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 ♥.
I’m reading Lonesome Dove but because my traitorous fingers slutted it up with Google five minutes ago, I found out that Augustus hung Jake Spoon WAY BEFORE AUGUSTUS HUNG JAKE SPOON.
I finished House, season 5, with my mom today, but I ALSO knew sex with Cuddy was going to happen and consequently that it was a hallucination because GOOGLE SATAN TOLD ME SO. Then I had to pretend that I totes hadn’t seen it coming while my mom was all “OMG WHAAAT”. My fingers make unrepentant sinners.
Oops, I hope I didn’t spoil anyone. But according to sources, I’m so slow the earth had darn went spun out under me, so everyone should’ve already known Augustus hung Jake Spoon and sex with Cuddy wasn’t sex with Cuddy and that dear, sweet George O’Malley… *psychotic breakdown*
Also, I read Max (James Patterson) and last few pages, they had a preview of the manga version of the series AND MAX WAS STANDING AT THE WINDOW IN A SPAGHETTI TOP AND PANTIES. WHEN J. PATZ SPENDS LIKE, EVERY 5 PAGES IN THE NOVEL REMINDING US THAT MAX IS A TOMBOY IN DIRTY JEANS AND SMELLY TEES. Then I remembered that manga is a pseudonym for little boy porn, where girls have Pam-Anderson breasts, Cathie-Jung waists, and eyes the size of my grandma’s dinner plates. Boys of questionable gender and floppy purple hair may also be present. DON’T LOOK AT ME LIKE THAT, YOU KNOW THIS MUCH IS TRUE.
I’m aware that there are people out there doing body shots while I’m sitting here, pecking at the keyboard in my pajamas. I’m so boring it’s boring, omg.
P.S. Not that I think people getting ass-drunk is the epitome of coolness, future kids of mine. OMG I AM BORING AND A PRUDE. I’M A BORING PRUDE.
Merry Christmas/Happy Holidays, everyone! I’m excited for the Christmas movies tomorrow *jiggle*. Hallmark, don’t fail me.
I accompanied my mother to the court on Tuesday, and witnessed stupidity in the form of a defense lawyer. But like every occupation, there’s the red wine and there’s the diluted grape juice, so I won’t judge.
I just had fried eggs with ketchup; so good I forgot my name. Burp.
(MY LOVE FOR GINGERBREAD IS GREAT.)
