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

Note: today’s cover snark isn’t entirely work safe, unless you work in an office where you create CG man-titty book covers. So read below at your own risk!

Every so often, the clothing & accessories say more than the wearer when it comes to a romance cover. Candy and I think it’s time the fashion had a chance to speak for itself!

Sarah: First, the mardi gras beads - what every stylish “faux Native American” maiden is wearing this fall - along with a stunning low-cut gown and a Wonderbra.

Second, if you’re a man going for that “faux Native American” look, go through your grandfather’s bureau, dig past the 1940’s pornography and his hot letters from your grandma during the war, and find his Venereal Moose Lodge Membership Ribbon. This makes a stunning and utterly authentic armband for your next fashion pow wow.

Candy: OK, those track pants that come with the matching knife? They gotta go.

And I didn’t know Native American dresses came with shoulder pads. I learn something new every day.

Sarah: I didn’t know that the Gap had chainmail tunics for men. But I totally saw that mock turtleneck on sale there this weekend. Think it’s cold to press your wanton cleavage up against metal links like that? Ouch. I bet it pinches. And not in a good way.

Candy: The chick totally stole Elvira’s dress and threw a bucket of varnish on it so it would look nice and shiny for this photo. However, I think she needs to watch more vampire movies--so that she can learn how NOT to garotte herself with her cape, if nothing else.

Sarah:”Look, I TOLD YOU. You have to UNTUCK my shirt BEFORE you unbutton it. I don’t care what Fabio said, it’s not COMFORTABLE. How would YOU like it if I tried to yank YOUR dress off before undoing the buttons? See? It sucks!”

Candy: Dude obviously flunked Rake School, because he hasn’t figured out that to get to the REALLY good bits, you need to bunch the skirts UP, not try to yank them down, and vice versa for the bodice.

Sarah: Scandalous Miranda is only scandalous because she just loves to check for pitstains in her man’s shirts. Miranda’s got the magic of Clorox 2.

Candy: OK, I admit it: I got nuttin’ after Sarah’s perfect snark. All I can think is: they both looked so happy and really freakin’ turned on by the bleach fetish.

“Oh baby, scrub those yellow stains OUT. Oh yeah, pour more of that bleach on. Yes. Yesssss. Oh, right there, rub harder, yes, yes, YESSSS!”

Armpit-stain bleaching fetishes: they’re the steppingstone fetish for other bleach-related perversions. Next thing you know, they’re getting all Lara Flynn Boyle on us.

The guy actually looks like he’s been huffing quite a bit more of the fumes than he should, because dude, he looks like he’s hiiiiiiiigh.

Sarah:I don’t know where to begin. Is he wearing pink shorts or does he have a biiiiig muffin top problem below the waistline? Are they underwater? If not, what’s up with her hair? Is he dead? What’s wrong with the bone structure of his chest? Did he have open-heart surgery recently?

And FOR the LOVE of GOD put some CLOTHES on. This Lady doth protest because it is COLD and you are standing near the LOCH and you are NAKED. My eyes! My EYES!

Candy: Nope, not open-heart surgery. That’s totally where his third nipple used to be. Scandalous Miranda up there accidentally burned it right off with some bleach.

And that hair… I actually feel sorry for the model. Who can we sue for gross misapplication of a wind-machine?

Or was she just really, really surprised to see that his third-nipple was gone?

Sarah:

Beavis: Whoa!
Butthead: WHOA!
Beavis: She’s like, naked! With armbands!
Butthead:Huh huh. Yeah.
Beavis: And she’s gonna get stabbed by that CHURCH! YEAH!
Butthead: Huh huh.That’s cool.
Beavis: Stab her! Stab her in the BUTT!
Butthead: Huh huh huh huh. Tell her to move her hand first so we can see her boobs.
Beavis: Yeah! BOOBS
Butthead: Yeah. Huh huh.

Candy: Wow. I can hear the headlines: “Devastating S&M Tragedy! Woman’s spine pierced through with a pointy castle roof. Find out more about this deadly new fetish. Pointy castle roof fetishists: are they warping our children’s minds? THEY’RE OUT OF THE CLOSET--AND IN OUR STREETS! More at 11.”

