PMS is a bitch
I am about to say three words. Before I say them, you should know this has nothing to do with the actual content of the The Girl Who ____ books, because I never wish to read them, based purely on the awful pain and suffering I have endured on their stupid account. I am sure there are many people who enjoy them.
That said, those three words are:
FUCK STIEG LARSSON.
Screw his stupid books which have become stupidly popular in a stupidly short amount of time. Screw the awful-grade paper they are printed on, which jams the machines and slices my fingers into mincemeat. Screw his stupid relatives, who have pushed his unpublished manuscripts into being published because his will stipulated that they'd get all his assets which includes any future book royalties. Screw their obnoxious naming convention that makes their titles obnoxious to say whenever we glance at the schedule and moan, "shitfuck, we're doing The Girl Who Clusterfucked the Mass-Market Paperback Industry again." And screw his boring, tasteless, paper-dry writing style, which I had to stare at for a whole week about a month ago while I was trapped on the automation line, hating my life and waiting to die from some sort of tragic foot-pain-related condition.
...That was building up inside me for a while. Sorry.
That said, those three words are:
FUCK STIEG LARSSON.
Screw his stupid books which have become stupidly popular in a stupidly short amount of time. Screw the awful-grade paper they are printed on, which jams the machines and slices my fingers into mincemeat. Screw his stupid relatives, who have pushed his unpublished manuscripts into being published because his will stipulated that they'd get all his assets which includes any future book royalties. Screw their obnoxious naming convention that makes their titles obnoxious to say whenever we glance at the schedule and moan, "shitfuck, we're doing The Girl Who Clusterfucked the Mass-Market Paperback Industry again." And screw his boring, tasteless, paper-dry writing style, which I had to stare at for a whole week about a month ago while I was trapped on the automation line, hating my life and waiting to die from some sort of tragic foot-pain-related condition.
...That was building up inside me for a while. Sorry.