Post by AhkneeKitteen on Jun 9, 2010 5:28:27 GMT -5
AHKNEE, REPORTING IN FOR DUTY.
I'm currently reading this piece of trash recently released by the ever-so-famous Stephenie Meyer and god damn why does she have to ruin my name I don't care if it's spelled different it's my. name.
It's approaching three here, I've been forcing my way through this crap while giving my friend eyefulls of text that involved me ranting, raving, and generally being angry.
THIS THREAD, MY FRIENDS, IS DEDICATED TO MY RANTS ON THIS PIECE OF FAIL BOOK KNOWN AS The Short Second Life of Bree Tanner.
Smeyer, if I were to ever meet you, I guarantee you I would be very inclined to maul you to death.
We're barely three paragraphs in and you've already managed to piss me off. I get you're trying to make the setting seem all dark and nightly and all that shit. I get you're trying to tell us you have this character in the slums of Seattle. Going into such detail of a building we're never going to see again? Fuck. that.
Here is the offending paragraph:
Let me reinforce this for all of you: we only come to this area once more after this bit. ONCE MORE. I do not care that this building once was a record shop/apartment place. I don't fucking care. We, as readers, DON'T NEED TO KNOW THIS. Just tell us this area of town is full of decrepit, unoccupied buildings and be done with it. FUCK.
Also, what the hell. You tell us at first there are two other dudes with you. Then, out of nowhere, we get this Diego chap. LITERALLY, OUT OF NOWHERE. It's just, oh, hi there, this other dude's here too but I wanted to put off introducing him to make him seem BETTER THAN THE REST OF THESE IDIOTS.
Whatever, onwards:
Okay, first off. Most cars, when seeing some person in the middle of the road, will at least let off the gas even if the person's diving out of the way. You guys would, I know you would. I WOULD, AND I HATE PEOPLE. Fuck. Okay I'm calm.
Also, this bit that directly follows that paragraph:
My god I want to Hulk smash this piece of shit into the wall right now.
A bit too late we get a description of Riley. Detailed, compared to Kevin up there. His description would've, I dunno, better fit when he was first mentioned, maybe? Not like, right in the middle of this "action" scene here?
Apparently, all the vampires that have been rounded up the head honcho of this motley crew (Riley, he is called. Fucking fuck I liked that name now it's ruined thanks Smeyer!) are rowdy bitches who like to rip each other apart but Bree, in all her genius, follows Riley's bloody right hand man Diego here. What sort of idiocy is this? You know, I mean, if there's this big threat of being rend apart by pretty much every person in your group, you usually don't go following one of them around on the off-chance it actually happens to you.
also, I don't care how much super-strength you have, it's pretty much impossible to haul yourself up anywhere using those thin little crevices inbetween the bricks of walls.
Bree at least has the common sense to let Diego stay ahead of her as she follows him and why is the fact that he seems at least semi-decent seem strange to you? I get you're in a gaggle of sparklepires that are all oh-so mean but that doesn't mean there's at least one or two other decent people in there if you would care to even pay attention to some of them because, you know, being observant about those who can potentially kill you is a really great trait to have.
I get this really funny mental image when our handy narrator describes herself spinning across the street. Like, you don't spin across anything unless you're a freaking dreidel. Whatever, she and Diego take out two hos and a pimp. Mr. Ethnic Name takes the pimp while Bree here drains both hos entirely.
Now, a little math for everyone here: on average, and adult human body will contain about 1.25 gallons of blood. Since we're dealing with some prostitutes here, we'll say they're a bit under the average and go with a slighter build that contains 1.10. This means Bree here has consumed 2.20 gallons of blood in the span of, oh, we'll say 10 minutes because Smeyer fails at making any distinguishing with the passing of time in these books. Keep note of this number, okay?
Bree and Diego need to get rid of the bodies, so what do they do? They take them into the ocean. Apparently pulling up a relatively heavy rock underwater cause Diego to immediately sink about half of his body into the bottom of the ocean. I ... I don't think it works like that. I just ... I don't. But, anyway, three bodies under heavy rock = A-OK TO GO.
I'm going to let Bree's thought on it being pitch-black to humans in the water at their depth slide. It's night and I can buy that.
They take out two hobos. Now, since these are hobos, we'll go with them having 1.15 gallons of blood in them. This means Bree has consumed 3.35 gallons of blood in one night, in what I can assume is the span of maybe two hours. THIS. ISN'T. FEASIBLE. AT ALL. I DON'T CARE IF YOU'RE A VAMPIRE, YOUR BODY CAN'T HOLD THAT MUCH BLOOD EVEN IF IT'S A COMBO OF CIRCULATING IT AND HAVING IT IN YOUR STOMACH.
I'm sorry, but allow me to put this paragraph here:
This, folks, is the beginning of what I can only describe as unintentional gay going on between Riley and Diego, and I'm not talking some sweet shit like you'd find in those sappy BL manga, I'm talking more like Mr. Slave here, hello.
