This one is a heavenly-looking young man. He’s tall and muscled like a swimmer or a statue by Michelangelo. No, not a statue, nothing so mundane, so common, as a mere masterpiece. More like its inspiration.
— Cynthia Leitich Smith, “Eternal”
OH SNAP, SMEYER.
I bought Cynthia Leitich Smith’s Eternal today. It was sealed and I couldn’t take a peek, but… “A fallen angel; A vampire princess; Can their love be ~ETERNAL”. TELL ME THAT DOESN’T SOUND PROMISING.
Then I went home, opened the wrap and -
I may be heaven-sent, but I’m not perfect.
WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU’RE NOT PERFECT, YOU STUPID GODMADE ANGEL. STRIKE ONE.
I watch my girl slip the oversize Dallas Cowboys T-shirt over her pink bikini panties and turn in for the night.
WHAT’S THE SETTING, THE PLAYBOY MANSION? STRIKE TWO.
That sounds perverted, I know. But I’ve always watched her dress, undress, shower, and bathe.
DO ASSUAGE MY HORROR BY SHARING MORE OF YOUR VOYEURISTIC ACTIVITIES. STRIKESTRIKESTRIKESTRIKE. SEE WHAT YOU’VE DONE, STEPHENIE MEYER, SEE WHAT YOU’VE DONE TO POP CULTURE.
Then there was that one blessed weekend last August when the air conditioner broke. She spent a full day in bed, buck naked, reading Tolkien under the ceiling fan.
A BLESSED WEEKEND? A BLESSED WEEKEND?? WHAT HAPPENED TO YOUR SUPPOSED INDIFFERENCE, YOU SLIMY LITTLE WINGED SEX FIEND. PLUS, CLASSIC CASE OF “PLEASE DON’T THINK MY CHARACTER IS A BRAINLESS SLUT; LOOK, SHE READS *INSERT BOOK BY DEAD AUTHOR*!”.
WHAT. IS. THIS.
HOW CAN SO MUCH FAIL BE IN HALF A PAGE. COMPREHENSION ERROR ERROR ERROR.
*crawls back to Meg Cabot*
Edit: Smith is “regarded as an expert in Children’s Literature by the press” (Wikipedia, 2010). WHAT IS THIS UNIVERSE THAT I’VE WOKEN UP IN.
Tomorrow is my dad’s birthday and yesterday, he made me agree to bake him a cake so this afternoon, I cracked the eggs and my mom made him a lemon cake, lmao.
And since my mom had everything out, we made chocolate chip cookies too \o/. She was all, “they’re going to be huge” when I was scooping dough out onto the baking sheet, so I said, “then let’s have four per sheet”, and she said, “we’ll be baking ‘til the next morning if we did that; just leave it at nine”.
So they came out of the oven looking like Carrefour’s potato buns and I had to break them apart with a fork, but whatever, they tasted so gooood.
Slurp.
Haaaaaapy birthday, daddy ♥.
“All right,” I said. “Hold your horses. I don’t want to be poor. But you can not want to be poor and still not care whether you’re rich or not.”
“Yes, and them’s the kind of people that never accomplish nothing,” he said. “They’re just damn mediocre. If you’re gonna try at all, you ought to try for something big.”
LARRY MCMURTRY
