Unusual Texas Laws

I’m not a Texan. Well, not born or bred here, but I do live in this fine state and I’m Texas proud. Yup, proud to be a part of a community of law-abiding, blue-bonnet loving, cowboy-boot wearing citizens. And I try to follow the laws of this fine state. But admittedly, I have slipped up. And on occasion, I will just check and make sure I’m following the regulations. Recently, during my search of Texas law, I came across some interesting and shall I say unusual laws. And I just thought I’d share. I mean, in case you ever come to Texas, you need to know these things.

Some Unusual Texas Laws:

1) It’s illegal to sell one’s eyes. (Now, I don’t much see a problem with this law, do you? But how the heck did it ever become a law? Did someone post their baby blues on Craig's list?)


2) It is illegal to take more than three sips of beer at a time while standing. (But if you sit down it’s okay, right?)

3) Up to a felony charge can be levied for promoting the use of, or owning more than six dildos. (Hmmm? How do they know if someone owns more than six? Do they need to be registered? Are permits required?)

4) It is illegal for one to shoot a buffalo from the second story of a hotel. (Damn, I didn’t know that. But you can bet the next time I see a buffalo out of a second story hotel building I won't try to shoot it.)

5) It is illegal to milk another person’s cow. (Oh, crappers, I hope they don’t come after me.)

6) A recently passed anticrime law requires criminals to give their victims 24 hours notice, either orally or in writing, and to explain the nature of the crime to be committed. (Are you kidding me? Can’t we change it to 36 hours?)

7) It is illegal to idle or loiter anyplace within the corporate limits of the city for the purpose of flirting or mashing. (Mashing what? Potatoes…mosquitoes?)

8) It is illegal to dust any public building with a feather duster. (This one plum stumps me.)

9) One needs permission from the director of parks and recreation before getting drunk in any city park. (Hmmm. If permission is received, can a person then drink three sips of beer at a time while standing up?)

10) No person shall throw trash from an airplane. (Wow, I'll be careful next time I'm in a plane not to just toss my peanut or prezel bag out the window.)

11) Beer may not be purchased after midnight on a Sunday, but it may be purchased on Monday. (I think someone had too many beers when he wrote that one.)

12) It is illegal to sell Limburger cheese on Sunday. (Stumped again. But maybe it has something to do with law number 16.)

13) It is illegal for children to have unusual haircuts. (This is why I wish I’d been raised in Texas.)

14) Any person who sits on a sidewalk may be fined up to $500. (Does it count if the person just trips and falls?)

15) It is now illegal to place a “for sale” sign on a car if it visible from the street. (Say what? I mean, if it’s not seen from the street, why would you put the sign on there?)

16) In Port Arthur, obnoxious odors may not be emitted while in an elevator. (Can anyone tell me who I need to see about getting this law put into effect in all of Texas?)


Okay…so there you have it. Just in case you visit my fine state of Texas, I want you to know how you should behave. So, any fine laws in your community? Have you broken any these above laws? I have broken at least four, but I’m not telling which ones.

It Comes Around So Fast

Monday, that is. Do you guys feel the same? I just get grooving on everything and think I'm making strides and then it's already Sunday night. Ugh Had a busy weekend with freelance writing projects, some web-building (I officially hate Photoshop), and working on my next Harlequin Intrigue.

I also managed time to watch Shutter Island, which I missed at the theater and am just getting around to. I have to say that I figured out the twist early on, but overall, the movie was well written, well acted and had that overwhelming feeling of gloom that I look for in those kinds of stories. I recommend it to anyone who likes movies with a gothic feel and mental bend.

Also watched the first three episodes of Dexter Season 4 - thank you Netflix! I am not near as impressed with this season so far as the others. I am losing respect for the serial killer who will not put his stupid wife in place. Maybe in an interesting twist, she can be his victim at the end of the season!

I have been keeping up with America's Got Talent and still like Michael Grimm, but I love Prince Poppycock! What an artist that guy is, and not just in one area. He's a great singer, creates fabulous characters but his costumes, set design and makeup are right up there with any professional. Surely that guy has a huge career on Broadway ahead of him.

Here's a link to last week, when he took on Freddy Mercury, of all people:


Well, off to work for me, then the post office, then the doctor, then work again. A busy Monday. Have a great week all!

