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

Man, I miss one day of relative consciousness with the migraine to end all migraines, and I miss ALL KINDS OF internet such that it takes me days to catch up. Friggin’ hormones. Damn them.

From LDH comes this story from CBS: seems a new restaurant in Arizona is causing much angst? It’s called “Pink Taco,” and it’s the second of its kind. The original Pink Taco is in Vegas. The Scottsdale outlet (har) would be #2 in the Pink Taco Kingdom.

Now, aside from the relative wisdom of naming a restaurant after a slang term for va-jayjay, imagine what would happen if there were copycat competitors. Around this area, there’s a whole lot of “Famous Original Rays Pizza” and variations thereof. “Famous Ray’s, The Original.” “Original Famous Ray’s.” It’s to the point where no one quite knows where the real honest-to-God original Ray’s is. Or why it’s famous or original. There’s, like, 42 of them or something.

So imagine the copycat pink tacos or the Pink Taco Franchise. Famous Original Pink Taco. The Original Pink Taco. The Real Pink Taco. Pink Taco 2: Electric Bugaloo. It could get messy, is all I’m saying.

But wait, there’s more!

Link courtesy of Barb Ferrer: there’s a Knight Rider sequel movie in the works with a possible television series to follow. Oh joy, oh wonderment.

It’s starring this guy:

That’s Justin Bruening, who is currently on “All My Children,” and who was chosen to play Knight Part Deux due to his resemblance of The Hoff.

That image, it is SO ripe for LOLHoffing.

Thanks to Bitchery reader Lisa, who sent me a link to her site where she reposted an announcement that all proceeds in perpetuity for the sale of All Through The Night, her new Troubleshooters book, will be donated to MassEquality, which is fighting to preserve equal marriage rights in Massachusetts. According to MassEquality, her gift has already surpassed $250,000.

Says Brockmann,

I fervently hope by the time you read this that my son’s right to marry will have been preserved.

But if not, then I have this to say to the people who are rapidly becoming a minority themselves, people who don’t think that gay Americans should have the same rights as the rest of us--

What part of love don’t you understand?

To everyone else, to all the friends of Jules--past, present and future--thank you for believing, and for helping to change the world.

Word up to Suzanne Brockmann.

Updated to add:

I just found out that Ms. Brockmann is signing books in NJ today, but I’d never get to the store in time. But! Harvey, the nice owner of The Clinton Book Shop is going to grab five copies for me and ask Awesome Brockmann to sign them. SO! Five copies will go to Bitchery readers, and royalties will go to MassEquality, and I’ll eventually trek out to Clinton to tell Harvey how awesome he is.

Hmm. Now. How to giveaway those five books. Ideas? 

Bitchery reader Brandyllyn sent me a heads up about Jasper Fforde’s new book, Thursday Next: First Among Sequels.

As Brandyllyn writes, “One of my favourite authors, Jasper Fforde, has recently released his newest book titled ‘First Among Sequels’.  It is part of the Thursday Next Series in which Ms Next is an agent within the world of books.  Part of her job is to make sure that all characters are abiding by the rules, and the narrative stays its course. In one instance in an earlier book, she had to disentangle ‘The Merry Wives of Windsor’ from ‘Hamlet’ which had created ‘The Merry Wives of Elsinore’.

In the newest book, one of the chief subplots is that the genres of ‘Racy Novel’, ‘Feminism’ and ‘Ecclesiastical’ are having border disputes - mainly over ‘Racy Novel’s’ eligibility to be its own genre.  The back cover of the US version contains the ‘BookWorld Peace Treaty Resolution’ between the three parties.  The text reads as below:”

“The Council of Genre, governing authority for the application of dramatic convention and irony, hereby dictates the resolution of border disputes between RACY NOVEL and the neighbouring genres FEMINIST and ECCLESIASTICAL.  To facilitate the free trade of ideas and movements of characters between genres (thereby stimulating fluctuation of the Read-O-Meter), RACY NOVEL shall adhere to the following sanctions:

1. Cease and desist from panty raids on FEMINIST and ECCLESIASTICAL
2. Abide by the import ban on metaphor, characterization and competent description.

Should RACY NOVEL senator Speedy Muffler fail to enforce these sanctions, the Council of Genres grants FEMINIST and ECCLESIASTICAL the right to fire salvos of long-winded intellectual dissent into RACY NOVEL’s territory.  All three genres maintain access to the principality of EROTICA to the north, and export rights within the buffer zone of COMEDY to the south.

Accordance with this treaty does not annul RACY NOVEL’s inclusion, along with MISERY MEMOIRS and PSEUDOINTELLECTUAL DRIVEL, from the Council of Genre’s ‘Axis of the Unreadable.’ RACY NOVEL’s status as an independent genre will be protected by and further disputes mediated by Jurisfiction Special Operative Thursday Next.”

