I don’t get any say on the foreign covers until they’re already come out, and when I saw this one my first thought was “Hang on. Am I…smelling my own crotch?”
But then I realized that it was actually a really flexible, thin version of me who was slamming her head into the keyboard. Which makes much more sense. Unlike what occurred when I tried to translate the summary of the book:
I’m pretty sure Neil Gaiman just told us all to go to hell. In Turkish. Best. Insult. Ever.
And in entirely unrelated news, it’s time for the weekly wrap up:
What you missed in my shop (tentatively called “Eight pounds of uncut cocaine” so that your credit card bill will be more interesting.):
What you missed on the internets:
This week on shit-I-didn’t-come-up-with-but-wish-I-did-because-it’s-kind-of-awesome:
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