Monday, December 14, 2009

Vote for our bio pic and win!

Hello to all the new followers!

Welcome to our blog. We're Stacey and Julie, authors of young adult romance. You might have seen our covers on the sidebar, but until now we've had no shiny bio-pic to post for your getting-to-know-us pleasure. We both live in Arkansas, but several hours apart and we've got kids and husbands and animals and really long hair that requires a stupid-ridiculous amount of tending (Stacey plans to cut her's soon) and, can be hard to get together.

Julie aside: Don't do it, Stacey! Don't cut your hair! If you keep growing yours and I keep growing mine then, when it gets reallllllly, reallllllly long, we'll cut it and turn the shorn locks into something cool. Like a lasso.

Stacey aside: Well...I have always wanted a lasso made of human hair...

Thankfully, however, we managed to meet up for a photo shoot this fall. The results are posted below for your viewing pleasure. (You'll have a chance to vote for your favorite at the end, so pay attention and get out your score cards.)

Another Julie aside: Before you begin voting, please have the record show that Stacey and her husband FORCED me to drink champagne during this photo shoot by offering it to me in a delicate, little champagne glass with a stem and everything, thereby playing directly into my sick weakness for all things "fancy."

Another Stacey aside: My husband and I would like the record to show that we do not support using alcoholic beverages to "loosen" anyone up for the camera...unless their name is Julie Linker and they like things that are "fancy".


Stacey: Omg...I'm holding you inappropriately in this one. I've always wanted to hold you inappropriately, but I didn't realize that would be so apparent on film. (Or digital or whatever.) On the other hand, the matchy-matchiness of our outfits--(NOT INTENTIONAL, people, she showed up at my house like this in all her Single White Female-ness and demanded that we be photographed together immediately. She wouldn't even try on the very nice red t-shirt she brought.)---is kind of cute in the matchy-matchy way.

Julie: I think the innappropriate holding makes it obvious who the REAL Single White Female is in this picture, don't you guys? (Hint: the one who isn't me)

Stacey: Just for that I'm not going to correct your misspelling of "inappropriate" up there. *harumph*


Stacey: This is a little better for me, though I still look a little like a psycho-killer. You look nice, however.

Julie: Look at my finger! My finger looks like a psycho-killer! What is it doing? Do you see the way it's creeping around your waist, all stealthy and stuff, like it can't decide whether to stab some of your internal organs or steal your wedding ring? My finger is evil! I had no idea. It always seemed so nice.

Stacey: Oh wow, yeah, that finger is evil. I think it might be after my spleen. Or perhaps my pancreas.


Stacey: I think I look really, really super smart here (if a little constipated). And you look devious and a bit evil. I like the combo. There could be a world-takeover being plotted here. (Or maybe a blog post about grunt tubes. Take your pick.)

Julie: Shhhhh! You're not supposed to tell about the world-takeover plot.
You're ruining everything! Now what are we going to do with all the grunt tubes we ordered for our army of the undead?


Stacey: If we were in junior high school, this photo would have us RULING the school, RULING it I tell you! (And in another random aside, I think I have an unusually large head. My ex-husband said I did and that our son had inherited my enormous melon. I tried to explain I needed a large head to contain my gigantic brain...but...I mean, really, who am I kidding? I probably have water on the brain that my lousy doctors never bothered to drain off so that I could grow to be a normal-headed person.)

Julie: Do you think if we passed this around at a few junior highs one of them would let us rule it now? I've always wanted to reign over a junior high, but sadly my own JH felt I was better suited to serve as a minion.

Stacey: Me too! I wasn't even a minion, I was just the weird girl who wore lime green stretch pants. I was always forced to the end of the lunch line by a girl named...Julie. Hmm, good thing I don't hold grudges against people with the same names of girls who were jerks to me in junior high. (The other Julie turned out to be much nicer in high school.)

Julie: Incidentally, your hair looks very lovely and shampoo-ad like here, Stacey. Your giant head is hardly noticeable at all.

Stacey: Thanks!


Stacey: I think I look too buff in this one from all my Shredding with Jillian. Your biceps are jealous. I don't want your biceps to feel jealous, Jules. (Also, I can't really pull off pouty. With chipmunk cheeks like these, I'm better off cheesy or broody. No pouting allowed.) But I like the bad-ass thing you've got going on here. That finger means bidness, I can tell. Fear the finger!)

Julie: My finger again! Now it's a gun! Maybe I should stop typing and go put on some gloves. This is starting to freak me out.

My biceps are jealous, it's true. I'm a weakling. I can't even open my own jars.


Stacey: You're totally planning to murder me in this shot...and I know it...and I kind of like the idea for some reason. What a frackin' sicko I am!

Julie: If only we had the infamous wicker chair! Then we would totally rule a junior high! (Do they still use the wicker chair, I wonder?) And I am totally planning your murder, btw.


Stacey: You're moving in for the kill...and I'm still smiling like I'm going to enjoy having my neck snapped at any second...

Julie: Stacey! How could you say such a thing? This is our engagement picture for the newspaper . . . which is exactly why I'm going to kill you because I just found out the "fancy" ring you bought me is really a cubic zirconia from the Everything's $1! store.

Stacey: Hey, baby, you knew I was a struggling writer when we started this whole crazy thing we call luurrve. (And I was just trying to help cure your addiction to "fancy". Why not develop a love for "sparkle" instead? Sparkle can be pretty, but cheaper than fancy.)


Stacey: Oh WAIT!! Huzzah! Turned the tables on you, bi-atch! See what I can do with those Shredded biceps now!!! (Just kidding, you're totally not a bi-atch...usually ;)). And I would never twist off your head, though I totally could if I wanted to because I am so buff.

