|You can pick up a purple suit like mine on E-Bay,|
but the gnome part is all genetics baby.
You might be asking yourself what the hell I'm doing here on Writing About Writing (since I'm usually on your mom). Well, I'll tell you.
Somewhere around level thirteen, when I was spending talent points to reduce the cool-down on my "Bitch Slap" ability, I discovered a bit of a problem with my choice to be a pimp. See, I'm a feminist. (In fact, I've changed the name of that particular power to "Back Handed Compliment of Doom" because I don't like the linguistic patriarchal overtones that a woman can't even set reasonable boundaries in her life in a way that is considered bold or assertive for men or that abuse is okay whether it is back handed or not.) I have the radical assumption that women are equal--except your mom. I've been pwned by way too many pink pigtailed Necromancers in Warsing Gully not to know that.
So I decided to pimp books instead. Don't worry, I won't pimp classic literature. I did that back when I was taking candles from Gnolls near my starting city. (Your mom is too easy to even be in the starting zone.) And pimping out a book that's all the rage or has been made into a movie is no more a challenge than killing 50 Young Tigerlings for That Ernest Hemingway Anagram dude. No, I need more of a challenge. I'm going to pimp books you may not even have heard of. New books. Unsung books. Debut authors. Books that are worthy of my level 85 pimping skills.