Okay–so, yes, it’s been a long while since I’ve blogged. You know why? Because I’m whoring all over the blogsphere for release month, and I’m sick of me. I’m sick of seeing my name, hearing my name, reading my name and if you’re sick of me, too–get the hell in line. LOLLOL

But wait. I’m not so sick that I can let this pass without blogging about it. I just gotta get this off my chest. Agree or disagree, bear with me…

Those of you who know me, know I love me some figure skating. Love it. I’m not so USA obsessed that I can’t see the value of another skater from another country. Not that I don’t hope for total annihilation to said other countries via mine, but mostly, I just appreciate skill and performance–even if it hails from frickin’ St. Tropez. I do. I can admit if we suck.

So I was a little jazzed to hear about Mr. Super Quad, Evegeny Pleshenko (or however you spell it. I can’t remember and I can’t be bothered to look it up. I only do that for the non-pansy asses :)) was back in action. I loved, and yes, cursed him on many occasion in his Olympic medal-palooza. I’ve been a bit out of the loop the last couple of years, and I wasn’t familiar with all the skaters in the way I once was. But I did know Quad-mania, and I was all woo to the hoo about him competing again.

And then…

I saw an interview with him via NBC just before the short program. I have no way to know if NBC slanted that shit, and I took Evegeny’s “I’m super rich (see my flashy car) and bored, so I decided to compete again because I know everyone’s scared of me” tude with a semi grain of salt. Yeah, I thought he was a douche for being so blatantly conceited. But I gave it up to him because he has a medal in every color of the rainbow, and truth be told, I kinda wanted him to win–even if he isn’t the typical kind of skater I usually enjoy. I like more performance than I do mere jumps. I like crisp, clean footwork that speeds across the ice. I like beautiful spirals, Beilman spins, and I dig a death drop–especially when Boitano does it. I also love musicality. And still, I was kinda hoping dude would win. I know. Bad American.

And then…

I watched the long program.

BOOM–Evan Lysacek beat that bitch down. I also thought Johnny Weir was robbed and those tards who commentated while he skated from Whereverlandia shouldn’t be allowed microphones–unless they’re sticking out of their asses. But that’s for another bitter blog

So here’s the thing. Super Quad knew going in what the new rules were, right? A quad ain’t what it once was back in your day, my tasty borscht soup, and there are deductions if it ain’t as pretty as it’s supposed to be. And let’s be honest, dude, it wasn’t perfect. That’s just the truth. It wobbled, it creaked, and it wasn’t technically PERFECT.

Evan, OTOH, did some pretty technically sound triple axels and triple everything’s that WERE almost perfect. Not to mention, Evan end-loaded his program with a bunch of jumps and didn’t just skate around, winking at the judges and the crowd, figuring he had the gold in the bag. You get more points like that, Evegeny. You knew it coming into this Olympics just like every other competitor. Also, let’s not forget, Evan’s serpentine footwork was pretty smack–yours? Not as much. I may not physically skate much anymore, and I could never do more than a wobbly single to begin with, but I know a thing or two about the sport after watching all these years. I know what it’s supposed to look like and what it isn’t. I know the jumps, the transitions–I. KNOW

I think the lesson here is strategy, baby. Evan had it–you didn’t. He wailed you in the end because he had a bunch of jumps at the end of an over 4 minute program with them

So okay. In the end, you got a silver medal. I was happy for you. You? not so happy, pappy. Jesus, dude–WTF? Next day I’m all hearing quotes from you that because Evan didn’t do your masterful rendition of the quad then figure skating’s not a sport it’s dancing for girls. Then your website depicts you with a platinum medal. Okay, so sure, the media’s had a hand in it, and they’ve exploited your whining to the millionth power.

However, there wouldn’t be anything to exploit if you shut your rich trap and sucked–it–up! OMG–you’re more of a sissy-Mary than any BQ contestant I’ve ever seen. And I’ve seen, my European friend. I’ve. Seen. So do me a skinny. Please. SHUT UP. Get over yourself and dig deep in that quad-capable body for some sportsmanship. Get over yourself, cookie. I beg of you. I’d like to love you again–lemme do it in peace

Ahem… And in other news. First, my title for Suck it up, Princess has changed. I haz a major sad, but marketing said it was too YA and too chick-lit. I will admit, I cried. A. Lot. I vlogged the hell out of this. I worked a whole promo strategy around it, and I was crazy upset.

So, in a mad scramble, and more title suggestions than I can beat with a stick–we’ve decided to go song titles. Thus, Suck it up, Princess is now You Dropped a Blonde on Me. I knoooooow–I love it! That’s all thanks to my BFF Michele Bardsley who let me cry on the phone with her while she rambled options after I’d decided I liked the corner and my sissy-blankie Woot for BFF’s!

The kid–OMG–remember the joy I spewed when he graduated? The next time you’ll read that kind of joy from me is when he MOVES THE HELL OUT! If he doesn’t make a choice about a career and make it soon, the smoke signals you see in the sky will be from me dancing around the bonfire that are his possessions over yonder here in Texas. I promise you, I’ve told him a thousand times being a DJ and calling himself Little Crown T just isn’t lucrative, but so far, my advice has fallen on deaf ears. I wonder if he can DJ from his Kia in the Wal-Mart parking lot? LMAO

And lastly, I got another gig. Yep–those crazy accidentals have another installment in May 2011 titled Accidentally Catty. A vet who turns into a cougar who kinda IS a cougar ’cause she’s 40–HAHAHAHAHAHA. BFF Terri came up with that when I told her the idea. Genius, yes?

And now I’m off to watch women’s figure skating–you know, where we all play like ADULTS? LOLLOL

Dakota

Lisa Richards!

Dude–ya won!

Email me Dakota@dakotacassidy.com to collect yon prize, and someone else threw something in, too. So you’re gonna get some booty!

Sorry I couldn’t post this last night, but WP didn’t want to let me in… but better a day late than never, eh?

To Lisa and everyone else, thank you for participating. Marks’ books are awesome–I hope you’ll continue to tell people about them, blog them, BUY them!

You guys are all sorts of awesome

Dakota

People–OMG–if you haven’t, you MUST.

No, I’m not kidding–you MUST.

Mark’s zombie series is some of the funniest shit I’ve ever read, and you all know it takes a lot to make me laugh, right?

When I first met Mark at RT we kinda clicked–okay, we really clicked, but I still wasn’t sure I’d like his book because well, again, it’s hard to make me laugh in my reading material. I may snicker–my lip might cock upward, but full on, ROFLMAO isn’t something I do often.

Mark, along with some very esteemed authors joined those ranks after I read happy Hour of the Damned. I almost wet myself, and it wasn’t because I’m incontinent. He’s so funny, bold, brash and, naughty, I was left gasping for breath. He’s like a of a fashion savvy Christopher Moore. Yes, he’s that funny.

Not just that–he’s a great guy, too. He’s as hilarious and snarky in person, but he’s also a smooshy, cuddly teddy bear of awesomeness. Anyone who’s met Mark can tell you that.

And Mark’s been on a campaign to save Amanda Feral–the heroine and lead snarkstress in his series. I’m like head cheerleader in the fight to save her (Mark said I could have pom-poms and a cute skirt) because I adore this series.

So today, his book Happy Hour of the Damned is being rereleased in mass market paperback, and my hope is that he’ll end up the superstar he should’ve been the first time he came out in trade.

So save a fashion forward, brain eating chick, would ya, and pick up a copy! If you like hardcore humor–Amanda’s the girl for you!

Go here to see what I’m talking about where Mark explains what’s going on with the series– http://www.markhenry.us/

Go here to buy this bad boy! http://www.amazon.com/Happy-Hour-Damned-Mark-Henry/dp/0758225237/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1265140727&sr=1-1

And if you leave me a comment here on my blog that says you checked the book out and bought it–I’ll throw you in a random drawing to win a mass market paperback of YOUR CHOICE. Yep, I will. Contest ends on Valentine’s Day 2/14/10 at 12 mid CST.

I’m not the only one who’s having a contest in honor of Amanda either–Stacia Kane, lovely, teeny-tiny, cute as a button, rock star writer is, too. Go here to win cool stuff. http://www.staciakane.net/blog/

Now hurry–get thee to a bookstore!

DC

Check it out–

It’s party time! I finished my latest WiP just in time to celebrate the release of Accidentally Demonic on February 2, 2010! I need cocktails served by scantily clad Chippendale dancers…or the next best thing…a party that doesn’t require anyone to drag out the “dry clean only dresses” and Spanx, and no one has to clean up the empties or refresh the dip dishes!

Oh, and did I mention there’s a contest, too?

So here’s how this is gonna work.
To enter the contest, you have to visit the Bitten by Books site and add your comment to the event post after the event starts.

However…..There’s a bonus method to get EXTRA entries for your shot to win.
Pop by early and RSVP to the Bitten by Books site before noon Central time on January 25th – if you leave a comment with an RSVP, you’ll get 25 EXTRA entries to the contest.