Julie: Sniff, sniff. I'd like to believe that you would never twist off my head, but I just can't trust you anymore, not after the cubic zirconia. How could you?

Stacey: I explained that. Just think sparkle thoughts and it will all be okay.


Stacey: You've got the cute smile, but I'm still evil. Why can't I stop being evil? Why? I look like a possessed leprechaun.

Julie: I may be smiling cutely, but really I'm pooping on your deck . . .

Stacey: Ahh...I wondered where that big pile of steaming feces came from. I was blaming the giant squirrel.


Stacey: Finally. A nice normal picture. A little elbow-y, but it will do.

Julie: Huh. You're right. Except for the elbows, we almost look normal.


Stacey: Or maybe we should use this one...:) Nothing like a little girl talk on a teeter totter, while wearing your best knee-high boots with three-inch heels.

Julie: What are you talking about? I've had those boots since 3rd grade. What else are girls supposed to wear on the teeter totter? And now I suppose you're going to try and tell me red stilletos aren't appropriate for the swings.

Stacey: Lol.

Okay people, what say you? Everyone who chimes in with their vote in the comments will be entered to win a ZIT prize pack including all kinds of general fabulous-ness as well as an Advanced Reader copy of Stacey Jay's January release "Undead Much?" All entries must be received by Christmas Eve Day. Winner announced on Christmas Day. (Or soon thereafter...whenever Stacey gets around to it ;)).

Go, vote, wiiiinnnnnn!!!

Julie and Stacey

Saturday, December 5, 2009

Urine, Grunt tubes, and Sparkle-deer-pires, oh my!

The holiday season is upon us--Fattening food, presents, twinkling lights, football, sneaking into your sister's bathroom and taking a swig of some kind of sketchy-looking alcohol you found underneath her kitchen cabinet in a desperate effort to keep yourself from stabbing various members of your extended family with your pie fork. Who doesn't love the most wonderful time of the year?!

Deer, that's who. (And also department store Santas and my chihuahua). Because here in the south, holiday season = lure cute adorable bambis to your tree with corn then blow their brains out season.

Okay, so that's an exaggeration. They don't blow their brains out; they shoot them through the heart/lungs/shoulder. Otherwise it'd be awfully hard to mount those antlers up on the wall.

Deer hunters are VERY serious about their sport and will often go to extreme measures to get their "kill shot." Luckily, there are roughly one billion gazillion websites where they can go for advice and tips. See below:


A good scent strategy has 3 parts: Eliminate as much human odor as possible, cover up whatever is left and then use attractant scents to bring bucks closer or position them properly for the shot.

"Consider scents part of your overall game plan. You may go all season without seeing any evidence of their effectiveness but when you catch the right buck at the right time with the right scent--you will be rewarded for your efforts."

Here are a sampling of the available products:

Stacey: Because you wouldn't want to use less than 100% pure deer urine. Just the thought of diluting my deer urine with say--water or something equally nasty--makes me want to hurl.

Julie: I want to know who does the quality control testing for this. How do we know it's 100% pure deer urine? More importantly--how, exactly, does one obtain deer urine? I can't imagine that they're lining up to pee in a cup voluntarily.

Stacey: I think it might involve sneak-attacks, urine-sucking tubes, and maybe some ninjas. Not being a woman of the woods, I can't say, but...yeah...

Stacey: This is really the name of this stuff: C'Mere Deer. You just can't say that shizz without a hillbilly twang.

Julie: Love it!! If I were so inclined to douse myself in animal pee this is definitely the brand of pee I would choose. Then I would wander out in the woods calling "C'mere deery, deery, deery!" and they would all come running across the meadow with a cadre of woodland friends and we would sing and frolick and then maybe later they would make me a dress.

Stacey: And from the people at C'Mere Deer, we have Buck Juice. I don't even want to know what that's made of. *shudder, throws up a little bit*

Julie: . . . eeeeeewwwww. I feel vaguely dirty now. I'm disappointed in you C'Mere Deer people. I thought you were different. Why does everything have to be about sex? (How many guys do you think have taken a swig of this on a drunken bet at deer camp?)

Stacey: At least one, which is one too many.

"Big bucks don't get big and old by being dumb."
Decoys should be set up well within a bowhunter's effective killing zone

Stacey: I'm sorry, but I wouldn't want to eat the deer that fell for this one. That's one dumb deer. (I fear contracting further dumbness through the food I ingest.)

Julie: That's right--"You are what you eat," after all. Is that really supposed to be a deer? Its head kind of reminds me of a fox. And it maybe needs to consider signing up for Jenny Craig because it's got a bit of a belly on it. I've never seen a deer with a beer gut. Although maybe it's a pregnant decoy? Awww, that would be so cute--maybe in a few weeks it will give birth to cute little baby cardboard decoys.

Stacey: Not all bucks like skinny-ass deer, Julie. Some of them like junk in the trunk. (Would that be her trunk...or her undercarriage...or...what?) I fail deer anatomy.

Stacey: This is better, I'd eat a deer who got shot trying to come sniff around this one.

Julie: Definitely better. I'd never make it as a hunter though because my first thought was "he'd look so cute with a red and green Christmas bow and maybe some bells on his antlers."

Stacey: Oooo!! It's the sparkling deer-pire of the decoy world. Female deer everywhere would come running to save him screaming "No, sparkle-deer-pire, don't step into the liiii-eeettte!!"

Julie: Um, I'm scared. Because I don't think that's a decoy. I'm pretty sure it's a statue. Like, an art statue. It's "Deer decor." (Hahaha, I crack myself up.) Oh, man, Stacey--when you move to CA, I'm SO buying you this as a housewarming gift. That way you'll never forget your roots. Because the giant running deer in your living room won't let you.

