The Canterbury Tales

I read this book in an attempt to better my repertoire… it’s one of those classics that I just know nothing about. (I can only miss the answer on Jeopardy! so many times before I’ll finally cave and read the book.) So, I read this “new modern English prose translation” of the original Ye Olde English tale.

The premise is this: a big ol’ bunch of people are wandering around the countryside going on some pilgrimage. Some holy pilgrimage, that’s important. Because they’re all very religious and pious, and are on their way to pay homage to the guy who wove the shroud of Turin or something like that. So on the way to their holy whatever, all these people who were strangers but met up because they were on the same road to somewhere, decided to entertain each other by telling each other tales. Everybody had to tell a tale. And everybody did. Nice tales. Really fun tales. Tales, tales, tales.

As religious as these people had to be to be embarking upon this holy journey, they sure seemed to enjoy some bawdy tales. It reminded me of when I go to my Amish family reunions… here we have a group of people joined together, nay, defined by their religion, and for some reason the only punch lines that are really satisfying to them are either about sex or shit. And I know it’s uncharacteristic of me to just toss out the word “shit,” but it’s not casual this time- the joke has to actually be about “shit,” not “manure” or “poop” or “defecatory products.” Maybe “turd.” But you just don’t know funny until you see a sweet little old white-haired Amish lady tell a joke where she gets to end with the word “shit” and giggles guiltily. It sounds like this: “shitee-hee-tee-hee!” Anyway, I’m lingering on that a little too long. And besides, it’s not exactly true. The Amish find farting really funny too.

So anyway, back to The Canterbury Tales and why they reminded me of the Amish. Like I said, these tale-tellers were rough in their subject manner. It seemed to me that at least (if not more than) every other tale was either some sordid story about illicit sex or adultery, or culminated in a hi-laaaaar-ious climax of pooting in the puss. (And for those of you who think I am just being as crude as I possibly can with my language this time, shame on you. Many words have more than one meaning, and you should endeavor to learn them all. I’m not that dirty.)

Don’t believe me? Fine. Let me give you some examples, and at the same time let’s talk about some of that “new modern English prose.” Some of my favorite quotes that illustrate my point:

From page 71: “She thrust her ass out the window. Absalom, knowing no better, kissed it enthusiastically before he realized the trick. He jumped back and thought something was wrong, for he knew very well that a woman has no beard. He felt something rough and hairy and said, ‘Fie, what have I done?’” Fie. Very modern. And classy, I might add.

Luckily Absalom got his, but had to smooch another tush to get it, as on page 73: “So Nicholas quickly raised the window and thrust his ass far out. Then the clerk Absalom said, ‘Speak, sweet bird, I do not know where you are.’ At this Nicholas let fly a fart with a noise as great as a clap of thunder, so that Absalom was almost overcome by the force of it. But he was ready with his hot iron and he smote Nicholas in the middle of his ass.” I think the only thing smote was my mind’s eye for having to picture this lovely scene.

From page 132: “To speak plainly, to be brief, your filthy rhyming is not worth a turd!” Guess that tale-teller should have worked up his pentameter.

From page 195: “But when the sick man felt the friar groping here and there round his hole, he broke wind in the middle of the friar’s hand; there is no nag driving a cart that could have broke wind so loudly.” Nice job. Takes a good man to put a horse to shame.

Same page: “By God’s bones, you have done this on purpose out of spite! You shall regret this fart, if I can arrange it!” Well, that’s a relief. You don’t want someone walking around proud of their toot.

Page 197, the happy conclusion of that particular tale: “Who could make a demonstration of how every man should have an equal share of the sound or odor of a fart?” … “The rumbling of a fart, like every sound, is but the reverberation of air which decreases, little by little. There is no man who can judge, by my faith, if it is equally divided.” Thank goodness we got that figured out.

