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Diary of a yummy drummy: literary criticism

Aoife finally got back to me about the short story that I sent her, That Flat-Chested Ho Used to Be My Friend.

She said -- and this is from the girl who thinks Raymond Carver designs shoes -- that it "needs a little work". The flaming cheek! She wouldn't know good writing if it jumped up and pinched her on her too-toned ass.

On that subject, Aoife has naturally got one of those Glenda Gilson-type athletic bodies. Like, she's tall and has great legs. Well, she'd want to, with boot camp and Bikram yoga five times a week. But I secretly think that she now over exercises and she's way too muscular. I actually think she may be an exercise addict. Thank God there's no danger of that happening with me. If I ever do go into rehab, it'll be for exhaustion from being one of those women who do too much for others. (My mother imagines herself to be just such a woman -- she's even compared herself to Adi Roche on occasion. But really, she's a selfish wench. My mother, not Adi Roche.)

Anyway, I digress. Aoife gave me this so-called editorial feedback on the way down to Kildare Village, where we were going to browse for bargains. By the time we'd reached Starbucks for a much-needed chai latte, I was ready to pepper spray her. I mean, Aoife hasn't a clue what she's talking about. About anything, in fact. Then, after what seemed like about three years, she said: "Okay, so that's what was wrong with it. Now I'll talk about what I liked about it." She went on to say that the eponymous flat-chested ho in the story was brilliantly described, especially the bit where she stops being a lesbian the minute she gets a bit of quality male attention.

Aoife and me then spent two hours discussing Brooke's flaws and failings. We decided that her top two were her explosive temper and her intellectual superiority complex. I feel so close to Aoife now. She's so wise.