Saturday, March 26, 2011
Thursday, March 17, 2011
Around Vegas this weekend.
Las Vegas Romance Writers - RWA
Join us as we welcome Kris Tualla, who will discuss choices in publishing.
Publishing is changing drastically; as authors, we need to change with it. As the industry wobbles
, we need to look at our choices in publishing. But before being tempted to indie-pub, new authors still need to try traditional paths before going another route. But what if you have? What's next?
Las Vegas, NV 89146 - USA
Saturday, March 19 at 10:00 AM
Photo: http://photos1.meetupstatic.com/photos/event/d/c/e/d/event_19736557.jpeg
Details: http://www.meetup.com/las-vegas-romance-writers/events/15790991/
TOUCH-A-TRUCK
TOUCH-A-TRUCK® 2011
SATURDAY, MARCH 19TH
9:30 AM - 2:00 PM
ORLEANS ARENA
Northwest Parking Lot
Do you have a truck that you would like to bring
to the event? Call us at (702)870-9583
FAMILY TO FAMILY CONNECTION'S
8:30 AM - 9:30 AM HORN FREE HOUR FOR CHILDREN
WITH SPECIAL NEEDS SPONSORED BY:
$6 Per Person / Kids Under 2 FREE
http://www.touchatruck.com/
Steppin on Thursday
March 17, 2011 at 7pm to March 18, 2011 at 12am – Mango's Beach Lounge
Grown and Sexy Fun Steppin and learning to step into the weekend with great music, food, and drinks! This is our New Home relocation so the set is free, pass the news, bring a friend! (2 drink Minimu…
Organized by Steppers West Associates, Inc.
Type: chicago, style, steppin, dance, party
Monte Pittman - Free Concert
Thursday, March 17, Midnight
The Lounge at The Palms Hotel Las Vegas
Originating from Longview, Texas, Monte Pittman moved to LA in 1999 and began giving guitar lessons
to filmmaker Guy Ritchie. Those lessons led to an introduction to Ritchie's wife, Madonna and Pittman
went on to teach the material girl as well. Over the past decade, Pittman has played with Madonna on
tour and in studio, and was the guitar player for industrial rock band Prong. Currently, Pittman is the lead
guitarist and music director for Adam Lambert's live band. Pittman continues to be in high demand as a
live musician, singer, songwriter and producer/co-producer. Recently, Pittman released The Deepest
Dark, his first solo effort which he describes as "…coming out of the black, into the light."
Admission is free
Join us as we welcome Kris Tualla, who will discuss choices in publishing.
Publishing is changing drastically; as authors, we need to change with it. As the industry wobbles
, we need to look at our choices in publishing. But before being tempted to indie-pub, new authors still need to try traditional paths before going another route. But what if you have? What's next?
Las Vegas, NV 89146 - USA
Saturday, March 19 at 10:00 AM
Photo: http://photos1.meetupstatic.com/photos/event/d/c/e/d/event_19736557.jpeg
Details: http://www.meetup.com/las-vegas-romance-writers/events/15790991/
TOUCH-A-TRUCK
TOUCH-A-TRUCK® 2011
SATURDAY, MARCH 19TH
9:30 AM - 2:00 PM
ORLEANS ARENA
Northwest Parking Lot
Do you have a truck that you would like to bring
to the event? Call us at (702)870-9583
FAMILY TO FAMILY CONNECTION'S
8:30 AM - 9:30 AM HORN FREE HOUR FOR CHILDREN
WITH SPECIAL NEEDS SPONSORED BY:
$6 Per Person / Kids Under 2 FREE
http://www.touchatruck.com/
Steppin on Thursday
March 17, 2011 at 7pm to March 18, 2011 at 12am – Mango's Beach Lounge
Grown and Sexy Fun Steppin and learning to step into the weekend with great music, food, and drinks! This is our New Home relocation so the set is free, pass the news, bring a friend! (2 drink Minimu…
Organized by Steppers West Associates, Inc.
Type: chicago, style, steppin, dance, party
Monte Pittman - Free Concert
Thursday, March 17, Midnight
The Lounge at The Palms Hotel Las Vegas
Originating from Longview, Texas, Monte Pittman moved to LA in 1999 and began giving guitar lessons
to filmmaker Guy Ritchie. Those lessons led to an introduction to Ritchie's wife, Madonna and Pittman
went on to teach the material girl as well. Over the past decade, Pittman has played with Madonna on
tour and in studio, and was the guitar player for industrial rock band Prong. Currently, Pittman is the lead
guitarist and music director for Adam Lambert's live band. Pittman continues to be in high demand as a
live musician, singer, songwriter and producer/co-producer. Recently, Pittman released The Deepest
Dark, his first solo effort which he describes as "…coming out of the black, into the light."
