Previously on As My Stomach Turns…

A friend—who will cowardly remain nameless—emailed me this cover. This was how the conversation went:

Friend: Somewhere in the process of this cover being developed, someone said: “hey, let’s add a mullet!” WHO ARE THESE PEOPLE??? Who are they selling to? I DON’T UNDERSTAND!!! *sobs*

Me: This man is a WARRIOR! Do you think a warrior with a motherfucking sword strapped to his back would bother going to a poofy girly hair salon and spend 80 goddamn dollars on a stupid haircut? Obviously you don’t know any REAL men!

I think she dissolved into tears after that, utterly astounded by my argument skills. Yeah… the male on this cover? Didn’t originally have a mullet. You don’t believe me? Here was the cover of this book before it was released on mass market paperback. Check it out. Dude was just way too clean-cut for a guy who goes around with a MOTHERFUCKING SWORD STRAPPED TO HIS BACK. Like he should be wearing a Brooks Brothers suit and whipping off his Oliver Peoples tortoise-shell eyeglasses when he wants to get serious and shit. I can understand the reasoning behind the addition of the mullet. I don’t necessarily condone it, but I understand it. Too bad this particularly mullet looks like a ratty-ass, 99-cent weave or something. I swear to God, it’s probably made of polyester. Nay, it just looks skanky. Like he should be wearing shitkicker boots and heading down to the local In Cahoots to two-step to Achy Breaky Heart.

On a totally unrelated note, whenever I see the word SWORD, I think “swwwword”. I actually have to make a conscious decision not to pronounce the W.

You know, I gotta say, when I first heard that Paul Blackthorne was going to be playing Harry Dresden on the Sci-Fi Channel’s The Dresden Files based on Jim Butcher’s awesome series, I was more than a little skeptical. I always thought Harry was more like Matt Damon’s Jason Bourne. Except taller. A little unsure of himself, a little uncomfortable in his own skin, but nevertheless extremely capable and intelligent. That was how Harry came across to me in the first book. Later on, he became a little more confident, a little more slick, but this Harry is… wow, a little too slick. He’s sophisticated, witty, and charming. He’s got girls crawling in and out of his bed! Right now, I’m not quite sure which Harry I prefer yet, but I’m willing to give this Harry a shot. Paul Blackthorne is very yummy. Check out the Dresden Files on the Sci-Fi Channel on Sundays at 9 pm (pacific) and 8 pm (central). Or check your local listings.

Grade: B+
And yet here’s another heroine who saves the world with her vagina! Just kidding, children, but her magic is concentrated in that area. Fab-yoo-luuuus! You know, I was looking around the romance blogosphere for reviews to this book and found… very little. Way to drop the ball, people! What is going on? How could you guys have ignored this book? It’s frickin’ awesome! It’s got a smart heroine, a kicky little narrative, clever dialogue, sizzling sex between the heroine and the hero, and the best part? The hero isn’t a super-duper spy genius James Bond-spliced-with-MacGyver type. In fact, he is kind of a goober; he thinks he’s super-slick, but keeps trusting the wrong people, and half the time, the heroine has to save him. But don’t let that scare you. The man is charming, witty, and… well, I lurved him. My biggest problem with this book is the same one I have with every single “OMG, I totally had no idea I have all this power” storyline: the heroine has POWERS OF CONVENIENCE, which leads to some contrivance and consequently, some eye-rolling on my part. The last quarter of the book also fell apart for me because it was written in a different tone from the rest of the book and some of the scenes seemed inserted in order to keep the hero and the heroine away from each other. I mean, it was obvious to me that the two of them were perfect for each other, so the last thirty or so pages of this book felt like… padding. Other than that, I lurved this book. LURVED it.
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With the over-saturation of Green Arrow pictures on this site, I’ve completely forgotten all about my Superman. I’m sorry, baby, I still got mad luv for ya! Look at him in his cute scholarly sweater and white collar. I just want to muss up his hair and lick him up with a spoon. Where are the horn-rimmed glasses?

Dear Diary,
Which one should I molest first? [Not including the little boy in the red sweater, ’cause eww] Anyway, Tim and I watched Smallville tonight and it was about the “tentative formation of a team with the word ‘Justice’ in the title because that’s what’s Luthor’s gonna get”. So all these shirtless hotties pop up doing… shirtless hottie things. Except, you know, making out with each other. DAMN IT! Because Wonder Woman and Hawk Girl (original members of the JLA) were MIA, Tim quipped, “Shouldn’t they be calling themselves the Sausage League instead?” My man is so clever. I wonder how pissed he’d be if I had sex with all of these guys (except for the little boy in the red sweater). But, like, not at the same time, you guys, ’cause I’m not a slut! One on one after the other is fine.

P.S. Dude, why did they cut out Cyborg out of this picture? He’s like… the hottest one next to the Green Arrow! Hello! Is it ’cause he’s black?

P.P.S. Oh Science, last night was the last episode of Justin’s 7-episode arc. I can’t handle it. I’m heart-broken. What am I going to do with myself now? I suppose I can get some writing done. Hmm… Come back, Justin Hartley, COME BACK!!!