|Me (typing on the digital jukebox):||N-I-C-K-E-L|
|Me:||Nickel Creek! Haha.|
|Me:||It was dicey there for a second.|
There is a really wonderful profile on Rookie contrib Roxane Gay in the Guardian. Roxane’s book, Bad Feminist, was published yesterday. I’m only halfway through right now, but I can already tell it’s one of the best books I’ve read in a long time. I urge you all to pick up a copy, or request it from the library, or ask that your library carry it. And, of course, if you can’t get your hands on it just yet, there is always Roxane’s prolific Tumblr, which you should follow.
My pre-ordered copy is being delivered Tuesday, can’t wait!
I’m so obsessed with all things Roxane Gay.
second point is that she makes exactly the same fucking face in every single picture as far back as facebook goes
your brilliant friends with excellent taste in beauty asked for 5 photos bitch, those are all the same fuck photo
bc your plastic smile is too perfect, bc you over practiced it in front of the mirror and prolly have a blackbelt in taking selfies
also your bf does the same thing, you’re a perfect match, marry him then divorce him and viciously fight over your shitty walmart furniture in 5 years.
Toby and I saw Lucy tonight. It’s essentially a weird, experimental arthouse film with a monstrous Hollywood budget. I enjoyed myself. So much WTF factor. I laughed a lot.
Also, ScarJo in thin white cotton shirt with a black bra underneath = daaaaamn.
apparently e.l. james called former child star mara wilson (matilda) a “sad fuck” for critiquing the 50shades books a while ago and now there’s a feud. i love it.
Yes, go, Matilda. You’re my hero.
I hate-read 50 Shades of Grey (stupid fucking British spelling, I don’t care that it’s the character’s name) the other night after the trailer came out. I was prepared for it to be bad, but Jesus, it was absolute drivel; it makes Twilight look like The fucking Grapes of Wrath. It’s riddled with technical errors. The only explanation is that the publisher just went, “Let’s see if people buy this garbage even if we don’t edit it!”
The main character’s insipid internal dialogue had me in fucking stitches, too. Every time pretty much anything happens, the narrator thinks either Holy crap! or Oh my… These usages must pop up several hundred times. It’ll be like, “Christian growled, ‘Take off your shirt.’ Oh my…did he just say that? He growled at me to take off my shirt.” IT IS LITERALLY LIKE THAT. The book is like 70% sex, 20% the narrator saying “Holy crap” or “Oh my” and then repeating the action word for word, 10% half-hearted, peripheral boring shit related to the narrator’s parents/friends.
I know people are up in arms about the book’s inaccurate depiction of BDSM and glorification of creepy stalker behavior (which is valid!), but dear Christ, I could not even take it seriously enough to be offended or angered by it. It’s silly, poorly written fanfiction that would normally go unnoticed in some obscure corner of the internet. The fact that it’s this huge runaway success says more about how fucking starved women are for media that caters to their desires than it does anything else.