Mmkay, the two return to the initial scene where the hulky boys went to town on a car and the driver earlier to find a nice pileup of victims freshly abandoned. They set everything up to look like it was an accident with the various cars and bodies and then set them aflame.
Now, pardon me. I don't care if the venom of these supposed vampires is flammable. I don't care if there's gasoline everywhere. When you set this combination of stuff on fire, it will not just go off like a motherfucking nuclear bomb like you described it did with that loud boom sound. I'm pretty sure that, from the damage those two you left behind did, there would be gas everywhere, which is the problem them - with it leaking everywhere, a resulting explosion like you described wouldn't happen. FUCK.
They break into a nice book/music store in a nicer part of town. She took a DOZEN BOOKS to occupy her for A COUPLE DAYS. No, just no. You must spend your time doing something else besides that. I mean, c'mon.
Diego snags some CDs (whoo Smeyer! You went from cassettes to CDs and it only took you four books? Dayum) and the two sit down to a friendly chat blahblah is THIS NECESSARY AT THE END THERE:
If you're going to motherfucking tell us how he says the motherfucking word you don't need to put it as type in his talk. FUCK.
Okay, admittedly here I could be wrong but I do have this vague recollection of Smeyer putting in her books that all vampires are born with super speshul powers unique to each and every one of them. She goes against herself by pointing out here that only a few of the folks in this pack of idiots have these special powers.
FUCK ME THAT'S TWENTY PAGES I'M DONE FOR THE NIGHT THIS TOOK ME AN HOUR.
As a random note, I want everyone to know that I'm getting way more enjoyment flipping the pages of this flash book than I am reading it.
I'm going to just head over to the /x/ archives and read me some of those awesome gay stories about various paranormal entities getting it on to cleanse my brain before I head to bed. FUCK.
I'm currently reading this piece of trash recently released by the ever-so-famous Stephenie Meyer and god damn why does she have to ruin my name I don't care if it's spelled different it's my. name.
It's approaching three here, I've been forcing my way through this crap while giving my friend eyefulls of text that involved me ranting, raving, and generally being angry.
THIS THREAD, MY FRIENDS, IS DEDICATED TO MY RANTS ON THIS PIECE OF FAIL BOOK KNOWN AS The Short Second Life of Bree Tanner.
THE FIRST TWENTY PAGES
because 30 would make this too long
because 30 would make this too long
Smeyer, if I were to ever meet you, I guarantee you I would be very inclined to maul you to death.
We're barely three paragraphs in and you've already managed to piss me off. I get you're trying to make the setting seem all dark and nightly and all that shit. I get you're trying to tell us you have this character in the slums of Seattle. Going into such detail of a building we're never going to see again? Fuck. that.
Here is the offending paragraph:
I stood in the shadow behind the corner of a shabby threestory
building, trying to be inconspicuous while I waited for
someone to make a decision. Not wanting to meet anyone’s
eyes, I stared at the wall beside me instead. The ground floor of
the building housed a record shop that had long since closed;
the windows, lost to weather or street violence, were filled in
with plywood. Over the top were apartments—empty, I guessed,
since the normal sounds of sleeping humans were absent. I
wasn’t surprised—the place looked like it would collapse in a
stiff wind. The buildings on the other side of the dark, narrow
street were just as wrecked.
Let me reinforce this for all of you: we only come to this area once more after this bit. ONCE MORE. I do not care that this building once was a record shop/apartment place. I don't fucking care. We, as readers, DON'T NEED TO KNOW THIS. Just tell us this area of town is full of decrepit, unoccupied buildings and be done with it. FUCK.
Also, what the hell. You tell us at first there are two other dudes with you. Then, out of nowhere, we get this Diego chap. LITERALLY, OUT OF NOWHERE. It's just, oh, hi there, this other dude's here too but I wanted to put off introducing him to make him seem BETTER THAN THE REST OF THESE IDIOTS.
Whatever, onwards:
Kevin jumped into the middle of the street just as the lights
from a car swung around to illuminate the cracked pavement
with a blue-white gleam. He flexed his arms back, then pulled
them slowly together like a pro wrestler showing off. The car
came on, probably expecting him to get the hell out of the way
like a normal person would. Like he should.
Okay, first off. Most cars, when seeing some person in the middle of the road, will at least let off the gas even if the person's diving out of the way. You guys would, I know you would. I WOULD, AND I HATE PEOPLE. Fuck. Okay I'm calm.
Also, this bit that directly follows that paragraph:
“Hulk mad!” Kevin bellowed. “Hulk… SMASH!”
My god I want to Hulk smash this piece of shit into the wall right now.
A bit too late we get a description of Riley. Detailed, compared to Kevin up there. His description would've, I dunno, better fit when he was first mentioned, maybe? Not like, right in the middle of this "action" scene here?