Whew. One can certainly understand how this book found itself entrenched deep in the annals of literary fame. I mean, how could we as readers NOT honor the book that explored and solved the equation of the physical dissolution of wayward butt eekage? This is truly a classic. I think I’ll read it again.

The Sick List

While I was sick a few weeks ago, I read myself into sleep every night and read a book or two every morning before getting out of bed. I was that lazy. So I don't have the time or patience to chronicle them all, but since I was just re-reading a lot of my childhood faves, here's the list.

Oh, and by the way, currently the ice cream truck is going down the street, and the song it is playing is "Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer." I guess that's an improvement over the "Silent Night" that I heard last week, but I really think they should stop letting the overseas programmers pick the tunes. Just my opinion.

The list:

A Taste of Blackberries

Katie and Those Boys

2 Encyclopedia Browns (Dead Eagles and Solves them All)

Who Put That Hair In My Toothbrush?

The Trouble With Tuck (most notable because the girl on the cover looks JUST LIKE ME)

The Search for Grissi

The Cricket in Times Square (absolutely classic, you MUST buy this for your children, you know who you are)

Ghosts Who Went to School

Return to Oz

Hm. The list looked longer when they were stacked up on my desk... I read a few magazines in bed, too. And listened to a book or two on mp3.

Oh, all right. I played Tetris the whole time.

The Yada Yada Prayer Group

I read all seven of these books this summer. I’m not going to take the time to summarize them- that would be silly. I will, however, amend my list of chick book types… because I’ve already found one I forgot. So without further ado, here’s Chick Book Type Nine: Just like… well, Veggietales.

Type 9: Veggietales. Okay. Veggietales is not a chick flick. But it is the only predictable Christian-themed video production I could think of. See, Type Nine is totally different from all the rest of the chick books. It’s called Christian chick lit. It’s a very strange genre. The stories are always different, but equally predictable. The theme is always THE SPIRITUAL JOURNEY. Obstacles that test our little heroes and heroines are always merely blessings in disguise. I’m not calling it unrealistic, but only in Type Nine can a person rob a prayer group at gunpoint and then join said prayer group later after a spontaneous baptism in the lake. Not to mention the trusted aunt to whom our dear little Amish girl has always turned with her problems turns out to be her real mother, praise the Lord and we’re all going to forgive each other for living a lie for 25 years! True loves return from the misunderstood grave, unconverted husbands become holy rollers, and some god-fearing child single-handedly saves a tiny little western town from the beer-guzzling thugs that would drag it down to Satan’s lair. And that’s why this crowd of books is just like Veggietales. Always a different story, but always the same ending: God wins.

Now, I want to make a quick disclaimer here. It sounds like I’m bashing this particular group of books. I’m not. Let’s not forget, first of all, that I’m bashing ALL groups of books geared toward the female mind. And second of all, I appreciate these books for what they are. I understand the Christian industry. And there IS a Christian Industry. All things with a “faith” label on them are victims of the process that is business. That is, things can only be labeled and sold as “Christian” if they’re going to fit the “Christian” mold. So that means stuff like no cussing, no law-breaking (Biblical or otherwise), have a tangible moral, and/or display a Jesus fish somewhere on it. I understand that these authors are working within a very strictly defined set of parameters, and they choose to sacrifice a little bit of quality fiction in order to give a group of women who are sick of reading about sex and shoes something to read. I get it. Good for them! Bring on the wholesome! I don’t look down on these authors or these readers any more than I do any other girlie authors or readers… and for the record, I know I have no rights to make fun of or criticize any author or reader, because 1. I certainly don’t have the guts to become and author, and 2. I read it all anyway!! (But I do make fun of and criticize because, well, it’s fun.)

