Chick Lit

Ok everyone. I'll admit it. Hell, I feel so strongly about this I could shout it from rooftops. I hate, loathe, chick lit. The whole genre is a black hole of suck. I recently went to Borders and was reminded of my amazement at the complete shit that can get published. What really kills me though is the fact that these books are actually best sellers. It's like women don't have brains. It's like all women ever want to read about are cutesy girls that are smart and have really cool jobs (always as attorneys, in PR or advertising) and they meet men who also have cool jobs (in finance, or are high powered attorneys, etc). I'm not saying these are bad professions, but they appear so much in these novels that they are reduced to cliche.


Last summer, because I was trying to go easy on my brain (mistake), I read Emily Giffin's New York Times bestseller Something Borrowed. Ick. Ick, ick, ick. And yet, I could not put the damn thing down, though mostly because it was so ridiculous. I'm sure most people have either read or heard of this book, but I'll refresh your memory. Rachel is a self-proclaimed plain jane who, on her thirtieth birthday, wantonly sleeps with her so-called best friend Darcy's fiance. She spends the duration of the book justifying her actions: telling the reader how horrible and self centered Darcy is, how Dex (the fiance du jour) actually wanted Rachel all along, how nothing in Darcy's life ever went wrong, how pathetic her own life is, how awful her job is. Blah, blah, blah. I get the idea that Rachel just sucks as a person. She is thirty years old! She is obviously smart, and obviously pretty. The only thing keeping Rachel in the shadow of Darcy is Rachel. And why would Rachel be friends with Darcy if she was so horrible? Yet women love this novel. Why? Because we all have horrible self esteem, and always compare ourselves to our friends.

Anyway, this is not the only horrible chick-lit on the market. All these books are the same. Girl meets guy. Something happens that she can't really be with the guy. Time passes. Girl gets guy anyway. And on and on with the dumb fantasies. There are always other factors: the impossible, jackass boss. The snarky, stuck-up friend. Can't someone write something different? Jodi Picoult tried. She ended up writing twenty-some-odd novels that all follow a particular Picoult formula involving a crime, a cop, a lawyer, and a catharsis (in some kind of order). Other chick lit involves coming of age, being in college, first love, blah blah blah. Everything is sunny in the end. Love always exists.

In short, chick-lit is like bad TV translated into a codex with a foofy cover, all written in plain language with bursts of sentences you know the author thought was genius but actually don't make sense. Here are a few gems ripped from Something Borrowed (only because I refuse to re-read any other awful chick-lit I've ever read...sadly I own this travesty of American Literature):

"It is both good and bad at the same time, like drinking too much Starbucks coffee" (85).
-- um, hello, namedrop much? and why is drinking too much coffee good and bad? What a terrible, terrible line. How did her editor let her get away with this?--

"We cross the beach parking lot and climb over the dune, hesitating for a second to take our first collective glimpse of the ocean...The view is thrilling. It almost makes me forget that I slept with Dex" (77)
--Oh please. This is classic telling instead of showing. The view is thrilling. That's nice, how about a little description? But please no, because Giffin's idea of description is talking about Dex's chiseled shoulders. So unoriginal. Also, why does she tag on "it almost makes me forget that I slept with Dex"? Thanks. Like we forgot. Like it's not every other sentence out of this exhausting character's mouth.--

Time to stop. We have brains. We shouldn't be reading this crap. Can't someone, some WOMAN, write an intelligent book, please? OK, time for me to breathe for a minute. Oh yeah, and study.

Tune in Tuesday!

1. rolling stones - memory motel

2. neil young -my my, hey hey

3. gordon lightfoot - if you could read my mind

4. crosby, stills, and nash - southern cross

5. cat stevens - the wind

Why I love Paula Deen

Watching Paula Deen on the food network is a serious guilty pleasure of mine. Just seeing the food she makes is instant comfort...you don't even have to make it to know how delectable all of her buttery, creamy recipes taste. Everything down to her 'little-ol-me' accent is soothing: "just you wait, y'all, this is going to be so delicous" she drawls. Plus her sons, oh! So, so handsome.
My neighbor grew up in the South and makes some of the most delicious, warm, comforting foods around. Something to be said for just some great, down home cooking!

Over Easter my sister and I made Paula's red velvet cupcakes, and they were simply divine, plus pretty darn easy to make! There was LOTS of frosting left over, so much that my sister made another entire cake and was able to frost it!
(picture courtesy Food Network)

SJT's hey! it's ok!

