bad books, misheard lyrics

Did you know that you can buy tiny rolls of cookie dough? And sure, you probably pay as much for the small roll as you would for the long, but then you won't eat that many! And that would be great, if it wasn't for that whole thing where a small roll mandates baking all of them instead of the small portions I would do otherwise. So, umm. The itty bitty rolls of cookies? Not so great after all.

Last night, both M and I slept miserably. Well, I didn't sleep so badly, but I didn't sleep half as long as I needed to. Boyo is very susceptible to weather, and so he kept waking up. And I am.. just a very sleepy girl.

I meant to work on Mosaic Minds steadily tonight, but I had one of those evenings where I kept getting interrupted every few minutes. It took me much too long to read my internet stuff (must cut down on Bloglines subscriptions again) and then I was about to get started when M came home, so I had to stop again. After dinner, I had opened the right windows when my dad called. Lather, rinse, repeat. I accidentally got back in bed after I got up, too, which is never smart. I was pretty productive at work today, too, except for when I fell asleep. (Literal peoples: I jest.)

(Aside: Boyo is watching some sort of bluegrassy music video online, and I distinctly heard them say, "I hear the sound of my honky." And let me tell you, that makes a line that is apparently supposed to be "I hear the sound of my heartbeat" something completely different.)

Also, I am reading a really stupid book, in which the main female character is a radio DJ who talks dirty to her audience, and the main male character is a reporter whose review of her show made her famous, but since she is a total fraud who began work under a pseudonym (unbeknownst to her employer, and I am wondering how she cashes her checks) and goes to work wearing a blonde wig so no one will know that she's not really the sexpot type, and is really a wide-eyed country girl from West Virginia. Oh, and that also means she is keeping her fame to herself, and not telling her family or anyone else that she's like, famous and crap. Somehow, the reporter guy, who was previously only allowed to write an advice column, is going to get fired from his job (and his boss will also lose his job) if he doesn't obtain the follow-up interview with her, but she is afraid to talk to anyone as her alter-ego in fear of the secret coming out. He'll be rewarded immensely if he does get the interview, though, and his boss somehow agrees to let him "work from home" indefinitely until he gets the interview. So, he goes undercover as a taxi driver in order to cruise around the radio station after hours to try to see her leave (she works from midnight to four AM) and starts taking the main female character to work and back every night, because she is afraid to walk four blocks, and calling a cab is her solution. (?) It is unclear as to why he thinks being a taxi driver will help, as he's been driving around for ages now and has never seen her. (She sneaks out the back to her other job and changes her costume.) So naturally, when he meets her, HE PRETENDS TO BE A FRENCH GUY NAMED HENRI. And okay, let's assume for just one second that there is an alternate reality where this situation is not so full of plot devices and stupid decisions. Let's assume that a guy who doesn't speak French can pull off a fake French accent, fake language problems of not knowing English words, memorize things to say in French, pretends to own a vineyard and study Agriculture when he doesn't even like wine, and also, let's pretend there is a woman stupid enough to fall for it. Even if this is perfectly believable... how am I supposed to become emotionally invested in a character that sleeps with said wide-eyed country girl (who is inexplicably a virgin, of course) while letting her call him Henri? I don't want them to live happily ever after. And that is.. pretty bad in a romance novel. Really bad. I'm not sure I have ever not wanted them to get together in the end. And yet I keep reading because it has to be really terrible and really badly written for me to stop reading a book after I've started it. I read a lot of bad books, btw. Maybe Carrie will let me have a book column where I can make fun of them! (Just kidding. I don't think that would go with the whole "inspirational" and "positive" thing we've got going. But it would be a lot funnier than a positive review!)

Anyway, it's past my bedtime again. Must refrain from bitching about bad books any further.