Carl’s favoritism toward women in low-cut dresses.
I had befriended a fabulous artist named Marrus (pictured right), whose friend explained how creeped out he was that I looked just like Marrus twenty years ago...and still looked quite a bit like her now, plus a few pounds and inches, and minus the frosted hair. We laughed and joked and carried on and yelled plans for the future in each other’s ears. See, once it gets packed and the evening wears on, the Green Room isn’t so much a haven as it is a really crowded bar with great snacks and free drinks. At first you only have to talk above the background music, the beer pong game, and the masquerade...later you have to yell above all the other people trying to be heard above all those other things too.
I followed Mike to the bar the first time as an excuse to walk by Paul McGillion. After like the sixth or seventh time, as folks were starting to head to other parties in anticipation of getting kicked out, I hooked Mike’s arm and dragged him slowly toward the door. I swear he said goodbye to everyone—which included bestowing a giant hug on Paul McGillion. Now, I had no idea Mike knew Paul. For all I know he probably doesn’t. But I stood there and smiled, and courteously after Mike said goodbye, Paul turned to me. And this is what happened.
Lee: (sticks out her hand & shouts) I’m Alethea Kontis! It’s nice to meet you!
Paul: (cups his ear) What!?
Lee: (leans in) ALETHEA KONTIS!
Paul: (smiles) Thank you! Thank you very much!
I tried to say something else just as he tried to say something else, and we both leaned in to scream it again in each other’s ears only to stand there in awkward silence. Paul then kissed me on both cheeks and said, “Have a good night!” Embarrassed, and feeling like I had just had a conversation with someone via tin can and string, I dragged Mike out the door after Janet, Leanna, and Chris.
WHAT had just happened? I touched my cheek. Paul McGillion had kissed me. Does it matter what happened?
The next day I stopped by the Sherrilyn Kenyon booth to tell my story to Eddie and Erin. They were just as confused as I was abou8t what had transpired. “What exactly did you say again?” Eddie asked.
“I just introduced myself,” I said, “and he said ‘Thank you.’”
“What exactly did you say?” said Eddie.
“I’m Alethea Kontis,” I said slowly, enunciating every syllable. There was a pause, and then we all started laughing. My cheeks flushed all over again. “He thought I was saying, ‘I love you,’ didn’t he?”
“That, and he probably thought you were very drunk,” said Erin.
I sighed. Not exactly that ‘meeting of soul mates’ moment that everyone wishes to have when introducing themselves to celebrities they admire. Then again—what is it I say?—some things are meant to be, and some things are meant to be great stories.
The next time we meet, I have a feeling Paul will get a kick out of this one.
Cherie Priest is a displaced Tennessee Gal--she may live in Seattle now, but she was born & raised in the South, so we still claim her as one of our own. Similarly, the setting for her new steampunk novel Boneshaker is the Pacific Northwest, as opposed to the Southern settings of Four and Twenty Blackbirds and Fathom (Tennessee and Florida, respectively). We're also super excited about Cherie's new ventures in the shared world of the Wild Cards series, edited by George R.R. Martin. I saw Cherie recently at Penguicon in Detroit--she's a beauty, a ball of energy, and looks great in costume. I took the opportunity to open her skull and pick her brains a bit, just to see what makes her tick. You know...like I usually do.Corsets and Goggles and Superheroes, oh my! Click here to check out our interview.
Jamie & Bobby Deen.
Paula Deen's sons, in case you're not familiar. They were late for their visit here, but they were worth every minute. Such kind, jovial, down-to-earth Southern gentlemen--they made you want to pull up a rocking chair and offer them some sweet tea. The folks here could have talked to them all day...and I had the sense that they wouldn't have minded one bit.
As soon as Jamie mentioned he had a three-year-old son, I made a mental note. I made a beeline to the front of the autograph line so I could hightail it back to my desk and personalize a copy of AlphaOops for him. I like being able to give the house authors who come here a gift for their children. I know--as authors themselves--they really, really appreciate it. And they did. Before my staff meeting I snuck back in to the signing while Bobby was between books and slipped them my offering so as not to interrupt the flow of other folks who deserved their attention. I was thanked with appreciative smiles.
So yeah. Know what's awesome?
Jamie & Bobby Deen.
Know what's even more awesome?