That being said, I gotta say… these books were pretty fluffy. Sorry, mom. I appreciate very much the fact that they sort of gave some women (who might not have otherwise) the idea to form a prayer group. But they’re pretty unrealistic, not to mention an obvious and direct ripoff of the very popular Ya-Ya Sisterhood series (see Type 2). If there’s one thing I hate, it’s when the Christian Industry sees something that’s making cash as a trend in the real world and then they adopt it for themselves- make it a little more wholesome and suddenly it’s just as good as the original. Well, I disagree. I tend to reward original thought more than blatant attempts at financial gain. And that, my friends, is my biggest gripe about the Christian Industry. It really is only a business after all. That bit about saving souls is great and all, but it doesn’t really make the money. Leave that to the churches. We’ll suck ‘em in with our brightly colored appealing Savior Smiley Face, and then send them over to somebody who will tell them the truth about what it really means to be a Christian. Probably will come as a terrible shock, but… oh, well, they’ve already bought the book. Maybe they’ll go see the movie. And if they don’t like what they see… well, we’ll get ‘em next time. Hey, have you seen our new line of Jesus Jellies? Each bean is a different flavor that was eaten in the Bible. We’ve got fig, wine, unleavened bread, lamb, loaves, fishes…

The Illustrated Bible History

Okay, this book is a little funny. It was printed in 1925, and is basically just an antique version of Bible cliff notes. You know, the entire Bible in 400 pages instead of 2500. It runs through the events of the Bible and hands them over in shorthand and in historical order. After each little story there was a typical “reader style” Q&A session- “What have we learned from Moses’ actions? What did God prove by allowing the magicians to work their magic?” Etc, etc.

The reason I put up with this all the way to the end was because it was fun for me to see the Bible from a different point of view. This was meant to be a handbook to the Catholic Bible. So each story had an explanation of the symbolism within, such as: “This is why Mary’s throne in heaven is above the thrones of the angels and the saints, and next to that of her divine Son.” I have no idea how this very Catholic book got into my very Apostolic grandfather’s collection, but since I’m not too familiar with all that Catholic ritual and symbolism, it was pretty fun for me. That is, it was fun for me until I turned the page and covering up an illustration of the resurrection of Jarius' daughter was this drawing on a scrap of paper:

Jeez!!! It kind of jumped out at me! And it kind of freaked me out! I did NOT like it at all. I don’t know why, but this little alien baby or whatever it is creeped me out to no end. I still can’t look at it without a little shudder.

Added to my list of questions to ask God upon arriving in Heaven (which includes, along with others, “What if we’d dated the first time we met?”, “One more time: drunk drivers- why, again?”, and “Can you teach me the Vulcan Mind Meld?”) is the very pressing: “What on earth was that drawing, who stuck it in there, and jeez, what for?”

But I guess I’ll just have to wait.

The Elson Readers, Book Seven

This book isn’t really any different from the other Elson Readers that I read. It’s so similar, in fact, that I’m officially done picking these up and reading them, no matter how intrigued I am by their genuine antique-ness. (This particular one was printed in 1927, and is in remarkable shape considering. There’s not a single dog-ear in the thing.)

I was pretty much enjoying this one- since it’s Book Seven it’s for seventh graders, so it’s more my intelligence level. You know, reading books meant for first and fourth graders was getting a little old. I can’t handle any of that high school stuff, but seventh grade, hey, that’s my style. Anyway, reading along… there’s not much poetry, so I’m having a good time. Then I realize just how similar all these books were. I’ve read this before. Odd. And not only is the story familiar, but the font is as well. Fabulous. Let me go and check. Yeppers… same story in the fourth grade book. Interesting. I figure it’s a mistake… until it happens again. And again.

What the heck? Do the people who collect these silly stories think that seventh graders are that stupid? Or do they think that fourth graders are that smart?

Or do they think that some strange woman in her 30s will pick up these books, read them, and then complain about them?

I’m going with they didn’t think at all… oh, well. Fun enough, anyway. I am certainly a better person for having read all about Hawthorne’s visit to Niagra Falls.

Twice.

The Myth of You and Me

The Myth of You and Me, by Leah Stewart

Chick book, Type 1.

