Thursday, 3 January 2008

Thursday trivia…and a hot new release just for you….

Mad About Mirabelle - winner announced -from the Ellora’s Cave chat where I asked “How long is a piece of string?"

Answers given –

- a piece of string is double the length from one side to the middle!
- A piece of string is as long as you want it to be, you silly girl! If it's to yank out a tooth, I'd say about 12 inches long. If I want it to bind a present, about 24 inches will do. To tie up a man's c..k, I think around 12 inches should sufficiently do!
- Regarding the length of a piece of's as long as you want it to be!
- A string can be a 1/2 inch, 10 inches, 1 yard or it can be a mile, you decide.
- A string is as long as it takes to get from one end to the other
- A piece of string is always about an inch shorter than you need it to be
-Oh man, not the string question! To it's middle to it's end x2.
-How long a string is depends on whether you ask a man or a woman. A guy's idea of 8 inches seems to be different than a woman's

All very inventive. The winner, after enlisting best friend Ethel to once again do her famous throw the names into an empty saucepan and draw out a name trick, is – Jaycee. See what you miss out on if you don’t go to the chats? I’ll have another contest soon.

Are battery powered toothbrushes….

…. scary or what? I bought one of these instruments of death and I know now if anyone comes into my house to attack me I will forget about picking up the steel tipped axe handle to swing at them and head right for the toothbrush. I believe you could put an eye out with one of those if you are not concentrating. I have a habit of doing ten things at once – that’s just me. I never just stand and brush my teeth. I wander around brushing with one hand and doing other stuff with the other. You can’t do that with one of these battery powered jobs. If you hesitate for a second it clacks violently against your teeth impatiently and tears at your gums. Scary stuff. I believe if these were put into the hands of the wrong people, war would take on a whole new dimension.

Someone will always whinge…

We are in the grip of the worst drought Australia has ever seen. Our damn levels are precariously low (we have currently a 20% capacity in the dams) and we have come up with ingenious ways to save water for it is worth more than gold or diamonds at the moment. Over the last couple of days we have had some rain. It is a wondrous sight and a good omen for the start of a new year. We have had enough to give us another weeks worth of water in the dams. Of course we need much more but this is a good start. I was in the supermarket buying carrots and whatever else jumped out at me as I wandered the aisles aimlessly in hunt and gather mode and this woman started bitching to me about the rain. My trolley screeched to a halt at her comments. Her biggest problem was that it was summer and we should see the Sun more often instead of clouds because how is she supposed to get a suntan? I explained to her, in the nicest possible way, that she was a nitwit. I then continued on my way. People…what can you do with them?

Garbage collection day…

… I love it. Why? Because I cleaned up under the house yesterday and threw out an enormous stash of incredibly useless crap that I had been hoarding for some reason or other – there would have been a really good reason at the time it was stored. Anyway, I did find all manner of things including some desiccated bodies that could have been mice, lizards or aliens who crashed landed and crawled under my house seeking shelter. I also discovered I have the world’s supply of useful bits of wood. Any renovator worth their salt knows you never throw good wood out as you never when you will need it. So the bin man cameth today and emptied the crap I had collected and I re-filled it up with more. I was on such a roll that I contemplated sorting out the horrors of the linen cupboard but not even I had the heart for that. Maybe another day when I’m feeling invincible…or drunk.

Went walkabout...

I went for an hour long walk about the burbs where I live. It’s a hilly place hence the reason my suburb has the word Heights tacked onto the end of it. Anyway, I trudged out of my working class suburb and into the next one. It’s a suburb where the houses are big and brick and the streets are all named after American movie stars – why I don’t know. I suspect lack of imagination on some developer’s part. Anyway there is Minelli Court, Stallone Avenue and John Wayne Street etc– yes, excessively tacky. There is a suburb in a town I used to live in that has streets named after alcohol – Champagne Cresent, Beer Boulevard etc – it’s called the ‘plonk’ estate by the locals. Anyway back to the high-faluting suburb next to mine. It’s all very nice and quite interesting to see what money can buy you but as I wandered back into my own little part of the world, with it’s own particular ‘renovators delight’ charm, I thought all the money in the world would not have me living in Charles Heston Road. But that’s just me. Before I bought my house I looked at many. I discarded many on name alone. I will not live Grott Street or Donk Avenue. I am sure the Grotts and the Donks are fine people but no thanks. Where I live suits me just fine. No one can spell the street name properly but as Dorothy said there's no place like home.

Djinni and The Geek –Cindy Spencer Pape – out now through Ellora’s Cave – click on the cover to buy


Computer science professor David Garvaglia is nobody’s idea of a hero. Is he? When David opens an antique puzzle box and finds a Djinni, his first thought isn’t for wishes, it’s how to set her free. Anissa has spent centuries as a prisoner of the box and has dreamed of the day some handsome master would release her. But she also has to adapt to the twenty-first century, and defeat an evil wizard. Besides, once she meets David, she’s not so sure she wants to be freed.


David shook his head. Today had just been too damn long, and he didn’t want to think about anything any more. He snagged a beer from the selection in the fridge and walked toward the stairs, turning lights out on his way. Good beer was his one indulgence, his one way of admitting to himself that he’d made it in the world. He’d never be a wine connoisseur or a gourmet chef, but he could appreciate the difference between an ale and a lambic.
Finally, he shrugged. Whatever was going on, the gods would reveal it in their own sweet time. He set the bottle on the milk crate beside the bed and picked up the box. With a silent prayer to every god of fools and lunatics, he gently brushed his thumb over the carved flowers on the lower left-hand corner of the box’s top. He moved his callused digits over the delicate inlay and paused when he felt a tiny electrical jolt from the ring. He brushed back against a flower in the upper left-hand corner. Yep, there was the tingle. He could almost feel Anissa’s warm sweet breath and hear her sultry voice in his ear cheering him on.
With just the tip of his thumb, he exerted pressure on each petal, one at a time. With an almost inaudible click, the third petal depressed. A heartbeat later, the box gave another, slightly louder click, and a seam appeared, dividing the box into two uneven halves, following the flow of the pattern rather than a straight line. It resembled a rectangular Easter egg cracking open slowly from the inside.
His hands were big; they almost engulfed the box as he palmed each of the halves gently trying to separate them. He tested a couple of different motions, finally discovering that if he rotated the halves counter-clockwise, the tingle returned to his fingertips. That must be it, then. He twisted slowly, not wanting to accidentally break whatever treasure was inside. When he finally felt the mechanism give, he expected the box to come apart in his hands dropping whatever it contained onto the comforter covering his lap.

Instead, he heard a loud whoosh, as if someone had just launched a missile in the room. The box was hot; it singed his fingertips till he dropped it to the floor beside the bed. Then he coughed as he inhaled a cloud of lavender-colored, licorice-scented smoke. He closed his eyes against the sting of the wispy tendrils. A second later, he opened them again. The burning sensation and the lavender cloud were gone, but the licorice scent remained.
And there was a woman kneeling on the comforter at the foot of David’s bed. Her face was down on her knees in a position of full obeisance, but the curly black hair that fell all around her to puddle on the comforter was a dead giveaway. Dave knew who he’d see when she lifted her gaze. He tried to speak, but couldn’t get the words to leave his throat. He stared in rapt fascination as she spoke without lifting her head.
“How may I serve you, oh master?” Her voice was soft and husky—pure distilled sex. Exactly as it had been in his dreams. Dave’s cock throbbed just thinking about the possibilities. Maybe he was still dreaming, because here she was in his bed.
Then she looked up and saw him, and all the color drained from her lovely face. Her tilted violet eyes widened and her hand covered her mouth as she shrieked.
“Who are you and what have you done to my hero?”

Hmm…on that interesting what’s-going-to-happen note – Anny - is discussing her website and the angst of starting to write a new book and Kelly – is somewhere in the wilds of Wisconsin. I am sure much adventure lurks there amongst the cheese..
Go ahead: Live with abandon. Be outrageous at any age. What are you saving your best self for?


Anny Cook said...

Plonk estates and movie stars, eh? Well, I can see how that could be a problem. I once lived on Sandswept Lane--and there was truth in advertising there. Then I lived on East Avenue, but no one could tell me exactly what we were "east" of. We actually lived in the middle of town. Weird.

Cindy, I always loved that line..."Who are you and what have you done to my hero?"

Molly Daniels said...

This sounds great! I'll have to put it on the List.

You seem pretty busy yourself over there!

We used to live in the Hurricane Hills addition...only no hurricanes in central Indiana, ha ha..

Sandra Cox said...

I think we should name streets after books: Rose Perfect, Swift Heart, huh? huh?

Sandra Cox said...

Wishing you many sales of Djinni, Cindy.