Thursday, 14 January 2010

Book Off With Your Sparkling Vajayjay

This week I reached a milestone in the world of all aspiring authors: my first rejection letter from a literary agent. It shouldn’t really come as a surprise seeing as all writers from Kerouac to Kipling have at one point received that dreaded slap to the face in the mail. Hell, even Anne Frank took on some pretty harsh criticism from one of the first publishers to read her diary (apparently at 13 she didn’t have the ability to emotionally engage her audience. Bloody pretender!). Despite this, due mainly to laziness and intermittent arrogance, I was kind of hoping I’d get picked up straight away.

The letter itself was in fact a pre-written compliments slip with a few words scribbled over the top. They read:

“Dear John, not quite right for us I’m afraid. All the best, Agent.”

Which is fair enough I suppose. But if you read between the lines it pretty much reads thus:

rejection

Or at least that’s the way it felt for about an hour or so.

Now, it should probably go without saying that rejection is something that all writers must become accustomed to. I’m almost certain that before I get published I will have enough of these –- although probably not worded so eloquently –- to build a rather sizable paper house. Which is handy because I can’t afford to live anywhere else right now. The real annoyance of the situation is that some people seem to merely have to click their fingers to get a book deal.

Case in point: A friend of mine recently drew my attention to this complete waste of time, provided by Hollywood starlet and everybody’s favourite girl-next-door (by everybody I mean her next-door neighbours) Jennifer Love Hewitt. For those of you too lazy to click on the link, here are the highlights:

Hewitt, mostly famous for talking to dead people on a show that’s a bit like Medium but not nearly as good, has released a book offering dating advice for women; a subject she’s qualified for because, if the press is to be believed, she’s taken aboard more men than the Queen Mary II. So far this isn’t a problem for me, people buy books by famous people, that is the way things work. I am also not a prude and, cheap jokes about cruise ships aside, she has a right to straddle whomever she pleases. What does bother me is the following extract from the interview between Hewitt and some guy called Lopez, who I’m fairly sure isn’t a real television presenter but is instead filling in for the regular host whilst training for the Tactless Sleaze-ball Olympics. Here’s an extract from The Huffington Post:

Jennifer Love Hewitt appeared on 'Lopez Tonight' Tuesday to hawk her new dating book. One of her tips: glue shiny things on your vadge.

"After a breakup, a friend of mine Swarovski-crystalled my precious lady," she said. "It shined like a disco ball so I have a whole chapter in there on how women should vagazzle their vajayjays." 

- Huffington Post

Jennifer Love Hewitt: Sparkling eyes, sparkling teeth, blinding vagina.

Let’s just review what we’ve learned: At some point in the not so distant past, a publisher was sat in an office considering whether selling a book in which Jennifer Love Hewitt talks about decorating her clunge like a disco ball was a good idea. After some careful consideration he or she decided that it probably, no, definitely was.

Now, gentleman, a quick survey if you will. Raise your hand if every time you’ve removed a lady’s unmentionables and NOT found Orion’s Belt sequined across her pelvis you’ve been disappointed. Anyone? No, thought not.

I was initially shocked upon reading this but now realise it was the lack of such details that probably caused my bastard tome to be rejected. I've just now included a chapter about how sprinkling glitter on my cock and cotton-braiding my pubic hair is almost definitely a sure-fire way to increase my sex appeal. I was a bit embarrassed about it at first, but since this budding celebrity scribe has taken the first important step I think it’s probably about time I started pitching again.

In case you really have nothing better to do, here are the rest of the highlights of the whatever-that-guy-is-called-I-can’t-be-bothered-to-scroll-back-up-and-check’s interview with Vajay-J Hewitt.

  • First 25 secs: Pretty much just white-noise.
  • 30 secs: Conversation turns to the all important subject of Hewitt’s ‘Booty’.
  • 1 min 20 secs:  Lopez says Hewitt has a big arse, she tries not to act offended and kills time by talking about it in detail and then pointing at her tits. She’s a picture of class.
  • 1 min 40 secs: Lopez insinuates that Hewitt might be a bit easy. Complete stab in the dark or educated guess? Hard to say.
  • 2 min 45 secs: Conversation turns to Hewitt’s vagina, which she inexplicably refers to as a ‘precious lady’ and then a ‘vajayjay’, going from nun to hip-hop star in about 6.2 seconds. She describes how she decorates it -- presumably using paste and a floral design wallpaper, who knows, I wasn’t listening – and the host, if that is his real name, gets down on one knee and kisses her hand as if a reflective vagina is all he ever wished for in life, despite the fact it’s just not practical.

And here is the video:

So, in a nutshell, Jennifer Love Hewitt’s vagina is the reason I’m not published yet. 

In my next blog I’ll reminisce about the time Audrey Hepburn released a range of anal beads and ruined my career in the sex-toy industry.

Hewitt’s book ‘The Day I Shot Cupid” is out now, or maybe later. It’s coming out at some point anyway. The only reason I’m plugging it is because I feel a bit guilty about the Queen Mary II joke. I don’t feel too bad about the other stuff because SHE DECORATED HER VAGINA AND THEN WROTE ABOUT IT IN A BOOK. Fair game, I reckon.

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