A Contest! With Like, A Prize And Everything!

No, really. Not kiddin'.

There's a very funny author over at Steeple Hill named Mary Griffith. She's a hoot. And I e-mailed her and she e-mailed me back so I can tell people "Hey! I know her!" right?

Anyway, she has a book coming out December 27.



The blurb says, "How many wedding cakes does she have to eat to be the bigger person?"

And I cannot snark that cover. It's funny for the right reasons.

Missie and I will be doing an interview with the Divine Ms. G on December 28, 2005. We'll also announce the winner of the contest that day.

Win what? An autographed copy of Made of Honor.

What's the contest? Glad you asked. Put your snark hats on. The successful contest entrant shall:

• Present a romance novel title with a one or two sentence blurb, totally worthy of Snarkling Clean's proud traditions. For example:

"The Homey and the Hoochymama- He wanted easy money; she was just easy."

• You must totally make this up yourself, no peeking!
• The above example is as racy as we want; PG please.
• You can enter as many times as you want from December 1 to Dec 15. Enter in the comments of any blog entry, no matter the subject.
• Missie and I will choose the winner; in the event of a tie Camy will decide since she got us into this. Plus, since Missie and I actually live about 1,500 miles away from each other I can't wrestle her to the ground.

UPDATE: You don't have to do a "blank and the blank" title. Anything you like, such as:

"A Room With a Viewmaster...how could she resist a man with slides of Disneyworld?"

I'll be posting excerpts from Mary's book every so often until then. Eat lots of turkey, thank God you only see those relatives once a year, and Happy Snarking!

Excerpt of Made of Honor, by Mary Griffith

CHAPTER ONE

"I'm turning into a Chia pet.

With legs.

Little children are starting to toss dandelions when they see me. The brides of Leverhill, Illinois have taught the kiddies well. One little darling from church, a cutie with zigzag parts and snaggle teeth, wants to grow up and take my job-big flower girl. The little girl nailed it, especially about the big part, but we're not going there. Not today, with my formerly fat best friend looking like Twiggy goes bridal, while I gasp for breath in a dress fit for a train wreck. My only consolation is not having to worry about Tracey aiming a floral missile (known to some as a bouquet) at my head later on.

She wouldn't do me like that, would she? Nah. At least that's what I tell myself, but then I thought this wedding wouldn't happen either. Still, this bride is one of my closest friends and my roommate for the past three years. Tracey Cox, well, Tracey Blackman now, has picked enough baby's breath out of my teeth to know better.

Just in case though, a pint of Chunky Monkey and a pedicure appointment await me after this reception. Who knows? Tracey just might snap and throw long. Marriage does things to people. One day they're normal and the next they're inviting total strangers to wear ugly dresses in their weddings and then after the ceremony, said brides proceed to cut off all communication with members of the wedding party except for goofy Christmas photos of the newlyweds cradling an ugly dog, signed "from all of us." And don't let them actually get pregnant. Have you ever seen an entire album of birth photos? Not cute.

Do I sound bitter?

I'm not. I have friends. Sistahs even. And trying to keep up with them, keep my job and stay right with God occupies most of my time. Like now. I need to find Rochelle, my other best friend (yes, I have two) and founder of the Sassy Sistahood email list. If I don't catch up to her soon, she might make a fool of herself.

Or me.

Though my girlfriend is a paragon of virtue most days, weddings turn Rochelle into a gelatinous pool of desperation. Remember the birth photo album I mentioned? It's worse. Okay, so nothing's worse than that, but it's bad. Even the sight of me, voluptuous black woman tangled in tulips after a bouquet toss, is easier on the eyes."