Stacey: Sadly, in California I won't have the money to pay for an apartment large enough to fit my entire family, let alone any generous Deer Decor gifts. Though I appreciate the offer!

Deer Calls

Stacey: This is called a "grunt tube". I kid you not. For real. That's what it's called. You couldn't pay me to put my mouth to that.

Julie: I think that came off my car. OMG--my car is secretly a deer hunter! That explains all those shell casings on the floorboard! And why all deer within a hundred mile radius flock to whatever highway I happen to be driving on and dash across it right in front of me, so close that their fur brushes across the front grill, forcing me to slam on my brakes which causes me to lose control of the steering weel and careen wildly toward the giant ditch on the right side so I try to turn back except I overcorrect and hurtle toward the yellow line while my daughter screams and all the random crap I've been meaning to take out of the car for the past year ricochets around the interior and I realize we're going to die and the entire time I'm hearing my dad's voice in my head intoning, "Never, ever swerve for an animal--better that you run over it than lose control of the vehicle and get yourself killed."

(Note to my car: My other car took out a full-grown buck at 60 mph AND a white dog that was inexplicably standing on the interstate in the middle of the night in Little Rock, but so far all you've managed is a series of terrifying near-death experiences. I'm just saying.)

And so concludes our brief foray into the magical, urine-scented world of deer hunting. If any of our readers happen to be avid hunters who don't appreciate us poking fun at your sport, all I have to say is--STACEY DID IT!!!

Yeah, right now she's really writing this, just pretending to be me. I swear. I don't know how she figured out my password. I love deer hunting! I think it's the greatest thing ever! Please don't shoot me! Or her!

Happy Hunting

Stacey and Julie (not really)
Stacey: I have no problems with poking fun at anyone's sport. Next week, giggles with curling.

Thursday, October 8, 2009

Craigslist-It can haz funny!

While some people spend their spare time doing things like rock climbing, or painting watercolors, or visiting sick children in the hospital, we spend our free time engaged in actual worthwhile activities, like scrolling through the best-of-craigslist and laughing hysterically. Read on for a view of our most recent faves.

i need help moving my chickens

Date: 2009-07-26, 11:04PM CDT

I have approximately 1,243 chickens that need to be transported, i began my journey with my mini van but just was not working out, too many trips and too much shit and feathers, and with no ac it makes it very difficult when constantly tempted to roll the windows down, and because doing it all by hand i have lost 1 out of 4 chickens with my first 3 trips. if you have reasonable transportation for this chicken operation plz let me know. thank you.

JL: This is one of those times where I really wish the poster had included more information because I have a LOT of questions about this ad. Such as--how, exactly, did he come to be in possession of 1,243 chickens? Because contrary to what you might think, chickens are actually hard to acquire. It's not like when you feed a stray cat a few times and the next thing you know she's dropping litters of kittens in your barbecue grill, or your garage, or--in an unfortunate incident at my mom's house--a pile of brush you've just set on fire and realized too late that it also contains fuzzy baby kittens who you will later discover as charred little bodies that will make everyone cry.

STACEY ASIDE--What the hell? Oh my god, why did you have to tell that story? I'm crying now. And a little sick to my stomach. Ugh--END STACEY ASIDE

JL: Today's chicken eggs will only hatch if incubated in a bank of high-tech equipment operated by a team of scientists from NASA. I know. I spent half of last year navigating around all the chicken hatching equipment in my kitchen because my husband (who, incidentally, is insane)thought it would be a great idea to hatch roughly one gazillion baby chickens next to the pantry. So it's not like this guy had a few hens and a few roosters and things got out of control. He had to work to acquire those 1, 243 chickens. Why? Why would anybody in their right mind want 1,000+ chickens? I would say that must be how he makes a living, except then doesn't it seem like he'd own a chicken trailer or truck or something?

Other questions . . . Is the 1,243 number including or excluding the chickens he lost during the first three trips? Were the lost chickens properly secured in seat belts and/or age/weight appropriate booster seats?

SJ: I have questions too. it okay to cuss on Craigslist? Because that guy totally dropped the "s" bomb. And why doesn't he have any capital letters at the beginning of his sentences? This isn't a text, it's an AD, buddy. Be a little professional with your request for help with your shitting chickens. God.

Small Space for Right Roommate

About your space: We have a limited time offer for a "nook" in our living room. The nook is currently home to my bike and is 6' x 3'. It is perfect for someone who needs a little respite between apartments and has a comfy sleeping bag. The nook has wall to wall carpeting and has window to private patio. Though it's located in the main living room, you will be assured privacy by the entertainment center and nearby couch. We have limited space in our closet for your things, mostly it's a room for the water heater, our suitcases, and a baby doll on a stick.

JL: Blah, blah, blah--the second paragraph says some boring stuff, but I'm omitting because of aforementioned boringness.

About you: Having experience living with multiple women is a plus, we are open to either male or female roommate. We're opening up the nook for the right person, one who can be mindful of the morning shower routine, pitch in with general cleaning, and bonus points if you can change light bulbs since we're vertically challenged. We'd like to get along with our new nook occupant so please be a responsible, fun-loving, hilarious, and all around good person. We'd like to be entertained so talents are a plus. The rent: Negotiable per above standards Availability: Now through mutually determined date.

JL: My favorite part about this ad is the "baby doll on a stick." Love, love, love it.

SJ: Me too! God, that's disturbing. What were they doing with that baby doll?

Body Dumping Location Available

Date: 2009-07-21, 8:56PM EDT

Don't stuff grandma in the freezer! By now you've probably heard about the Glen Burnie family that stored their 83-year-old grandmother's dead body in a freezer:,0,168200.story. It turns out that no law was broken.