Apparently, all the vampires that have been rounded up the head honcho of this motley crew (Riley, he is called. Fucking fuck I liked that name now it's ruined thanks Smeyer!) are rowdy bitches who like to rip each other apart but Bree, in all her genius, follows Riley's bloody right hand man Diego here. What sort of idiocy is this? You know, I mean, if there's this big threat of being rend apart by pretty much every person in your group, you usually don't go following one of them around on the off-chance it actually happens to you.
also, I don't care how much super-strength you have, it's pretty much impossible to haul yourself up anywhere using those thin little crevices inbetween the bricks of walls.
Bree at least has the common sense to let Diego stay ahead of her as she follows him and why is the fact that he seems at least semi-decent seem strange to you? I get you're in a gaggle of sparklepires that are all oh-so mean but that doesn't mean there's at least one or two other decent people in there if you would care to even pay attention to some of them because, you know, being observant about those who can potentially kill you is a really great trait to have.
I get this really funny mental image when our handy narrator describes herself spinning across the street. Like, you don't spin across anything unless you're a freaking dreidel. Whatever, she and Diego take out two hos and a pimp. Mr. Ethnic Name takes the pimp while Bree here drains both hos entirely.
Now, a little math for everyone here: on average, and adult human body will contain about 1.25 gallons of blood. Since we're dealing with some prostitutes here, we'll say they're a bit under the average and go with a slighter build that contains 1.10. This means Bree here has consumed 2.20 gallons of blood in the span of, oh, we'll say 10 minutes because Smeyer fails at making any distinguishing with the passing of time in these books. Keep note of this number, okay?
Bree and Diego need to get rid of the bodies, so what do they do? They take them into the ocean. Apparently pulling up a relatively heavy rock underwater cause Diego to immediately sink about half of his body into the bottom of the ocean. I ... I don't think it works like that. I just ... I don't. But, anyway, three bodies under heavy rock = A-OK TO GO.
I'm going to let Bree's thought on it being pitch-black to humans in the water at their depth slide. It's night and I can buy that.
They take out two hobos. Now, since these are hobos, we'll go with them having 1.15 gallons of blood in them. This means Bree has consumed 3.35 gallons of blood in one night, in what I can assume is the span of maybe two hours. THIS. ISN'T. FEASIBLE. AT ALL. I DON'T CARE IF YOU'RE A VAMPIRE, YOUR BODY CAN'T HOLD THAT MUCH BLOOD EVEN IF IT'S A COMBO OF CIRCULATING IT AND HAVING IT IN YOUR STOMACH.
I'm sorry, but allow me to put this paragraph here:
“So how come Riley gives you such a long leash?” I asked,
wondering about the relationship there. The more time I spent
with Diego, the less I could picture him being in tight with Riley.
Diego was so… friendly. Nothing like Riley. But maybe it was an
opposites-attract thing.
This, folks, is the beginning of what I can only describe as unintentional gay going on between Riley and Diego, and I'm not talking some sweet shit like you'd find in those sappy BL manga, I'm talking more like Mr. Slave here, hello.
Mmkay, the two return to the initial scene where the hulky boys went to town on a car and the driver earlier to find a nice pileup of victims freshly abandoned. They set everything up to look like it was an accident with the various cars and bodies and then set them aflame.
Now, pardon me. I don't care if the venom of these supposed vampires is flammable. I don't care if there's gasoline everywhere. When you set this combination of stuff on fire, it will not just go off like a motherfucking nuclear bomb like you described it did with that loud boom sound. I'm pretty sure that, from the damage those two you left behind did, there would be gas everywhere, which is the problem them - with it leaking everywhere, a resulting explosion like you described wouldn't happen. FUCK.
They break into a nice book/music store in a nicer part of town. She took a DOZEN BOOKS to occupy her for A COUPLE DAYS. No, just no. You must spend your time doing something else besides that. I mean, c'mon.
Diego snags some CDs (whoo Smeyer! You went from cassettes to CDs and it only took you four books? Dayum) and the two sit down to a friendly chat blahblah is THIS NECESSARY AT THE END THERE:
“I know,” he said, sounding sympathetic again. Of course, it
wasn’t weird that we could sympathize with each other when it
came to her. “This was a few months back. Anyway, Riley was
talking about Fred, all excited. From what they were saying, I
guess that some vampires can do things. More than what
normal vampires can do, I mean. And that’s good—something
she’s looking for. Vampires with skillzzz.”
He pulled the Z sound out, so I could hear how he was
spelling it in his head.
If you're going to motherfucking tell us how he says the motherfucking word you don't need to put it as type in his talk. FUCK.
Okay, admittedly here I could be wrong but I do have this vague recollection of Smeyer putting in her books that all vampires are born with super speshul powers unique to each and every one of them. She goes against herself by pointing out here that only a few of the folks in this pack of idiots have these special powers.
FUCK ME THAT'S TWENTY PAGES I'M DONE FOR THE NIGHT THIS TOOK ME AN HOUR.
As a random note, I want everyone to know that I'm getting way more enjoyment flipping the pages of this flash book than I am reading it.
I'm going to just head over to the /x/ archives and read me some of those awesome gay stories about various paranormal entities getting it on to cleanse my brain before I head to bed. FUCK.