Guest Blogger-Amy Andrews
Hi all! I’m Charly, Rebecca’s assistant. We thought it’d be fun to do a ‘Romance: The Good, the Bad, and the Disastrous’ theme with guest bloggers throughout the summer months. Every Monday and Thursday, we’ll have a guest blogger talk about fun stuff like horrible dates, good dates, etc. Some bloggers will have a contest, and some won’t – it’s totally up to them. If there is a contest, I’ll randomly draw a winner from the post comments, send the winner’s email address to the guest blogger, and they’ll take it from there. Rebecca will jump in and blog when she can. For now, enjoy as we play!
I need to preface this piece by saying that I never thought I’d ever be writing a blog with milking and snails in the title. And I’m pretty much up for writing about anything. So far I’ve written blogs on such diverse topics as mighty wangs, ick words, hate mail, being a fat author, pirates (the Arrrrrrr kind not the illegal download kind) and pink fluffy handcuffs to name a few. But I knew the blog had to be about me – not my books – so had decided on blogging about lists. Making them and crossing them off. Which was going to lead to my obsession with post-it notes and pictures of my computer screen currently surrounded by a fringe of them.
All a little more relevant to my life than snail milking I can tell you! But then my seventeen year old daughter went and bought something dodgy off the internet which leads me to this topic. It’s not really related to anything about me or my life in particular, other than it being one of life’s grand WTF moments you have as a mother in which you wonder where you went wrong. So, I thought I’d share because maybe you guys might have had moments like this as well and when you’ve all finished headdesk’ing I was hoping you’d tell me what dumb things your teenager had done and then I wouldn’t feel so bad….
Sometimes that helps.
So….I found this vial (luckily not yet accessed) on my daughter’s desk a couple of nights ago. She wasn’t home at the time. Now, I’ve been a nurse for twenty-seven years (which makes this story even more what the hell was she thinking) so I know a vial when I see one. It contained a rather viscous looking clear fluid and had Chinese writing on it and was sitting next to the box from which it had obviously come, also covered in Chinese writing.
ME: What the?
Shows it to husband. It has two English words on – hyaluronic acid. Immediately Google hyaluronic acid. Thankfully not some new liquid form of Ice or other equally scary drug. Big sigh – daughter probably not a drug addict. Win for us.
Two hours later daughter comes home from late night shopping, laden with parcels for prom and happy as a clam.
ME: (holding up vial) Ahhh, what’s this?
HER: (no hesitation) Snail oil.
ME: (blinking) You mean snake oil, right?
ME: What the hell is snail oil?
HER: It’s oil from snails. You rub it on your face. It’s supposed to be really good.
ME: (brains exploding trying to know where to even start) How do you know?
HER: The website has videos of clinics where they have snails crawling over people’s faces and how great it is for your skin.
ME: No. How do you know its snail oil? That it is what it says it is?
Especially when the vial and packaging are covered in a language none of us can read?
HER: looks at me perplexed like why on earth wouldn’t it be what it says it is….
ME: (wondering where I went wrong) Long, long rant followed about buying bogus crap of dodgy origins and even dodgier claims off the freaking internet from freaking China. A lecture about lack of regulations, controls, oversight blah, blah, blah. Horror stories about death and faces peeling off ensued.
Now, she’s used to horror stories from me. Trust, me as someone who worked in a PICU for twenty-one years, I have a horror story for every life situation and have regaled my kids with every one of them at every opportunity in my effort to keep them safe and aware of potential adverse health consequences should they not properly think through their actions. Such stories always inevitably ended up with them being in ICU. Usually they ran something like this – “if you play with matches you might drop it on the carpet and set the house alight and collapse from smoke inhalation and get third degree burns and end up in ICU for a long time where all your skin will need to be replaced and where you could possibly die and I’m much too young to be sad for the rest of my life.”
Drastic? Yes. It has, however, served me well over the years.
But let me tell you, I outdid myself with bogus Chinese snail slime horror stories!
The thing is though, she honestly hadn’t thought that it could be bogus. It hadn’t occurred to her to question the claims or the safety of buying something like this off the internet from god knew who. Or even to consult her mother, the nurse, who probably had some valuable insights into these sorts of things. And here I was thinking I’d raised my kids to always question things…
Like, for starters, let’s just pretend for a moment that it is actual snail slime in that vial. How do they extract the slime? Do they milk it somehow? Do snails have tiny udders I’ve never known about?
I’m thinking not…
I’m thinking the extraction process is slightly more brutal and not one too many snails would survive. And whilst snails are kinda gross little slimy creatures, I’m not sure they should be sacrificed so people can have another weird beauty ritual. This is a girl who is big on animal rights but that hadn’t occurred to her either.
So, there you have it. Dumb teenager thing #2436…..Please, please tell me I’m not alone.
Amy is an award-winning, best-selling Aussie author who has written over
fifty contemporary romances in both the traditional and digital markets. She
loves good books, fab food, great wine and frequent travel – preferably all
four together. She lives on acreage on the outskirts of Brisbane with a
gorgeous mountain view but secretly wishes it was the hillsides of Tuscany.
To keep up with her latest releases and giveaways sign up for her newsletter
Some Girls Do
Fashion student Lacey Weston is desperate to leave the city and go home to Jumbuck Springs. Her three older brothers are adamant she’s not. They made a death bed promise to their mother that Lacey would stay the distance at design school and Ethan, the oldest, takes this responsibility very seriously. But Lacey is deeply homesick and determined not to be dissuaded again. She’s also impulsive enough to try anything – even faking a pregnancy.
Ex-cop turned mechanic, Cooper Grainger – one of Ethan’s oldest friends -agrees to watch out for Lacey in the city even though he has a history with her he’d rather forget. How hard could it be, right? But a couple of years later, Coop is over pulling Lacey out of scrapes and cleaning up her messes
as she tries to outrun her grief and sense of dislocation. He takes her back
to Jumbuck Springs so she can persuade her brothers to let her come home.
But things don’t go according to plan. Before Coop knows it Lacey’s pregnant
and he’s putting his hand up as the fake baby daddy, filling in for the town
mechanic and moving in with her at the local pub.
Lacey is thrilled to have won a reprieve but nothing about the situation
sits well with Coop. Least of all having sweet little Lacey Weston as his
Leave a comment for a chance to win a print copy of Amy’s USA Today bestselling Brazen – No More Mr Nice Guy and a retro romance cover inspired notebook. It’s open