Admission is free
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
'Gotta go now.' Excerpt from a work in progress.
Excerpt from a work in progress.
The police were at the Brown’s house when I got home. The Browns were my current foster family. Mine and three other teenage girls’, along with one baby boy, born three months ago to my roommate, Robin. Candie Walker, another housemate, four foot tall by four foot wide blond with angry grey eyes and a rose tattoo on her neck was handcuffed and sitting in the back of one of the cruisers.
I looked at Mr. Brown who was sitting on a porch rocker. His eyes caught mine for the briefest of moments then darted away. He gestured his head in the direction of Kanisha Griffin, Candie’s roommate. “Candie went off on Nisha, tried to kill her.”
“Why, what happened?”
“Nisha got into her stash of cookies under her bed. Candie kept screaming bout Nisha eatin up her thin-mints and then tried to stab her with some scissors.”
“Anybody hurt?”
“Mrs. Brown got a cut on her hand when she tried to get between them two. Like stickin your hand in a dog fight. You the ones gonna get bit.” His jaw clenched to match his clenched hands. He sat stiff backed on the rocking chair and watched as the police talked to the other girl. Perspiration glistened across his furrowed brow as he strained to hear what was being said.
His anxiety brought an ironic smile to my lips as I moved into the house. My room was empty. I took the backpack I had used for school from the shelf and emptied it into the trash. Then started rolling up the few items of clothing I owned. I had just stuffed the packed bag back into its place on the shelf as Robin Leslie, my roommate, came in with her sleeping baby in her arms.
“Were you here when the stuff went down?“ She laughed as she spoke. I took the baby from her arms and sat on the bed to hold him. He felt good in my arms. Like I mattered to someone.
Robin was a tough fifteen year old with hair died jet black, black nails, black lipstick and spiked jewelry adorning her fair skin. Her baby’s hair was almost golden and his skin almost as brown as mine. His face round and soft with grey eyes. I kissed his cheek, inhaled deeply his sweet baby scent and smiled into his sleeping face.
‘No. I just walked up a minute ago.” I starred at little JJ’s face. ‘JJ’ stood for Jordan, after Robins brother, and James for my last name. Robin and I had become best friends in the last six months we'd lived together. “Is he Mr’s Browns baby?” The words sprang from my lips before I could stop them. I had always suspected it was true.
Robin froze for a moment, as shocked by my question as I was. “Yeah, he is.” She confessed in a whispered sigh. “You gonna tell? You know they’ll just take him from me and ship me off somewhere worse. We’ll never see each other again.” Her mistrust of the system was understandable to me.
“No, I’m not gonna tell. I kinda knew it anyway, they way he looks at you and always leaves when you come in and all.” My eyes never left the sleeping baby’s face. He was so peaceful and beautiful. “I’m leaving. I wanted to be sure you and him were gonna be ok.” Robin sat down next to me on the edge of the bed and stroked the baby’s hair. “Did he hurt you?” I pressed.
“No. He was just kinda pitiful, sniffin around like he ain’t got none from his wife for a while. I thought if I gave it to him once in a while it would make things easier around here.” Her face was sad but there were no tears. She was too tough for tears.
“You think he’ll help you take care of JJ?”
She just shrugged.
“When you leaving?” Not why or how, only when. She had been in the system long enough and said goodbye often enough to know that sometimes people just gotta go. I had no answer because I hadn’t worked it all out yet. It would be soon.
Noise and commotion from the front of the house drew us away from our tête-à-tête. We ran to the front door. Mr. Brown was on his feet, cussing and shouting. One police office was on his radio while another cop ran down the driveway with Mrs. Brown at his heals screaming “Stop! Stop! Stop!” Both were chasing Candie as she sped away in the cop car.
“The suspect took control of the squad car…” Cop number one reported to the station. The officer in pursuit pulled his weapon, stopped in the street and pointed it at the retreating vehicle. He didn’t fire.
“Was the suspect handcuffed?” demanded the voice on the other end of the line.
“Yes sir. She must have worked her hands to her front and climbed over the seat. She is heading west on Riverdale!”
