A huge shout out to my girl, Dorothy Parker, for the title.
Last week's New Yorker Magazine had the best cartoon ever. And since there's probably no way I can get permission to show it here, I'll describe it.
It was called, "The Three Martini Breakfast." And the picture consisted of a man slumped over the breakfast table, a woman in a fetal position passed out under a chair, the breakfast on the stove was on fire, there were broken martini glasses and an empty bottle of vodka with a wide-eyed cat watching it all. Brilliant. Wish I'd thought of that.
So, just now my nine year old son is in the bathtub and he calls down, "Mom! Can you get me a glass of water?'
Me: I'm busy with my KF blog. Get it yourself.
Jack: I can't. You need to get it for me.
Jack: I'm relaxing.
After grinding my teeth and counting to ten - an application that's usefulness goes WAY beyond the shaken baby syndrome years - I decide to ignore him completely and keep working on the blog. That's how important you guys are to me.
It's been a crazy week since I Shot You Babe came out and I've gotten a lot of e-mails from fans already (many of them who've read the book and are screaming, "NOOOOOOO," for some reason). I had a signing Saturday at the local Borders, an interview with the newspaper on Sunday and here and there have guest blogged on some great sites. I have another signing this Saturday at the Davenport, IA Barnes & Noble and a signing next week at the Romance Writers of America Conference in D.C.
In the meantime, I've got dishes in the dishwasher; laundry going so I can pack for my son's vacation with a friend (I can't believe he gets a #!%*! vacation!) and because I require clean underwear; am cleaning one catbox and two guinea pig cages; have bills to pay and today I put Sgt. Assassin on a plane to Iraq for the next year. That's him in the photo above. And yes, I know what he's looking at. And no, my head really isn't larger than his.
What you can't see is that he's now in great physical shape except for the broken ankle. He could probably wear my jeans if he wanted to. Life is so unfair.
As you can guess, I'm having a drink. A big one. With an orange umbrella (which looks weird sticking out of a beer bottle), ice cream sandwhiches (two...I'm not a total pig) and a complete lack of self-respect.
So this blog is unnaturally short. Blame Hellion. I was on the Romance Writers Revenge drinking virtual Bombay Bombers and a strange, smoking drink named Assassin's Last Call. And since I thought that was fun in a completely non-satisfying way (real alcohol is way better), I thought a little contest was in order.
Come up with a drink based on my series. You can base it on one of the characters, a scene or what have you. This weekend, I'll have some of my girlfriends over and we will test out these potions. Whichever one is best (meaning it tastes good and doesn't render us blind, fat or just plain pissed off) wins a complete set of the Bombay Series signed by moi.
Are you up to the challenge? I sure as hell hope so, because I could use a good amnesia-inducing drink. Let's see what you've got.
Tuesday, July 07, 2009
Posted by Leslie Langtry at 11:00 AM