I have this friend. We’ll say her name is Beth. We’ll say that because it is, in fact, her name. No hidden identities here, but for her sake, I won’t give her last name.
Beth is awesome for many reasons. She’s a great mama to two great kids, both of whom she had while in law school. Because one day, Beth thought “What does this world need?” and she came up with the answer “More fucking lawyers!” But I don’t hold that against her. (I keed because I love, Beth). Beth is very smart and very funny. I’m swooning over here!
Why am I telling you all about this? Because Beth, with her lawyerly smarts, emailed me the other day and pointed out that The Cunt Log is located precariously close to my “About Me,” section on my sidebar. In fact, I have all the cunts listed, then with practically no break, it goes right into the “about me.”
My first instinct, naturally, was that I had to move my About Me. But then I thought about it. And I’m kind of being a cunt by having the cunt log, you know? I mean, what do the cunts on my cunt log have in common? Well, they’re all fictional eleven year old girls. And if calling a fictional child a cunt isn’t cuntly, well then I don’t know what is.
So. I’m a cunt. Whatever. Thanks to Beth for pointing that out!
I know. It’s my second post without actually reviewing/snarking a book. I haven’t had a chance to read a new YA book for this blog because I’m completely caught up in Sookie Stackhouse’s world. Damn that fangbanger. Though I have to admit, I’d be a fangbanger too, if the Vampire Bill Compton crossed my path. Rowr.
Next up, Wait Til Helen Comes.