Deadly DeLeon

Living with Men

The Man and I have been cohabiting for almost exactly a year now, so I thought I’d share the top five things that I have learned since living with a guy:

1. Goatee stubble is hard to clean out of tile grout.

2. I snore. (Huh. Really? I never noticed…)

3. I am totally turned on by a guy doing my laundry.

4. Nothing drags you out a deep sleep quickly like the guy next to you in bed shouting nonsense in his sleep.

5. There is never a time of year when you can’t find either baseball or football on TV.


Okay, your turn. What have you learned since meeting your significant other?


~Trigger Happy Halliday

OMG! OMG! OMG!

Today was the release day of Mockingjay by Suzanne Collins! I'm a HUGE fan of the Hunger Games trilogy and have beey dying to read this. It's going to be my reward tonight for writing this blog and calling all my girl scouts about a meeting Saturday (which, by the way, I'd rather have a facial with a diamond sander than do).

If you haven't read The Hunger Games or Catching Fire, drop everything and do it.

Go ahead. I'll wait. It's okay.

Forget work...I'll write you a pass. The kids can feed themselves. And if your pets are like mine, they can live off their own body fat for a while.

I loved Harry Potter (and loathed Twilight) but this is better. I think I read the whole first book in one sitting, then recommended it to my friends who have now all become addicted (It is not necessary to thank me...you know who you are).

But I was never this way with a series before. If my city had a midnight release party, I would've been there in costume, with face paint, dragging my bow. And I would've been there with all the other 40-something women I saw today as I raced across town over my lunch hour to get the book.

I WASTED AWAY waiting for Catching Fire, finished it in one night and thought I was actually going to DIE waiting for Mockingjay. But now it's here. And I am happy. Unless Michele finishes it before me. Then I'll be seriously bummed.

I will not get any sleep tonight.

The Assassin

Guest Author - Faye Hughes

Winner! Winner!

The winner of the autographed copy of Wild, Wicked & Wanton that Faye Hughes gave away is . . . Abigail Beat. Abigail, please contact me through my website - http://www.Christie-Craig.com - and give me your mailing address.

Thanks again to Faye for blogging this week!

CC

Hi, everyone,

I'm in Alabama this week visiting my daddy, so I asked my non-fiction writing partner Faye Hughes to step in and blog for me.

She's giving away a copy of our book Wild, Wicked and Wanton: 101 Ways to Love Like You're in a Romance Novel, so make sure you leave a comment. And I'll be back next week!

CC

* * * *

Thanks, Christie! A couple of years ago, Christie and I did a series of blogs entitled "Why Can't Life Be Like a Romance Novel" and I've pulled out one of mine that I'd like to share. Hope you enjoy!

Why Can’t Life Be Like a Romance Novel?

I have a confession to make.

It’s nothing dramatic, so don’t get too excited, but it is kind of telling about me as a person. So here it goes: When I was younger, I used to be ashamed to tell people I read romance novels. Now, I’ll admit that when I was in my twenties, I was all about impressing other people. Maybe that’s why I shoved those dog-eared paperbacks under the sofa cushions whenever anyone came over to visit. Maybe that’s also why I made sure I sprinkled my conversations with lots of references to Faulkner and Wilde. (The dead author I chose depended on who was visiting, naturally.) But all that changed when I hit my thirties.

That’s when I got serious about my writing and actually wrote a book and got it published. And guess what. It was a romance novel.

Only I never used the words, “romance novel” when I described my work to other people. Nope. I wrote fiction, damn it. When pressed to describe the kind of fiction I wrote, I mumble something about women’s fiction. Or, my personal favorite here, light-hearted escapist fiction for a female demographic. The thing is, I called it anything but what it was. Namely, romance.

Now, did I mention that I was an idiot when I was a lot younger?

Yeah, well, I was, or how else can I explain all those bad relationship choices? And now? Well, now I’m a few years older and I like to think, a whole lot wiser. Now,I can admit it. I read romance novels. Wanna know what else? I also write romance novels. And—oh, this is probably the best part—I’m here to tell you that a woman can learn a hell of a lot from reading a romance novel, too.

Five Things I’ve Learned From Reading Romance Novels:

1. Never go to the basement/attic/cemetery/abandoned warehouse after midnight. Trust me. Bad things happen to stupid people who break this rule.
2. Be very careful about foolish declarations that begin with “I will never…” Again, trust me on this one. When romance heroines make those “I will never . . .” statements in Chapter 1, it’s guaranteed she’ll end up eating those words over in Chapter 10.
3. If you get locked out of your hotel room with nothing on but a towel, it’s a given you’ll meet a hot guy. Okay, I actually know women who do this sort of thing just so they can meet hot guys!
4. If you suddenly find yourself becoming the object of desire by a lot of really hot guys—and that isn’t the kind of thing that usually happens to you—you’ve probably just inherited a fortune. That means it wasn’t that new perfume you picked up at Neiman-Marcus.
5. No matter how hopeless things may appear, you have to keep believing in that happy ending. Okay, fine. Call me an idealist. It’s okay—I learned that from reading romance novels, tool.

