Bedside Reading

My last book review was for The Fault in our Stars, and yet I feel like I've been reading a tonne since then, but can't remember anything.  It doesn't help that Academic Book Club is starting to go buck.  For our next meeting, we're reading: Judy Blume's Forever, an Erica Jong selection from the New York Times OR the entirety of Fear of Flying, a contemporary YA about teen sexuality, and they just threw in this literary erotica thing by Tamara Faith Berger (former sex columnist for Vice Magazine, back when you picked up a copy of Vice on your way to buy Geek Boutique phat pants - those who know, know!) called Maidenhead.  UMMMMM...REALLY?!?  I was like, "can you guys hop off my jock, because I would really love some non-book club related reading on my roster."  It took me forever just to catch up with the last reading (first time I'd ever attended a meeting without finishing the book!  I was deeply ashamed, actually, because I'm a total brown nose nerd).   Anyway, this is what I've been thumbing through of late:

This was Academic Book Club's last pick.  This is a loose continuation of Boyden's Governor General's Award-nominated novel, Three Day Road, which I read for work book club (review here).  This book is told in alternating chapters narrated by Will, an alcoholic, former-bush pilot uncle, lying in a coma in a Moosonee hospital, and his niece, Annie, a hunter and trapper who gets seduced by the life of modelling in New York City on the search for her sister, Suzanne.  The book jacket talks about "history, the secret that binds the two together" and all sorts of other, intriguing things, but the actual reality of the novel is that it's a bit of a plod.  The story is soap operaic and clumsy, the chapters narrated by Annie implausible (she's instantly taken up in the modelling world! She starts being seduced by the big city's drugs and glamour!) and amateurish.  While the character of Will is quite endearing and has a charming voice and a sad back story, I just couldn't get into this book.  It seemed to self-consciously an attempt to be "literary" and the menace of small town life in Northern Ontario veered too much into cariacture.  Actually, if I was to outline my problems with this book as a whole, it's that it too often devolved into cariacture and well-trod stereotypes.

So.  This book is kind of exciting because I was charged by Academic Book Club in my unofficial capacity as knower-of-all-things-YA (I would expand that to include "all things young and pop culture") to drum up a contemporary take on teen sexuality as a companion to Blume's Forever, which is a kind of after-school-special take on a girl pressured to have sex for the first time with the boyfriend she loves, only to find out after they do the deed that high school love isn't forever.  So I took to Twitter and asked E. Lockhart (author of the Ruby Oliver series and a personal hero of mine) and SHE RESPONDED!  DIRECT ACCESS TO ONE OF MY HERO AUTHORS!  The internet is a wonderful thing.  Anyway, she suggested Mlynowski's book, which is about a sixteen year old girl, April, whose parents got divorced after an infidelity.  She's living with her dad and his new wife, but when her dad decides to move (her mom and little brother moved to France with her mom's new beau), upset at the thought of leaving behind her life in Connecticut (and her boyfriend, Noel), she tricks her dad into letting her stay in her friend Vi's basement apartment.  Her dad thinks that Vi's mom is around when in actuality, Vi's mom is on tour.  What happens is a story told in the form of the 10 things that happened, and we follow April through her junior year as she lives on her own, deals with managing money and responsibility, and loses her virginity to her boyfriend.  This was an entertaining enough yarn, but pretty forgettable.  It wasn't DEEP YA, the way John Green is.  It wasn't gripping YA, the way fantasy stuff like Daughter of Smoke and Bone and Graceling are, and it wasn't super-squee teen love YA, the way Sarah Dessen is.  But, it did yield this line, which I thought was pretty sage advice:

"I guessed you had to forgive when you could, move on when you couldn’t, and love your family and friends for who they were instead of punishing them for who they weren’t." 

^^^ Right there.  Words to live by.  I need to do more of that in my life, fo' sho.

