Laurel Cremant and RaeLynn Blue’s
Hot “n” Sprung Blog Hop tour is almost over. So of course, this is the moment when Jeanie
and I recall that we were invited to participate…and decide that yeah, we
should especially since everyone looks to be having a grand time. There are prizes, and cool authors and
shenanigans. We like shenanigans. Thus, we make our way to the scene of the fun.
Dressed in her customary all-black,
Jeanie gives Jayha the “it’s go time” sign.
Literally, the chick hands me a sign that with the words “it’s go time”
printed on them. What is this? An unedited scene from “The Boondocks”®
cartoon? Unedited, like this blog post
because we wrote it at 4 a.m.’ish EST.
Hey, don’t judge us…and if you must, be gentle. Unless you’re a rock hard, badazz alpha
character from one of our books, and in that case, you need to be wearing a
whole bunch of nothing but hot, naked skin and baby oil. Oh, yeah.
I start to say more but Jeanie Cesar’s
me. Cesar—C-E-S-A-R as in dog whisperer,
not C-A-E-S-A-R as in toss the Christians to the lions so that we might be entertained. Don’t worry, Jeanie cannot be a Caesar,
because yeah, I’d mock that sh*tty haircut all day long. Let’s be honest here, caesars were not known
for their awesome hairstyles.
I cannot be a Caesar, because…well,
I’m sure already La Donna Jayha and I read history and it didn’t turn out so
good for most of the Caesars in the end.
OMG, remember the Caesar that installed his horse in the senate. Bwahhhhhhhhh.
Just think how ridiculous he had to be to surpass Tiberius. That didn’t do a whole lot for the legacy of
the caesars if you discount that whole ‘most evil people in history’ list.
Jeanie snaps her fingers in front
of me. “Hey, momma. Focus.
Focus, you’re going off on a tangent.”
I get defensive. “You don’t know. I’m trying to use this blog as a teaching
moment since test scores in history, geography, and pretty much every category
that isn’t ‘random BS that kids know that won’t do ish for them later in life’.”
Jeanie rolls her eyes. “I’m pretty sure a lot of millionaires and
billionaires exist because they knew “random bullsh*t.” She actually forms the air quotes while
schooling me.
She has a point, but I won’t
admit it. Out loud at least. Reluctantly, I get back to the real focus of
this blog. Dressed in my customary “I
could go turkey hunting right now…if I had a compound bow and the will to sit
still for a long time and wasn’t afraid of things with beaks and wings” outfit,
I give Jeanie a double thumbs up sign.
For good measure, I also throw in the look that the character, Milton,
from the movie “Office Space”™ gave the camera before he threatened to burn the
island to the ground for putting salt in his margarita.
Jeanie makes that sound that
makes me think she has sinus trouble. Of course, that is the same sound that
indicates disgust or disbelief. I push
her. We spend a few precious moments miming
slap-boxing before Jeanie shushes me by offering me a slice of cake. Hey, don’t turn up your nose. Jeanie always has on a hoodie two sizes too
big so there is plenty of room to safely tuck a three-layer piece of cake…on a
plate…covered in plastic wrap with real silverware wrapped in a linen
napkin. Some people take smoke breaks; I
take ‘shove something sweet in my face’ breaks.
Happy now that I have cake, I
allow Jeanie to drag me along. I don’t
even ask why she has two machetes. It’s
not a racial-ethnic stereotype because Jeanie is part Samoan. We all know that
if there’s anyone who’s politically correct, it is me…Jayha. I attribute the machete thing to the fact
that Jeanie is part lunatic.
We peek around the corner. Well, Jeanie peeks. I simply finish my cake trusting that Jeanie
will see us safely through the chaos that I know is waiting for us. Seeing the all clear, we spy roll onto the
scene before pausing and then posing in that ridiculous martial-artsesque pose
that is all the rage in movies, yet will get you kicked in the face in any real
fight. Looking around again, we “sneak”
onto the scene. That is, if sneaking
involves a pirate cry, flailing of arms and a lot of hard breathing. Dammit, don’t judge us. Neither of us is eighteen anymore and yeah, you
try spy-rolling after a brisk walk. It’s
not the brisk walk or the spy roll that winds us. It’s the whole spy-rolling without drowning
in our cleavage whilst executing the spy roll.