Like I said, though, if you can’t make it until later, that’s okay; you can still enter for a shot to win some major stuff if you drop in after the fun begins! (But before the contest ends – the “Fine Print People” made me add that bit.)

Here’s what you could win:

I’m giving away some goodies to two randomly selected winners. One grand prize princess (or prince, I’m equal opportunity, here – LOLLOL) will win a $100 Online Amazon Gift Card. A second lucky fan will win a set of autographed books from some of the best, brightest (and snarkiest) writers around!
Come Hell or High Water–Michele Bardsley
Road Trip of the Living Dead–Mark Henry
Red-headed Stepchild–Jaye Wells
Kiss and Hell – Yours Truly, Dakota Cassidy

So come hang out, and we’ll talk demons, and color wheels, and Guy Fieri’s best recipes and anything else that tickles your fancies, ‘cause who doesn’t love a good fancy tickling?
The party starts at noon, Central, on January 25th and runs through the day. The contest will run until 11:59pm, Central, January 26, 2010.

Thank you, thank you for all your support!

Dakota 

…to you and yours his holiday season

May you be as blessed by family, good friends, and the joy of loving and being loved as I am.

And to everyone who’s come to my blog, posted here, LURKED here (I know who u are. LOLLOL), pop back in again soon. And thank you for bringing me some laughter, some input, a tear or two, but most of all for bringing me the joy of so much online lurve!

Happy holidays, all, and here’s to only good things in 2010!!

Hugs,
Dakota

…to all who posted about my dad’s passing. Under most circumstances, I don’t know that I would have posted something so personal and bound to dredge up memories for a lot of folks who read my blog.

Alas, I felt dad was due homage for all the snarking I’ve done in the past. Dad was a good egg, while he didn’t understand most of my snark, he took it like a champ, and it was only fitting I pay proper respects for all the good things he was responsible for in my life.

Yep, he made me nuts with some of his quirks. Yep, he made me nuts whenever he and my mother were together. Yep, he made me nuts. LOLLOL. But I miss that nuts

I just know dad’s upstairs with Uncle Harry–they’re sitting on a big old puffy cloud, their feet dangling and he’s looking down on me and mom, yelling, “God damn it, HOW COULD YOU THROW OUT MY MAGAZINES FROM 1912? Jesus Christ, Eleanor!” LOLLOL.

Dad was a hoarder of sorts–not to a debilitating degree, but a hoarder nonetheless. he kept useless stuff, logged useless info, and in general was probably as eclectic as you can get. I just know he’s cursing mom for trying to keep herself busy by sorting through all that and throwing a lot of it away (EEK!).

So thank you. From the bottom of my heart. For your cards, flowers, donations to various causes in dad’s honor, your emails, your tweets, your FB posts and the posts here on my blog. Your support has been overwhelming and so very appreciated

Dakota

It is with immense sadness in which I write this post. My father, Robert, passed in the wee hours today. Unexpectedly and in mere moments, his life hung in the balance. He’d been unsteady on his feet for quite some time now, and had begun to use his walker much more frequently.

Monday night he fell and hit his head, resulting in a hematoma for which there was no surgery or magic pill to cure.

I’m only posting this because in return for all of the blog/vlog teasing my dad took, on the flip side, he deserves public recognition for the man he was, I hope I’ll do him justice with the following…

I’ve joked a million and two times about my parents and their seniors gone wild behavior–and I wasn’t lying. They drove each other nuts, and me as an end result. However, I’ve often forgotten in my snark to mention how devoted he was to me as a daughter.

I was his princess. It’s that simple. He was who loved to watch me compete in pageants, and primarily the reason I continued to participate. Hard as this will hit you, I didn’t enjoy them nearly as much as I enjoyed the pleasure he took in a good tiara coup

My dad was who first interested me in ballroom dancing, long before there was ever a DWTS and it was totally not cool to tell anyone about. He often joked back in the day, he and mom could really “cut a rug.” I was sure he meant they cut it whilst they wrestled each other to the ground, but I think he meant they seriously rocked a dance floor He was who taught me my first of many waltz’s, and he was who drove me back and forth to my endless dance lessons, watched every recital like it was my first and attended every play I’ve ever been in.

In later years, when my marriage ended, he was who sat me down and finally made me to let go. Freedom is just around the corner, Princess, he said, and he was right. He was who came to this strange land called Texas to set up camp when things got so tight in my parent’s retirement village home I was sitting up to sleep so the boys had beds. He was also the first to offer up his bed to me when we invaded their space.

