Damnit.

I had a really long ranty post written up about how much I hate young adult fiction, but then my computer blew up. Ah well. If you'll hang on a moment I'll find some young adult fiction and get properly ranty again. Ah, here it is. The Secret Diary of Adrian Mole, Age 13 3/4. There is one good bit in this entire book. I shall type it up for you.

10 A.M. - I am ill with all the worry, too weak to write much. Nobody has noticed that I haven't eaten any breakfast.
2 P.M. - Had two junior aspirins at midday and rallied a bit. Perhaps when I am famous and my diary is discovered people will understand the torment of being a 13 3/4 year-old undiscovered intellectual.
6 P.M. - Pandora! My lost love! Now I will never stroke your treacle hair! (Although my blue felt tip pen is still at your disposal.)
8 P.M. - PANDORA! PANDORA! PANDORA!
10 P.M. - Why? Why? Why?

He's got it for a girl named Pandora, you see. (Which makes me giggle for reasons only I and a certain person who is not I know.)

That is all that is worth reading in that book. Don't buy it.

Let's write a book. No one else is going to write anything decent about our age group anyway. And we sure as hell better do it before the market for decent YA lit completely goes to pot. (Not that it hasn't already, but you know. It's the principle of the statement.)

I AM COMPLETELY SERIOUS.

What shall the plot be?

Quote of the Day

"DINK! DINK, THEY ALL CALL ME! DINK, THEY SAY!"

- Colin. If you know what this means, you're probably not reading this. Or else you're me.

Your good friend,
Sidhe Todd