Plus Jeanie has those machetes and I have that cake plate and fork.
So, the blog. Oh yeah, RaeLynn
tried to explain what we had to do but after an hour of us asking questions
that began with “how do” she logged off and maybe changed her phone number and
moved so we couldn’t bother her anymore.
Not to worry, we simply e-stalked Laurel who had no idea what she was getting
herself into. Laurel told us to do
stuff. First thing, reply to her email
with our fb and twitter info. Jeanie and
I had to go to the contact us page on our website to locate that info. After clicking on it, we found our fb page,
which we hadn’t used in yeah, forever.
We also discovered that our twitter page no longer exists. Or maybe it does and we just gave the
webmistress the incorrect information.
That’s a possibility.
Laurel then sent us an email
saying something about sharing some kind of link, but that’s not necessary
being we’re crashing this event. There
was something about graphics and email and stuff. Since we just spent an hour earlier and used
two laptops to fix our blog, which took a long time because we forgot our blog
address, we’re not doing that. Yeah, we
suck, but we’re okay with that. Our men
like it. Woo-hoo.
There’s another email about
rafflecopter, but it was long and yeah, we’re tired so we just told her it
looks hard. We’re simply writing our
blog, and telling her there are prizes and yeah, giving her the puppy eyes…and
the creepy smile. Since she’s easing
away, we think Laurel is buying it.
So, yeah, this is how you crash a
blog hop. Neat. Did I mention that I had cake? And that Jeanie had machetes? And the spy
roll? That was awesome-esque, if form
doesn’t mean ish to you.
Now, like that chick in the
insurance commercial that puts your stuff back after things go awry after you
get your ish pillaged by a Viking army, we do the cool dive, but not off of a
high-rise balcony, because smacking into concrete is not a good look. We do a gentler dive…into the warm waters of
the Atlantic because we both like to swim.
While swimming to our mega yacht, that will take us to our private
island, we discuss how glad we are to have that pillaging insurance along with
the earthquake and flood insurance. We also discuss why we didn’t use the
helicopter option to get to the yacht.
Boarding our yacht which is teaming
with a team of spec ops dudes, time-travelling Highlanders, Viking warriors,
vampires, shifters and other random hotness, we wave at Laurel, RaeLynn and all
of the other authors who participated in the blog hop. Hey y’all.
You know you’re bad! Jeanie
pauses to do the dance from that MJ video.
I do my best, but yeah, dancing is not really my forte. Kicking people off of stuff and into stuff is
more my thing. Speaking of which, there
is a blond c*nty dude on my list (yes, I have a list of people that offend me,
but that does not make me evil) that needs some face time with an active
volcano. Or some lions in an arena.
Jeanie snaps her fingers again
pulling me from my fantasy. “Okay, fine,”
I say as I get back to the matter at hand.
We hope neither the author nor readers hate us for basically not doing a
dang thing other than shamelessly promote ourselves, because we have nothing
but love for y’all. We might be uncouth
but we weren’t raised by a pack of wolves.
We know the first rule of Fight Cl— er, blog crashing: if you’re going
to crash, bring something. Ergo, since
we’re crashing, we’re giving away two e-copies of book one in the Rho Beta
Omicron Tau series. Hopefully, bring
stuff will insure that neither RaeLynn nor Laurel will try to end us…well, not today
anyway.
Thanks for having us. —The Jeanie and Jayha
BTW, we don’t own The Boondocks,
Office Space, Fight Club, the show featuring the dog whisperer, a mega yacht, a
helicopter or a team of hotness because
if we did, yeah, we would’ve simply hired someone to crash the blog, write the
blog and post the blog. We also are not
and have never been Caesars. If anyone
is a Caesar, or is related to a Caesar or is simply offended by anything, yeah,
please get over that. We believe caesars
have done enough carnage. Anyway, we do
claim rights to Rho Beta Omicron Tau…and recommend you read the books in the
series.
