Please, please, please, go and read Katie MacAlister's Romancing the Blog entry.
I'd post a quote, but it's much funnier if you go read it yourself. Thanks again for the laughs, Katie!
And while you're at it, take a gander at Bernita's
rhythmical synopsis for her time-travel-sword-and-sorcery story. I howled.
You know, when I was going through my toilet spewing move-in dementia,
I had a moment of weakness. In the middle of the mess, I had to work. I am a retail merchandiser for Hallmark. Before you're too impressed, that means I restock the cards and giftwrap at that section of my local WalMart supercenter. After dealing with sewage at home and WalMartians all day, I was weak.
And by the way- WalMartians are the unstoppable alien forces that will take over the earth. There is nothing, nothing we can do that will deter them. They refuse to understand that I am a birthday card pusher, and do not know why Sam Walton doesn't have the garden trashbags in the bigger sizes. They continue to look confused when I tell them I'm not sure, but the ink pen refills just might be with the ink pens. And the guy who tried to get my opinion on the best women's home perm? "You may want to hunt down one of the people in a blue vest. Ooo! Look! A red vested one--hurry! That's a department manager!" As I understand it, there are parts of the supercenter where people have innocently wandered, looking for the Funyuns, and were never seen again.
But I digress. In that moment when I was exhausted and sore, my backbone resembled a jellyfish, when one more person asked me where they could find the registers?!
(For benefit of you blessed people who don't have a supercenter, the entire front third of the store is taken up with registers that have approximately 186 people in each line, moving slowly because the cashiers are either teenage girls talking to the cart boys who don't really care what they're saying but want to get a date, or a 60 year old woman who is your new long lost best friend and decides to catch up on all your juicy details right then.)
After signing out of work, quickly ripping off my nametag so no one would think I was an employee, and thinking about Funyuns, I saw them. My ultimate guilty pleasure.
The Harlequin Presents rack.
HQP books remind me of what Chris Rock said about the Spice Girls. "They're like crack. No one wants to admit to it, but you know there's a lot of people doing it!" The Presents line, in particular, is singled out for ridicule, and with good reason. With titles like The Sheik's Runaway Secretly Pregnant Mistress
, they ask for it, don't they? And I must admit to you now, I bought one.
Hey, even WalMartians know they're only 2 bucks here.
I vacillated on the titles. I almost got Pregnancy of Re
but figured that heroine was just TSTL. Any woman knows pregnancy don't hurt the guys, right? So I settled on Michelle Reid's The Brazilian's Blackmailed Bride.
I'm not gonna bother with a review here. Suffice to say I got just what I was after: a complete escape from reality. One part really struck me, though, and I'll give the quote in context.
"Eager, needy, her fingers made familiar contact with the whorls of dark hair covering his thundering breastplate, curling, then scoring into his flesh to make him shudder with pleasure..."
Sorry. I'm in control now. Heehee...
Thundering Breastplate. Has a much better ring than man-booby, doesn't it? That's it. Thundering Breastplate has just joined the Snarkling Clean Euphemisms.
But what is up with the scoring nails?
I've read several times about heroines in the One With The Cosmos moments raking the old claws down loverboy's back. Is this really supposed to make men shudder with pleasure? My husband will be so glad I found this out.
I can see the needy men now, heading for the cosmetics counter, pushing the women out of the way in their search for Sally Hansens Hard as Nails Fingernail Strengthener for their sweethearts. And stopping to give thanks to their leader.
"THE CLAW! THE CLAW!"
In the next few paragraphs, the author describes the hero's reaction when he gets a look at Claw Girl's protuberances.
"On a growl he pounced, sending her slender spine arching on a quivering cry as he took possession..."
Beyond the initial OUCH! (I bet all you ladies crossed your arms over your own protuberances when you read that) all I could think was "slender spine?" Slender body, slender torso, even slender back, but spine is bones, right? Aren't they all
slender? Hey, that means I could be a romance heroine. I have a slender spine!
I'd better sign off, as I do have to work tomorrow. Think of me kindly, dear friends. The WalMartians are coming.