Yep, dumping a body is legal around here. Health care workers and other professionals are required to report deaths, but ordinary citizens are not. And, apparently, no state law prohibits the burial or storage of a body on private property. I'm a laid-off Baltimore-area homeowner. After ten months of unemployment, and the future looking even more grim, I'm willing to consider allowing my backyard to be used for body dumping. Call it private burial if you prefer.

I could probably take a half-dozen bodies without arousing the attention of neighbors. It wouldn't hurt to have one under the garden too.

Me: A discreet Baltimore County homeowner with a half-acre of easily tillable property on a quiet dead-end street.

You: An individual (not a health care worker or other professional required to report a death!) with the awkward inconvenience of disposing of a deceased relative, friend, colleague or acquaintance.

You must provide your own trash bags, tarp, quicklime, shovel, etc. I might be available to hold a flashlight, but I won't do any heavy lifting.

Accidental deaths or natural causes only. I'm not going to get involved in any shenanigans with Omar wannabes. I will not be a participant in, or an accessory to, any sort of crime.

This is a limited time offer! Act now before the state legislature changes the law! If and when the law changes (measures failed 10 years ago, after the 1999 incident), you'll be grandfathered, literally and figuratively. Price is negotiable. Serious inquiries only.

JL: Does anybody else get the sense that this guy is kidding--except not really? Fifty bucks says I could get Aunt Fran a prime spot in his garden with a single phone call. Some people might call this ad sick, or twisted, but personally, I think it's a shining example of American ingenuity.

Economy in the toilet? Life savings stolen by Bernie Madoff? Can't get a ____ (fill in the blank--job, credit card, home loan, health insurance policy) to save your life? You could be like hundreds of thousands of other Americans and apply for government benefits (good luck--you'll need it). OR . . . you could stash a few decomposing bodies around your yard for some tidy, tax-free cash!!!

Life handed this guy lemons and he's making lemonade . . . or rather, a backyard cemetery. That's the kind of work ethic this country was built upon.

SJ: !!

Actor needed for emotional role. One day high pay.

My deceased aunt gave my two kids a Cocker Spaniel a few months back. The dog has been a terror and become overwhelming for me. I am a single father raising two young children. I cannot face telling the kids that the dog must go. I have found a good home for the dog, and just need someone to transport the dog, and play the villain.

Premise: You will be the dog walker hired by daddy (me) to walk Skittles. I will introduce you to the kids, and you will tell them you are going to help Skittles get her exercise when Daddy is too busy to walk her. At that point you will walk Skittles to your car and take her to her new family 20 minutes from my place. Then return holding just a leash. The story will be that Skittles broke free of the leash and took off.

At this point prepare for crying, things being thrown at you, and possibly cursing. My kids are young and dramatic--they are girls.

Pay will be $500. The job will take roughly 2 hours at best. This job is ideal for an actor looking to diversify their role base, or someone who genuinely likes to make children cry.

Acting experience is a plus, but not necessary. Please inform me of any prior experience in this kind of situation.

JL: Wow. This is taking the whole rush-out-and-buy-a-look-alike-goldfish-to-replace-your-kids-dead-goldfish-before-they-get-home-from-school concept to a whole new level of parental deviance. And $500?! Why doesn't he just tell his girls Skittles is going to live with somebody else then give them each a hundred bucks and drive them to the mall or Toys r us? Cash works amazingly well for pet grief, I've found. But then again, we average about a dead pet a week around here, so my daughter is basically immune. Although she was strangely disturbed by Jessica Simpson's dog being snatched by a coyote.

SJ: This man is hysterical, but also genuinely offends me. Grow a pair, buddy. Parenting isn't always being 'the good guy'. Sometimes you've got to get real. You're a single dad, you're exhausted. You obviously didn't plan to be a single dad, but it happened and now you have to deal with it. Shouldn't your kids learn the same lesson, that sometimes life isn't perfect and you have to deal? (Stacey, who is just wicked jealous that she couldn't afford to pay an actor to tell her son that the actor lost his toy accordion and that mama didn't throw it in the trash because the sound of his playing made her want to pour battery acid in her ears.)

Looking for a MAN with very expensive sports car.

Date: 2009-07-07, 12:15PM EDT

I'm looking for a man with a very expensive sports car, a classic muscle car, or a new muscle car. All you have to do is sit in your car in the street in front of my house for one (1) hour, or less, talking to me. This will take place on a Tuesday morning, only. The time will be between approximately 8:25 a.m. and 9:25 a.m.

I want a guy I like to see me. He is NOT my husband or ex-husband. He is NOT my boyfriend or ex-boyfriend. He is just a guy that I know.

You must be a non-smoker.

I will be standing in the street.

Please enclose a photograph of your vehicle.

Compensation: $50.00

JL: I like that she wants to see a photo of the vehicle, but not one of the guy who will be driving it. Like, what if she's 25 and some 90 year old dude with white hair drives up in a Corvette? That's not going to make this guy jealous if that's what she's going for. He'll just think she's talking to her grandpa who happens to drive a cool car. I get what she's going for here, but I think her plan needs more refinement.

SJ: So she'll be standing IN the street. Literally...IN the street. Isn't that dangerous? Oh well, at least she's a non-smoker and cares about other people not smoking. That's good...I guess. But I kind of want to slap her around a little for caring so much about cars. Or a man who cares that much about cars. Cars are dumb. Just get one that will go. And won't break down. Done and done. Save money for more interesting things like quality cuts of meat. I love good meat. Like a really excellent ribeye steak. Yum.

My ad would totally read: Wanted, MAN with yummy 12 oz ribeye. You must stand outside my house holding the ribeye. I will be in the street. We will talk and marinate the ribeye together. Compensation: I will grill your ribeye and maybe let you eat some of it. The end.

Thanks for tuning in to this installment of ZIT. We'll be back soon. For real. Soon.