Get The Code

Holes

I re-read this book in my quest to own all the Newbery Medal winning books. I read it a long, long time ago- before it even won the medal- and really didn't like it. I just hated it. I don't know why. Maybe it was the lizards. Maybe it was the rattlesnake venom nail polish. Maybe it was because I hate sweating, I hate orange, and I hate having stomach cramps. Could be because I don't like westerns, and could be becuase I am not a fan of sneakers. All of those things were in this book, so... oh, and I'm pretty sure the lack of dead rats in the book directly contributed to my initial dislike. But having said that, I liked it a little better this time.

I love Louis Sachar books. They are so silly. The first one I ever read was Sideways Stories from Wayside School, and ever since then I expected each one to be just as crazy and nutty. Well, of course they couldn't all be that insane. But they are all fun in their own way. There's always, always an element that just makes no sense (like ticklish spaghetti) but generally (except for Wayside School) there is a minor point hidden in the pages somewhere. Now, I don't like to be taught things while I'm being entertained, so I'm awfully picky about this. Luckily for Louis, there's no real lesson, just sort of a moral. Rather, the good guy wins. That's good enough for me. The good guy is not always the person you thought it was, but he's good enough to count.

So I'm not going to tell you what this book is about because first of all, that will ruin it, and second of all, I can't. I don't mean I have some moral obligation to keep the plot a secret, I just mean that even after reading it a second time... I have no idea what the book is about. I know waht happens in it, and I understood absolutely everything that I read. But I still couldn't tell you what it was about if I tried. But I don't care. I still liked it. After that mess of chick lit that I plowed my way through, I was relieved to be reading something sans manageable plot.

Pick up a Louis Sachar book and read it. You'll enjoy it. It's probably silly and it may make absolutely no sense. But that's the whole point. You don't care what book is about because you just enjoy the ride on your way there.

Still Life With Elephant

Still Life With Elephant, by Judy Reene Singer.

Chick book, type 3.

Get The Code

All We Ever Wanted Was Everything

All We Ever Wanted Was Everything, by Janelle Brown.

Chick book, Type 2.

Get The Code

And since SOME of you are complaining about "cheating"- there. I changed my background. Happy?

Off Season

Off Season, by Anne Rivers Siddons.

Chick book, Type 7.

Get The Code

The truth about girls and books... and movies

I've been reading, just not blogging. Since I have a lot of books to catch up on, I think it's time to admit the truth.

I read a lot of junk. Lots and lots of junk. I also read lots of really great stuff. But my go-to time killer/entertainment activity (after the TV/cross stitch combo, of course) is to read a book (or listen to one). Sometimes I am absorbing what I read, enjoying the nuances and/or literary genius that is laid out before me. Other times, well, I'm just killing time and don't really give a rat's ass what's in front of me. At those times I grab what's most likely to entertain me or something I can just pound the pages from front to back. That's usually some sort of juvenile or childlike fiction, or, sigh, chick lit. That's it! I don't care what you think of me! I'm a girl, and I read nonsense girlie books! (Not that romance crap, mind you, that's disgusting tripe.) I also watch chick flicks, too, got a problem with it? Didn't think so. No one's asking you to read them. And I'm not even asking you to read about them.

Well, except this one time. But I'd like to point out, no one is asking you to read this, so if you don't want to, well, don't. But I'm going to make my future girlie book blogging a lot easier by giving you this handy-dandy "all about chick lit" guide. That way you don't have to read about all the ridiculous details. FYI, I use movies (of course) to classify books, because most people have at least heard of these iconic (horrible) movies.

