Deeper into the Abyss, or the importance of making an entrance

Day 2
Let me paint a picture for you my friends. A Seaside Heights club filled to capacity. Our heroine Gia and her cousin have arrived and flirted their way past the bouncer at the door. Like famed scholar Joseph Campbell described in the classic literary trope The Hero's Journey, the two ladies have passed the test of the threshold guardian and arrived in this new land of adventure. This land of wonder. This land of guido juiceheads (a term which unfortunately thwarts the internal dictionary of iBooks).
In her description of this scene, Snooki, our intrepid author, uses a time honored cinematic tradition of the slow motion camera shot to provide drama and gravitas to this moment.
However, it doesn't translate to the page. At all.
Allow me a small excerpt, if you will, gentle readers.
"Gia imaged the moment in slo-mo, the music falling silent, guys turning to watch them walk, her hair swinging with every step. And then the scene returned to normal speed. They'd made an entrance."
Wow. Just wow.
Unfortunately, once inside the club, things become difficult for our heroine. After sucking face with a random gentleman, Gia is accosted by said gentleman's female companion in an altercation I am told is referred to as a cat fight.
Gia is chastised by the aggressive and possessive woman, who proceeds to call our heroine a whore. Gia inform her that she is no whore, but rather, in her own charming vernacular, a slut. According to her, there is indeed a difference.
As an English teacher, and a champion of language, I have to applaud her determination to seek out the correct noun, even in the midst of a heated altercation with some skinny shore skank.
Bravo Gia, bravo. And bravo to you Snooki, for the championing the cause of correct word choice in your narrative.
I am on page 20 of 325. Yes, that is correct. This things tops in at 325 pages. And it ain't getting better. Next chapter, Gia's cousin Bella goes to the gym. Be ready.

It has begun

Day 1
I don't even know where to begin.
I suppose I should start at the beginning. I downloaded the Snooki book tonight. The iTunes store quit on me three times while trying to download "A Shore Thing". A part of me wondered if that was a bad sign. An omen of things to come or a guardian angel desperately trying to get my attention. A part of my mind whispered at me to turn back now. The same part that tells me chili fries are bad for you and that the cute meth-head girl at the taco place who is missing a tooth might not be all that cute. I left that part of my mind to whisper its warnings in vain and downloaded anyway.
The book now in my possession, I went to the first page, steeled myself, and began the literary odyssey.
Immediately, I regret this decision. The first three pages introduce me to plucky young Gia Spumanti, Snooki's literary alter-ego as she struggles against vicious humidity of Seaside Heights New Jersey, wrestling with her stubbornly uncooperative "pouf". Thanks to the built in dictionary feature of iBooks, I discovered that a "pouf" is actually a bouffant hair-do, and originally evolved from a French term for a head-dress. Three pages of coiffure induced conflict later, and poor Gia is unable to get her "pouf"adequately high enough to attract the guido juiiceheads in the club, despite prodigious use of aqua net and butterfly clips (given the charming nom de guerre of "tramp clamps"). Has this poor girl never seen that infomercial for the Bump-it, which will give a young lady a ready made wall of hair?
I could go on to introduce Gia's cousin Bella, who is a spot on doppelgänger for Snooki's "Jersey Shore" co-star J-Woww, who is sharing the shore house with Gia this summer, but I have just realized that I now have a working knowledge of Jersey hair techniques, and apparently more familiarity with the Bump-it product than the author, and that thought has left me sickened and cold.
What have I agreed to do to myself?

A descent into madness...

Tuesday night, I read a review of Nicole "Snooki" Polizzi's first foray into writing, "A Shore Thing." Now, I am no "Jersey Shore" virgin. I have borne witness to both full seasons of this cultural adventure, and am avidly watching this current season. In short, I thought I was prepared.

I was wrong.

Contrary to my previous beliefs, it was not an autobiography, but an actual novel. As a literature teacher, I was intrigued. I had questions. I knew there was a ghost writer helping out, but would Snooki's voice actually come through? What kind of novel would this woman write? I read on.

The few snippets in the review alone were enough to leave me dazed and shuddering. the scatological references alone were enough to cause me to stare in slack-jawed denial. Overcome with revulsion, I turned away from the review and on to Facebook to express my horror.

But the memories would not fade.

As I told people about this, people laughed, but they did not believe. They had not seen those words arranged in such horrid and abhorrent fashion.

Suddenly, I knew what I had to do. I would have to read this book and report on the horrors within. I would do this in place of all those I hold dear. I would face this nightmare so they would not have to.

Tonight the madness begins. I will download "A Shore Thing" and begin to read it. I am afraid I lack the courage and self-esteem to actually buy an actual hard copy of this thing in a real store where people can see it in my hands.

As I prepare for this, I am left with a quote from the philosopher Nietzsche echoing in my mind.

"And if you gaze for long into an abyss, the abyss gazes also into you."