Getting pulled out of a staff meeting for a personal thank-you hug from Jamie. He told me he'd be looking for the sequel next year.
I believe him.
PS -- if you want to catch Jamie & Bobby -- they're signing tonight at the Davis-Kidd in Nashville!
Assimilating the Twitterverse
Twitter existed last Labor Day weekend, but it was about as prevalent then as the iPhone. Now that most of the appleminded have wised up and we're all jacked in, the Twitterverse was alive and well in the fourth dimension. I tagged all my own tweets with the #dragoncon hashtag, and in the wee insomniac hours before my roommates rose from the dead, I would click on #dragoncon to see what everyone else was saying and doing.
What parties had just ended? What concerts were going on tonight? What cool costumes were floating around? What great panels had I missed? How many people had already stopped at Starbucks and were sitting in the Shatner/Nimoy line? What time were the Thriller dance rehearsals? How much was it to get Patrick Stewart's autograph? Getting to experience the convention through so may other people's eyes WHILE CURRENTLY EXPERIENCING IT MYSELF was a bit mind-blowing. And excessively cool.
Before I knew it, I was responding to the tweets of perfect strangers. One girl mentioned that she was dressing up as Rose from the 60's episode -- I asked her if she'd worn the same thing to the parade yesterday because I'd noticed that costume. Turns out...it was her! I complimented her on the pink dress, and we commiserated about how we don't get to watch the parade anymore now that we're in it. One guy boasted about being part of the Crazy 88s that poured down the escalator during the sold-out Steampunk Ball and entertained everyone who couldn't get in. I had ordered Kit to take a picture of the group -- they looked spectacular, and I told my new friend Will so. He invited me to get in the picture next year, and I took him up on the offer.
The thing was, these weren't perfect strangers. At any other convention, these would probably have been the folks I found myself hanging out in the lobby with until 2am. Thanks to Twitter, I got to spend my free time seeing the convention through their eyes. I got to make friends with people I might have bumped into many times over the last thirteen years--people who might have been across town...or in the very next room.
We live in an age where people are almost afraid to walk down the street and meet their neighbors...but there are people out there--kind, like-minded people--just waiting to be met. Despite the alien disguises we might don, we're all human. And, as Twitter only further proves, at Dragon*Con, we're family.
This entry would have happened earlier, but as many of you know (how many mothers do I have on Twitter?) I came home from Atlanta and promptly got horribly sick. In the last week I've caught up on a lot of TV...and I relived Dragon*Con. I searched YouTube for recordings of the parade. I posted all my pics to my photo album, looked through Chris's and Judy's, and waited patiently for the fan photos that tagged me on Facebook (okay -- which one of you thought I was Sherri's niece?). I unearthed the famous Thriller video. And I made notes. There's no way I can ever write a con report that would do this year's Dragon*Con justice. Last year, I did a top-ten list. Hey! A top-ten list sounds like an awfully good idea, doesn't it? Let's start with number one:
A few years ago, the dynamic changed. I started running with Sherrilyn Kenyon's crew. Derek got me invited as an official guest so that I could moderate the "Hour With Sherrilyn Kenyon" -- a panel that inevitably packed the Goth track room to its gills every year. The Dark-Hunter Companion hit the streets. I started walking with the Dark-Hunters in the parade. Derek asked me onto other panels. I became friends with some of the staff. They recognized me in the green room. Even after all that, I was surprised when I got my schedule emailed to me to find that I had four panels, an autograph session, and a reading. I suddenly felt like somebody, and it was a little scary.
I shifted my priorities a bit and concentrated on the one thing I wanted to do -- hang out with my roommates Chris (Kit) McCormick and Leanna Renee Hieber. Kit and I have known each other since I was 10 (see also: The High School Reunion essays). Leanna and I met a few months ago at BEA, which seems ridiculous even as I type it. Our souls have known each other for a lot longer. This was her first Dragon*Con, and the first time I'd been able to spend quality time with Chris in forever and a day. My first priority was them. My second priority was my schedule. Everything else would be a bonus.
