Before we had things like cell phones and AIM, in that small period of where you were a loser if you were too stupid to read, until reading became lame and you switched to Nickelodeon, every betch among us has shadily read books. While it's a proven fact that nice girls love books, every smart betch was shaped by the stories of our childhoods which helped us become well rounded, astute betches who could spot tall bros like Where's Waldo from a mile away. Let's take a look at the betchiest books we read before we discovered Sparknotes.
Goodnight Moon: infant euphemism for Blackout Wednesday.
Eloise, fucking queen of the Plaza and the original ADD child. With her proclivity for getting away with anything we'd put money on her being the inspiration behind the term American Idol.
Madeline's story has definite foreshadowings of Cady Heron, being the most popular girl in school who was also a ginger. But more importantly Madeline was #3 studying abroad in elementary school, and the girl could totally appreciate straight lines. The only issue was her breaking of bread.
The Lorax showed us what happens when self proclaimed “doctors” drop acid. Props for giving us one of our greatest tools for pretending to care about the #47 environment.
Where's Waldo. No words allowed.
We put up with the nicegirliness of Judy Blume until she started writing books about lesbians.
Say hello to your friends who did too much work. Great movie though. And who didn't learn about diabetes from Stacy and the plight of the fugly girl from Mallory?
A ginger who took herself way too seriously. Nancy Drew should've stopped solving mysteries and gotten laid. Seriously, fictional crime is so random. She's essentially the same person as Cam Jansen. But seriously, what's with all the red heads playing the lead roles in 90s children's books?
The Gossip Girl books were the coolest reading material since Amelia Bedelia got out of doing work by acting like a fucking idiot. Unlike the TV show which got annoying, Blair maintained her bulimia, Nate was a hot pothead, and Jenny Humphrey was fugly with red hair and huge boobs. Talk about greater realism.
All reading ceased once the movies started coming out. A thousand pages, no thanks.