Faye

Someone Pays You for This?

I've been recording two new show lately, Fact or Faked and Destination Truth, because they purport to investigate unsolved mysteries and find answers. Sorta like a real life X-Files. Well, I have to tell you that the subject matter of their investigations is good, but the investigations are a joke. They visit these places for a day or two, collect some spots on infrared cameras and spend a WHOLE lot of time creating their own drama and scaring themselves.

They also say things like "the lake is infested with crocodiles" - there was ONE crocodile, hardly an infestation. Or they go into a cave at night, then freak out because bugs and bats move. Or the classic, they're in or on water and then say "something moved in the water." Really? Seriously?

So what could have been a really interesting set of shows is wasted on amateur investigating and better fiction-writing in their scripted drama that I put in my books. In fact, I was thinking about sending them a resume to see if they had an opening for that weak dialogue they write.

Even worse, one of the shows clearly has an agreement with some companies for advertising during the show, so they'll be in the middle of an explanation and say "For our investigation, we would travel south to (wherever), so I logged onto Orbitz.com...." Yeah, that flowed. No one caught on that you were clunking in an advert for Orbitz or anything. If the shows maintains any sort of ratings, I'm afraid that the future might hold even worse dialogue like "We traveled with our Louis Vutton luggage by American Airlines to (wherever), where we rented Land Rovers while wearing Doc Martin hiking boots and eating Snickers bars."

I'm thinking the only group NOT interested in advertising will be MENSA.

I always get frustrated when I see a great concept wasted on foolishness. Then I always wonder how the heck people get investors for this sort of thing. Which inevitably leads me to wonder why no one will make my books into movies. Then I want to drink a beer, because really, at least one of my books WAS infested with alligators, which is far scarier than anything I've seen on those shows.

Any shows frustrating you? Anything you're looking forward to for the Fall season line up? I'm looking forward to HOUSE. Love that show!

Deadly DeLeon

The Perfect Shot

My latest book, The Perfect Shot (Hollywood Headlines), is officially out in ebook format on Tuesday!
Because of some recent restructuring at my publisher, the print format won’t yet be available until May 2011, but you can download the ebook now. If you’re like me, and don’t yet own an ebook reader, you can still purchase the ebook and read it on your computer.

So, in honor of my first digital only release, here’s an excerpt of THE PERFECT SHOT:

* * *

“Come on, baby, just an inch to the left…” I shifted, feeling my feet go numb.

“That’s it,” I coaxed. “Right there, that’s the spot… yes!”

My finger hit the shutter, and I popped off five shots in rapid succession before my subject ducked back behind the curtain of magnolia trees shading his property. I lifted myself up onto my elbows, checking the digital window to see my handiwork. Hot. I’d caught Trace Brody shirtless, a beer in hand. I was too far away, even with my telephoto lens, to make out the label on the bottle, but I knew he always drank beer when the temp rose above 90. He was too manly for those fruity wines, not pretentious enough to drink the trendy martinis his other Malibu neighbors enjoyed.

I’d been watching Trace for weeks now, ever since his publicist had finally confirmed rumors that the hot young actor was engaged to American’s sweetheart, Jamie Lee Lancaster. Think Angelina and Brad… without the tattoos and horde of kids. You’d be close. Then imagine if they suddenly announced they were going to have a blowout wedding on a cliff above the Malibu coastline. The press about peed their collective pants. My boss, Felix Dunn, editor in chief of the L.A. Informer, included. He’d pulled me from Britney watch and immediately put me to work documenting Trace’s every move between now and the big day.

Not that I minded. I’m much rather spend my days laid out on the hillside above Trace’s multi-million dollar spread in Richie-Rich-ville than chasing Britt on her latest Starbucks run. At least here I got the shirtless view.

I stretched out again on the grass, ignoring the way it tickled the exposed skin at my midriff between my too-low jeans and my too-high T-shirt. (The curse of being a nearly six-foot-tall woman - nothing was ever long enough). I wiped a bead of sweat from my upper lip and put the lens to my eye again, slowly sweeping the tree line for another glimpse of my subject.

“Come on, Trace. Play nice.”

