Buenos Friday, people! It’s me, Ezmerelda, here once again to tell you about the horror of being Shannon’s muse week after week…after week.
But first…Karen Templeton has mentioned me on her blog!
I donâ€™t hate it, exactly, as much as I wish it would either go away or that Shanâ€™s muse Esmerelda would come finish it for me.
You may notice immediately that Miss Templeton spelled my name correctly, unlike Shannon. I take this as further evidence of her brilliance and as a sign I should be her muse instead. So I have built this shrine and will wait for her to come for me. (See how petite I am? Unlike Shannon, whose ass is larger than my home country.)
In the meantime, I am supposed to be reviewing a week in the life of Shannon’s muse. I believe I can sum it up with the following sentence we discovered:
Exhausted beyond what she’d ever thought possible, she put her hands to the small of her back and, hoppling like an old, crippled woman, made her way to her bed, only to find that sleep wouldn’t come, chased away by images of Will holding that baby in his arms, bouncing it as naturally as if he himself were the father.
First, what is this hoppling? I do not believe old Guatemalan women, crippled or otherwise, hopple.
And secondly, take a moment to savor the sheer horror that is that sentence. (That is her defective way of transcribing my brilliant ideas, by the way. I would never conceive of such a sentence.) Is there no limit in this country on the number of commas one may use in a sentence?
I shall rewrite this sentence while she is being stupid and taking more Sudafed at midnight because she can’t get the lid off of her new jar of that smelly ointment that is supposed to help her breathe, but in reality only makes her stink.
She went to bed, but sleep eluded her…because she kept waking herself by snoring like a fat, congested wild boar who accidentally snorted tin cans full of wooden marbles into her nostrils.
Oh wait…that’s about Shannon. For a moment I mistook this for the unauthorized biography of her I am writing while she sleeps. Here is my sentence:
She went to bed.
Until next week…if you are missing any commas, Shannon took them.
Ezmerelda’s cranky. I think she needs to be corrupted with Dunkin Donuts. Donuts=happiness. :coffee:
Thank you Ez. I was wondering where my commas went.
:lmao: I love Ezmerelda. We need Ezmerelda fangirl tees
Where do I begin…? The shrine :heart:, the commas, the wild boar… (who clearly paid a visit to my husband last night, as well :crazy:).
Ezmerelda clearly needs a stand-up gig. :groucho:
Heh. And then *I* misspell her name.
Now she’ll never come finish this :rant: book for me. Crap.
There is more to this story…
Husband: *pausing TV* What the hell are you doing?
Shan: Ezmerelda’s building a shrine.
Husband: *doesn’t even blink, bless his soul* Does she have to make so much noise?
Shan: Well, Jinx is fascinated by the shrine and keeps rubbing up against it and making it crooked and while I’m fixing that, Gizmo keeps sneaking and running off with Ezmerelda. Then, while I’m getting Ezmerelda, Jinx makes the books crooked again.
Husband: I am NOT helping you with this…thing.
Shan: Well, I have to get it done because when I pulled all these books off the shelf, the other ones started falling and the tall kid’s sneaker is holding some up. He needs it tomorrow. So either hold Ezmerelda or guard the books.
Husband: *throws shoe in general direction of cats, who flee for the high ground (upstairs)* Do it fast.
We need to get Jinx and Gizmo together with Zoe and Redford.
It would be a real cat-astrophe.:rofl:
Shannon. OOOOOOOOh Shannon! Mrs. Giggles left you a gift…:clap::clap::clap: