SBD UGH

Why do I do this to myself? I knew I'd sit down and read the damn book cover to cover. Why did I have to start it at six pm?

That means, now, as I compose myself for sleep, I have vivid descriptions of maggot-infested bodies in my head. The science and sleuthing and fascinating descriptions of both are all gone. Poof. Nope, the murder, decay and empty eye sockets remain at this time of night. Putrifying, stinking flesh.

And let me tell you something else. Romance just doesn't work immediately after reading Death's Acres: Inside the Legendary Forensic Lab The Body Farm.

Damn you, corn dog and your niece, too. Oh, she actually took a tour of the place didn't she? Well, then.

Also? Images of Patricia Cornwell's fame and wealth haunt me. She should give me a bit, too. Just because she has a ridiculous amount. (Sounds like she's a superb researcher though. Wow.)

Comments

  1. Corn Dog11:30 PM

    Sorry, but I am laughing a bit, a tiny bit. My niece said she did take a tour of the place but then she is at Disney World this week. I guess it is about the same, huh?

    ReplyDelete
  2. Anonymous12:28 AM

    I really do need to post that Farm story I wrote. Makes me grin just thinkin' about it.

    ReplyDelete
  3. Suisan2:53 PM

    I've always wanted to read Death's Acres. Thanks for reminding me!

    I have a story about my vet being asked to crawl over and under and through the pile of dead horses the vet school stored in the pathology cooler to retrieve a halter the owner insisted on having back before she's pay the bill. (Sorta thought you'd ask for that one BEFORE the euthanasia, you know?) She got some sort of award for doing it from the rest of her class. She later affixed to her horse's four pound enterolith on the coffee table.

    She's a bit of a character. ;-)

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

more fun and hi-jinks at RWA.

To the Board of Directors of the Romance Writers of America: It has been brought to our attention, by several of our romance authors, that your organization no longer considers Medallion Press, Inc. a legitimate publisher according to your guidelines. We were surprised we did not receive official notification directly, but instead discovered it was posted on several RWA internet loops. Accordingly, we request this letter be published in its entirety in the RWR Report so all members may understand the nature of the process that eliminated Medallion as an RWA approved publisher. We will also send copies of this letter to all our own RWA member authors. We are dismayed you declared Medallion Press no longer a legitimate publisher. In July of 2004 we met all of your qualifications without incident by showing sales of 5000+ copies of USA Today Bestselling author Nan Ryan's The Last Dance. Several months prior to Book Expo America 2005, we received a call from your office alerting us to
Read more

No snark. Bad puppy. No. (Review stuff.)

A two star Amazon review on His American Detective: "Bodice ripper about gay men by a woman." and I'm longing to comment "don't you mean a waistcoat ripper?" God, no. Stop me. The reviews rarely rattle me any longer -- except when I spot a truth in a bad one. When that happens, I actually lose sleep. This means I still care about writing.  Speaking of reviewers and writers: A couple of days ago, a writer said she was tired of getting white ladies writing reviews of her books. She had an excellent point in the long run: her stories are meant for a particular audience and she wants them to resonate with those people and get more reviews from them.  But that first line was just....horribly obnoxious. I say this from my POV of course. Not a white lady who writes reviews -- but as a review grubber.   Anyone who disses any reader (especially ones that give honest reviews) deserves to be cast into the pit of being ignored.  
Read more