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Why do I love reading Smart Bitches, Trashy Books, even though with the exception of Jenny Crusie and Meg Cabot's historical novels, I never actually read anything that fits into the American "romance novel" category (although daegaer and I have been known to go into the one Dublin shop that sells imported American romances and snigger at the covers. Our favourite one ever was called Invitation from a Rogue and had to be seen to be believed)?

Why does Ju Ju want to go out, and then want to come back in, and then come upstairs and climb onto the table by our bedroom window and shout and shout to be let out the window?

Why did I just eat a big bowl of chicken fried rice?

Why has my hair gone weird, giving me an entire week of bad hair days?

Why am I suffering from literary ennui, which involves me wandering around from bookshelf to bookshelf trying to figure out exactly what sort of book I'm in the mood for?

Why did I just end a sentence with a preposition?

Why did I go mad and order some Built By Wendy sale stuff for the first time in over a year?

Why can't David wash dishes and actually, like, clean them so someone else (ME) doesn't have to do them again later?


( 3 comments — Leave a comment )
Oct. 25th, 2005 08:21 am (UTC)
Oooh I love Smart Bitches, Trashy Books, especially the Covers Gone Wild! pieces, which always make me chuckle loudly.
Oct. 25th, 2005 10:25 am (UTC)
Yes, the cover snarks are hilarious!

I don't really read the reviews - unless the grade given is really low, because then it'll be funny. But I love the rants and the general discussions of romance, because I am a great afficionado of trashy books myself, even if they're not the American romance sort (which doesn't really exist over here at all, really). It makes me want to write a romance novel myself!
Oct. 25th, 2005 07:04 pm (UTC)
Why do the skies wait until I am cycling to work without a raincoat to open & lash me with icy rain?

Why do I have an enormous boil (or group of boils) on my chin though I am thirty years old?

Why do jeans seem to fit in the shop, and then miraculously stretch at the waist and slip down so that everyone can see my pants?

Life, for both of us, is full of mysteries!
( 3 comments — Leave a comment )


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