“We are in pursuit.” The communication disconnected. Sirens could be heard in the distance as they approached.
“Damn it!” the officer shouted into the air. He turned and scowled in our direction as the sound of our hysterical laughter and the wail of the now crying baby broke through the tumult.
The police were at the Brown’s house when I got home. The Browns were my current foster family. Mine and three other teenage girls’, along with one baby boy, born three months ago to my roommate, Robin. Candie Walker, another housemate, four foot tall by four foot wide blond with angry grey eyes and a rose tattoo on her neck was handcuffed and sitting in the back of one of the cruisers.
I looked at Mr. Brown who was sitting on a porch rocker. His eyes caught mine for the briefest of moments then darted away. He gestured his head in the direction of Kanisha Griffin, Candie’s roommate. “Candie went off on Nisha, tried to kill her.”
“Why, what happened?”
“Nisha got into her stash of cookies under her bed. Candie kept screaming bout Nisha eatin up her thin-mints and then tried to stab her with some scissors.”
“Anybody hurt?”
“Mrs. Brown got a cut on her hand when she tried to get between them two. Like stickin your hand in a dog fight. You the ones gonna get bit.” His jaw clenched to match his clenched hands. He sat stiff backed on the rocking chair and watched as the police talked to the other girl. Perspiration glistened across his furrowed brow as he strained to hear what was being said.
His anxiety brought an ironic smile to my lips as I moved into the house. My room was empty. I took the backpack I had used for school from the shelf and emptied it into the trash. Then started rolling up the few items of clothing I owned. I had just stuffed the packed bag back into its place on the shelf as Robin Leslie, my roommate, came in with her sleeping baby in her arms.
“Were you here when the stuff went down?“ She laughed as she spoke. I took the baby from her arms and sat on the bed to hold him. He felt good in my arms. Like I mattered to someone.
Robin was a tough fifteen year old with hair died jet black, black nails, black lipstick and spiked jewelry adorning her fair skin. Her baby’s hair was almost golden and his skin almost as brown as mine. His face round and soft with grey eyes. I kissed his cheek, inhaled deeply his sweet baby scent and smiled into his sleeping face.
‘No. I just walked up a minute ago.” I starred at little JJ’s face. ‘JJ’ stood for Jordan, after Robins brother, and James for my last name. Robin and I had become best friends in the last six months we'd lived together. “Is he Mr’s Browns baby?” The words sprang from my lips before I could stop them. I had always suspected it was true.
Robin froze for a moment, as shocked by my question as I was. “Yeah, he is.” She confessed in a whispered sigh. “You gonna tell? You know they’ll just take him from me and ship me off somewhere worse. We’ll never see each other again.” Her mistrust of the system was understandable to me.
“No, I’m not gonna tell. I kinda knew it anyway, they way he looks at you and always leaves when you come in and all.” My eyes never left the sleeping baby’s face. He was so peaceful and beautiful. “I’m leaving. I wanted to be sure you and him were gonna be ok.” Robin sat down next to me on the edge of the bed and stroked the baby’s hair. “Did he hurt you?” I pressed.
“No. He was just kinda pitiful, sniffin around like he ain’t got none from his wife for a while. I thought if I gave it to him once in a while it would make things easier around here.” Her face was sad but there were no tears. She was too tough for tears.
“You think he’ll help you take care of JJ?”
She just shrugged.
“When you leaving?” Not why or how, only when. She had been in the system long enough and said goodbye often enough to know that sometimes people just gotta go. I had no answer because I hadn’t worked it all out yet. It would be soon.
Noise and commotion from the front of the house drew us away from our tête-à-tête. We ran to the front door. Mr. Brown was on his feet, cussing and shouting. One police office was on his radio while another cop ran down the driveway with Mrs. Brown at his heals screaming “Stop! Stop! Stop!” Both were chasing Candie as she sped away in the cop car.
“The suspect took control of the squad car…” Cop number one reported to the station. The officer in pursuit pulled his weapon, stopped in the street and pointed it at the retreating vehicle. He didn’t fire.
“Was the suspect handcuffed?” demanded the voice on the other end of the line.
“Yes sir. She must have worked her hands to her front and climbed over the seat. She is heading west on Riverdale!”
“We are in pursuit.” The communication disconnected. Sirens could be heard in the distance as they approached.
“Damn it!” the officer shouted into the air. He turned and scowled in our direction as the sound of our hysterical laughter and the wail of the now crying baby broke through the tumult.
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