Crystal Jordan :: Blog

I think I might spend too much time on YouTube. But then I realize that half of what I see there, the Mad Madam M sends me, which means she spends more time there than I do, and I feel a little better. But then I also realize that if I spend more time there like M then I could find even more little gems like these two videos and I could share them with those of you unfortunate enough to be reading my blog today.

First, we have a three year old’s take on the original Star Wars movie. This would be the very first one ever released, and thus part of the good trilogy. Don’t get me started on the crap that came out later.

Then, we have a 23 year old’s take on the 3 year old’s review. Too funny!

Good night and good luck!

Apparently, I am a moron. I never knew (probably because I’m too stupid to figure it out) so I’m just so grateful that Barbara Bickmore could point it out for me. She felt the need to break out the hand puppets over on the Burning Questions on BookPage. Here’s what she had to say:

No American publishers seem interested anymore. I’m told that I write books that are too long, are about women and their problems and achievements and don’t have enough violence and action in them to interest Americans. I guess my two books before that didn’t sell terribly well. However, I do make a very nice living from Europe, and it does make me a little sad that America isn’t interested anymore. I don’t write romances, where there is nothing more than the man and woman getting together and then being torn apart and the rest of the book is about their getting back together. My books are too complex for romance readers.

Right. So, as they said over on Smart Bitches, all romance readers must then be “stupid, mouth-breathing morons.” Yes…yes…it all begins to make sense now… It takes my pea brain a while to process such a profoundly life-changing statement, you understand. Because, as an ignorant romance reader, I can’t possibly grasp anything more complex than picking my nose and flicking the boogers. I mean, it’s not like I graduated summa cum laude or finished graduate school in under 18 months. Nope, not me. I’m a drooling, syncophantic reader of that literature-for-simpletons called romance. It’s just stupendous that I can even spell a word with more than four letters!

So, let’s consider why no publisher wanted to touch her oh-so-justifiably-superior “literature.” Since I am an utter fool, I think I’ll quote from the Washington Post on this matter:

Romance publishing is a big business. In 2004, the latest year for which the RWA has compiled figures, romance fiction generated $1.2 billion worth of sales, based on data supplied by Ipsos Book Trends. Some 2,285 romance titles were released that year, accounting for 54.9 percent of mass-market paperback sales and 39.3 percent of all fiction sold in this country.

Ha! Who’s laughing all the way to the bank now, bitch? Won’t be buying any of her Euro-trash. My brain capacity is just too teensy to manage even a seminal understanding of the “real” literature she so eloquently pens. *snort*

In conclusion, I say: Way to go, Barbara Bickmore! Alienate the largest buying block of the American market. Can’t imagine why publishers wouldn’t be interested. But, then, we’ve already established my mental inferiority. Whew. Glad she’s the one who has to ponder that one out. I just couldn’t put two and two together, myself.

Mad Madam M: Ok…so I have been reading quite a few pirate books recently (and listening to way too much Gilbert & Sullivan, but what is new). You see…I really wanted to find some historical Australia stuff, but other than 2 Candice Proctor books, I have found nothing (feel free to recommend). But back to the pirates…next to medieval Scottish romance novels, anything nautical themed gets the most horrible covers…

Crystal: What M means to say here is that she likes bad romance. It’s okay, we’re all friends here and this is a supportive loving environment to admit to your strange proclivities.

The Pirate Lord – Sabrina Jeffries

Crystal: Okay, I have to ask, if he’s a pirate where’s the ship? I mean, he’s got the open-to-his-waist flowing in the breeze shirt exposing copious mounts of man-boobies. He’s got his sword. And he seems to be standing in a jungle of phallic looking vines that tilt at the tip. Yeah, no subliminal message there. Where’s the boat? Or even the ocean? A river? Puddle? Plus, what’s with the mascara? Is he a cross dressing pirate? Pirate drag is in vogue now–’cause this dude? SO gay! Did his man-pimp just drop him off on the wrong set?

Mad Madam M: The bigger question, though, is why is there a vine growing up between his legs (oh how I love bad double entendres!). As if the “I’m a proud graduate of the Capt. Morgan school of posing” stance wasn’t enough, now the Pirate Lord feels the need to fondle an errant plant vine. Has he been standing there that long? Was holding on to his sword not enough anymore? Did both hands need to be occupied?
Oh, and what about the buttonless shirt? The sleeves have buttons, but not the front of the shirt. Come on…how is that supposed to work? Does he just tuck it in, hoping for the best until he can find the right moment to proudly show off his hot man-boobs? I mean, he’s on a pirate ship…does he flash his men to keep up moral? Not that there is anything wrong with that…

The Pirate & the Puritan – Cheryl Howe

Crystal: Which one’s the Puritan because neither of them look that pious? Is it just me or does he look a little constipated? Maybe her knee is squishing his pirate jewels! He also has better hair than her…maybe that’s why she’s pancaking his balls. I love how they stopped for a little face time on a storm tossed sea, the sails on their ship are all raggedy in the wind and the one intact ship in the distance is on fucking fire, people! These idiots deserve to drown.

