Monday, March 17, 2008
Books
Inspired by Jim, I have added a book link to my sidebar. I, like the majority of thinkin' folk who enjoy the 'escape', like to read. They're your best friend for the time it takes to read them... unless it's completely sucky like Jonis Agee trying to write something poignant about a relentlessly pathetic character who has absolutely not one single redeeming quality even though she's supposed to be the strong yet vulnerable town slut finally slinking into to her one mule backwater hometown because of a painfully tragic end to her former pretend life and bitch doesn't have anyplace else to go because she's. that much. of. a. loser. Ok, 'slut' was too much. As was the time it took to read book.
Anyway, I read A LOT when I was laid up with the elbow. Seven weeks with your mom? Yep, you need the escape. (And DICKWEED or MRS. FREENBEAN: I really am just kidding!) Seriously, what's the one thing we can probably all say? And do say, I'm bettin'. It's: I wish I had more time to read.
Sad thing is, I actually do have time to read. Like right now. But I'm clunking around on the old 'puter and watching a re-run of 'Family Guy'. Just thinking about it, I haven't read a whole lot in the 5+ years I've had Gus. There's something about sharing your bed with an air-polluting space-hogging snoring furball that just isn't conducive to snuggling up with your best friend. And yes, I could be talking about past boyfiends as well. Alas, there it is. Gus. Usually oh-so content to snuggle up to me with his poop chute mere inches from my face. Poog poop chute. Not pretty.
I digress. Here's the deal: I hope, from time to time, to add a link to a book I've recently read. Based on that, I'd like to hear suggestions from you, my faithful few, of other books I absolutely must read. And with that, I have to say a little something about The Terror. Great read. Difficult moments. NOT a book I would have chosen for my own self, but my stepdad (the infamous DICKWEED) urged me to read it. And there you have it. I thoroughly enjoyed it, though the ending is... well, has anyone else out there read it? Oh, and here's the other thing: I'm not a book reviewer. I don't necessarily feel the need to give a synopsis of what I've read. I'm more likely to write fewer words about something I enjoyed than something I despised. So I may even add books I liked OKAY but didn't love. But I will never add a link to a waste-of-paper POS that I would feel guilty taking to Goodwill to the future misfortune of the person to waste 50 cents on it. Okay? Okay.
While I'm at it, DICKWEED suggested another book while I was chillin' with the 'rents: A Painted House by John Grisham. Loved it. Read it in one day. And get this: I despise Grisham. I despise him almost as much as Dan Brown. But he ripped up his writing recipe for this one and what a pleasant surprise. Check it out.
***
Now then, I have something on my mind. Yesterday, it has been TEN WEEKS since my father and I have spoken. We're in the midst of one helluva stubborn-fest. Without going into the gorey detail (which is so fucking stupid I can't believe it), suffice it to say that I'm just not sure what's going on. It's been SEVENTY-ONE days, people. I don't think I've ever gone longer than a week without speaking to my dad. And I know everyone is going to say shit like "Life's too short... call him" and "Just think about when he's gone" and whatnot. Or maybe not. Whatever. But (and I know this is childish), it's HIS TURN to eat that crow. I'm having a hard time believing that this man (or my stepmother) wouldn't at least e-mail me to see how I'm doing since undergoing a somewhat serious surgery on my elbow. Hell, I sent him a card on his birthday. I sent a sympathy card to the wife of his best friend. I've seen nothing, heard nothing from him. So I'm pretty bent out of shape about this. At that same time, that old man doesn't know just how fucking stubborn I can be. Hell, I learned it from him.
***
Now done with stupid rant and feel somewhat lighter what with the world on my shoulders and all...
***
In other news:
Who dat snappin' back? |
Anyway, I read A LOT when I was laid up with the elbow. Seven weeks with your mom? Yep, you need the escape. (And DICKWEED or MRS. FREENBEAN: I really am just kidding!) Seriously, what's the one thing we can probably all say? And do say, I'm bettin'. It's: I wish I had more time to read.
