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Dear god, shoot me now


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So, who will ghostwrite them?

I will, for the right amount of money...

Which is almost any amount of money...

Ty Ty, if you're reading this, call me baby... let's make this Modelland dream come true!

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The story happens in a make-believe place called Modelland - every girl in the world wants to go there because it’s where “Intoxibellas” are trained. Intoxibellas are drop-dead beautiful, kick-butt fierce and, yeah, maybe they have some powers too. (But I’m confirming NOTHING! Ha. You gotta wait for the book.) The story follows a teen girl and her friends who find themselves magically transported to Modelland, even though they’re really not supposed to be there. (Okay, now, that’s ALL I’m saying!)

Yeah, that's probably enough, Tyra. "Intoxibellas" was really all I needed to hear.

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I like how they are sure to remind you several times how to pronounce "Modelland". Unless the books are being released in spanish how the hell else would you pronounce it. Will the books include pronounciation guides for every multisyllabic word?

Is this book a product of Derek Zoolander's institute for kids who don't read so good and want to do other stuff too?

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Yeah, this sounds like a train wreck.

A super-fun-terrific-awesome train wreck!

So, who will ghostwrite them?

In the Tartarean absym of my soul- a place where volcanic mountains vomit poisonous smoke, baleful flames, and dinosaurs into the sky, where the earth is continuously sundered, as if through the clenching of a titanic fist, so that it forms chasms through which flow rivers of lava- a tenebrous fantasy was born.

The agent flashed an oleaginous smile.

"Hey, hey, Tyra baaaaybeeee! This is the guy I told you about. He'll be ghostwriting your book!" The agent gestured towards the tall, cadaverous man with with a beard and shaved skull. Dressed all in black and possessing a raptor gaze, the tall stranger did not deign to acknowledge the super model or her lackey. In lieu of greeting he folded his arms across his chest in an attempt to pump up his scarecrow biceps.

Silence rang through the office.

"I'll just be going, uh, then," said the agent to break the awkward silence. "You just tell 'em what you want to write, Tyra, and he'll write it spliticky lickety!" With that, the agent beat a hasty retreat, leaving in his wake whiffs of pomade and expensive cologne. Tyra was alone with the stranger.

"Hi. Um. I'm, ah, Tyra. I didn't catch your name, Mr-" Tyra was forced to scramble aside as the stranger, not bothering to conceal his icy contempt, stalked past her to the keyboard and computer.

Before he sat, the stranger half turned. If the strength of his glare had been given physical force it would have been enough to cleave Tyra in twain.

"You may address me as Master Goodkind," he said. His voice sounded as if he was forcing every word past clenched teeth. With that, Goodkind folded himself, hunched and mantis-like, over the keyboard. A moment latter he began to hammer away at they keys.

Click. Click. Click. Pound. Click. Click. Pound. Pound. Pound. Click. Click. Click.

Tyra, more than a tad afraid, tiptoed closer so she could glance over Goodkind's shoulder.

...her firm, large, bosoms clearly visible beneath the skintight red leather bodysuit...

"What!? The main character is a teenage girl!

"Even better," muttered Goodkind.

Delete. Delete. Delete. Delete. Click. Click. Click.

...her lithe teenage body and firm, large, bosoms clearly visible beneath the skintight red leather bodysuit...

Goodkind swiveled around in the chair and affixed Tyra with a raptor glare. Startled, Tyra hopped back to put some distance between them.

"Now," said Goodkind. "We're going to need to put some dildos in the story but we can't call them dildos or the publisher will have a fit. Just call them an agiel or what-the-fuck-ever you want to and it'll be alright. I've always found that renaming dildos was the hardest part of the writing process. Have any ideas?"

"Bu...bu...but the book is a young adult novel! For teenage girls!" Tyra's voice was pleading and tears were starting to form in the corners of her eyes.

"Right," said Goodkind. "We'll need lots and lots of dildos. With spikes."

In the depths of my misanthropy I cannot help but wish this project tremendous success- success enough to to leave a lasting mark (in the manner of a grievous wound) on teenage girl culture.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to celebrate this development.

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Dear God, if she can write a book, anyone can! What a concept! :lol:

I am totally reading this once it makes it's way to second hand book stores. :lol:

Me too. I would never, ever spend real money on it but if it happened to find its way to a public library near me I'd be all over it. I bet it would make me laugh for days.

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Fucking bunch of dumbass haters! :tantrum:

Tyra Banks doesn't write fantasy. She writes about the triumph of the human spirit. . . :rolleyes:

Patrick

Please let us know if we're able to win any free copies from your site.

thx. :) :) :)

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I want to show up at the book signing and repeatedly ask her questions about Mo-DELL-and, getting Tyra to repeatedly correct my pronunciation on video for upload to youtube.

:lol: Yes, yes! I like this plan.

Please let us know if we're able to win any free copies from your site.

thx. :) :) :)

Pat's already agreed to a massive giveaway. It was his deal with the devil. How else do you think the Habs won last night? ;)

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...her firm, large, bosoms clearly visible beneath the skintight red leather bodysuit...

"What!? The main character is a teenage girl!

"Even better," muttered Goodkind.

:lmao:

You've made my day :D

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