Mad Madam M: But it isn’t only that he has far better hair…why does he have a better bow than her? She just has a knotted blue string, while his luscious hair accessory looks straight from the “Manual of Cheerleader Hair”? I mean, I don’t think I have ever had that nice of a bow in my hair.
Although the other ship looks like it is on fire, I think it’s just another flag. What I can’t figure out is why there is a large ship’s mast protruding out of what appears to be a small boat. I mean, it looks like the boat can hardly hold them and the chest. Is the cover artist trying to tell us something?
Oh, and why are neither of them concerned about the water apparently pouring in their sea craft? If you look carefully, it appear that sea water is cascading into the boat at his back. I mean, I think any rational person would end their staring contest to start bailing out the boat. But then again…maybe that is only me!!

The Pirate’s Jewel – Cheryl Howe

Crystal: Uh, guys? There’s a big motherfucking wave coming at you! And a ship. A big ship! With lots of scurvy, pervy sex-starved pirates who want some group action on your half-naked-in-public asses. Can you move it a little further up the beach? Or maybe he’s lifting the back of her petticoat so someone else can help him double-team her when the boat arrives. And where’s his left hand? Is it fondling his pirate’s jewels? Laughing my ass off because of the title, by the way. Seriously, my whole ass. Gone from laughing.

Mad Madam M: But is that a wave, or simply rocks out in the distance? Either way, there is a big spray of water behind her head for no logical reason…although logic rarely seems to enter into the creation of trashy novel covers.
To be honest, I really don’t want to know where his left hand is. The pained look on his face is bad enough. I’m not sure if he has fallen asleep while kneeling or if he is simply trying to stall hoping that his comrades on the ship will rescue him in time.
And how is she able to remain upright in that position? She is straddling his right leg, but not putting any weight in it, while also standing wantonly. Her other leg seems to be concealed by her petticoats, but it seems like even with good footing with that leg, she would still topple over! And apparently she likes to covertly look at her own boobs while quasi-tusseling a guy’s hair. She’s probably one of the only heroines that laments the fact that her pirate doesn’t have a mullet!
Crystal: She’s humming “When I think about you I touch myself.” He just can’t hear it over the massive roar of the oncoming wave/rock/spray thingie.

Bruce Almighty
starring Jim Carrey, Morgan Freeman, and the actress formerly known as Mrs. Brad Pitt

Category: Comedy
Snark Rating: Bloody Brilliant

Crystal: I realize I’m hopping on the bandwagon a bit late with this one. It fell on the back burner of “Hmm…I really do want to see that…” until a friend sat me down and forced me to watch it recently. In a word: hil-a-rious. Jim Carrey is at his comedic best in this one–and it even has a message! An almighty message. And who decided to cast Morgan Freeman as God? Genius. Best scene: musical number of Carrey walking down the street lip-syncing to the 1990 classic “I’ve got the Power” by Snap.

Jennifer Aniston does an admirable impression of…herself. Sad, downtrodden, uber-praying, weeping, never-gonna-get-the-rock girlfriend of Carrey. She’s the only flaw in this movie. Best scene: Orgasm by osmosis when Carrey-as-God gives her the Big O through the bathroom door.

Best scene over all: facial chewing and spontaneous combustion in the newsroom by Steve Carrell (of 40 Year Old Virgin fame)–watch the outtakes of this scene…guaranteed to induce soda-out-the-nose laughter.

To be honest, I am a bit nervous. For those of you just tuning in, I’m not Crystal. I’m Mad Madam M and I have my own blog pretty much devoted to my own random ponderings. If you frequent this blog, my name should be familiar…hence the anxiety. You see…what if I don’t live up to the hype and all that – not that there is any hype, but you know what I mean. What if I am only good at discussing random events in my own life and strike out completely on romance novel topics. I mean we all saw Jon Stewart at the Oscars – sure he was funny, but not as funny as I had hoped. Well no good worrying…you are stuck with me for the next couple of days. By this time Crys should be in Amarillo. I have to be honest, ever since she told me she was roadtripping there, I haven’t been able to get that George Strait song ” Amarillo by Morning” out of my head. At this point, I could really use a new song.
Since I have a more limited spectrum of romance novel related subjects than Crys (I pretty much only read historical books with kilted men on the cover or set in Regency/Napoleonic England), I thought I would start out the first of my guest blog discussing something that has been bothering me for quite some time…pirate novels. Bear with me here. You see, I have noticed a disturbing trend. In every single pirate-themed romance novel I have read, the hero – always the captain of the ship – has already decided to give up piracy for one reason or another before even meeting his future lover/wife. Thus the damsel of the story only needs to somehow “fix” the psychological problems left from a horrific childhood. So, here is my problem with this trend…why can’t the hero just be a pirate and remain a pirate? Isn’t that exciting enough? Do we really need to have childhood trauma everytime? I’m sure most went into piracy for different reasons. Does he always have to turn out to be an Earl or some other legitimate figure in society? I mean, the whole pirate thing worked for Elizabeth Swann in Pirates of the Caribbean didn’t it!
Tune in tomorrow for Crys’s Get Snark review of some Jim Carrey movie!! Oh…and happy St. Patrick’s Day. Go out and treat yourself to a disturbing looking green beer!