I had a brief dalliance with R. Crumb's illustrated Book of Genesis, but because Crumb does SUCH a phenomenal job of staying faithful to the source material (with language lifted from the Book of Genesis direct)...it's kind of borez0rz.  Yeah, crazy shiz happens in the Book of Genesis, but it's also hella boring with much begatting of so and so and more begatting and so and so living 800 years and begatting blah blah blah.  I feel like Bible stories are way more scandalous when they're retold and paraphrased.  This book does give Crumb the opportunity to revel in his (obvious) love for drawing round, bulbous people with tonnes of hair and semi-grotesque features.  That's kind of his thing.  

In other pop culture news, the internet has exploded recently with hype surrounding Lena Dunham's new, Judd Apatow-backed series, Girls, on HBO.  The talk around this has been kind of crazy, really.  It's like the whole Noah Baumbach-led crowd in NYC has taken over every intelligentsia media outlet and everyone is weighing in.  When you think about it, the Noah Baumbach-led crowd is actually a very, very small subset of society (same with the people who actually watched Dunham's feature-length debut, Tiny Furniture) - infinitesimally small, really.  I watched the first episode, which is available in its entirety on Youtube, and I dunno...it's aight.  She's been likened to Louis C.K., but I find her a lot less funny and the show has way less heart.  Louis C.K. is way more self-aware and class-conscious than Dunham's character/fictional proxy is.  Louis C.K. seems to have way more important things to say about stuff that matters - parenting, being a schlub, being depressed, race, class, the military, than Dunham's crew of disaffected, entitled, privileged mid-twenties crew.  It's basically people who are super-elite (daughters of artists, professors, etc.) with liberal arts degrees that aren't getting them anywhere, doing internships, having gross early 20s tattooed sex with losers, and then thinking about their lives too much without enough hilariousness happening (like, with NO hilariousness happening).  And characters you can't root for.  Not a winning combo, IMO.  

It keeps getting compared to Sex and the City, which I believe the media has turned more into a cultural phenomena than it actually was for anyone who wasn't a woman living in New York City at the time.  I watched Sex and the City as a semi-engaging soap opera that didn't really super-duper hold my attention.  The media would have you believe that it was THE defining show for a generation of women.  If it is, then that's super, extremely, really, really, really sad.  I can't even handle it.  

Thank goodness we have Jennifer Lawrence in this world.  Seriously, this girl is the bomb.  I'm obsessed with her.  From an interview she gave recently in Hello Magazine: 

"You know what made me fall in love with Katniss?  It was that, for once, this is a woman in a movie who is focused on something other than who her boyfriend is.  She's forced into an arena to fight for survival - she's thrown into a way and becomes a political figure without even realizing it - and that is far more interesting than her romantic life.  Look.  I loved working with both Josh and Liam.  But as far as Katniss is concerned, I think that with all she has going on, the very bottom of her priorities list is the question of who her next boyfriend is going to be."  

Then there was the series of charming talk-show interviews she did in the run-up to the Hunger Games, where her loveable, self-deprecating, adorable self really shone through and made me love her more.  This bit about feeling like an idiot flying first class, is but one example why:

Talking about an intense Harry Potter-related conversation?!  Quit it!  She's a doll.  Love that girl to bits.

I dunno...I feel like I'm either too old and conservative and too young and immature to be into Girls.  I like Mindy Kaling and the Hunger Games and Louis C.K. and my new favorite show, Downton Abbey.  Which I read as "DownTOWN Abbey" for the longest time and then had a conversation with my colleague about it (before I started watching) in the fall where I kept calling it "DownTOWN Abbey" and she corrected me in a polite way by saying it properly like, half a dozen times and I still didn't clue in.  LOL!  Anyway, this show is a very pleasant soap opera.  I'm a little conflicted because I obviously have problems with the British gentry and the class system and the show has a way of making it seem like the quiet nobility of the staff is the awesomest thing ever or at least, humanizing and normalizing the inequities of the economic social strata.  Let me be clear here: the British fixation with breeding and class is a horrible, horrible thing.  But the show is a delightful diversion.  It makes me laugh because they'll show "scenes from next week's episode" and it'll be someone sitting on a gorgeous settee with a knitted brow saying something like, "there are rumours that you are NOT a virtuous woman!" and me and the Dotytron are sitting there, mouths agape, going, "OH NO YOU DI'N'T!"  The anachronisms are part of what makes it so hilarious.  