My cousin got married this weekend. A truly beautiful, emotional ceremony, followed by a gorgeous reception at the Biltmore Hotel in Providence. I've spent a relaxing weekend at the family homestead, complete with naps in my twin sized bed and having to walk the dog who only wants to poop when there's a car coming. I wanted to do a little recap of what I've been up to, and I thought that it would be appropriate to mimic Glamour magazine's "Hey, it's ok!" articles.

so: hey, it's ok to:
-not shower for three or four days
-wear your brother's clothing because it's comfortable
-wear your running spandex when you have no intention of going running
-watch 'say yes to the dress' obsessively, then watch 'house hunters', all while researching wedding venues and your area's real estate listings, even if you are not remotely in a relationship
-be a little freaked out when the family from California on 'house hunters international' wants to move to Egypt
-not shave your legs
-quit going to the gym during finals week(s), even if you're not really studying
-take a little break from blogging
-really, shamelessly love some mommy blogs, even if you're years away from being a mother
-surf the craigslist personals for laughs
-get super discouraged over trying to bake cookies only to have them come out flat and hard as rocks (and subsequently worry over whether or not you'll be the domestic goddess your mother is and sister, though four years younger, surely will be)
-want to see 'prince of persia' only for jake gyllenhaal's rocking bod
-wonder how on God's green earth the SATC girls can still be at it...aren't they like 50?
-get mad at your dog when he eats that hundreth pair of your underwear (gross)

Needs

Things Tinuh and I need:

real men.

jobs.

snacks (preferrably a wendy's that delivers)

money for: wardrobes (as ours are exhausted)

a place to live.

A.C. (we're melting in this mid-may heat...global warming...)

puppies.

basically anything to snugs with.

time to: blog, exercise, etc.

jobs.

We're super cute and pretty smart too. You won't be sorry if you make our dreams come true!

on being poor

Well that was quite the hiatus. I apologize. Academia, for perhaps the last time in my life, has been making my life nearly unlivable. But, on the same token, it is all so bittersweet. The "real world" will be more difficult than college--right? Alas, this weekend marked the last spring weekend at school ever. Tear. Today my whole body hurts. I magically came down with a cold overnight...though it is quite possible it is simply allergies. I'm going to hope for the allergies, because if I'm actually sick that will be so not fun.

What's on my mind today? Being poor. I am broke. Broke as a joke. Over Easter I looked at my checking account and actually burst out laughing because I had $43. Yup. I thought I was ok and requested a check from my savings until the other day I realized that check also dwindled and I don't have much left in my savings. On Wednesday there was a reception held in the ballroom for graduating seniors and alums. Appetizers, open bar. My friends and I were so there! Upon trying to get ready I realized that I did not a. have appropriate dress pants, or b. have shoes besides my sperrys and my junky Caro St. heels I bought at Payless specifically to wear to off-campus parties (No, Caro St. is not a brand. It's the colloquial name for the off-campus neighborhood surrounding HC). Also, most of the jewelry I own is from Target because I tend to lose nice jewelry...my parents learned early on. THIS IS WHY WE CAN'T HAVE NICE THINGS.

Walking up to the networking event, I cringed with every step I took because the metal posts of my high heels are poking out of the bottom, making a lovely squeaky, metal-on-pavement sound. I reflected upon my wardrobe and realized the full extent of my poverty. My jeans have holes in the crotch (which I have patched, I'm not trying to look homeless), the treads of all of my footwear (sperrys, sandals, you name it) are worn smooth, all of my unmentionables are actually falling apart, and I save all of my laundry to do at home because I don't want to spend the money to wash it at school.

And yet, I have no trouble going to the liquor store. Time to reevaluate.

Ben Folds

Well my academic life has swallowed me whole. But if anyone out there is still reading my blog, listen to Jesusland, sung by Ben Folds. His voice is syrupy and full of lament. A surprisingly sweet treat of sadness. Truly a thing of beauty. That is all for today. Utter some prayers I make it through next tuesday...

email etiquette

In the age of ever-better technology, manners seem to have fallen by the wayside. E-mail is a somewhat tragic form of communication, a butchering of the English language and a butchering of correspondence etiquette. I’m not usually one to criticize manners or etiquette, but I have received e-mails in my four years of college (when e-mail has been the most important means of relaying information to the student body) that have been incredibly rude, and I know I’m not the only one. Instead of a well thought out, polite example of correspondence, the e-mail is a quick thought typed into a box, reflecting every thought, judgment, and attitude of the writer. This can make a note from a busy, irritated person come off unnecessarily cruel, and while that is not always the intention, this makes the intended reader feel infringed upon, small, and angry.

But what, do you ask, constitutes a rude e-mail? In my humble opinion, if you have something potentially rude to say to someone, it should be said to their face. So, with this in mind, we’ll take a leaf out of our parents’ notebook. Remember when you were a teenager, and your parents told you that if you felt the need to lie about where you were, you probably shouldn’t have been there in the first place? Well, if you write an email that you think might be too uncomfortable to say to someone’s face, it is probably too rude.

I’m not the perfect e-mail sender; sometimes I don’t capitalize everything, my letter-etiquette is not perfect. This is something I, and many of us, need to change. An e-mail to a professor or potential boss should take the form of formal correspondence. And everyone, professors and potential bosses included, should take a moment to re-read their e-mail before hitting the send button, take a deep breath if they’re a little heated, and see if they might be able to phrase their words in a kinder manner. The e-mail seems to be the perfect way to avoid any human contact and conversation, a veil behind which we hide. Perhaps if we really think about what we want to impart upon each other, remember that words are real and can be damaging if used in the wrong context, maybe not only our e-mails will be more respectful, but our overall interactions.