Julie and Stacey

Thursday, September 10, 2009

Awesome Book Alert!!

Although here at ZIT we exude coolness through the non-existent pores of our flawless skin and know absolutely nothing about what it's like to be a geek, Brief pause as nose shoots out five inches from face and lightning bolt strikes back of chair, we enjoy reading books about how the other, less fortunate half lives. Paticularly when the book is smart, funny and has an adorable cover with a cheerleader and pom poms on it (I'm a sucker for pom poms).

Stacey: Me too!

And when the awesome authors of such a book drop by ZIT to do a little q&a--well, that's just icing on the cake. Read on to see how Charity Tahmaseb and Darcy Vance, authors of the fabulous, Geek Girls Guide to Cheerleading, handle the tough questions and then go out and get a copy of GGGTC!

1. Is there a difference between a geek and a nerd? And if so, can nerds also succeed at cheerleading?

Darcy: Did you intend for me to go all etymological on you? Yes? Oh goody!The term geek may come from the Scottish word geck, meaning fool, and was coined as a term describing sideshow entertainers who performed ridiculous feats (like biting the heads off of live chickens). It is unclear who was the actual fool in the scenario though – the biter or the guy who paid cash money to see this happen.An alternate explanation of the term compares it to the word gauche, which is French for left and has come to mean awkward.Nerd, on the other hand, is a mystery word. No one can agree on where it came from. Some say Dr. Seuss just made it up for his book If I Ran the Zoo. Others say it owes its birth to the Northern Electric Research and Development Laboratories in Canada. N.E.R.D. Labs, get it? Still others say its true origins come from a group of Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute students who did a compare and contrast on student activities on their campus in the 1960s. Their research showed two primary preferences: Frat Boy Types, otherwise known as drunk(s), and their opposite, the ones who actually attended class and did their homework, henceforth classified as knurd(s). Haha, see? It’s drunk spelled backward.In conclusion, geeks are generally left-handed people who prefer fresh poultry and nerds soberly research fictional zoo animals (but leave their heads intact). I hope this clears up any confusion.

Now, for part two of your question, can nerds succeed at cheerleading? Yes.

Charity: You know, sometimes Darcy just leaves you speechless. This would be one of those times.

2. Maxi dress or mini?

Darcy: Have you seen my thighs? Maxi all the way.

Charity: I’m going with the mini because 1) no one can see your combat boots if you’re wearing a maxi dress, and 2) it’s really hard to do much of anything except float around and look ethereal in a maxi dress.

3. Now that you have written a Geek Girls Guide to Cheerleading, don't you think it's only fair that you should write a Cheerleaders Guide to Geekiness?

Darcy: I believe Charity’s working on that right now, or something similar.

Charity: I am working on something called Dating on the Dork Side. However, as a book--and social experiment--it’s still a work in progress.

4. "High School was the best 4 years of my life. I would go back and do it again in a heartbeat." Please pick the letter that best describes your feelings about this statement.

a) Agree

b) Disagree

c) are you smoking crack?

Darcy: C. Definitely. I had a lot of fun in high school but I would never (I repeat, NEVER) want to go through it again.

Charity: What Darcy said.

5. Zombie vs. Geek girl--who is victorious?

Darcy: Geek girl. For sure. Zombies are a formidable foe and one has to admire their relentless pursuit of brains -- but they tend to lack the critical math skills necessary to determine the slope of a staircase. Without this knowledge they are incapable of climbing to higher ground, allowing geek girls to easily outmaneuver the zombie-folk and rain down geek fury upon them.

Charity: Definitely geek girl. She’s bound to have friends well-entrenched in zombie lore and would therefore be able to devise both a tactical and strategic plan for survival. And it’s well known that zombies have zero knowledge of geek lore. According to Sun Tzu’s The Art of War, this is a win for the geek girls.

6. How do Geek girls feel about tiaras?

D: Along with Aqua-Net and Duck tape, geek girls consider tiaras essential in the fight against zombies. Plus, they sparkle.

C: Tiaras are also sharp; they make good weapons.

7. Name your favorite geek celebrity.

Darcy: That cute kid from Juno, Superbad and Nick and Norah’s Infinite Playlist – Michael Cera. He’s funny and smart, and did I mention cute? He reminds me of all the best things about the boys I knew in high school.

Charity: I second the vote for Michael Cera. If you want old school geeky, I nominate Jeff Goldblum. Also, I feel compelled to report that the Geeky Dreamboats fan page on FaceBook has only 201 fans. This is a travesty. Log on and start clicking that Become a Fan button!

8. What's next for you guys?

Darcy: World domination, or a cookout – whichever comes first.

Charity: All of the above, but while wearing a tiara, because they’re sparkly--and sharp.

Thanks so much for stopping by ladies! You were fantastic!

Julie and Stacey

Thursday, August 27, 2009

Gimme a Z-I-T!!

In further celebration of back to school-ing, we here at Zombies in Tiaras bring you:

A Pictorial Celebration of Strange School Mascots! Part One.

(There are so many werid mascots, we may revisit this subject again when we run out of things to blog about...I mean...when school mascots are once again relevant and pertinent and...stuff.)

First up, our own home state of Arkansas. It's only right, and painfully easy. Arkansans, as always, have made some interesting decisions when it came to naming their mascots.


Go Wonder Boys!

SJ: This is the only image I could find on the Tech website. Seems they don't want anyone to know exactly what a 'wonder boy' looks like. Thankfully, I have the power of google and found this:

SJ: This, apparently, is a wonder boy. From a video game or something? He looks very fearsome and manly. His flowing blond mullet would terrify me into fleeing the field if I were a member of the opposing team. Fear the mullet, not the mallet.