Our first Snark entry is…

Greek Baby-Daddies!

Crystal: Many books, one storyline. Poor/desperate young (usually blonde and American/English) woman meets a Greek tycoon (because that teeny tiny country has so many to spare–and they all come accessorized with their own island!) and they a) have an ill-fated romance in which one of them misunderstands the other and they break it off still carrying a torch for one another OR b) have one night of torrid hanging-off-the-chandelier wild monkey sex. The guy has always thought of her no matter how often young/blonde/English-speaking women throw pussy at him out of car windows. (M: Is that even humanly possible?) Either way the girl finds herself knocked up, but doesn’t tell him and through some convolution of circumstance that would make a contortionist proud, the hero finds out and storms (always storms) onto the scene to claim his baby and (M: something about demanding marriage…this always means a showdown of stubbornness!!!) marries the girl (to preserve both their honor, natch). They (of COURSE!) find love together because they eventually (duh!) realize that they were DESTINED to be together (insert violin music) baby or no baby. Shyeah, that so could happen. All the time.

Crystal: It’s blonde. See the blonde? Didn’t I say they were always fucking blonde?

M: But more importantly how freaky is that mirror? It is cheesy enough just looking at one version of the “perfect” couple…no need to see it in reverse.

Crystal: If you look in the mirror, his hand is, like, wrapped all the way around her ribcage, but from the front, we can’t see his hand. Those have to be the stubbiest fingers of all time. Maybe that’s why he needs a poor desperate girl. He’s deformed. The Hunchfinger of Notre Lame.

Crystal: Doesn’t have Greek in the title, but the unpronounceable last name should give it away.

M: Although the image reveals the softer side of Sears, at least she has the audacity to wear a white wedding dress. Well that and the fact that he is totally checking out her engorged boobie…take a look. He ain’t checking out the baby bump!

Crystal: Look at her hand though. It totally looks like a Barbie Doll hand. I know! This is a picture of the rejected Mattel toy “Pregnant Barbie” (with accessories).

Crystal: In case you didn’t notice the title, note the subtle tribute to the Parthenon in the background.

M: But the important question remains…what time of day did they have to go to get that view to themselves? You know that right out of camera shot, a small Greek man sells souvenirs and a 50 passenger tour bus is about to stop by.

Crystal: Also, you just miss the sign that says “Kodak Moment Photograph Area.”

Crystal: The working title for this one was–”My mommy is a hooker and my daddy touches me inappropriately.”

Crystal: Love the title! Preserving honor here!

M: Although not much since one of her melon is about to jump out from under the covers. That or she has a weird growth that the rich Greek dude hasn’t yet noticed since he has been so mesmerized by the blonde hair!!

Crystal: M, if I ever sleep with a guy who owns red silk sheets, candles, and a netted canopy bed, slap me hard and say, “He’s gay, Crystal! That’s why he didn’t want to marry you in the first place. That’s the real shame…the sexy ones don’t bat for our team!”

Alright, so the kick off of Snark Week begins tomorrow, but I thought you’d like to know the rating system M and I will be going on. We decided not to use a standard (obnoxiously, boring) rating system, such as stars or letter grades. So, we had to make up our own based on things we actually say when confronted with a reading or viewing experience. So from highest to lowest, the scoring goes:

• Abso-fuckin’-fabulous!

• Bloody Brilliant

• Not-a-complete-waste

• What the…?!?!?!

• My eyes! MY EYES!

I’m going on vacation!!! Yay! My fabulous cousin and I will be road tripping to Amarillo, Texas to visit her mom. Woo-hoo!

Those of you who read my blog have seen that on Sundays I do a column “Sunday Funnies” where I offer up a quiz/comic/something that amuses me.

On Sarurdays, I will now be featuring a weekly review called “Get Snark.” This is my attempt at snarkalicious humor toward a book/book cover/movie/whatever. While I’m on vacation, I’ll kick off 10 whole days of snarky fun (I leave on Thursday, so you still get me for a few more days). And, if that wasn’t fun enough for you, the Mad Madam M will be coming over to guest snark. That’s right, people! She’ll be here on this blog! Lucky you!

See? And you thought I’d forget all about you while I was gone! ::tsk, tsk::