To help battle the evil ear worm (and because this post goes live the day after I see Fall Out Boy and Paramour in concert) I’ll give you some tunes. And, no, I’m not going to be the oldest person at the show. That’s what my husband is for.
I know I should pony up an entertaining post, here, but I’m staring down the last week of kids in school, and I gotta knock some content edits out of the park, write a flash for another hop coming up, try to get some real writing done now that I think I have a handle on this crackpot scheme for my next book, beta read for my buddy, pick up a bunch of snacks for various end-of-the-year parties that I also have to attend (grrrrr), cram two months’ worth of porn-watching into the next 30 hours, and go find a sweet new pair of kicks to go with the Sex in the City-esque dress I got for this concert.
Man, I’m tired just thinking about it.
Notice there is no mention of house work. I’ll have all summer to clean this dump while my hobbits screw it up faster than I can pick it up. Damn them to Mount Doom.
Guess I shouldn’t get on board for hops that laud the joys of summer when I am the ultimate summer Grinch. My black, shriveled heart only dehydrates more in the summer heat. It’s science.
Shut up, lady, and make with the prizes!
I’m on it!
And I’m giving away an e-book from my backlist to a random commenter, so go comment crazy.