So I've finally managed to obtain a copy of City of Lost Souls, even though all of my friends ruined the best parts. Don't you just love those guys?
While I was at Barnes and Noble getting my handy dandy reading material (I also picked up Incarceron by Catherine Fisher), I met the most amazing guy at the cash register. Never has there been a moment where On second thought, no. I'd probably end up with some horrible disease or him dying in war. . . I'll take Sherrilyn Kenyon. Anyway, he was tall and thin, with brown hair and eyes and the cutest Irish accent I've ever heard. I just so happen to like all of those things.
The best part was that he wasn't hot. I'm not saying hot is a bad thing, but it gets old. You can find ten hot people easily. The cute ones are rare.
He was perhaps the most awkward guy I've ever met, and cute. Let's not forget he was cute. Like, "Holy fuck, did you just escape from a petting zoo?" cute.
And now he's giving me all sorts of plot bunnies that I don't need right now. . .
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