Type 1: Beaches. These are the stories that are all about THE GIRLS. In books about THE GIRLS we chronicle the friendship of two girls from beginning to the ultimately untimely end. Most often we meet these girls in their teeny little years. They are, of course, unlikely friends. They are, of course, singular friends. For some reason these unlikely people who attracted each other spend their entire lives attracting absolutely no one else. They have nothing in the world except for each other. They have saved each other from the world. THE GIRLS are all each other have, and all each other ever need. Until, of course, they fight for some reason... but don't worry, they make back up. Eventually. Maybe they fight again. Probably over a guy. Probably one of them has a happy relationship while the other is a bitter and bad friend about it, but don't worry... those other relationships won't last, because no man on earth can ever measure up to THE GIRLS, who complete each other. Now, I mentioned untimely end, and that is because THE GIRLS have an unspoken agreement to be each other's one and only until death do they part, which (in the best of Beaches-type books), they do. Generally it's a slow horrible death that really, really shows us just how MARVELOUS the friendship of THE GIRLS was. They were lucky to have each other. But, well, now they don't. They're dead. Shucks. And one does wonder... that was an awfully nice ending to the movie, but whatever happens to the other one?

Type 2: Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood. Hereafter referred to as Ya-Ya (shudder). This is a loose adaptation of THE GIRLS storyline in that instead of just a pair, we have 3-6 GIRLS. Four seems to be the magic number, but there can be more. However many girls we need to round out a complete personality set, that's how many are in this book. You know, one wild, one shy, one angry, one crazy, etc, etc, all with the slightly ominous possibility of going completely nuts at the drop of a dime. (Generally at least one does.) Oh, and it helps if one is a writer, because that makes the story easy to tell. So you know, add one brainy, one stupid, one artsy, one sporty, one posh, one ginger, one baby... whoops, never mind. Lost my train of thought there. Anyway, this motley crew has the exact same specs and story lines as THE Beaches GIRLS, there's just more of them. Yikes. More women. Again. Shudder.

Type 3: Legally Blonde. This is the most fun type of chick lit. You know why? It's about NOTHING! Absolutely nothing! There's some girl. She's really girlie. She talks about shopping, shoes, boys, sparklies, hair, puppies, calories, soap, curtains, and her favorite color. Who cares? No one cares! But for some reason... it's still funny. Toss in a few humorous scenarios and somebody in the book who can crack good one-liners and it's amusing enough. It doesn't matter that the joke was about stilettos... it was still funny. And it made you turn the page to see the punch line. You don't care what the punch line is. You know you're just trying to find out what it is. And you know you're going to enjoy getting to the punchline because for some inexplicable reason along the way chickie will trip into a mud puddle and her skirt will fly up and reveal that she had to wear her holey granny panties instead of the more appropriate thong because her dog pooped in her fancy underwear drawer. Oh, and she's got a booger hanging out of her nose and toilet paper stuck to her shoe. Who cares? No one cares! It's still funny!

Type 4: Erin Brockovich. This is a movie all about THE WOMAN. And this WOMAN has POWER. And she will let NOTHING stand in her way until she has been given what is RIGHTFULLY HERS. WOMAN POWER. GO WOMAN, GO!!! Sometimes this movie is a little funny, say, Bull Durham style. Most often it's just a painful, horrible struggle where everything just keeps going wrong until at the end, sigh, we realize that she's had her power all along. Sort of Places in the Heart. I have nothing more to say about this movie, because of all the chick movies... this one is the most annoying to me. It's like women need to watch this movie to be reminded that they are, in fact, human, and that they do, in fact, have rights. Good grief. I don't need a multi-million dollar lawsuit to convince me that I'm worth something. Jeez, ladies, go read the Bible. Find some of your own self-worth, don't go watch some fantasy to convince yourself you don't have to sleep your way to the top. But sadly, this is the kind of movie that chicks watch and then go out the next day and try to conquer the world. (Invariably they fail and end up back at home with a quart of ice cream and a Type Seven.)

