Returning guest blogger Sunny Frazier, whose first novel in the Christy Bristol Astrology Mysteries, Fools Rush In, received the Best Novel Award from Public Safety Writers Association, is here today to reveal all…about herself.
The third Christy Bristol Astrology Mystery, A Snitch in Time, is in bookstores now.
I’ve decided to take a page out of Donald Jr.’s playbook and come clean with the truths in my life. Feel free to fill in the blanks and come up with your own conclusions!
My ideal man is a cross between Jon Stewart and Joel McHale.
I get overwhelmed grocery shopping because there are too many choices. I count on coupons to tell me what to buy.
Menopause made me realize that my body is not just a temple but also a sweat lodge.
I can’t wear my glasses and talk on the phone at the same time.
I have three kidneys. They don’t take the other two out when you get a transplant.
I alphabetize my book shelf so I won’t have to choose my next read. Then I cheat.
I can’t believe I got a good conduct medal in the military.
No matter what people say, eleven cats are not enough.
I live in silence. That way I can hear what the kitties are up to.
I believe in ghosts, especially the one living in the front bedroom
I always tell the truth because people think I’m joking.
I can’t tell my left from my right. Being ambidextrous is confusing.
Numbers baffle me unless I’m doing astrology. Astrology makes sense.
I’m fascinated by aging. You never know what’s going to break down next.
I don’t have any more fantasies left. I’ve done them all.
I’ve caused two riots in foreign countries (Germany and Haiti) and am barred from ever entering Colombia again. Not my fault.
Living next door to a government protected Iranian mass murderer was never on my bucket list.
I once sold copies of my books at a funeral. By request.
To me, onions smell like bad body odor.
I ate my first chicken strips at the age of 65. Not bad.
I’ve never eaten a S’more.
I’ve been kicked out of 3 writing groups. Apparently real criticism is not allowed. They never published.
I’m a former newspaper reporter. I don’t do rewrites.
Growing up with a future nun is punishment enough.
I’ve never been able to decipher my handwriting.
When people call me “nice,” they’re referring to a fictional character.
I can’t keep secrets, especially my own.
Being bipolar is the worst of both worlds.
I do crossword puzzles in ink. Not because I’m confident, I just like to see the mess I make.
When I walk into a room and there are no books in sight, I feel like I’m in a ghost town.
Now I want to believe in dragons. Thank you Game of Thrones.
Hanging upside down on monkey bars, my 7 yr old self knew life would never be better than this.
I don’t smoke. What’s the use of spending money on something that burns but doesn’t get you high?
The first time I ate lobster, I knew Nirvana.
My mother believed Kindergarten was a communist plot.
In the Navy I learned you never piss off the disbursing clerk who pays you and the corpsman with access to your shot record.
I don’t mind being catty, I just don’t want to be caught at it.
I don’t believe in bluffing at poker. Now nobody will play with me.
All of the above are original and true thoughts. My head is now cleared for landing.