Introducing: Mrs. Mills-And-Boon

Who here likes Mills and Boon romance novels?

If you raised your hand, I will shoot you.

I don't read Mills and Boon, or indeed any romance novels at all. To me they just seem formulaic, a way to earn a quick buck or two by indulging middle-aged housewives' deepest sexual fantasies within one hundred pages, with of course, a shirtless blonde muscular he-man-man type holding a svelte prettylady in his bulging arms. But at least the people who are reading them, are in fact reading - right?

WRONG

Our first subject in this cavalcade of horrors is a woman I shall refer to only as "Mrs. Mills-and-Boon". I'm estimating that she is in her mid-to-late forties - one of my class' many empty-nesters (the kids have all moved away from home so it's time for mom to indulge her creative side!).

Of course, this is all incidental. See, I wouldn't have any problem with this woman if she were a mute, or one of those African tribeswomen with lip-discs. At least then she wouldn't be able to speak intelligibly. But sadly, she isn't, and she can, and oh, how she will.

Submitted for your approval is the story of my first class. An evening class, Novel 1. I was thoroughly enjoying it, the lecturer was verbose and attention-grabbing. However, about twenty minutes in, Mrs. Mills-and-Boon asks the lecturer if the class members are allowed to speak to the lecturer. The lecturer replied yes, and at least half the class (myself included) shot looks at each other intimating that we knew this would soon become a problem.

The lecturer continues on, talking about what he feels makes a great novel. He makes a derogatory comment about Mills and Boon romance novels (as you do) and most of the class laughed (understandably). However, Mrs. Mills-and-Boon responded, "Well, actually, I've written a Mills and Boon novel, and I quite enjoy them."
"Well, that's fine," says the lecturer.

However, another member of the class says something to the effect of "But they're hardly literature, are they?" - launching one side of the room into heavy debate, in which can clearly be heard from Mrs. Mills-and-Boon the following - "The only people who don't like romance novels are feminists". I choke back laughter and exchange bemused glances with the girl next to me.

She continues on to say "Everybody loves a bit of romance in their lives. If you don't, you must be a hermit or something."

Excuse me for a moment, I feel a heavy rant coming on.

WHAT THE FUCK IS SHE ON ABOUT, EXACTLY? A HERMIT? I'M SINGLE, DOES THAT MEAN I LIVE IN A CAVE IN THE MIDDLE OF NOWHERE AND EAT TWIGS AND MOSS AND SHIT?

Phew. Sorry. Like a bowel movement, it just has to be passed.

Anyway, obviously I was quite shocked to hear words come out of a forty-something-year old woman's mouth that would have better belonged to one of the less bright (and that's being generous) members of my Year 12 English class.

More on Mrs. Mills-and-Boon as it comes - and I think there's going to be a lot of it, somehow.

Templates make me queasy

I've had blogs before. I know how they work. And I have a love-hate relationship with them. Other people seemed to like them just fine (in fact, I made many a friend in the olden times of MSN Spaces - there is no shudder turbulent enough, I know - which I still remain on close terms with) but ultimately it wasn't unlike being a seal sitting on a rock in a zoo, clapping my flippers in the hopes that somebody would throw me a fish.

Having said this, there just has to be somewhere for me to relate anecdotes regarding some of the more foolish people in the college course I'm currently serving the first of three (or something) years of.

Ever seen the film "Art School Confidential"? Or read the brief Daniel Clowes comic that it was based on? Both manage to accurately and hilariously categorize art school students ("the suck-up", "Mom", "Mr. Phantasy", "the macho art sadist", etc.) and, one of my college prospects actually being an art school, I was living in fear. But when I instead managed to get into writing class, the fear disappeared.

Until the very first class.

My god, Mr. Clowes knows what he's talking about. Sadly, "Art School Confidential" not only applies to art school students, but also aspiring writers! Who'd'a thunk it? Not me, that's for sure.

I've been a member of the class for three days, and I've already seen and heard so many asinine and/or just plain stupid comments that, well, I feel the urge to share them.

So sit back and watch me bitch my little brains out.