Miraculously, he walked right into my line of vision. I could swear sometimes he actually heard me.

“That’s my boy. Now turn this way, give me a smile, honey.”

I watched him set his beer down on a table. He reached both arms up to the sky, stretching, letting out a catlike yawn.

“Tired? Being a movie star must be such tough work, huh?” I clicked off a couple shots.

Trace moved his head side-to-side, working out the kinks in his neck. I lost him for a moment as he crossed the patio toward his Olympic-sized swimming pool, complete with faux rock waterfall and hot tub painted to look like a bubbling lagoon. But my lens caught up with him again as he approached the diving board.

“Fancy a little swim?” I asked the deserted hillside.

As if in answer, Trace dipped a toe into the water. Apparently satisfied with the temperature, he shrugged and walked out onto the diving board.

I hit the shutter, taking three quick shots. He bounced a little, staring down into the crystal clear blue water. But he didn’t jump. Instead his hands strayed to the waistband of his trunks and, in one swift movement, they fell round his ankles.

I froze. My eyes glued to the lens, a small bead of sweat trickling down between my breasts. I think I might have even forgotten to breath. The only part of me that seemed to still be working was my trigger finger, clicking off shots like mad. Felix would have a heart attack when he saw these.

Then give me a raise.

Trace kicked his shorts away, then walked his gloriously naked self out to the edge of the diving board.

“Good God, you’re beautiful,” I whispered. Not that I expected anything less. He was, after all, a movie star. But this was one man who needed no airbrushing. How he managed to avoid that white-butt-tanned-torso thing, I had no idea. Lord knows I would have known by now if he were a nude sunbather. But he was a smooth, warm, honey color from his perfectly hardened six-pack abs to his perfectly hardened… other parts.

“Jaime Lee must be one happy women, huh, Trace?”

He ignored me. Of course. Somewhere in the back of my mind I knew it was weird to talk to him out loud. Almost worse than talking to myself. But I couldn’t help it. He had no idea I existed, but he’d been my constant companion for the past six weeks. At a safe distance, of course. If I ever actually came face to face with the movie star, I’d probably wet my pants. With a telephoto lens and a football field between us, I was cool as a cucumber at a day spa. In person? Well, let’s just say I’ve never been one of those people-persons. I liked people fine, but my gift has never been an ability to carry on clever conversations with the opposite sex while looking suave and sophisticated. My conversations with guys usually included lots of blushing and really smart comments that came to me only after the cute guy had moved on to the sophisticated brunette at the next table.

So, some people talked to their plants, I talked to movie stars who didn’t know I existed.

Naked ones, currently.

I watched as he reached above his head, bounced once on the diving board, then cut cleanly into the pristine, blue water with hardly a splash.

Sweat slid down my spine, and I could almost feel the sweet, cool water washing over my own skin. I shivered, goose bumps breaking out on my arms as I popped off a few more shots of Trace resurfacing.

“Baby, that was amazing,” I told him, suddenly feeling like I needed a cigarette.
I watched as he pulled himself from the water, shimmering droplets clinging to his gym-sculpted body, and wrapped a towel around his waist before picking up his beer again and heading inside.

I sat up and peeled the lens from my eye. The distance between my secluded hillside and his fancy pool was immediately apparent, and I let out a long breath as his French doors shut behind him.

I’m not sure how long I watched his closed doors, reliving my glimpse of Trace au-natural, before my phone rang from my pocket. Shifting in the grass, I slipped it out.

“Cameron Dakota,” I answered.

“Cam,” came my boss’s voice. “Where are you?”

“Malibu. Why?”

“We got a tip that Jamie Lee’s trying on wedding dresses in Beverly Hills,” he said, his British accent giving his words a lilting rhythm. “How fast can you get there?”

I bit the inside of my cheek. “If I get caught speeding, will the paper cover the ticket?”

I could hear Felix’s wallet squeaking in the silence in the other end. Finally he relented. “Yes.”

“Give me twenty minutes.”

Felix rattled off the address of the boutique where Jamie Lee had been spotted. Then he added, “If she settles on a dress today, I want to be the first to run with a photo, got it?”

“Aye, aye, chief.”

“And Cam?”

“Yeah?”

“You get any good pics of Trace today?”

I pulled up my view screen again, checking out the series of nude shots that even a tabloid like the Informer would have to censor parts of. I couldn’t help a grin.
“Did I ever.”

What can I say? Being the paparazzi’s a dirty job, but someone’s got to do it.

***

~Trigger (and ebook!) Happy Halliday