sing it again, Sam
My first day off from typing up racist, blocky, occasionally (literally) blue Christmas letters is gray and blarghy and rrrrgh.
Writing Club was fun, for the most part. One of the girls brought in Warm Bodies by Isaac Marion to complain about because...it's so bad. My soul...hurts, now. Just from the excerpts. It makes me want to weep, that this man got published. And he has a movie deal in production.
I mean, I feel slightly better than when I thought he was British (the spelling is British). Thankfully one of the girls looked it up and he's an all American failboat, who imtbo, had to go to Britain to get his book deal. Because maybe British people think his fake America setting is quaint or something.
They grow grapefruit.
Augh, I'm bitchy today. Why self whyyyy