Books where people taste like something.

So I was reading a dumb teenage girl book today. You know the type. They have sparkly pink or lime green covers with names like "1-800-Boyfriend" or "Spring Fling." The heroine is a charming girl who thinks she's ugly as sin despite consistently having guys drool over her. Her best friend has been friends with her for their entire lives and tends to be either a total ditz or a heartless bitch. It takes her the entire book to find the right guy, even though he's been RIGHT THERE the whole time.

I love those kinds of books. Sure, they can be unbelievably dumb and predictable, but it's nice to read them sometimes. You don't have to think about anything other than the love interest's strong arms from scooping ice cream at the local store with a cutesy name.

The problem is that sometimes things happen in them that I totally can't forgive. This goes beyond the heroine not wanting to tell the baseball player she was totally into that she played baseball, because she didn't want him to think she was a tomboy (??).

I am talking about when they finally kiss, after an emotionally charged baseball game/friend's party/day spent flying kites, and Luis Love-Interest pulls away from Hannah Heroine, gazes passionately into her chocolate-brown eyes, and tells her in his sexy, deep voice:

"You taste like turnips."

Okay, maybe Hannah Heroine really likes turnips. Maybe she has a turnip addiction so bad that her friends are secretly planning an intervention. I don't care. If she hasn't been eating turnips in the past half an hour, I fail to believe that she can taste like them.

That's what happened in this book I was reading, the one with the baseball player. After their first kiss, Baseball Dude told her that she tasted like chocolate cookie dough ice cream. I thought, "Oh, that's kind of cute," since she had been eating the ice cream just a minute ago -- ice cream that he had bought for her just to be nice.

Then he mentioned it again a few chapters later. She hadn't been anywhere near ice cream for at least a day or two, but he still told her, "I love the taste of chocolate chip cookie dough." I thought, "Good for you, but I don't think she tastes like it anymore."

Then they kissed sometime after dinner and she described her own mouth as tasting like chocolate chip cookie dough, despite not having eaten any recently, and I put the book down.

I don't think it's possible to constantly taste like chocolate chip cookie dough. I mean, I eat a lot of that kind of ice cream, and yet I'm pretty damn sure I don't taste like it. Someone is free to come over here and check, but I'm fairly certain I don't taste like food I haven't eaten all day.

It's one thing for a smoker to taste like cigarettes (yum) or someone who's just been eating sugar cubes off a plate to taste like diabetes, but this thing is way too much for me to handle.

And now that I'm done writing, I'm off to finish that book with Miss Cookie Dough.