Only...when one is in the parade, one doesn't get to see the parade. When one is required to speak on panels, one cannot stand in line to attend any others. When one's autograph session runs an hour long, the Walk of Fame shuts down before one is able to get over there. I hoped I would run into random celebs in the green room or at various parties. Other than Paul McGillion and a brief Anthony Daniels sighting, the only famous people I got to hang out with were the ones I already knew. Not that there's anything wrong with that. But at a con the size of Dragon, one does look forward to making impressive new friends.
The second I drove up to the Atlanta skyline I took a picture, savoring the moment of anticipation because I knew it would be over sooner that I wanted it to be...and I was right. I had prepared for MONTHS, and here it was, and we were going to have a fabulous time. And we did. A time beyond measure.
The part I didn't count on, however, was that because I had left so much undone, up until yesterday I didn't feel like I had actually gone to the convention. It was a really weird feeling.
Especially because my convention experience was in absolutely every other way AWESOME.
It's looked this way for a week now, because I came home sick from Dragon*Con AND I'M STILL SICK. I'm a healthy person. I'm not used to these illnesses that take two weeks to clear up. After seven days I have to admit...this is driving me nuts. Granted I've caught up on pretty much all the TV I've ever wanted to watch -- my two new favorite shows are "Castle" and "Lie To Me" -- Nathan Fillion just makes us authors look GOOD, and Tim Roth is, well, TIM ROTH, only he Hugh Lauries it up a bit.
There's a Dragon*Con Top Ten post coming. I have notes and everything. I've even started writing it. But I also have to get back to other work, and I don't want to leave you guys hanging.
So here are my pics from yes, the Best Dragon*Con Evar, and here are my best friend and Con Roomie Chris McCormick's. The Sideshow was standing room only. The Hour With Sherrilyn Kenyon had over 1000 people. Our signing lasted two hours. The parade was marvelous.
And I still maintain it was worth every minute of my current misery.
*sneeze*
I came to call on Miss Leanna Renee Hieber on a breezy afternoon in early summer. We had been informally introduced through a mutual acquaintance, but someone's whose judgment I trusted implicitly, and so I took to Miss Hieber immediately. She received me in her impressive library, pretty as a picture, her deep burgundy skirts setting off a complexion almost as fair as her heroine's. We made pleasantries as she poured the tea--Constant Comment, I noted. She mentioned that the cloves reminded her of her dear Alexi. I took two sugars to her one, and she added a spot of milk to her own delicate cup. She had brewed it strong; I admired her fortitude. I am of the opinion that no one knows how to make a decent cup of tea nowadays, and it appeared Miss Hieber and I were of the same mind. I anticipated enjoying this session very much. I took a raspberry biscuit from the tray, set my cup on the table beside me to cool, and we began. Click here to read a transcript of our dynamic discourse.
Be sure to catch Leanna this Dragon*Con weekend at PRINCESS ALETHEA'S TRAVELING SIDESHOW! (Roswell, Hyatt, Fri 5:30pm)
For other 149 minutes of the audition, I was strangely at ease. Maybe because it was Patrick directing, so I didn't feel like I was being judged. Maybe because it was community theatre and not Carnegie Hall. But I've shaken like a leaf in front of friends and high school audiences in the past. Maybe it's because I've been rejected by so many magazines I don't feel threatened anymore. Maybe it's because I've done massive amounts of public speaking in the past few years and I no longer have any fear of addressing an audience of 20...or 200. (Did you see that the "Hour With Sherrilyn Kenyon" at Dragon*Con is being held in one of the Centennial Ballrooms? Holy CRAP! I've made it to Main Programming!!)
I SUSPECT I spent the evening in a happy Zen place because if any of my friends had said, "Hey, Lee, wanna come over tonight and read a bunch of scenes in over-the-top British accents?" My answer would have been an emphatic "Hell, yes! I'll bring the Red Rose tea."
I had SO MUCH FUN. Possibly way too much fun, if that's possible. Patrick had said he wanted over the top...so that's exactly what he got. Most of the time, I didn't even feel like i was auditioning. I introduced myself to the actors both on and off the stage -- I felt like I was there to keep everyone happy and excited, and to read a few scenes as a favor for a friend.
I made it to the second round -- call backs are tonight at 7pm. I brought make-up and different shoes with me to work and I have no idea what the heck I'm going to eat for dinner...which probably means either nothing or this handful of dark chocolate-covered espresso beans I happen to have here in my bag. I'm fine either way. I can't wait!!