And just recently, he told me how proud he was of my writing success when reflecting upon how far I’d come since my divorce.

My dad and I were very different people. He knew it. I knew it. My folks don’t much get my sense of humor, so when my dad laughed at a joke of mine, I knew it was genuine. He was quiet, cranky and one of the most impatient men I’ve ever known, but the one thing I knew without a shadow of a doubt, was that he loved me despite our very different personalities. Because I’m adopted, he always used to use the hokey phrase that he and my mother had “chosen me” and it made me more special than everyone else to them. I used to roll my eyes back when, but I finally fully understood those words when I adopted my son.

My dad inspired many things in me, but today, looking back, there are some memories that must be paid their proper due.

My dad’s responsible for my love of Lawrence Welk and all those crazy bubbles they blew around at each show’s end.

My dad instilled my love of all things musical, most especially Broadway show tunes and Tom Jones.

My dad was who insisted I try all types of food and later in life when he moved in with us, watched Tyler’s Ultimate with me every day. We were fellow foodies, dad and me.

My dad was who held my hand when I first learned to ice skate.

My dad drove me nuts.

But on any given day, I’ve suddenly discovered, being nuts is better than being without.

Today, there’s one less person in the world who loved me without condition, someone that no matter what I did, would without a qualm, visit me in prison

Forever, I’ll miss you, Dad, when two-thirty sharp rolls around and Tyler’s Ultimate’s on. Forever, I’ll miss the gruff tone of your voice when you yell, “Princess!” Forever, I’ll miss the stupid Golf Channel and all those lame checkered pants.

Forever, I’ll miss you.

In your honor, Dad, I wish you deep and abiding peace in your eternal resting place. I wish you The Weather Channel 24/7 with constant updates on snowfall in Siberia. I wish you endless football games with the most awesome satellite reception ever and useless papers to tinker with while you watch. I wish you free of any and all ailments. I wish you an amazing view from all the way up there with stretches of emerald green grass and sandy beaches with palm trees swaying in the warm, tropical breeze. But most of all, I wish you the sweetest of dreams, filled with the warmth and gratitude of my love and our love for you as a family.

Until we meet again, Daddy…

My love always,
Dakota

Laurie or goaliemom!!!

Woot–nice job–Laurie, please email me at Dakota@dakotacassidy.com so we can work out ze deets!

Everyone else, thank you again! You guys were awesome and I thoroughly enjoyed your emails filled with well wishes.

Now y’all stop back here from time to time–I may not vlog, but I’ll be blogging here and there. Don’t be strangers

Big hugs for the support and love,
Dakota

and so I face my final curtain… LOL

So–this is IT, folks! SIUP has been turned in and the time has come to celebrate! Believe me, I need all the help I can get, because I can ASSURE you, no one’s celebrating me turning in a book. LOLLOL.

Anyhoodles, I’m havin’ a contest to celebrate the finish of SIUP, and here’s what ya gotta do–ya gotta watch the vlog.

I know. You thought you’d skim right through this shit and walk away scott-free, didn’t ya? HAH! No, I’m kidding. You can skim. Really…

So the contest–the rules are simple, and I’ve laid them out on the vlog, but here they are in print in case you doubted my validity because I AM sick, and I have been taking Nyquil

This is what ya gotta do to enter a random drawing–watch the vlog.

Post a comment here–just a hello or you blow–whatevs. Snort.

Send me an email to Dakota@Dakotacassidy.com that includes a subject header CONTEST (you know, so I don’t lose it), and within the body of the email, you have to NAME THE TITLE OF THE SONG I PLAY EACH TIME I FINISH AN MS. You’ll hear parts of the song in the vlog–you gotta guess what song it is

That’s it! This will automatically enter you in a random drawing to win a 20$ gift cert for Amazon and an e-ARC of Accidentally Demonic. Winner will be chosen midnight CST November 6, 2009. Check back here on the vlog to see if you’ve won. If you don’t contact me, I can’t send you yer stuff and I have to pick another winner. So be sure to check.

And thanks, everyone, for making this so much fun! Seriously, there was nothing like exposing myself to you all in my nightie and no makeup. LOLLOL

You guys rawk!

And now, without further ado–

Dakota

Squeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee–I’m almost done.

And I’m THREE freakin’ weeks ahead of schedule.

I know.

I’m a machine.

A battered, broken one because YouTube was determined to keep me from uploading this (which has to mean something), but still, A MACHINE. LOLLOL

Go on. Don’t be shy

Dakota