Sigh.  Downton and Game of Thrones are making me so happy right now.  Anything that's miles away from the headspace of sad-sack entitled, lily-white a-holes in NYC, please!

Fin.

F-F-F-Friday!

Whaaaat.  A couple of weeks ago the Dotytron decided that he wanted to get into Leonard Cohen, so he d/l a discography and put it on while we were cleaning the house.  Obviously, my opinions are my own, but guys: LEONARD COHEN IS THE WORST.  It's so...Québecois.  Like, literally accordion instrumentation, fraaanche.  Like, you can practically hear someone twirling a moustache in the background while pedaling a unicycle.  Then you have the standard Leonard Cohen droning delivery.  I think the point with ol' Lenny is that he's supposed to be a superb lyricist.  Unfortunately (for him), lyrical prowess is wasted on me.  As I said at the time, unless the lyrics are, "take rings off" or "kidnap that fool" - I stopped listening 5 seconds in.  LOL!


Not much to report.  I went on a bit of a spring work wardrobe shopping spree.  Here's what I got:

To be paired with either my black, wide-sleeved blazer or my fitted blazer or a cardigan for that oh-so-professional, "ladies that lunch" look

Because I feel that spring means that colour should be welcomed with open arms into a wardrobe.  I like this because it can be dressed up or down - I think it'll look smashing on it's own at a garden party (I think I might actually be going to one of those this year!), or with a jean jacket for an adults-only dinner out, or with a navy blazer for work.

Again, more colour.  This saucy sweater would look great with any number of bottoms - navy, white, denim, khaki, brown.  It's perfect!

Same goes for this one - I bought it because it was neutral enough to pair with a lot of different things, but I loved the pop of colour by the face, and the sweetness of the Peter Pan collar

This scandalous top is VERY sheer.  I don't know if I'll be ballsy enough to pair it with a tank top or cami underneath for work, but it will certainly be a nice weekend look.  Unless I'm too old to be wearing sheer (with a tank top underneath, people!!  I'm not a total harlot!)

Finally, a last sheer blouse - but one that's got demure enough styling to make it very work-appropriate with the proper layers underneath.  

I'm not necessarily going to keep them all, but when shopping online, I feel the safest thing to do is buy now, try later, return even later after that for full refund.  

There has been a lot made of the whole Rihanna working with Chris Brown thing in the media already.  So much so that I don't feel I have to weigh in on how ABSOLUTELY ABHORRENT it is that someone who BEAT THE CRAP out of a woman can be welcomed back into the music industry with open arms.  Haven't we learned anything from James Brown, Ike Turner, etc.?  It's sickening.  She is a HORRIBLE role model for young women, and I say that as a former Chris Brown/RiRi fan (remember the Kanye concert?  Remember how thrilled I was when mothereffin' Chris Brown surprised us by coming on stage?)  I can't believe that she would consent to work with him, professionally or otherwise.  It's not like he's the ONLY PERSON SHE CAN COLLABORATE WITH.  

Ugh.  We need a cleanse.  Here's a photo of Becks holding his daughter, Harper, dressed in a suit, looking foine:

Ummm...ARE YOU F**KING KIDDING ME?  I feel like he's a good dad and it makes him a billion times hotter.  Stop, Posh and Becks, just stop.  Posh seems like she's just the awesomest.  Designs amazing clothes, isn't afraid to mess up her greyhound body by having kids, owns who she is but doesn't coast on it.  She just seems very likeable to me.

