Burger King's latest food stunt makes for a hell of a photo prop.
"You died? In the starter zone? Wow... that's quite an achievement, hon."
"When a pizza delivery driver is murdered on the job, the city searches for someone to blame: ghosts? drug dealers? a disgraced werewolf?"
While a werewolf Bar Mitzvah might be a joke on 30 Rock, it's also apparently a real thing that just happened in South America.
"Going out with a werewolf, definitely all right with me."
I can deal with clichés, corny jokes, and predictable plots. What pisses me off most about the chick-lit genre is its utter lack of self-awareness.