I spoil myself rotten. I am not very good with NO! Especially when it comes to catering to every single one of my whims, which is why I often spend Sundays in a reading, practicing, and napping — usually many times throughout the day.
Today, I am trying to show a modicum of self-restraint. It’s not proving easy. I am reading King Dork by Frank Portman and I don’t want to put it down. If I had a penis this book would totally be giving me a boner, it turns me on that much.
I bought King Dork for my birthday after reading
Michael Schaub rave about it on Bookslut for months (incidentally the guy’s got pretty damn good taste, so you should just read whatever he says to read).
I haven’t finished it yet, but this book is so good I sometimes have to put to down and just wiggle a little with glee. See, this story about the King of the Dorks is so good that I want to eat it all up in one sitting. I know, however, that once I’m finished reading it I will spiral into some sort of book depression sure that I’ll never read anything this good again. I figure if I can prolong this giddy booknerd high, the inevitable crash might not be so bad.
You really, really, really need to read this book, if only for passages like this:
“It seems as if I am always horny.
That’s bad because the chances that I will ever get to express this horniness in the context of a fulfilling relationship with an actual other person have always seemed pretty slim.”
And come on. . . who hasn’t felt that exact same thing at some point in their life?