Snooki’s Book
For my last birthday, my brother got me the book, A Shore Thing, written by none other than Snooki (although, in the introduction, she furiously thanks her ghostwriter.)
So, after finishing a slew of self-assigned self-help books, I was ready to crack open this atrocity. It was July 4th weekend. I didn’t have much planned and I just wanted get in some quality “me” time. I wanted to celebrate my American right to read any piece of shit I wanted, so out came Snooki’s novel. (Yes, A Shore Thing is a novel.)
The story is about two young Italian cousins who vacation at the Jersey shore. It is filled with romance, clubbing, recipes for chicken parm, a scene where the character based on Snooki rescues a beached shark, scenes that take place in the laundromat, and eloquent descriptions of abs. Oh, those abs.
I got off to a good start. Thoroughly enjoying myself. But then I reached a point in the story, where a personal trainer doesn’t want to fuck one of the cousins because he respects her too much, when I had to stop. I had to put this fucking book down. Oh my God. You know that point when you’re cleaning your bathroom and you’re like, “Fuck, I am using way too much bleach” and you almost throw up? That is what reading this book is like.
Here’s a little secret: I have a tendency to behave in an OCDish manner. I rarely don’t finish a book. It’s just this “thing” I have. If I can’t finish a book, it is not allowed to return to the book shelf to show off its binding, hopefully convincing my future guests that I’m smart, ironic and have an appreciation for pop-art or Banksy or whatever the fuck is trendy right now.
No, an unfinished book rests on the bottom shelf of my night table, next to a pad of paper with ideas I scribble on it in the middle of the night. (i.e. “Vagiant - the tale of the Vagina Monster” or “Boob skirt, ??????”.)
Staring at the book last night, I got to thinking of all of the books I was unable to finish. They included:
Pride and Prejudice
Les Miserables
Ulysses
The Sound and the Fury
The Illiad
and now, I am pleased to add to this list, A Shore Thing. My list of unfinished books are classic pieces of literature that are above my head, and, now, Snooki’s book…
Which, let me be frank, is wayyy above my head. Or should I say “poof”.
