Monday, January 3, 2011

Pigs are flying, hell is under 20 degrees

It has happened, she did it, she "wrote" something.

Ladies and Gentlemen, much to everyone's dismay, Snooki has gotten more unnecessarily famous by writing a Jersey romance novel. Although it's slightly less reprehensible than "The Situation's" self-help guide to douche-baggery, the fact remains, everyone can get a book deal, except me.

Not that I'm actively looking to write a book, or anywhere in the process of doing so. But I keep wondering how such vapid, plastic people keep getting famous, when there are perfectly sane people like myself, with valid insights to share and no one willing to listen. Maybe if I was orange.

Direct quote from the book: "In the middle of a shimmy, her stomach cramped. A fart slipped out. A loud one. And stinky."

I think I have to go puke now.

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