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, well...it 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".

ONE:



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*

TWO:



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.

THREE:



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?

FOUR:



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!

FIVE:



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.

SIX:



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.

SEVEN:



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.)

EIGHT:



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.

NINE:



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.

TEN:



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.

ELEVEN:



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

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:

From deerscents.com

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.

Decoys
"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.