Type 5: The Wedding Singer. Now, nearly everybody that I know that grew up in the 80s loves this movie. So guys reading this are now whining at me: what?! That's not a chick movie! Stupid girl, that's just a good movie! Well, sorry guys, you been snookered. You didn't know you were watching a chick movie. It's a very special deceptive kind of chick movie called THE DATE MOVIE. This movie is designed to be universal in its appeal- There are plenty of funny jokes and amusing dialogue- probably at least one or two slightly crude references but more than likely no real nudity. Definitely none of those long annoying sex scenes. At least one nice romantic kiss- because really... sorry, guys, hidden among all that actual entertainment, this movie is really all about the romance. And you, poor sap, have been conned into seeing something that your date is counting on you taking some pointers from. She fully expects you to pretty much recite that sweet little speech at the end of the movie that leads up to a fabulous kiss (complete with musical fanfare) that the camera zoomed out from at the end. When you go to this movie, buddy... take notes. There will be a quiz.

Type 6: My Best Friend's Wedding. This is the WORST kind of chick movie!! EVERYBODY beware of this one. This one is in disguise. It looks like THE DATE MOVIE. Previews and all else will lead you to believe it's safe. But it's really (type 4) in disguise. Guys are ready to see at least one bathroom joke and girls expect the glittering smooch and happily ever after. Guess who wins? Girls win. This movie is all about the torturous journey that leads to the eventual happily ever after. And this journey is, indeed, TORTUOUS. The guy is a hapless idiot. The girl is supposed to look like some all smart and sassy and in control chickie, but is unhorsed from her control seat by the supposedly charming and gorgeous hapless idiot. Consequently, you hate them both. They are absolutely retarded. There is no reason for them to be together yet they continue to torture you with their how-we-came-to-be story. And then for some reason when they get together at the end, no one questions it. Apparently she doesn't care that he's just a beer swilling porn addict (his passions) who cares nothing about fashion or art (her passions)- love conquers all, right? Oh, how sweet. Here's the kicker. When this movie is over, the female watcher inevitably asks the male watcher "didja like it?" Male watchers beware: any answer other than, "Sure, it was great!" Is UNACCEPTABLE. You will sleep alone on the couch. Seen it happen. (Also seen "Sure, it was great!" turn into a very favorable scene on the couch. FYI.) Let's be totally honest here. Any girl who drags her guy to one of these movies and expects him to like it is an idiot. And any guy who is dating a girl dumb enough to ask her guy what he thought of this ridiculous cinematic experience is also an idiot. He DESERVES to be forced to act like he likes it in order to get what he wants. Basically, they are just the characters in the movie and they deserve each other. And their life is, predictably, tortuous.

Type 7: The English Patient. OY!!! This third type of romance movie is THE WORST. Wait, I said the last one was the worst. Well, that one is the worst, but this is the longest, so it is a special kind of horrible. In fact, it's length alone is something that classifies it's type. This movie must be long, epic, weepy, and void of any plot other than watery eyes. It makes you wish you hadn't ordered the extra large soda at the concession stand. The only thing you care about during this movie is whether or not the two lovebirds will overcome their extraordinarily bad circumstances (controlling parents, terminal illness, living miles apart, being engaged to powerful royalty other than your sweetie) and eventually live happily ever after. The kicker is, you're never sure until the last few minutes of the movie. More than likely, somebody will die or marry the wrong person or be chosen for Biosphere 14 and have to live underground for the rest of their life. It's a shame, really, because some morbid curiosity drives you to the end to find out what happens... and if you happen to be unlucky enough to watch this in a theater, you can't watch it in fast forward to speed up the tedious process of love-getting. And let's not forget the love-making- there must be at least one painfully gratuitous sex scene in this movie. With strange illumination, extra caresses, tossing heads, ecstatic gasps, and that very original morning-after scene with our two lovers basking in the glory of their night of passion. Man bare-chested and woman with sheet wrapped around their boobies. Don't even act like you don't know what I mean or are offended by my description... you've all watched it. So here's the thing about this romance movie- guys go to this movie expecting to win points and be rewarded for their suffering. They think their date will get in the mood and they'll have a little extra caressing themselves. Foiled again, guys- your girl has watched this movie and is completely overwhelmed emotionally by the magic she has just witnessed, and she will want to talk about it. You will undoubtedly answer a question incorrectly. A fight will ensue. You will sleep alone. On the cold, hard floor. Couches are for men who care about their women enough to truly open up and share their feelings with them. Sucker.

