Smart Bitches Trashy Books | All of the romance, none of the bullshit.

The Bitchery is ever good about sending us the funny and the WTF links, which of course we pass along to you.

For your Valentine’s shopping needs (though not work safe, beware ye who click here), Tania forwarded me a link to Em & Lo’s “Sex Toy” promotion video. If only QVC had a naughty late-night toy hour. I’d totally tune in.

And in other, more disturbing news, Theresa notifies me that a theatre in Florida has had to rename their performance of The Vagina Monologues after a woman complained that she “was ‘offended’ when her niece asked her what a vagina was”. The performance will now be known there as “The Hoo-Haa Monologues.” This particular performance is being staged by a group of law school students raising money for charity, though the BBC article doesn’t mention what charity.

Sadly, the Bitchery surely could have helped this woman with many a suggestion for a different euphemism, or perhaps a heaping slice of “clue cake” might have been better for this person who fears the word “vagina.”

I’m awaiting a performance of “The Glistening Orifice Monologues” at my local theatre, to be sure. 

Looks like Noah Brand listened to us when we clamored for him to write about zombies vs. vampires. He posted a little snippet up on his blog today. Go read.

The size of my glee, it is massive and cannot be contained.

You can send your honey a valentine’s e-card from Danielle Steel’s perfume website.

Lookee here - I made one for y’all.

Problem is, there wasn’t enough room for the “y” in Bitchery.

Other problem is, it’s lame. 

As usual I’m sure I’m behind on the news on this one, but Iron Lesbian #2 was kind enough to send me a link to the 2006 results of the Bulwer Lytton contest.

The winner for the romance division is especially funky:

“Despite the vast differences it their ages, ethnicity, and religious upbringing, the sexual chemistry between Roberto and Heather was the most amazing he had ever experienced; and for the entirety of the Labor Day weekend they had sex like monkeys on espresso, not those monkeys in the zoo that fling their feces at you, but more like the monkeys in the wild that have those giant red butts, and access to an espresso machine.”

Dennis Barry
Dothan, AL

There are few things more romantic than giant red-assed monkeys drinking espresso. At last I have found a Valentine’s Day gift for Hubby!

Now, I’ve never really been bothered by the opening line of a romance novel, but I am perpetually tormented by Rebecca Brandewyne’s idea of a man “bursting like a ripe melon”, and, from a romance I read so long ago I can’t even recall the author or title, the heroine feeling a “spurt of something warm and urgent between her thighs.”

A romance novel, for the record, should not make me think of pantyliners. Or Depends.

We’ve dished on describing the Big (m)OMent, and on the worst purple prose there is, but has there been a line in a romance so howlingly awful that it stuck in your brain, torturing you at odd moments, causing your face to pucker with horror, or the uncontrollable urge to laugh? And does anyone else remember the source of that described warm, urgent spurt that still haunts me?

An acquaintance of mine, Noah Brand, came up with the best idea for a paranormal romantic comedy. EVER.

Srsly. Go read it.