My sister tried to talk me down from the precipice, but it was too late.
|Bonnet ripper ^|
I'd already read the first free sample chapter of "Miriam's Choice" by Emma Miller, who I googled and can only surmise from the results that she either doesn't exist or is so ashamed of writing bonnet rippers that she uses a pseudonym, and was beyond saving.
I've discovered a hereditary problem, which I'd originally assumed was a quirk that belonged exclusively to my sister. She has this...problem where once she starts reading something, she can't stop. There's been more than one conversation between the two of us that goes like this:
Me, "Whachya read'n' thur?"
Seester, "This God-awful book. It's horrible, like eating an entire handful of those yellow jelly beans, thinking they're lemon, when they're actually butternut-ass flavored."
Me, "Y you keep read book then?"
Seestur, "I have to finish it. It's horrendous, and I hate it, but I have to finish it. Could you check on the gourmet muffins that I'm baking while I finish crocheting a coffee mug shaped like Lincoln's face? Oh and don't touch the smoked salmon hors d'œuvres, I'm saving those for the five course meal I already prepared while I read this book and continued to crochet."
Seestur is inhuman, and amazing, but mostly inhuman. This seriously happens though, and I assumed that it was just her "thing" but no. No, it's not.
I mentioned that I was thinking about downloading this book, for three USD mind you, and this was her advice:
Seestar, "Stop. Stop everything you're doing and remember: you are a college graduate, you are under the age of 65, and there is still life left to live."
|Couldn't get enough bonnet ripping? Buy more, now, do it now!|
Despite her warning I downloaded the book, finished it in one sitting with a glass of red wine and chocolate covered acai berries, and bought another book from the same series which I finished later that night.
I was an Amish romance novel reading maniac. There was fire, tousling of auburn hair, hand holding, and even, yes, yes it's true, a stolen kiss. I couldn't stop. Previously cohesive portions of my brain started to melt and soldered themselves to new pathways that screamed, "BABIES! YOU MUST HAVE A LITTER OF BABIES, NOW!" and "PIE! GO MAKE TWENTY DOZEN PIES AND FEED THEM TO HUNGRY AMISH MEN RAISING A BARN!"
I made a gigantic dish of steak and mushroom pie instead. Batman likes this because the fire alarm went off. Most dogs fear the fire alarm, but I've conditioned mine to come running to the kitchen. He waits patiently while I bat away smoke from whatever I burnt beyond recognition into the pan. He cleans up attempt #1 while I restart whatever process it was that I forgot about, causing the initial smoke and the burning, and the "Crapcrapcrapcrapcrapcrap!"
|Batman would eat muriatic acid if it tasted like bacon. Also, he can pick his nose with his tongue kinda.|
My shame knows no bounds at this point. At least something good came out of this horrendous event though. The second attempt at steak and mushroom pie/thing is edible, Batman enjoyed cleaning up the first attempt, and Emma Miller doesn't have anymore books in this series (which means I'm FREEEEEEEEEEEE).
Paolo Conte - "Gong-Oh"