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Three things of substantial coolness happened over the past few days, and here I detail them, and even give you a little bonus story just because I’m in an amazingly good mood over these three.

What does the world of Twilight have in common with the Harry Potter-verse? Plagiarism lawsuits. Stephenie Meyer has been sued, yet again, by a no-name woman claiming that the New York Times bestselling author ripped off a gigantic chunk of Breaking Dawn from some book she posted on her website. If this is the truth, then it just may answer the question ‘Why did Breaking Dawn suck so hard?’

Some say that, like one J. K. Rowling, this is what happens when a person gets hideously rich and famous off their brainchild - people come looking for a free lunch. While this is utterly true, and most sci-fi\fantasy authors do borrow and trade around ideas (though the same can be said of fiction in general) I have a special, warm, fuzzy place in my heart for the idea of Twilight being a fraud. Though seriously, I have a feeling that if the fourth, and most disappointing, book in the series was stolen, it would have been a lot more interesting.

Muse released their new single, “Uprising”, and it is damned spectacular. I’ve loved Muse since Showbiz, and as I listened to the first thirty seconds or so of “Uprising”, I nearly swooned. One of my favorite things about Muse is that they have a predilection towards drawing their inspiration from topics like conspiracy theories and sci-fi - the video to “Knights of Cydonia” may just be the biggest salute to sci-fi in music video history - and all I could hear in the opening was the theme song to Doctor Who, which turns me into a ridiculous, giggly fan girl. And I’m not the only one; when the first bit of the song was released to the public, fans flocked to youtube, putting the music up against the opening segment to Doctor Who. God bless Muse and their limey, sci-fi loving souls, I was higher than if I’d done a bump off an intravenous line of espresso after listening to “Uprising”.

Lastly, there is Tucker Max. For those of you unacquainted with Tucker Max, his book I Hope They Serve Beer In Hell is a testament to assholes everywhere; that men can be crass, drunk, insensitive pricks and still be the funniest bastard ever. Tucker Max is that bastard, and the trailer for his humor memoir cum movie has hit the internet. It stars Matt Czuchry of Gilmore Girls fame, and there’s something a little beautiful and poetic about Logan from GG being the king of all assholes. So by way of toasting the movie and celebrating the trailer, I shall give you my most Tucker Max-esque story, not of me getting drunk and laid, but of me destroying a particularly dumb, whorish and vapid girl I know.

I had a friend, whom we’ll call FriendX, for anonymity’s sake. FriendX was okay for a while, but she began to grate on me after about a year and a half, as she became needier and dumber with every passing day. It got to the point where I dreaded seeing her, dreaded getting her text messages, and dreaded going to work, because FriendX was also a co-worker of mine. She screwed me over a couple of times, and much to the happiness of my husband and the majority of my friends, I decided to get rid of her once and for all. Sadly, she had so integrated herself into my life that this proved a challenging task; I worked with her, she rode my couch as she could never seem to hold down her own housing, and everywhere I went, she followed whether she was invited or not. During this time period she was sleeping with numerous guys, at least three of whom I considered a friend (I say at least; God knew how high number actually was). But the biggest problem was this: FriendX followed me around with something akin to hero worship; my opinions became her opinions, and even showed a tendency to SWF me at the most annoying of times. I had to get rid of FriendX, but I couldn’t just dump her; no, I had to annihilate her. I had to destroy her.

The first order of business was getting her out of my house. This was easy enough; I made sure she had no opportunities to slut around in my home, and she vacated the premises of her own free will. Excellent. Work proved more of a problem, but I wasn’t daunted. I would encourage her to do things like text nonstop and then go to management and complain about her constant tweeting, giving them times of texting and locations so that she would be caught out. I downplayed the severity of little things she was tempted to do, like the devil on her shoulder, and waited. It wasn’t very long; the day finally came that upper management couldn’t stand her any longer and had sufficient reason to give her the boot. She immediately texted me about her firing, and my husband, ever supportive, took me out for a celebratory lunch. I spent the entire day needling her via text message, working her upset into a nice panicking meltdown. And then, when she thought her day couldn’t get any worse, I sent her an email. I broke down her every failing in language I cannot use here, called her out as a slut, pointed out her intellectual shortcomings and said that she had nothing to offer as a human being. This girl had stolen from me, she’d used me, she got me in trouble countless times and had been the source of a great deal of tension amongst my friends, going so far as to alienate some from the group. On top of that, she was cheating on multiple friends of mine with multiple friends of mine. I spared no emotional expense, and my goal with the email was to make FriendX feel as hopeless and empty as we all saw her. She didn’t have a place of her own; she was down and out, and I hit her misery out of the ballpark.

Like most dumb slunts, FriendX retaliated with a lot of misspelled spam on the internet, the platform for morons everywhere. This irked me; I don’t appreciate inferior peoples making up crap about me and putting it all over the internet. I did what anyone would do; I warned her that if she didn’t take it down immediately, I’d tell all her boyfriends about each other. She didn’t take it down, and I followed through on my threat; the guys who were most important to her, i.e. the ones she lied to about her sex life, were swiftly informed of her cheating ways which lead to more than a few scenes where her belongings were being flung out of apartments while prostitute inspired insults were being screamed at her. I laughed my ass off - how could you not? I later heard from a mutual friend that FriendX spent all week wishing people would stop calling her a whore.

The sad part about this tale is that she still internet stalks me, still asks mutual friends if they think I’m ready to be her friend again. In case you end up reading this, FriendX, the answer is an emphatic no, and it will always be no.

I guess Tucker is right; skirts do crazy shit. In any event, here’s hoping the movie is as funny as the book and they don’t crap out and toss a stupid date night ending on it.

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