Parker Blue
Who is Parker Blue? Well, I live in Colorado Springs with my dog, who bears an uncanny resemblance to Val's part-hellhound mutt, Fang.
I hate writing bios so that's all you're gonna get. Okay, okay. Instead of more boring bio stuff, how about some of my likes and dislikes?
Stuff I love, in no particular order:
- The color red—a bright, orange-red just makes me happy.
- Shiny things. I must have been a magpie in a previous life.
- Making shiny things. Love to bead!
- Dogs—they love you unconditionally and are great at stress relief.
- Numbers. So sue me—I love math. It always makes sense.
- Chocolate. Come on, that's a no-brainer.
- The mountains of Colorado. Their awe-tastic beauty is good for the soul.
- Diet Coke. What can I say? I'm addicted.
- Reading. Escaping into a cool new world someone created out of their imagination? It doesn't get much better than that.
- Oh, yeah. And writing. Making up my own world out of random bits of my twisted psyche is the best!
Things I'm not so crazy about, besides the obvious things everyone hates (war, pestilence, famine, you know the drill):
- Blogs that dis other people. What's up with that?
- Going to the dentist. Need I say more?
- Politics. Big yawn.
- Television shows that ask people do stupid things for money then make fun of them.
- Seafood. Ick. Just...ick.
- Yard work. I need lawn gnomes!
- Writing bios. Enough already!
As for the drawings...no, they don't really resemble me much, but this is what I figure Parker Blue ought to look like, kind of geek chic. Torie Fox drew them for me—isn't she fabulous?
“All he said was, "Hi," but to me, it sounded like a whole lot more. Like, I'm soooo glad to see you. Like, you are the hottest thing on two legs. Like, let's get naked together.”
“As we headed out toward the parking lot, Dan said "Why don't we take the truck? It's less conspicuous." He had a point. With Fang sitting on the back of my motorcycle in his goggles we were more likely to draw attention than divert it. YEAH, THAT'S 'CAUSE I'M SMOKIN'!”
“Fang shreds alot.”
“What are you?” he demanded. “A slayer?" I rolled my eyes. “The name's Val, not Buffy. Do I look like a blond cheerleader with questionable taste in men?”