Dude, I just spent a pretty penny acquiring a lot of 43 Blaze backlists from Ebay. I should really be trying to save money so I can afford a parking permit for school (it’s $700 a year or something equally ridiculous). I should be saving money for textbooks. I should be saving money so I can afford to eat more than peanut butter and jelly sandwiches everyday.

Fuck it. I really like peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, anyway.

By the time I have to return to school in the fall, I will be overdosed on tried and true plot contrivances such as: secret babies, wacky virgins who want to have that ONE NIGHT with the bad boy of their dreams, and faux bad girls returning to their hometown to find love with the man who once relieved them of their precious hymens. I can’t wait!

Edited to add: I also bought a lot of 40 Harlequin Temptation backlists. What is WRONG with me? Am I trying to drive myself insane? Yes, I think I am. For the Love of God, won’t someone stage an Intervention? Maybe I should take up knitting. Or go back to writing X-Files fanfic. No, I can’t. It’s too late for me. Won’t it be funny if I started reading nothing but category romances? And by funny, I mean sad. Like my grandma who used to go to the swap meet to buy huge boxes of Harlequin Presents for five dollars each, then disappear for hours, and we would find her later reading in her room, with piles of category romances sitting on her stomach and potato chip crumbs all over the bed and her hair. Oh, grandma, is this your legacy to me? Couldn’t you have left me something cooler like money for college or jewelry?

This entry was posted on Monday, July 25th, 2005 at 11:03 am and is filed under Books. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.