Ezmerelda here again. You all know me as Shannon’s muse, but I used to have my own life. This is a picture from a big Hollywood party I attended—it was a blind date, too. I was told my escort would be a hot, heavy-breathing lord. How was I supposed to know that meant he was lava-broiled and sucked air through a respirator mask? And Lord Vader doesn’t sound all that Regency-ish to me. The zebra, some movie star from Madagascar, kept lifting his tail where ever he pleased! Disgusting. I tried to talk to the lady in the scarlet dress and her date about it, but, quite frankly, they didn’t give a damn.
Anyway, back to whatsername. This week we learned our book, 72 Hours is a romantic suspense nominee for the 2006 RIO Award of Excellence. Some of you may have noticed my name is not listed anywhere. It should read: 72 Hours by Ezmerelda (transcribed by Whatsername). So while she humbly accepted your congratulations, I consoled myself by whispering suggestions concerning hairballs and pillows to her cats.
Mostly we worked on Taming Eliza Jane. We’ve handwritten many pages, but I have to wait for Shannon to type them in. She’s so lazy. She claims to be sick—a very sore throat—but who cares? She doesn’t need a voice to type.
The other thing we wrote was an actual writing-related Thursday Thirteen. Unfortunately, it turned into a post of epic proportions, so she substituted at the last minute with yesterday’s ATV list. I want you to know I had nothing to do with that. Mud in her hair? *shudder* Who knew they had redneck Yankees?
I won’t say any more, because Shannon said if I told you any more stories like the one about her freezing her hand to the doorknob she’d duct tape me to the front rack of her ATV. Since I didn’t check a single box on the “Top 10 signs you might be a redneck Guatemalan worry doll” quiz, I won’t tell you about Shannon falling asleep with her water bottle open and thinking she’d peed on the couch.
Now…you should go visit Emma Wayne Porter over at Emmatyville and check out her smilies because they’re way better than Shannon’s. And Mandy is doing a fabulous blog series on marketing you must read. She even invited me to be a guest blogger soon.
Well, technically she invited Shannon, but who would choose a redneck Yankee with mud in her hair and a waterlogged crotch over a hot Guatemalan worry doll who made it to first base with an evil Sith lord? (I would have made it to second, but when I unzipped his suit he started making these horrible wheezing and gurgling sounds. Very unsexy.)
So until next week—be nice to your muse or she might blog about you while you’re trying to spray the Cepacol at the back of your throat.