So yesterday while I was working at the bookstore some girl came up with a barcode tattooed on her wrist. Of course, my first question to her was “Can I scan it?” I guess she had never had it scanned before and was pretty excited about it. She talked about how it was sentimental to her and stuff. I scanned it and she rang up as a bag of Jalapeño Cheetos. She then became livid and, of course, I was dying of laughter.
Novels aren’t just happy escapes; they are slivers of people’s souls, nailed to the pages, dripping ink from veins of wood pulp. Reading the right one at the right time can make all the difference.
I don’t care how hot you are, if your personality is shit your physical appearance automatically means nothing