Chuck Palahniuk’s SNUFF is a freaking genius!! Titillating dark comedy about damaged people. He never fails to surprise and impress me with his wit and humor and not to mention surprising plot twists. He got me glued from the first page to the end and until now I still can’t recover. I’ve spazzed all over facebook and twitter already and I am still hungover his genius-ness!!

And I say it again. My secret name.
And I say it again. My secret name.


Cassie Wright plans to make a ground breaking world record of on-cam fornication with 600 men, one of whom might want to kill her. It’s take from 3 male perspectives (these males signed up to bang her), Mr. 72, Mr. 137 and Mr. 600 and Sheila the wrangler.

Basta guys read it nalang shet!! haha ayoko mag-spoil kasiiii it’s super nice talaga 🙂

so much insights. so much win.

Favorite lines/parts/whatsoever:

These chicken chokers. Didn’t bother to read any feminist theory.  Nothing sex-positive. Nothing along the lines of Naomi Wolf. I come, therefore I am… No, whether a woman is a concubine to fuck or a damsel to redeem, she’s always just some passive object to fulfill a man’s purpose. (Sheila)


Want to talk third-wave feminism, you could cite Ariel Levy and the idea that women have internalized male oppression. Going to spring break at For Lauderdale, getting drunk, and flashing your breasts isn’t an act of personal empowerment. It’s you so fashioned and programmed by the construct of patriarchal society that you no longer know what’s best for yourself. A damsel too dumb to even know she’s in distress. (Sheila)



The damaged love the damaged



” So you’re adopted?”

And I tell him, “Only since I was born”



Long after Cassie Wright becomes old and demented or dead and rotten, her vagina will still haunt us, tucked under bed, buried under underwear drawers and bathroom cabinets, next to dog-eared magazines. Or showcased in  antique stores Bacardi’s rubber erection , priced the same as the hand-carved scrimshaw dildos of lonely, long-dead Nantucket whaling wives.

A kind of immortality.



It’s a locket or a box. No doubt, hidden inside is a little picture or a lock of hair.

Another form of immortality.



That, hearing just one wrong idea you lose your innocence. One detail too many and you’d be ruined. Overdosed on information.

True fact.

The wrong idea could take root and grow inside you.


Rose petals or bronzer or hair, we all leave our tracks. (Mr. 600)


It can only take a moment to waste the rest of your life.


“It only takes one mistake,” … “No matter how hard you work or how smart you become you’ll always be know for that one poor choice,”…”Do that one wrong thing- and you’ll be dead for the rest of your life.” (Mr. 137)




sigh. all the feels in this epic novel. must freakin’ read.




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