Oh -- and people have asked me if I have my eye on any particular part. Are you kidding? Of course not! Once Upon a Time I stole the entire Duchess scene in Alice in Wonderland as the Cook with one line ("Pepper!"). There are no small parts, only silly people.
A special thanks to all my blog-reading peeps, my Facebook friends, and the Twitterverse for the constant stream of good wishes and support. This is so much easier to do with you guys behind me. I have the best friends ever. xox
You may remember my friend Patrick Kramer as a big-time winner on the television show Don't Forget the Lyrics. I remember Patrick from my first day of first grade at Forest Lake Elementary School in Columbia, South Carolina. I was six years old and fresh off the boat from Vermont -- very much a stranger in a strange land. Patrick sat right beside me (Kontis, Kramer) and acted as my translator until I learned the language of my new homeland. Most importantly, he explained what "y'all" meant. I was only at Forest Lake for half a school year before my parents moved and I started second grade at North Springs. Guess who was in my homeroom class? Kontis, Kramer, once again. This time I was down with the lingo. We ran the school, participating in the Art Club, Chorus, and all the major school productions from "We're All Stars, Charlie Brown" to "The Music Man" to "The Dream Maker."
After graduating fifth grade, Patrick went on to do lots more community theatre. I did one stint as little Kim in "Showboat" and starred in a miniseries for SC ETV. I didn't act again till high school. Apart from some bit parts in college student films, I haven't acted since.Me & James Steed as Marcie &
Pig Pen, circa 1983
Fast forward to 1998--my parents moved to Tennessee...and then asked me to move with them. I got an email from Patrick...guess where he was living? Not half an hour away and acting in a local troupe. We're just following each other around the globe. Kontis, Kramer. As always.
I try to keep up on what Patrick's doing and go see him in every show I possibly can. I get this overwhelming sense of pride and nostalgia every time he steps on the stage. It's a beautiful feeling--a red-faced mash-up of nervous and wistful.
It was only a matter of time before he became a director.
Coming off a successful run of "Urinetown" and various Children's Theatre productions, Patrick will now be directing "Noises Off" for the Circle Players. Interested and live in the Nashville area? Auditions are this weekend, Saturday and Sunday, from 6-9pm at the Circle Players' rehearsal space in Madison. Details and directions can be found on the website.
So the questions I have for you guys is...should I do it? Should I audition for the play?
Well, it's about as THICK as a phone book -- the Dragon*Con Pocket Program and Schedule Grids are now online. These are your most valuable treasure maps for the convention. Once upon a time I used to grab two of the pocket program -- one to read in the hotel room and one to tear into shreds so I could put each day's grid and a map of the Hyatt on my person. (That map of the Hyatt is still worth it -- after 13 years I still don't remember the names of all the rooms, which floor they're on, or which side of the lobby. But I have a pretty good idea.)Also be sure to check out the Daily Dragon every day -- in print and online -- for up-to-the-minute schedule changes, fun interviews, and award winners (because *I* have to know who won the Miss Klingon pageant...if they still do the Miss Klingon pageant...).
Always carry a water bottle and granola bar with you at all times, get in the elevator as soon as it opens no matter which direction it's headed, and be nice to the Fire Marshall when they shut down the Hyatt....they're only doing their jobs. You can usually sneak in through the food court anyway.
PRINCESS ALETHEA'S TRAVELING SIDESHOW will be held on Friday at 5:30, (wherever it says my reading is on the schedule). Guest stars include Leanna Renee Hieber, Mike Lee, J. K. Lee, Ada Brown, Chris McCormick, and more! Bubbles, books, and mayhem will ensue! There will be swag bags for the first 50 people, filled with tattoos, buttons, signed books, magnets, and more! Come one, come all, and tell your friends!!
For me, 2008 was The Year of Getting Better. (Like Tomo would say: Bad Breakup was bad.) I took the first six months off to wallow in self-pity and nurse my wounded pride. By Mo*Con, I was ready to come back into the world and my friends welcomed me with open arms. I spent the rest of the year back in the seat of the Incredible Whirlwind...and true to the form of that Whirly Girl of Beauty & Dynamite, I overdid it. After traveling and writing and editing myself into almost a week of pain and torture and sleepless nights, I caved and made my very first physical therapy appointment. The therapist's office was 5 minutes from work -- just past the Starbucks and across the street, beside the new Stonecrest hospital. The therapist was a lovely, soft spoken gentleman with a new baby (to whom, of course, I signed a copy of AlphaOops). This was a new experience for me: spending an hour being physically touched by a nice man whose sole purpose was the improvement of my well-being, without any conditions or expectations. When the hour was over, I thanked him, put my silver-Sharpie-decorated wrist brace back on, made an appointment for the following week, and left the office.
