So to recap the week…Wow, you romance people are muy loco no? After spending the last several days bloghopping over Shannon’s shoulder, I must confess I considered throwing her under the bus and finding an author of horror or thriller novels to offer my services to just so I could feel safe at night. I am not sure if there has been too much alcohol involved or not enough, but I’m frightened.

Shannon spent much time “wrasslin” Taming Eliza Jane into submission. I will be glad when this book releases so she can stop talking like that. I warn you now, if she calls me Ezzie, darlin’ one more time, I will vomit on her apostrophe key.

She still has no idea what she’s going to write next. It’s as though she put all the names of possible projects on the Wheel of Fortune wheel and spun it, and now the thing won’t stop. I’d tell her to buy a vowel, but unless she gets that wheel to stop soon, she won’t be able to afford one.

There’s very little else I can say as Shannon is very boring and the highlight reel is very, very short. American Idol did create a mild uproar, though. When they found out Phil Stacey had been voted off the show, Shannon and her husband said more bad words in five minutes than Deadwood did in season one. I was impressed, especially since this is a woman who has drifted away from erotic romance because she has to close her eyes to type the word “p…p…pu…pu…” See?

And yet, when she opens her mouth you’d swear she is channeling a drunken sailor who just hit his thumb with a hammer.

That is, believe it or not, the most exciting thing to happen in her household this week. So boring. Her Mustang came out of storage yesterday, but it’s not inspected and is filthy so she cannot drive it. Her four-wheeler is checked out and ready to go, but the trails are still closed for mud season. While I try not to laugh at another’s misfortunes, Shannon’s raging case of spring fever has been rather amusing. Unless you’re a Dorito or a Hershey’s Kiss, in which case, Shannon ate about twice her considerable body weight in your extended family this week. My condolences, and you have about 1.3 seconds to burrow yourself into the couch cushions. Only on her most desperate days will that not stop her.

And…that is all. Until next week, avoid the insanity or your muse will throw you under the bus.