JL: Too many inappropriate/offensive comments running through mind, trying to force my fingers to type them. Must. Resist.

So now everyone knows our shame as Arkansans. The Wonder Boys. This choice of mascot has long perplexed me. Mostly because--what about the girls' teams? Are they the "Wonder Boys" too? Or the "Wonder Girls?" Or, much more awesome-ly the "Wonder Women?" Because that would actually be cool.

Wonder Boys, though? I'm sorry. That's just #$*&@ up.


Go Weevils!

SJ: Yep. It's a bug. A really ugly bug.

SJ: This would scare my son to death. But he's five. I'm not sure that spooky schnozz is going to work it's intimidation magic on anyone out of kindergarten.

JL: I don't know. Those sneakers are pretty scary. Is it just me, or does he look like a character from Veggie Tales?

SJ: A real boll weevil feeds on cotton and lays its eggs in the immature buds, leaving behind a bunch of babies who will destroy the plant. My cotton-farming daddy would not have been amused at this choice of mascot. In fact, he probably would have written a Letter to The Paper. (Highest form of insult available to those who preferred to fight with the pen in the time before The Internetz.)

JL: Now THIS boll weevil actually looks bad-ass. And absolutely nothing like Mr. Green Furry Suit above. Whoever designed Montecillo's mascot costume=FAIL.

Moving on to other, even grosser mascot-ness, we have:


Go slugs!

SJ: It's a slug! It's a bright, yellow slug!!

JL: Why is he wearing glasses?? And reading Plato? This is freaking me out.

SJ: Eww! Man dressed as bright, yellow slug!!

JL: OMG, and this guy reminds me of a Teletubbie. I think it's his jolly, round stomach. Although, actually I think that's supposed to be the bottom part of his body, not his stomach. And where are his glasses? And tome by a Greek philospher? His sneakers are way cooler than the Boll weevil's, though. I'll give him that.

SJ: Holy gross a REAL bright, yellow slug! Blerck!! (I'm not a girly girl, but keep anything that slimy and squishy looking AWAY from me. Far, far, away.)

JL: I am a girly girl so I have no problem squealing (in a very high-pitched tone) EEEEEEEEEK!!! It's so slimy! And squishy-looking! And what are those weird pink things poking out of it underside? Nipples? They look like fingertips.

Okay, wait. They are fingertips. I see now. A person is actually holding the slug in his/her hand.
Eeeeeew!! Somebody's touching that thing! I think I preferred thinking the pink things were nipples.


Go okra! (Or maybe Go 'kra! That sound a little more bad ass. Emphasis on "little".)

SJ: This may be the best mascot ever! I want to cut him up, cover him in cornmeal, fry him, and eat greasy platefuls of okra-y goodness until I'm sick. I LOVE okra. My favorite southern food ever. In fact, I believe I've been moved to haiku:
Oh fearsome okra
with your scary unibrow
you rock very hard

JL: Okra is the most awesome southern food ever! (I prefer it so fried it's actually teetering on the edge of burnt to a crisp.) I love this mascot! He has angry eyebrows. Except curse you, Stacey! Now I'm starving.

SJ: That really is scary, though. That kid looks like he's about to make a run for it.

JL: Yeah, and check out his boxing gloves. He's like Rocky. You know, if Rocky were a vegetable instead of Sylvester Stallone.


Go Squatch! (That is fun to say.)

SJ: I actually find her kind of adorable, yet fearsome at the same time. I want to hug her and ask for a leaf from her basket. (It is a her, here, I think. Right? I mean, there's something feminine in the face. I'm thinking a guy Squatch would have longer teeth. Or something.)

JL: Hmmm, now that you mention it, I think it is a girl. Her hair is far too well-groomed to be a guy. She looks like she combed herself and possibly even applied a styling product before going out. See how those layers are artfully arranged around her face? No guy Squatch is going to mess with that. And no self-respecting guy Squatch is going to be caught dead carrying a wicker basket over his arm either. Definitely a girl. I, too, find her rather endearing. Mabye it's because of the cute way she's walking with those little girls. Or maybe I just feel a solidarity with her because that's what my legs look like if I don't shave for three days.

SJ: Can I confess that I find these dudes dressed up as Sasquatch kind of hot? I mean, I'm ashamed, but I do. I've always had a thing for hairy guys. I became obsessed with this boy I dated in college while he was sporting a super long untrimmed beard for a historically accurate version of Macbeth. True Confession, right here on the blog.

JL: Snort!! Spitting out Red Bull as picture of Stacey on date with Sasquatch wearing giant gold cross flashes across mind.

Tune in next week, when we'll probably blog about something else. And there will be pictures and commentary and...stuff!

Stacey and Julie

Monday, August 10, 2009

Back to School Fashion: Be afraid. Be very afraid.

According to pretty much every fashion magazine and website in the world, the hot fashion trend for the fall is 80's style. Which is both cool and frightening at the same time. Cool because the 80's are a decade of awesome. Frightening because some of the stuff we wore in the 80's was bad. So bad. Many heinous crimes against style were committed during that decade. We know. We have the photo albums to prove it. Well, at least I do. I'm a couple years older than Stacey so I'm not sure about her.
(Stacey: Oh hells yeah, I do. My elementary school years were filled with giant bangs full of Aquanet and lime green leggings. *shudder*)

Actually now that I think about it 2 years isn't that much so I'm willing to bet that somewhere in her deep dark past is a pic of her sporting a side ponytail or a scrunchie or possibly even (horror!) a BANANA CLIP. There has to be something. I don't know anybody who emerged unscathed.

(Stacey: I rocked the side ponytail. Hell, sometimes I still rock the side ponytail. Does that mean I'm fashion forward or terrifying behind? I guess it definitely means I was scathed. Big time scathed.)

Devious thought: Should I call up Stacey's mother and try to trick her into sending me a super-embarassing photo?

(Stacey: Um, you could try, devious thinker, but you'd have to wait for snail mail. My mother is not versed in the ways of scanner and email. Thank god.)

But because the 80's weren't a particularly fashion friendly decade, we, as your older and wiser counterparts, feel it is our duty to help you navigate through the treacherous waters of this potentially disaster-making trend.

First up: Acid wash denim

JL: To borrow a popular phrase from the 80's, Just say no to this look. If I have to explain why then I'm afraid you need to enroll in Remedial Fashion 101. Exceptions to this rule are if you happen to be a) a rodeo queen; b) a supermodel; or c) a time-traveler like in that Nicholas Sparks' book they just made into a movie (but only if you're time traveling back to 1984).

SJ: Actually, the acid washed denim is something I can see working on some people, as long as the acid washedness is limited to either top or bottom and not allowed to spread across the entire frame like some jean bleaching virus. What I find really terrifying about the featured photo is the shoulder pads. GOD, I hated shoulder pads. I even hated them then. I used to cut them out of my clothes and my mom would get so pissed. But even as an eight year old, I knew I didn't want line backer shoulders. I mean, call me crazy but....yeah...I wasn't crazy, I was right! Right!! Before my time right!!! (This makes up for the side ponytail action, doesn't it?)

The knotted tee shirt

JL: One of the few 80's looks that's still acceptable--even cute--today. Feel free to rock this look all you want, particularly if you have some cool tees.

[WARNING: Muffin top + this look=DON'T EVEN THINK ABOUT IT. I'm serious. And no, I don't care how cute your belly button ring is, or how much your new tat is begging to see the light of day. You can only wear this if you have a relatively flat stomach.]

SJ: Yes, I like this look. I also like to knot the tee in the back. As for muffin tops, my muffin top brings all the boys to the yard so I don't know what you're talking about. I think it's the baby stretch marks decorating the muffin top that really get them keyed up :).

Converse sneakers

JL: Another Kristen Stewart pic!! I'm starting to think this 80's thing is all her fault. Personally, I think she looks totally adorable, but you have to have that kind of "rocker chic" vibe going on to pull off Converse and a dress. So if you're a rocker chic, go for it. For everybody else, Converse and jeans/shorts/capris. They're timeless. Like pearls.

Okay, so maybe not exactly like pearls. Peace signs, maybe?

SJ: Timeless like jeans themselves. And white tee shirts. And diamond stud earrings. (I also think we should blame Kristen Stewart for this trend. I believe this is all her fault. I think we should make her cut her bangs and wear them fluffy and sprayed with the 'net for a week as penance.)

"Hammer pants"

JL: OMG. These should be illegal. In every state. Even MC Hammer couldn't get away with wearing these pants now. IF YOU WEAR THESE PANTS WE DON'T KNOW YOU. You're dead to us.

SJ: *Snarf!* Oh man, these are funny. I had a pair of these. I wore them to jazz class. I thought I was really, really cool. I am so ashamed. I'm dead to myself as of right now.

The Scrunchie

JL: Is this the part where I confess that I still own, like, 100 scrunchies? But no neon ones. And I don't wear them in public. Just at night, after I wash my hair. They're handy. I don't think I'm qualified to comment on scrunchies. I'm too biased.

SJ: I never really got into the scrunchie--they never seemed to hold up the full weight of my hair because I had a LOT of hair in the 80's--but my stepdaughter enjoyed coordinating her outfits with scrunchies that I bought her at Gymboree. I thought it was cute. I'm kind of sad now that she's too old to search for the perfect daisy-patterned scrunchie to match her dress.

80's hair: It burns us!

JL: I think I went to high school with the girl on the right. I can't even make fun of these chicks because I'm too busy hyperventilating with laughter over the next picture-

JL: Is this seriously for real? And if so, how many cans of Aqua Net do you think it took to achieve that kind of height? Although they look more like White Rain kind of people to me.

SJ: Muah!! Ha! Hehehehe!! Oh my god, that's wonderful. Priceless. I think I love them, in a weird sort of "we took matching to where the sidewalk ends and insanity begins" type of way.

JL: This kind of hair is like the MC Hammer pants--DON'T DO IT. Not only will your hair suffer, you'll be a walking fire hazard. Just think if somebody lit a match too close to these people. Poof! It would make nice zombie hair, though.

SJ: Awesome zombie hair. The undead love big hair. It's a fact.

Crimping. Another 80's hair obsession

JL: This is what a crimping iron looks like. And now, for more embarassing confessions . . . I still own one. A crimping iron. It's neon blue and green.

SJ: No, Julie. Please...say it isn't so.

JL: Wait. I gets worse. I not only still own one, I use it. Regularly.

SJ: No!!!! (*notion that Julie is most perfect, elegant southern woman ever comes crashing to the ground in a ball of white-rain fueled flames*)

JL: Mostly on my daughter, but sometimes on myself too. Now you all know my shame. Although honestly, I think crimping, when used judiciously, can look really cute. For instance:

JL: See? Portia de Rossi's crimped ponytail looks cute. I'm not totally crazy. Right? Right??

SJ: Right, Julie...right, of course. (*pets Julie soothingly*--it's the only thing a friend can do in this kind of situation.)

Queen of the 80's: Madonna

JL: I remember when I got the "Like a Virgin" tape. One of my friends asked me if I knew what a "virgin" was and I answered [very condescendingly] "Duh, it's Jesus' mother." I was a very sheltered child.

SJ: Aw, that's cute. I had no idea what it was either, but I remember my dad being horrified when I started singing it on my swingset instead of the "Rainbow Bright" songs.

