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For no particularly good reason, I'm reading Casino Royale. So far it's sort of interesting, if not necessarily in the ways Ian Fleming intended. It's always great when in older books they're like:
How unimaginably sorry these smart confident gorgeous women must have been that asshat narrators weren't into them. I really can't imagine the personal suffering that must have brought them.
I just asked my mother -- who read the book before passing it along to me, thanks Ma -- if she thought I was being unfair here. She assured me that it gets much worse. Good to know!
In unrelated yet somehow appropriate news, when I went to start this post, it asked me if I wanted to restore from a saved draft. I didn't remember having any drafts, but I clicked okay just in case there was something I was forgetting, and was presented with the following text: "kashgsagadhsshshs".
I do actually remember what that was about, but am nevertheless amused.
She would have been totally hot, if it weren't for the fact that she was too fucking smart. I hate that in women. She acted like she thought her opinion mattered, too.
How unimaginably sorry these smart confident gorgeous women must have been that asshat narrators weren't into them. I really can't imagine the personal suffering that must have brought them.
I just asked my mother -- who read the book before passing it along to me, thanks Ma -- if she thought I was being unfair here. She assured me that it gets much worse. Good to know!
In unrelated yet somehow appropriate news, when I went to start this post, it asked me if I wanted to restore from a saved draft. I didn't remember having any drafts, but I clicked okay just in case there was something I was forgetting, and was presented with the following text: "kashgsagadhsshshs".
I do actually remember what that was about, but am nevertheless amused.