Sad thing is, I actually do have time to read. Like right now. But I'm clunking around on the old 'puter and watching a re-run of 'Family Guy'. Just thinking about it, I haven't read a whole lot in the 5+ years I've had Gus. There's something about sharing your bed with an air-polluting space-hogging snoring furball that just isn't conducive to snuggling up with your best friend. And yes, I could be talking about past boyfiends as well. Alas, there it is. Gus. Usually oh-so content to snuggle up to me with his poop chute mere inches from my face. Poog poop chute. Not pretty.
I digress. Here's the deal: I hope, from time to time, to add a link to a book I've recently read. Based on that, I'd like to hear suggestions from you, my faithful few, of other books I absolutely must read. And with that, I have to say a little something about The Terror. Great read. Difficult moments. NOT a book I would have chosen for my own self, but my stepdad (the infamous DICKWEED) urged me to read it. And there you have it. I thoroughly enjoyed it, though the ending is... well, has anyone else out there read it? Oh, and here's the other thing: I'm not a book reviewer. I don't necessarily feel the need to give a synopsis of what I've read. I'm more likely to write fewer words about something I enjoyed than something I despised. So I may even add books I liked OKAY but didn't love. But I will never add a link to a waste-of-paper POS that I would feel guilty taking to Goodwill to the future misfortune of the person to waste 50 cents on it. Okay? Okay.
While I'm at it, DICKWEED suggested another book while I was chillin' with the 'rents: A Painted House by John Grisham. Loved it. Read it in one day. And get this: I despise Grisham. I despise him almost as much as Dan Brown. But he ripped up his writing recipe for this one and what a pleasant surprise. Check it out.
***
Now then, I have something on my mind. Yesterday, it has been TEN WEEKS since my father and I have spoken. We're in the midst of one helluva stubborn-fest. Without going into the gorey detail (which is so fucking stupid I can't believe it), suffice it to say that I'm just not sure what's going on. It's been SEVENTY-ONE days, people. I don't think I've ever gone longer than a week without speaking to my dad. And I know everyone is going to say shit like "Life's too short... call him" and "Just think about when he's gone" and whatnot. Or maybe not. Whatever. But (and I know this is childish), it's HIS TURN to eat that crow. I'm having a hard time believing that this man (or my stepmother) wouldn't at least e-mail me to see how I'm doing since undergoing a somewhat serious surgery on my elbow. Hell, I sent him a card on his birthday. I sent a sympathy card to the wife of his best friend. I've seen nothing, heard nothing from him. So I'm pretty bent out of shape about this. At that same time, that old man doesn't know just how fucking stubborn I can be. Hell, I learned it from him.
***
Now done with stupid rant and feel somewhat lighter what with the world on my shoulders and all...
***
In other news:
- I bought Gus a doggy ladder today so he can get into bed. Das poog weighs 31 pounds and is too fat to jump. Jesus, that's sad.
- I also changed my furnace filter today. And took a big stinking bag of garbage full of cat litter, some unidentifiable moldy substance contained in a mason jar, and said furnace filter. Proud to be a homeowner!
- Today and tomorrow are vacation days for yours truly. What'm I doing with this brief respite? Why, absolutely nothing, really. I took MRS. FREENBEAN and DICKWEED out to lunch today. Yummy Mexican at El Dorado. I then promptly went home and sat my ass down. Over five hours ago.
- Ooh, this is a good one: yesterday I picked up all the dog shit in my yard. It filled about half of a plastic grocery bag. And this is only the poop not buried under the residual snow. Next time you're at the doctor's office, snag you some of the latex gloves. PERFECT for picking up dog shit if you're not queasy about the various textures you'll likely experience. And yes, I suppose nicking the gloves is wrong. But then, I'm a little agin paying some asshole $80 for a 5 minute face-to-face when I tell him about my the progress of my physical therapy.
- M & V are going on vacation tomorrow. I'm going to miss them.
Well, folks, I suppose that's all for now.
