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.