James Patterson kind of disgusts me.
He thinks he's a much better writer than he really is.
"Maximum Ride" makes me too angry.
I somehow used to love it.
I somehow used to love a lot of things, though, so this isn't that surprising.
Ugh. He's so smug.
Max irritates the crap out of me.
And I'm tired of the whole "save the planet" theme.
Max is pulling a Bella Swan, too, which is always fun.
"I love Fang...wait, no I don't! Let's make out, Fang...no wait, I changed my mind! I hate you...but I hate your redheaded girlfriend more!"
Fun stuff. I'm trying to get through "Max" as quickly as possible.
"House of Leaves" is giving me the creeps - and I'm barely 30 pages in!!
I literally stared at my closet last night for hours, just in case something in there was waiting for me.
Then I fell asleep and had weird dreams.
Like this one: my high school decided to put on "Les Miserables" and I had the part of Valjean, but didn't know any of my lines.
So I just improvised the entire time.
I walked into a spider's web today. Grossest feeling ever.
I sort of miss being tall and lanky.
Yep, still "tall".
Lanky, tho, not so much.
Woohoo, body dysmorhpia!
I'll be throwing up if you need me.
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