forever if.

Yours are the sweetest eyes I’ve ever seen

So, I’ve been reading Charlaine Harris’s Southern Vampire Mysteries a.k.a. True Blood and I’m on the fifth eBook now and have probably earned another +200 in eye power along the way, but it was gooood. I can totally self-insert without needing to self-throttle every few pages, hi, Bella. But one more time I have to read about Sookie’s “white boat-necked t-shirt and black Reeboks” and Sam’s “halo of reddish-gold hair”, I will… just have to suck it up. Bummer :(

I’m also rereading Lev Grossman’s Codex and it’s still as stupid as it was three years ago. If there exists any literary significance hidden under zero entertainment value to defend its worthiness, you’ll just have to take my face and push my nose into it. But everything was very well described. On a second thought, the laborious detail was probably why it irritatingly oozed so slowly like honey from a spoon.

Before all that, I read Robert Ludlum’s The Ambler Warning which felt like watching some really boring movie while half-sliding off the couch, then Nicholas Sparks’s True Believer which okay, I totes adore predictable love stories (ERIC/SOOKEHHH) and I also believe that somewhere someone is enjoying an epic love like that, but IDK, the way Sparks handles romances? Trite. THERE, SAID IT. Fiction’s a tough sell.

Douglas Preston’s Tyrannosaur Canyon read like crack, and John Mortimer’s Quite Honestly was kind of funny but led to by the characters’ strange thought processes and the first half of it I was just like, HUH BUT WHY, before I was all, oh wtf, HAHA.

Worse, those last four books were stuck together in a Reader’s Digest abridged compilation, and whoever was in charge of making it so had wielded the editing axe like a drunken hero and chopped off all transitions, it seems like, so things progressed in that abrupt start-stop splutter YouTube’s audio makes when my computer decides to be lame and freezes up the browser.

Last Friday, I bought Thomas Sniegoski’s Fallen and Leviathan, which is about an angel-human hybrid boy. I SWEAR IT’S NOT A KINK. Also brought home The Time Traveler’s Wife because it finally costs RM32.90 instead of 44.90 (I’ll out-wait you, MPH, I will), and Love in Time of Cholera because someone died falling off a mango tree while chasing a parrot.

My father thinks I should be reading books with title keywords “Rich”, “Money”, “Now”, and I think so too. Oh, real life :(

I was thinking about the The Little Mermaid today, and how sweet it was that King Triton gave her legs :’)

Last Wednesday, I had lunch with Jacqui and Marina, and watched Karate Kid after. Jackie Chan ♥. A couple of days later, I was lunching with my mom when I felt a sudden rush of camaraderie (or self-destruction, in retrospect) sweep over me, and I asked, “would you be angry if I told you I went to the cinema?”, and she stared at me and said, “I would be very disappointed because I thought you had obeyed us all this time.” OH SNAP. Then she added, “did you go?”, and I said, “I’m not saying,” and that was that, by golly maw.

Hey, I’m chatty today. I better post before I start spilling anything inappropriate lolwtf.

Well, you done done me and you bet I felt it

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.

It’s tragedy when the morning cries and you don’t know why

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?? WHERE’S YOUR SUPPOSED INDIFFERENCE NOW, 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.

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.