Adapting Evanovich: Even Morons Deserve a Little Better Sometimes

I swear, there's nothing I hate more than being able to talk about this like some sort of knowledgeable expert or something! You see, last week, mom dragged me with her to see something she's been anticipating for years now: the film adaptation of Janet Evanovich's best-selling novel, One for the Money, her immortal tale of awful lady stereotypes poised as some sort of bold feminism. (Can you believe it? This chick knows nothing beyond the world of lingerie, and yet she's trying to be a bounty hunter to make ends meet, like a man! Isn't that adorable-slash-empowering???) Of course, my first exposure to Evanovich's oeuvre came back in August, where I quickly surmised that Janet Evanovich and/or her sweatshop team of ghostwriters are no-talent hacks and you really should not read the things that they do, ever. Yet, it wasn't that difficult to convince me to go. For one thing, movie theatres are the only place around here where you can get one of the most fuckably awesome sodas ever: Mr. Pibb. And also, the film sounded like a bloody trainwreck waiting to happen and, honestly, aren't trainwrecks fun to watch, too?

Random Begrudging Book Review: Janet Evanovich, "Ten Big Ones"

First, a little backstory to explain WHY the hell I'm doing this: My step-grandfather owns a small business installing heating stoves and fireplaces throughout southwestern Montana and, increasingly, northern Wyoming. For a business that essentially just consists of nothing more than himself and his assistant, it's reasonably successful! But it would be more successful if it were more successful, so he's enlisted my mother to drive around and put up flyers on public bulletin boards, because I guess he knows nothing about advertising in the twenty-first century. And she's been making me go along to assist because, well, that's the kind of thing I have to put up with while I'm living back home. As we cross boring stretches of boring countryside on our way to the next boring small town, what does she choose to listen to? In what she claims is an attempt to share my love of mystery novels, she plops an audiobook she got from the county library into the CD player. That book? You're pretty thick if you haven't realised by this point, thanks to the subject line, that it's Janet Evanovich's "Ten Big Ones", the sort of book you could've easily found on sale in paperback alongside fresh produce and frozen dinners for years after its release. She was offended when I asked if we could shut it off, so I had to listen to the entire thing - and that takes us to where we are now. I suffered through it, and so you shall suffer vicariously!