I’m so tickled by this cover copy. Especially the concept of panty raids on Feminist and Ecclesiastical. Anyone read Fforde?

Bitchery Reader Melissa Francis went above and beyond the call of duty and, well, I'm square dancing with Fabio. What can I say?

It's strangely addictive.

That’s right, kids, for this personal ad contest, we’re running a special Jailbait edition--heroine’s only 18, and no, it’s not a historical romance or an old-sk00l Harlequin Romance. First person to correctly shout out the heroine’s name, title and author will receive the rare and fabulous prize of one (1) Smart Bitch aristocratic title, guaranteed 100% inorganic and created solely using sweatshop labor.

---

Teenage girl with penchant for soft plaid shirts and punk music seeks cute, sensitive, queer-friendly fellow music geek to go on late-night adventures in New York City and help her forget her putz of an ex-boyfriend. In return, I’m willing to be your 15-minute girlfriend and help you forget your manipulative, slutty girlfriend.

Here at Smart Bitch Headquarters, we want to be ever useful to you. So if your weekend plans include “Business Time,” (am I ever going to get tired of that song?) the Condom Teletubbies have a six minute song to remind you how awesome protection can be. Thanks to Darlene Marshall for the link.

Darlene’s comment: “Bollywood meets Trojan. It’s got a beat.  You can dance to it.  And it’s fairly worksafe.”

From the “OMG I’m squicked out from just reading the first paragraph” department, we have a link sent by Bitchery reader Kimberly Anne, who is as squicked as I am: Purity Balls.

No, not that kind of ball. You put on a dress, pledge to remain a virgin, and dance with your dad.

I’m not kidding:

the main agenda is for fathers to vow to protect the girls’ chastity until they marry and for the daughters to promise to stay pure. Pastor Randy Wilson, host of the event and cofounder of the ball, strides to the front of the room, takes the microphone and asks the men, “Are you ready to war for your daughters’ purity?”

Make war! Not love! And ignore the degrading interpretation of “purity” and somewhat repulsive subtext of controlling your daughter’s virginity!

Hey kids,

So, how was your Halloween? Have a good time? Consume a lot of candy? Ready to see that candy make a return appearance? Then click on the extended text, motherfuckers!

Bitchery reader Le asks for help:

I’ve realized that you and your readers are better at IDing books than I am at eating dark chocolate.  I became a romance convert when I was 11 years old and my first romance was a historical romance, something medieval, I think.  The only things I remember about the book are:  1) The heroine was wrapped up in some kind of rug/carpet/blanket and unrolled for a king or ruler or duke or something of the sort and her love interest was there (maybe he WAS the one she was being presented to - I can’t remember!) and of course, utterly overcome with a need to jump her bones.  2) I believe his name was Miles.  3) There was some sort of a lover’s picnic they had by themselves and for some reason, I remember them eating grapes out of golden plates (I was probably hungry at the time I read this part of the book).  4) I think there was something special about her hair - it was really long and pale.

I know it sounds vague and weird, but I’m hoping it’s just weird enough for someone to help me find out the title.  I’ve looked online for it, but you’d be amazed at how unsuccessful googling “miles naked carpet romance book” is.

I read it 9 years ago and I would love to know what book it was because even though it sounds rather bizarre to me now, well, it was my first and you know how they say everyone’s first time is special!

I love the “she was unrolled in the carpet” part. Reminds me of a mob hit. Hey! Now that’s an idea for a romance novel: mob hit man goes back to medieval England! Off to ruminate!

Candy would have a field day with this list, and since there’s 8 entries and it could go ALL THE WAY TO 11, I bet there will be other suggestions in the comments. Thanks to Bitchery reader Becca for the link:

The Top 8 Worst Lines in Sci-Fi Erotica

8> She shivered as he ran his eyes over her. She was almost sorry when he retracted them back into his skull.

7> After many attempts by the rookie space cadet, the spaceship finally fit snugly into the landing bay, but he had opened the escape hatch too soon, spilling the ship’s occupants on to the floor.

6> Later that evening, after their shifts were over, the captain discovered that hailing frequencies weren’t the *only* thing his communications officer had open!

5> The nanites touched her in ways no micromachine ever had.

4> He thrust into her at last, only to discover that his father was right –- it really was just like Mom’s blood-liver pie.

3> It had been a long night and Tank McPhoton was tired and drained as he had never been tired and drained before. He hadn’t realized that female Vaginarians have 18 major orifices and expect a male to satisfy each and every one of them.

2> Rumor had it the new lieutenant could suck harder than the black hole of Iridani-Beta.

and the Number 1 Worst Line in Sci-Fi Erotica…

1> She found herself unable to control her quivering. She had never felt like this. The quivering frequency increased and increased, and suddenly she exploded. “Sad,” said the hot, chisel-chinned starfighter pilot who had inadvertently caused her demise, “she was the last of their race. They all went like that when they saw me.”