Sarah: Gosh, could that hero look any more excited about the posing hottie in front of him?

Ho hum. Another Scarlet Cavern. Gee. There are some boobs. They look rather large and oblong, like someone pulled them southward.

Hmm. Perhaps I’m not the first to enter her scarlet cavern. It is a cavern after all.

Candy: Man, that is possibly THE nastiest peroxide job to end all peroxide jobs on that chick there--and there have been some really skanky-lookin’ blondes on romance novel covers.

And the guy… I could’ve sworn I saw him on Faces of Meth. If he isn’t on there already, he will be soon. He also needs a Silkwood shower in the worst way. That’s probably why he doesn’t look too excited by the equally nasty blonde hobag stripping down in front of him. He’s too busy suppressing the urge to scratch at his scabies.

Sarah: Now that I’ve started breathing again after falling on the floor in twisty laughter, let me attempt to address just one thing that is wrong with this cover.

Does she have a tumor on her ass? Or a saddle horn? Because her back isn’t long enough for the dude to be holding onto her ass. My ass doesn’t curve around like that. My back doesn’t bend like that, either.

Candy: The force of attraction… of being a certified proctologist.

Romance novel cover models really need to learn that Astroglide is their friend. Really, look at all the pained expressions. All those dry runs up Hershey Creek make Baby Jesus a sad panda.

Sarah: The ride in question is the lowride of her jeans, I bet. Even SIMs should not have to have a bikini wax before they put their jeans on.

Man, he has some little hands on the ends of those beefy arms, too.

Jeez louise.

Candy: The danger in this ride is the elevated risk of contracting genital herpes. That, and getting splinters in your ass from humping on that rickety-ass looking fence.

Man, these models look naaarsty. What the hell is up with that hair? Did she superglue it on to her titties? Why? To cover the fact that she has more nipple hair? Or the fact that one of her nipples bears a disturbing resemblance to Doogie Howser’s face? Inquiring minds want to know.

Just like last week, this week’s cover snarkage is thanks to LoveSpace. Maili, I swear I’ll use it for its intended purpose some day, instead of alternating between drooling over the banner and laughing hysterically at the covers.

Candy: Wow, dude looks pissed. But you’d be pissed off, too, if you’d been bathed in radioactive isotopes for a million years. Hey, I’ve figured out his super power: He’s Cervical Cancer Treatment Man! Forget radiation therapy. One dose of Cervical Cancer Treatment Man’s love sauce, and you’ll be all better.

Sarah: This dude is having a bad day. His pants are both too low, and too tight. He’s hip-deep in glowing green goo in what looks like the lobby of an office building, and he can’t get past the kiosk to the men’s room. He’s not wearing a shirt. And, the worst part, somehow, this morning, his abs muscles were knitted into a strange staggered pattern which makes it impossible for him to walk without kicking one leg up in the air to move forward. No wonder he looks mad at the reader. He’s got to relive his goo-covered bad-abdominal day every time someone picks up the book.

Candy: Dude’s breathing into her face and thinking he’s hot shit, but the girl’s really thinking “I wish he’d gargle before talking in my face when he has gorgonzola and onions for dinner.”

Sarah: I SAID, MY NAME IS TROGDOR! I AM HERE TO BURNINATE YOU!

Anyone else glance at the typeface and think it said, “Lady Lurve™”?

Candy: OK, look at this cover, and look at last week’s snarking of Crystal Prophecy. Why do books with “Crystal” in their titles seem to feature a) hideous yellow satin dresses, b) ridiculous neck angles and c) positions that indicate some serious balloon-knot popping is about to commence?

Also, the woman seems far more enamored with the results of this morning’s leg shaving than she is with the hero.

Sarah: Is he trying to cure her leg cramps with anal sex? What is going on here? There appears to be some sort of sword poking out of her shin, too, so maybe she’s trying to remove the pointy end from her gastrocnemius before he puts his pointy end in her astronemius?

Either that, or Candy’s right, and she works for Nair while moonlighting as a cover model.

