I’m over at the Aphrodisia Authors blog talking about how my television watching procrastination has inspired my upcoming heroes.

Plus, there’s pretty pictures! Come say hi!

I’m talking about books you must read before you die over at The Novelty Girls today. Come check it out.

A new group blog I helped put together is launching October 1, but I have a leetle preview for you.

Enjoy the show!

I’ve been doing the headless chicken run for the last few weeks with all the teaching I’m doing, and it’s going to keep being nutty for three more weeks until the university’s Fall Break hits. If I miss any normal blogging days, you know why. Love you all, but I’m soooo tired.

I’m just trying not to do this at work.

I can’t think of a thing worth blogging about today, so I thought I’d spam your eyes and ears with my latest favorite music videos from YouTube. Some of these lyrics are naughty, so listen at your own risk.

Bad, Bad Girlfriend by Theory of a Deadman

Over You by Daughtry

Never Again by Nickelback

Check out all the places people sent me pics of Sexy Beast from! Weee fun!

Mad Madam M in Sacramento…she had to get a sweet old lady to take the pic of her…and explain that the book might not be the kind of thing the lady would want to read.

Lyric James in Little Rock…don’t bother her, she’s reading.

Gemma Halliday in the San Francisco Bay Area…loving on my Sexy Beast.

Jax in Florida…fondling the Beast. In public.

Dana in Orange County…totally engrossed. Just how I like my readers!

I’m over at The Novelty Girls today talking about favorite authors and ideas they had that I totally wish I’d come up with first.

In other news, I’ll be doing another anthology for Kensington. It’ll come out in 2010 and it’ll feature big cat shifters as protagonists. The fabulous Lisa Renee Jones will be in it with me. There’ll be a third author…who we don’t know yet, but I’m sure she’ll be awesome and make for a kick ass antho. Woot!

I was at an art museum display this week and it was phenomenal. They had Monet, Manet, Picasso, Dali, Rodin, Renoir, Degas, van Gogh, Matisse…the list goes on and on. It was a seriously made. of. awesome art display. It was a once in a lifetime kind of thing to behold. I’m not even an artsy girl, but this? This was cool.

When I got there, it was way more packed with people than I was expecting.

I felt a bit claustrophobic, but everyone was polite about letting other people see all the pieces, so I just rolled with it. They had these nifty handheld thingies (technical term, there) that would give you more information about specific works. You held them to your ear like a phone, so you didn’t have to hear everyone’s thingy going at once.

I’m not normally a fan of Picasso’s work, but the colors in this piece Fan, Salt Box, Melon made me stare and stare trying to take it all in.

Sounds nice, right?

Sadly, it wasn’t. It was distinctly unpleasant. Why? Because in every room of the museum was a screaming toddler. What were people thinking bringing children that age to a museum? There’s nothing there to entertain them, the art isn’t going to do much for them, they can’t touch anything, they’re expected to be silent, and the place was packed in like a sardine can. I felt bad for the kids, frankly. In their place, I’d be pitching a screaming fit, too.

What really upset me was that all of the parents didn’t think that they should leave when it was obvious their kid was having a meltdown and wouldn’t stop any time soon. I couldn’t concentrate to read the plaques by the artwork, couldn’t hear the handheld thingy over the screeching, and added to the claustrophobia of the place, it just made me rush through when I normally would have lingered.

For a moment, I thought it was simply because I’m not a parent that I was so irritated. I mean, I know they paid to be there, too, but if it’s going to disturb everyone else, I thought they should take their kids and leave. I did feel better when a couple with a sleeping infant walked by me and the father turned to the mother and said, “Why would they put a child in that position? This exhibit is ruined for me because they’re so loud. If our baby starts crying, we’re leaving.”

If the man hadn’t obviously been married, I might have kissed him on the spot.

However, the final piece I got to see was Dali’s The Dream. I geeked out. I love Dali. He is, hands down, my favorite artist. So, screw the rude, evil parents and their demon spawn, I stood there and squinted and tilted my head in every direction trying to look at all the details. Gorgeous!