Has a book ever left you a little stumped?  Like WHY IN THE WORLD WAS THIS BOOK CALLED A CLASSIC??  I wrote a post about “Popular Penguins” awhile back.  I LUV Popular Penguins (Classic Books in Australia) and I think I even said it was fate that I found these books.  I’m not prepared to rescind my dramatic exclamation; however, Perfume: The Story of a Murderer???  Are you serious?  Seriously?  That?  A classic?

Oh boy.

The book was GROSS!  GROSS!  And GROSS!  Like the part where he murdered 25 girls so he could wrap their body in linens to capture their smell.  Then when he was arrested the raging mob turned into a mass orgy, and instead of crucifying him and breaking the 12 major joints of his body, they worshiped him because using the perfume from his victims he created a perfume that made him smell like a God.  WHAT?  Or how about the end when this same perfume that made others worship him turned a crowd of normal people into cannibals and they ate him?  And they didn’t feel guilty for eating a HUMAN?

Out of the 263 pages that I read I liked three parts and they were at the very end so I decided to put them at the end of this post.

DAILY DOSE OF GOSSIP:

LOSER (from this post) sent me a text tonight at 10:45 pm saying “Too bad you’re not here right now!”  HAHA!  Too bad he didn’t show up to the party on Friday is more like it!

And then this guy who looks like MIUB asked me out and it’s weird so I haven’t said yes .  He talks like him too – it freaks me out a little.  He is like a less-built, less hair-gel, nervous version of MIUB.  LOL!  Can I really go out with MIUB’s younger, nerdier version?   Has anyone else ever gone on a date with a previous crush double?  Maybe I’m being dumb about it but I think it’s weird.  In fact – this may be a deal breaker …

Oh and here is a picture of some of the girls in our dinner group from New Year’s Eve (the fun part of my night.)  If you can’t tell which one is me we have some serious problems. 

Quotes from Perfume: The Story of a Murderer by Patrick Suskind.

• What he had always longed for – that other people should love him – became at the moment of its achievement unbearable, because he did not love them himself, he hated them.  And suddenly he knew that he had never found gratification in love, but always only in hatred – in hating and being hated.
• He could do all that, [rule the world] if only he wanted to.  He possessed the power.  He held it in his hand.  A power stronger than the power of money or the power of terror or the power of death:  the invincible power to command the love of mankind.  There was only one thing that power could not do: it could not make him able to smell himself.  And though his perfume might allow him to appear before the world as a god – if he could not smell himself and thus never know who he was, to hell with it, with the world, with himself, with his perfume.
• No one knows how good this perfume really is, he thought.  No one knows how well made it is.  Other people are merely conquered by its effect, don’t even know that it’s a perfume that’s working on them, enslaving them.  The only one who has ever recognized it for its true beauty is me, because I created it myself.  And at the same time, I’m the only one that it cannot enslave.  I am the only person for whom it is meaningless.