Secret shame

No, I’m not going to admit my love for trashy reality TV shows. Like that’s even remotely a secret, please. 

Although TV side-note...every time there is a television show based on a book, I have to go read that book. Which is how I spent weeks reading the entire Southern Vampire series, despite never having watched True Blood. Also read the Dexter books, but that is a rare instance where the show is much better than the book. Anyway, it should come as no surprise that when Gossip Girl came on I eventually caved and read the first book. 

But then I decided to read the next nine…

No, I didn’t actually go out and buy these books (because then I would have to show my face to the cashier). Instead I went through a stealthy little process at the library, which went something like this. Start at the real books, find about six to check out. Slowly meander towards the teen section. Sneak a peak to see if it’s empty. Casually saunter closer. Make the approach. Quickly add as many available books to the middle of the stack (so no one sees, obvi). If anyone asks, prepare to lie and say they’re for your appropriately aged make-believe niece. Go home, read quickly, and return to the dropbox surreptitiously. Luckily, I only had to do this a few times. Then I discovered a delightful little trick: the library website. (Website? You’d think it was 2009 or something..) Putting books on hold - totally avoids the secret shame process. It's amazing! So obviously, I finished the Gossip Girl series in no time. And I’m not gonna lie, it was awesome. End of story? Psh. 

In case you haven’t heard? There’s a spin-off.

I know. But thanks to my new-found ability to shamelessly procure teen novels, I also read every book in the “It Girl” series. which actually, in spite of the awful name, they are better than Gossip Girl. (Too bad Taylor Momsen's idea of emoting is adding more eyeliner. Otherwise they could have had a legit spin-off instead of that awful 80's episode they tried to float.) Then I moved on to the other spin-off, and...okay yeah, I can't even try to defend myself anymore.

But having knocked out the Upper East Siders, I figured I was done with ridiculous teenage books. Of course Lainey, having long ago convinced me to read Twilight, had already posted new reviews. So I read Sloppy Firsts. And Second Helpings. Then Charmed Thirds. And Fourth Comings. And finally Perfect Fifths. These, you guys, are actually good. (So good in fact, that a Georgetown law student plagiarized them a while back….) They start out in high school, but by the end, she's 26 and randomly runs into her high school ex-bf. Suffice it to say: check.

Anyway, now you are in on my secret shame: I  have the literary tastes of a tween.  But if you are looking for some good, fun reading  -  you’re welcome. And now that I am on work-release from my casebooks, you better believe I am going back to the library website - after all, New Moon's not gonna re-read itself!

Such a happy girl

Tough Love has returned to VH1.

Sunday nights.

Watch it.

You will thank me.

Whatcha gonna do when they come for you?

I am developmentally stunted. They spent years telling us how advanced and fabulous we were in TAG class, but they left me utterly unprepared and disadvantaged in one key area: boys.

Seriously, put a bunch of nerdy kids together all day, every day throughout their formative years and they are bound to end up a bit retarded about the opposite sex. For example: in fifth grade, a girl in our class wrote a fake love letter and signed it with the name of a boy in our class. A boy who walked straight into high school and straight out of the closet.

So anyway, I left grade school behind years again (although law school doesn't seem to realize this), but I am just now realizing how behind I am.

Case in point: I keep falling for bad boys. This is the same fixation that every other girl got out of her system at age 15...except me. And it's not just any bad boy, but THE most cliche of all bad boys. You know, the one in the leather jacket, smoking a cigarette and leaning against his motorcycle.

I met one the other night. He started talking about his bike and I practically squealed. "Oh my god, I can't believe you ride a motorcycle! [batting eyelashes] Isn't it dangerous?? [touching arm]" (Answer: yes, just ask his busted knee.) You could practically hear the Grease soundtrack start playing.

Luckily (yeah, luckily) my memory is pretty spotty by this point, so the rest of the embarrassing details are lost in a haze of High Life and hormones. Of course, had this actually been high school we would have made out under the bleachers and I would be home by curfew. Instead, I woke up the next morning with various items of leather and motorcycle boots strewn across my floor and a hell of a hangover...

I blame TAG.

(Also, shh, don't tell my parents.)