I made it to the elevator before the tears came. Then I sat in my car and openly sobbed for a good five minutes.
I've heard that PT can affect people this way -- I just never understood why until then. And like hell I was going to go straight back to the office looking like I'd been on the receiving end of a thorough pepper spraying. I had to pass back by the Starbucks, didn't I? Perfect. This seemed exactly the sort of problem that might best be solved with a healthy dose of whipped cream.
I love the Starbucks by work. The staff there is nice without being overly pretentious. Olivia, who used to work down at the Espresso Joe's moved up to work there. She's a sweetie. I usually go inside to soak in the good juju. This time, it was all I could do to take off my sunglasses as I pulled around the drive-thru after ordering my big fat frappuccino. (I feel rude wearing sunglasses at the drive-thru. Not sure why.)
When that window opened, it was like someone had pulled back the curtains and let in the sunshine. Her name was Hannah. The best way I can describe it is "kindred spirit at first sight." I felt like I had just run into an old best friend, only I'd never met this smiling young woman before in my life. She asked me how I was. I said "Crappy." She saw my brace and asked what happened. "Too much writing," I told her. I explained about my double-life. She told me her favorite book was The Blue Castle by L.M. Montgomery. As much as I love Anne of Green Gables, I really need to read that one. I admitted as much.
We talked about books and relationships (I congratulated her on her own recent Bad Breakup) and shoes and ships and sealing wax and the price of tea in China. Thank god nobody was behind me...though what felt like hours was in fact all the time it took to make a grande caramel frappucino. I reluctantly paid and drove away, smiling like I hadn't smiled since Indianapolis, like I knew I'd be able to smile again someday. I guess that day was someday.
A couple weeks later, I stopped in to give Hannah a copy of AlphaOops. She was over the moon about it. Really, it was the least I could do. How do you repay someone for changing your outlook so completely? Unfortunately, Hannah worked the day shift. As many times as I frequented the Sam Ridley Starbucks, she was never there. I figured she'd moved on, moved away, or that some enterprising entrepreneur had snapped her up and was paying her millions of dollars a year for the use of that edgy, sunshiny magic. But I still looked every time.
Wednesday, on the way back from lunch, Yolanda asked Patty to stop by the Starbucks. We swung through the drive-thru. Thanks to being spoiled by Dunkin Donuts in Rhode Island during Necon last weekend, I ordered an iced coffee. When the window opened and the barrista appeared, the only thing I could see from the passenger's seat was HANNAH written in black Sharpie across her green apron. I squealed just like the inner me squealed when I met Neil Gaiman. And so did she.
Hannah's still there, and she still works the day shifts. But as it turns out, she'll be performing at an open mic night at the Starbucks in Murfreesboro (S. Rutherford Blvd, across from the Wal-Mart) tonight somewhere between 7 and 10pm. I'm super excited about seeing her. Patty's going to come and drag her son along. If you're in the area, I hope you'll join us!
And if you happen to stop by the Sam Ridley Starbucks in the morning, be sure to tell her I said hi.
The Breakfast Club: Bob, Kelli, Mary, Joe, Princess Alethea, Dickie, and Bandleader Jack Haringa
I also came out from under my rock because I couldn't forget to tell you that I have a live interview today with Jerrod Balzer at The Metal Crypt @ 3:30 EST. I'm a cute little author in a sea of some seriously hardcore performers...I'm listening to the podcast with Shadowside's Dani Nolden right now. That is one seriously beautiful and talented Brazillian woman. And she has the best hair.
And despite being wary about how I'd feel, my knees held up quite well. I concentrated on my form (not doing anything fancy) and I skated admirably for over an hour.
I did not, however, skate THIS admirably:
Princess Lee, Cisco, and proud Mama Kathy
Cisco on the prowl
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