So Bad, It's Good

I thought today would be a good day to share a few jewels I discovered in The Truth About Diamonds, the book I joked about reading, secretly swore I wouldn't read, but ended up reading anyway. It's also a book I've now linked to three times in the past week, which can't be good for my health.

I share these not to mock the author (because I know my blog could be mined just as easily for equally pristine jewels of silliness), but to spread a little joy and happiness. When it comes down to it, my writing and Nicole Richie's writing are, I'm embarrassed to say, eerily similar in quality. The only real difference is that people actually read what she writes.

Ana had a way of entering a room with all the subtlety of a sexual assault. (p. 21)

Her MAC makeup - she always only wore eyeliner, no base, and an unblended shade of lipstick to match her outfit - was no match for her despondent tears. (p. 32)

Chloe looked back over her shoulder at her serious-as-cancer mother. (p. 110)

Hugs were not allowed, even if supposedly initiated by the stars, and pictures were forbidden, but Chloe broke both edicts, causing the line to move as slowly as FEMA. (p. 148)

My reunion with Chloe was bittersweet - chocolate, that is. (p. 183)

The Persian motif was haywire, with fake gold Arabic script and cat statues everywhere. The bed had what looked like reams of netting around it, straight out of somebody's warped vision of what a sheik's inner sanctum might look like. It was so Sinbad, it was good. (pp. 202-203)