Type 8: The Other Sister. This is a tricky kind of movie, because it has to have a heroine who is truly an underdog in society. In this particular movie she's mentally retarded, but she could also be a little stupid, one-legged, or just plain ugly. It all counts. The point is, this poor underprivileged dear has too long of a list of odds up against her to possibly be able to fulfill her hopes and dreams. Guess what? She does it anyway! Turns out she can live on her own without burning down the place (if she's retarded), she can learn to read and gets a job (if she's a little stupid), she finds a boyfriend who makes her a prosthesis (if she has one leg), or contacts and conditioner fix all her problems (if she's ugly). The point is, this woman isn't REALLY impaired, but oppressed by society, and once she discovers her inner awesomeness, well, she finds out that the stars have been aligned for her all along after all. Go woman. Yay fuglies.

Type 9: Veggietales. Okay. Veggietales is not a chick flick. But it is the only predictable Christian-themed video production I could think of. See, Type Nine is totally different from all the rest of the chick books. It’s called Christian chick lit. It’s a very strange genre. The stories are always different, but equally predictable. The theme is always THE SPIRITUAL JOURNEY. Obstacles that test our little heroes and heroines are always merely blessings in disguise. I’m not calling it unrealistic, but only in Type Nine can a person rob a prayer group at gunpoint and then join said prayer group later after a spontaneous baptism in the lake. Not to mention the trusted aunt to whom our dear little Amish girl has always turned with her problems turns out to be her real mother, praise the Lord and we’re all going to forgive each other for living a lie for 25 years! True loves return from the misunderstood grave, unconverted husbands become holy rollers, and some god-fearing child single-handedly saves a tiny little western town from the beer-guzzling thugs that would drag it down to Satan’s lair. And that’s why this crowd of books is just like Veggietales. Always a different story, but always the same ending: God wins.

Type 10: The Thomas Crown Affair. There’s not much to say about this one except that it’s another one of those “I fooled you!” chick types. Most of the world sees this book/movie and thinks, “Hey, that looks good!” Its advertising is actually geared toward the male persuasion. It appears to have all the good guy parts- action, crime, cops, token hot chick. So guys go see it expecting to see a James Bond type flick, only to discover- zoinks! The hot chick isn't really a token. Unfortunately, the whole story revolves around her, and this little romp in chickland ends with requited love. Awww. Sorry guys, but your date is happy!

Type 11: Sex In The City. There is not much to say about this kind of book/movie/tv show/tv network/horrible, horrible horrible piece of literature. This is the kind of thing that any self-respecting woman will not admit to reading. (So if any woman ever admits to reading/watching/liking this stuff, be warned: she is more than likely just as shallow as all the characters in this book/movie/horror show.) I, however, have no self-respect, so I will admit to reading this… sigh… book. Ish. Thing. I will not, of course, admit to liking it. Hated it. However, as outlined earlier, I read everything. So it is no reflection on my character. But for the occasional boy who might happen upon this blog, I’m going to tell you the truth about this particular category. If you meet a girl who admits to “just looooving” anything written by Candace Bushnell, the E! Network, or the mall- any mall, mind you- then run. Run like the wind, Bullseye.She will spend $50,000 on a wedding and divorce you in six months when she doesn’t receive a new pair of shoes every day, every hour, on the hour. And not that Payless junk, either. You’re going to have to go designer, baby.

And that's it. That's what I've classified so far. I may add some classes from time to time as I come across something that doesn't fit into these categories, but I think that I've got the gist here for right now. If you think I've missed something, by all means, suggest another category. In the meantime, enjoy NOT having to read all the gory details about those silly books I read. I promise to read good stuff in between, too... if I have time.