Queen of today: Miley

JL: You can update the Madonna 80's look by doing something like what Miley is wearing here. Although unless you study pole dancing or your school has a very lenient (i.e. nonexistent) dress code, you're probably not going to get away with the skintight leather (or is it sequined?) mini skirt.

SJ: That's more of Miley's leg than I want to see. Though I do like the wife beater action. I think one should choose one or the other, however. Show skin on top, or on bottom. Both just screams "I'm trying too hard". Cover it up a little, leave a little mystery.

JL: Finally, check out my new favorite tee shirt that I just saw online at Charlotte Russe. Which has nothing to do with 80's fashion, but happens to be in keeping with my mood of late.
SJ: Oh, I love that! I want it! This is my mood shirt of late. "Real Bear Hugs Are Often Fatal". Remember that, people. It's not all fun and games out here with the bears.

Until next time, keep it drop dead fabulous,

Julie and Stacey

Wednesday, July 8, 2009


First off, apologies on not blogging in such a long while. We've been busy doing important, summer-related things. Like swimming and eating snowcones and--okay, never mind what we've been doing. The important thing is that we're back. :)

So. We were discussing what to blog about and Stacey came up with the idea to do Weird Summer Festivals/Beauty Pageants. And I was like "Yeah! Let's do that!" Because I thought it would be really fun and probably fairly easy.

Yeah--not. So not.

(SJ: Sorry, man. I have ideas and then I make you do the work. Next time I promise to do the hunting and googling. But you did great work here. I think you deserve a promotion of some kind.)

Because as it turns out, there is a LOT of freaky stuff going on out in the world, people. It was practically impossible to narrow it down to just one post.

For instance, in Prairie du Sac, Wisconsin they have . . .

The Wisconsin State Cow Chip Throw!!!

And they aren't throwing Doritos. They're chucking wedges of 100% authentic cow poop. Last year the top scoring contestant tossed his cow poop over 172 feet.

Did I mention that you can't wear gloves?

Throwing poop competitively is an, er, unusual summer activity (unless you're a monkey), but compared to this next festival it looks positively mundane--

Every year people who have almost died make a pligrimage to Las Nieves, Spain where they GO TO CHURCH IN A COFFIN. THAT'S HELD ALOFT BY MEMBERS OF THEIR FAMILY. I'm not even making this up. At some point, they each get up and tell their almost-death story and then they all go outside and have fireworks, carnival food, and general merriment.

This festival raises all sorts of questions. Like, where do these people get the coffins? Did they just happen to have a coffin lying around the house, or did they have one specially made, or what? And how do they decide what to wear? Fashion mags rarely discuss the appropriate attire for attending church in a coffin when you used to be dead except now you aren't. And the most burning question--how the hell do they get their families to agree to carry their not-dead asses around in a coffin for an entire day?? My sisters won't even let me borrow their shoes. No way are they hauling me around in a coffin, even if I WAS dead. I'd have to put my coffin on wheels and hitch it up to a donkey.

Except I don't have a donkey. Or a coffin. See? All kinds of questions . . .

Anyway, brace yourselves because this next pic is hands down one of the Top 5 Most Disturbing Things I've Ever Seen in My Life. (Also see pic at very top of this post)

In Castillo de Murcia, Spain, they have A BABY JUMPING FESTIVAL.

Let me say that one more time. A. Baby. Jumping. Festival. As in, they literally JUMP OVER BABIES.

But wait. It gets better. Not only do they jump over the babies, they do it while wearing scary, Circus clown/Elvis type costumes and wielding whips and truncheons. This is for the babies own good, as it cleanses them of evil. I don't know about you, but I think the evilness of babies is a plague that has been overlooked for too long. The way they just sit in those cute little carriers, swaddled in soft blankets, blinking big, innocent eyes at the world. You know they have to be up to something.

(SJ: Total aside, but that made me spit coffee. You are funny, Linker.)

I have some questions about this festival too. First, do they steal these babies or do parents actually consent to this? And if they consent, what kind of crack are they smoking? Who puts their helpless baby on a mattress so a scary dude in a Halloween costume can jump over it? I mean, seriously--that's the kind of childhood trauma that keeps therapists in business.

But I don't know. It's been a while since I had a baby. Stacey, what do you think? Would you let a freak dude jump over Logan to cleanse him of evil?

SJ: No way in hell. My baby is made of sunshine, not evil. Now if the dude could jump over him and his teeth would magically come in (instead of painfully breaking through the surface causing days of weeping and wailing)....well...that might be something I'd consider.

The true test of a good sense of humor is your ability to make fun of yourself, so as Arkansans we're going to go ahead and own up to a little piece of freakiness that takes place right in our own backyard.

The Miss Drumsticks Pageant!!

Yellville, Arkansas, located in the Ozark mountains, is home to the annual Turkey Trot Festival.

Which technically happens in October, not the summer, but since it's in our home state we're going to exercise our executive blogging powers and include it anyway.

Contestants in Miss Drumsticks are judged on their legs ONLY. Their faces and bodies are hidden behind a picture of a giant turkey. There's no talent portion, evening gown division, or onstage question. Just the gams. This is not to be confused with the Ms. Mosquito Legs contest, which takes place in Texas. Drumsticks legs and mosquito legs are two completely different things.

And I'm going to go ahead and say it: An Arkansas Drumstick Queen can kick a Texas Mosquito Leg Queen's butt any day of the week. In fact, maybe that should be a new festival. Turkey's vs. Mosquitoes. It needs a catchier name, though. Any ideas?

SJ: Not really, but Drumstick Queen sounds much cooler. Mosquito legs are so skinny and shapeless. And they've got six of them. Maybe this festival in Texas is near some sort of nuclear facility?

Until next time!


Stacey and Julie