Candy: Poor Portia de Rossi. Before she landed gigs on Ally McBeal and Arrested Development, she was reduced to picking nits from the heads of male cover models to make a living.

Sarah: Thor bon-Buty never understood why all the women wanted to stroke his hair, but he never complained. He suspected it had something to do with the new energy source for the planet, the Liceor, which ate small bugs and used their exoskeletons for .0003 seconds of powerful energy.

But life would turn around for the bon-Buty warrior. The clan that had lived on his scalp had agreed to host their cousins from the south, and soon the women would be coming through the gentle hairs of another head, and another Far Star. 

When Maili first started LoveSpace, I thought “Oooh, what a great tool for SF romance fans!”

Then I looked at the covers.

And looked. And looked. And looked some more.

Once I’d picked myself up the floor and stopped wheezing from all the cat hair I’d inhaled while cackling helplessly, I knew what had to be done. It’s a dirty job, but someone’s gotta do it. For the good of one and all, these covers need to be snarked at. Mercilessly.

Candy: Anal sex position + Goofy effect on font + Disco dress made with yards of yellow satin = AHHH MY EYES

The chick looks really uncomfortable. Why in the hell did they think that pose looks even remotely sexy? “OK, bend your neck until it looks like it’s going to snap… OK, good, good… No, not extreme enough. Put your right hand behind your head and use it to shove your neck back even further. Ahhhh, perfect. Now, push your ass against his groin and grab his thigh. No, not so hard--I know your neck hurts and it’s hard to keep your balance, but it’s not all about you, sweetie.”

And this is a measure of how much freakin’ Indian romance covers have corrupted my sensibilities: Any vaguely-tanned, Caucasoid male on a romance cover immediately makes me think of Indians.

Sarah: “I love the nightlife. I like to boogie. On the disco ra-houuuuuuuuuund, oh yeah!”

“Silent, or you shall alert the aliens to our presence.”

Is he going for her breast while under the influence of a hallucinogenic? Because he’s missing by about six inches, but really, it’s not like you could find them under all that yellow fabric.

Also, nice rock phallus in the background. The rock phallus even has its own erection.

Candy: Wow. Mullet: check. Goofy shirt: check. Tacky medallion: check. High-waisted pants: check.

This guy is the perfect combination of all the right things… for my nightmares.

Sarah: It has come to the attention of those of us in SACCA (Society Against Cruelty to Cover Animals) that a black and white shorthair, possibly a Scottish fold given the shape of his ears, was pictured wearing a green-and-white stud collar while seated at the feet of a bloated, mullet-wearing mega-dork who bore a startling resemblance to Deidrich Bader. Such cruelty and disrespect to the integrity of the feline species is not to be tolerated and we demand an apology. We also demand that the medallion be herewith awarded to the cat for having to endure this malarkey.

Also - “Dara Joy fans rejoice?” Why, here is a cover that’s worse than hers?

Candy: Oh, hey, speaking of nightmares....

You know, giving black roses to the girl of your dreams as a romantic gesture usually strikes me as something only whiny Goth teenagers would do. But apparently slightly pudgy gym monkeys find it romantic too. Sweet.

Unless “black rose” is somehow a euphemism for “incurable venereal disease,” because frankly, that’s what I think when I see this cover. Seriously. So. Friggin’. Sleazy.

Sarah:Aw, look. Troy Aikman’s futuristic twin brother hides his ginormous mantitty behind a black rose. Sadly, the blossom ain’t big enough to hide his bloomin’ boob.

Candy’s right. This is one seriously creepy dude. Yeesh. I bet he’s related to the pull-my-finger Viking.

Candy: Hey, maybe those alarmists who want to block kinky sex from romance novels have a point. I mean, look! A snuff romance novel! Homegirl is trying to push the psycho murderer with the wrinkly neck away from her, but when your arm’s about as thick as a pencil and you have as much muscle tone as a piece of nougat, it’s not easy.

Sarah: “Your face. I want your face.”

“Oh, Brett ba-Havar-nir-Tamir, I want you, too.”

“No, your face. I want your face. Give it to me.”

“My face? But it doesn’t come off!”

“Sure it does. Hold still.”