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

While Freebird was trying out his daycare today, I went over the local library, got myself a library card, and ended up bringing home three books - two to borrow, one to own. Book sale?! WOO HOO! Freebird is also the proud owner of two new books, though I won’t review them here - not sure that the SBTB community is sweating over the relative quality of Let my Babies Go! A Rugrats Passover Story and Snuggle Piggy and the Magic Blanket. There is a joke in there about other meanings of Snuggle Piggy but since I’m talking about children’s books, I’ll leave that one alone.

But me? I got books! I now own a double release of RWA Prez and all around fabulous lady Gayle Wilson’s The Heart’s Desire and Heather Graham’s Lonesome Rider (I wonder if the Lonesome Rider has a Snuggle Piggy? *smacks self - OW*).  And I borrowed MaryJanice Davidson’s Derik’s Bane and Jennifer Crusie’s Getting Rid of Bradley, which sounds great but features this cartoon woman on the cover who kinda looks like a man in drag. Big chin, big Adam’s apple, and big nose.

See what I mean?

But then, I arrived home, before I could start any of the three books in the car. And there, on the porch, waiting for me, was a media mail package from Texas. I didn’t think it would arrive that quickly, as media mail usually takes about a year and a half to send from Texas to Jersey, but no, quick as a wink, there it was:

So - which one do I read first? Leave your vote in the comments!

So, who has seen Brokeback Mountain? I confess to being one of those many who say, “Oh, I want to see that!” but hasn’t yet been to the theatre. But it’s not the homosexuality that keeps me away. It’s my 2.5 month old son. It’s hard to see a movie - I don’t have two hours to do any one task right now!

But of course you want that which you cannot have, and while I’ve never had much of a bladder to make it through a movie in one sitting, now that I can’t really get to a movie, I find that’s all I look at: movie listings. I’m so perverse. And I keep looking for movies that would blend my requirements - romance, happy ending - with Hubby’s requirements - must be good.

So yes, Brokeback Mountain is on my “I would see” list, mostly because of the forbidden romance, and there’s nothing that catches my attention like hidden, clandestine hotness between two characters.

Then, there’s Underworld: Revolution which I would not touch even if you paid me. I dragged Hubby to see the first installment, Underworld, and we renamed it ‘Underwear” because it was so almighty bad. Great special effects, but monstrously (har) lousy story. And, worst of all, there could have been a GREAT romance in there - vampire and werewolf? Hoo damn! But no, the two leads had as much chemistry as the wet sponges in my sink. There was one moment where it was Time for Them to Kiss and the whole theatre GROANED out loud at how forced and contrived it was.

I turned to Hubby and apologized in a normal voice, not even bothering to whisper, “I am SO SORRY I made you see this.” And this dude behind us nudged his wife and said, “See?!”

So yeah, the Revolution of Underwear is not on my radar.

Now, we do have digital cable and OnDemand, and there’s a movie in the listings that I am most curious about: anyone seen Playing By Heart? It’s from 1998 but it’s listed as a “recommendation” in our OnDemand menu. And hey - OnDemand means I can pause to go pee, change diapers, resettle the baby into sleep, or restart it when I fall asleep in the middle! 

A writing duo working under the name YourNovel.com will customize a pre-written romance novel with your name, your spouse’s name, and add 26 different identifying characteristics from physical descriptions to best friend’s names. Your name will appear on every page,

So you can star in your own romance novel, with prices ranging from $50 to $120.

I’m not sure what I think about that. But there are excerpts to entertain me while I ponder if this adds fuel to the already-old allegation that romances are paint-by-numbers publications with no originality to them.

More secret baby/baby-daddy books from our fabulous readers, and more horrified responses from Sarah & Candy. What a lovely way to start the week!

Sarah: Forgive me, but your daddy the Duke might want to (a) consider another source other than Burger King for his crowns, and (b) start looking into charm school, because you, little girl, look like you have some serious attitude problems.

Candy: I initially mis-read the title as My Daddy the Puke. Tee hee!

Speaking of puke: this cover has just caused my admittedly low gag threshold to redline. Come to think of it: Many romance novel covers should come with built-in barfbags. Holy shit, I’m a GENIUS.

Sarah: TRIPLET secret babies? What in the name of all that is good and noble in the world, is THAT about? I’m guessing it’s a hard secret to keep, considering that most triplet deliveries involve a few months of bed rest to allow for as long a gestation as possible. How do you explain that one? “Well, darling, I’m sorry I didn’t return your calls for four months, I was kidnapped by aliens! And excuse that giant stretch mark. It’s nothing. Just, um, slipped while I was writing with a Sharpie!”

Candy: Wow. Just...wow. I mean, Jesus fuck, the secret baby fetish is pretty retarded to begin with. To multiply this by a factor of three boggles the mind. Frankly, it sounds like kind of a freak show. Next up: “Secret Astonishingly Hirsute Conjoined Twin Babies!”

Sarah: Ok, is it me or do the three dudes look a little like the men from Full House?

And how is that romantic, not knowing who the baby daddy is, and then standing around in your nightgown with all three of them? Yeesh.

Candy: The implication seems to be that this woman had frenzied group sex with these three men without the benefit of STD or birth control. HOT! I didn’t know Harlequin published love stories about crazy swingers. Bonus points if the events leading to the pregnancy involved snorting cocaine off her breasts.

Sarah: It’s not so much the doctor’s dilemma as the mother’s - how the hell did she pick a zombie ob/gyn who DOESN’T KNOW HOW TO HOLD NEWBORNS? And on top of that, the artist seems to have Photoshopped the same face on each baby? Yeesh. That’s just freaking creepy right there. I’m going to stop looking at it now - I’ve got the jibblies.

Candy: Michael Jackson must be getting desperate--here, he seems to be kidnapping not one, but TWO babies who wouldn’t have looked too out of place in Eraserhead.

Oh, the nasturtium-scented simians, they dance with Harriet Klausner in patterned steps of joy, for EvilAuntiePeril hath won a Smart Bitche Title™.

Kneel, EAP, and arise a member of the SB Peerage: