Some funny stories for you all. First, while sitting in this spiffy computer chair I’ve been granted I noticed that the two male Dobermans I now live with were camped out on the floor behind me. Hearing a strange sound I turned around and saw…both dogs licking their respective balls. If that isn’t somehow a poetic picture of males everywhere I don’t know what is. Later that night after enjoying a marvelous dinner of pasta with cheese I headed of to Barnes and Noble for some book shopping fun. No sooner had I walked through the door than I had to go to the bathroom, which is normal for B & N for some unknown reason, but I knew what was going to happen in the bathroom wasn’t going to be normal so I abstained. Shopping quickly and irritably (it is so hard to concentrate on trashy romance when one’s bowels are grumbling) I made my purchases and booked it home. I did not crap my pants but as I ran into said restroom with new purchase in hand I flipped on the vent and felt compelled to pray. Before I knew what was happening I found myself whispering “may everyone please forgive me for what I am about to do.” Indeed, what I did does need forgiveness and so I feel my instincts led me right in this instance.

Now, back to the B & N experience for a moment…there are no good trashy romances out right now that I haven’t read. At least not of the authors I like to read. I’m hopeful about the two I picked up tonight on expert advice, but I am still frustrated by the shelves and shelves of absolute crap in the romance world. Really, I might read Heather and Velvet and other such nonsense but I do it with a sense of irony. But books upon books like Taken, or A Viscount in her Bedroom. I mean honestly people! Isn’t A Viscount in her Bedroom and obvious thing? If you’re reading a book from the romance section it should be assumed he will be in her bedroom or at least a bedroom. A little more creativity please.

And what is with the proclivity of erotica these days? I’m not knocking it; it has its place, but when I’m looking for happily ever after and get something pulsating and leaking and engorged…well, you can understand my upset. Sex is a time honored tradition of trashy romance novels and we all love it, but erotica is not romance. For example, my true love, the one that I want, my soul mate for all eternity--not hot when he wants to share me with his cousins. Girl meets cowboy in Vegas? Has great possibilities there for obvious reasons (you know, I’m a girl in Vegas and I like cowboys) but two chapters in she’s come to his ranch--that he doesn’t actually know how to run because he’s not actually a cowboy--to spend the weekend and see if their farcical marriage can work and he’s smacking her ass before telling her to clean out the chicken coops. Again, not hot. In fact, I feel this is an excellent time for my list of things that are not hot. This might be ongoing but let’s at least get her started, eh?

1. Anything that leaks--as in she saw one drop leak from his tip. I just threw up in my mouth. Toilets leak. Not hot.
2. Anything pulsating, especially members. Have you seen Aliens? Things pulsate in Aliens before they burst open to reveal a slimy acid-drooling monster that kills you. Again, not hot.
3. Having my vagina described as any sort of foliage or landscape. I.e. flowering petals, blooming bud, parting slick folds, etc. I am neither flower nor mountain; nothing is blooming and nobody needs to be looking for the mountain pass, as it were. If it’s that hard let me draw a diagram.
4. Weeping. She saw him weep one single tear at her touch. Hint, not from his eye. Crying? Not hot.
5. Male hero that goes crazy causing bodily harm and/or impairment. Think throwing her to the ground, against the bed, locking her in a tower, forcing her to clean until she can’t move. I don’t care if he locks her up to protect her from himself; I don’t care if he is only mean to her because he can’t admit he loves her. Physical abuse…not hot.
6. Male hero that constantly questions the heroines virtue and is only contrite after “taking” her virginity. What I don’t need is a lover that calls me a whore or easy every time we talk and only believes I’m trustworthy upon making me bleed, literally.
7. Virginity as a “gift”. My hymen was not a pretty thing. Nobody wants to unwrap that for Christmas. And since when did a piece of skin become a gift? How about next time I sunburn and peel I just save an extra big chunk for him and give him that instead. Does that work? See what I mean? Not hot.
8. An extended metaphor. I do not want a man that talks about loving me like the sun on the plains, or how my love warms him like the sun on the plains--those are both similes but you get the idea. How about our love was the canyon in noontime, bright, warm and beautiful. Yeah, you extend the metaphor on me, especially after three-hundred pages or so and I’m out. At that point I’ll do anything just to escape the metaphor/simile that will never end.
9. Anything engorged. Pimples are engorged. Penis’ that are engorged…not hot.
10. Salty tear--usually accompanies weeping. But honestly I don’t want to lick up or have licked up any salty tears anywhere near me. If you’re licking actual tears than your licking my cheeks, not hot. If you’re licking other tears than it’s being described as a salty tear and we’re back to the crying as not hot again.

I think 10 is a good number to stop at for now. I’ll try and add on as things strike me. Feel free to make your own additions. I feel it imperative that this list be made and released to the world. For better romance everywhere!