Okay, enough celebrity ranting and raving.  I also think about serious things.  Such as how my previous post included huge spelling/sentence/grammar errors, but I'm too lazy to change it.  It's because I've been fending off the Big Yam when I'm crafting my posts at home.  He's super-into his mama right now, which of course warms the cockles of my heart and gives me ammunition in the incredibly childish comparison war of "who does the Boobla love more?" that I insist on waging with the Dotytron.  It's kind of crazy how much he understands, even though he can't express everything he wants to express.  I've got him toddling around doing all kinds of things: "go get your shoes!" "put that in the cupboard!" "go get your story!" "give baba a hug!" just to marvel at how he can FOLLOW INSTRUCTIONS.  He understands me!  Yesterday I started giving him little Eskimo kisses (I know it's not PC to call them that and I acknowledge, but I don't know the suitable replacement name for rubbing your nose against another person's nose!  So sue me!)  and I called them "smushies" just once, but he instantly picked up on it.  So later that day when I said, "give mama smushies" he PRESSED HIS NOSE AGAINST MINE AND IT WAS THE CUTEST THING. GAH.  But I kinda wish I hadn't picked such a weaksauce name for them.  It's so...mawkish.  

Tonight the roomie is coming over!  Yay!  We're having my mac'n'cheese (recipe already posted before) with a mix of fontina, cheddar, and asiago.  Topped with toasted thyme panko breadcrumbs, with sautéed rapini on the side.  And a little wee devil's food cake baby cake frosted with Momofuku Milk Bar birthday cake frosting for dessert.

Fin.

There's something you should know about me...

and it's that I hate Dax Sheppard.  Look at his face:

I find him disgusting.  Which is why I never got behind Kristen Bell (aka Veronica Mars) being with him.  When she did that (and when she appeared on Heroes in its horrendous second season, and then starred in awful, awful rom-coms, with a notable grace period being Forgetting Sarah Marshall), I totally gave up on Veronica Mars.

Then I saw this video today, and I found it so utterly charming that she might have brought me back around:

I also read this article where she talks about how The Hunger Games is "all I think about" and how she had a Hunger Games-themed birthday party where people dressed up like Cato and Clove and Effie Trinket and tracker jackers and I think that's so damned awesome, I'm totally on board.  Dax Sheppard and his busted face notwithstanding.

Class tonight.

Fin.

Kim Kardashian

So, the person in my life with the most to say about Kim Kardashian's divorce is (somewhat surprisingly) the Dotytron. He is OBSESSED with Kris Humphries, in a kind of classically Dotytron way. Which means that he doesn't know his name, but will periodically update me on the status on Kris and Kim's relationship by asking questions like, "Have you seen the guy Kim Kardashian is dating? He's a centaur!" So I've been hearing centaur-related updates for the past few months. I find is so funny that he thinks Kris Humphries is a centaur.

Not much to report here. I have dodgeball this evening and then the roomie is bringing us dinner, which is good, because our stove is all effed up (yay! Exactly what we need right now!). It won't turn on and when you turn the dial the "burner on" light flickers but doesn't go on completely - I think it's just a loose wire and I'm trying to get someone in to fix it. Still a pain in the butt - how are we supposed to go a few days without a stove?!??

We've started watching The Walking Dead, and by "watching" I mean, I sit with my hand up blocking my view of the television and hyperventilate and repeat tersely "I hate this show. Why are we watching this show. I hate this show."

I've also started stressing about the holidays because well - the holidays kind of blow. What the crap am I supposed to get for the Big Yam? He doesn't even know what's going on right now. He only recently figured out how to clap his hands together! I think next year I'm going to go more buck making an advent calendar and whatnot for him, but for right now, I think he'll just be happy that we have a tree that he can destroy. Ugh...I just want to call Christmas off all together.

This has been a pretty randomonium post. Sorry.

Fin.

the kind of guy you marry

i was never the kind of kid to sit around dreaming of my future wedding day, the kind of guy i would end up with (other than balthazar getty - "young guns 2" say what!), or any of the other standard, young heterosexual girl fantasies (the kind that are mercilessly peddled by avaricious hollywood purveyors of heternormative heroin like "bride wars"). not me. i was too busy reading e. nesbit stories of well-behaved yet still adventuring children, making toilet paper tube crafts, and running around the yards in my little fiefdom lugging the neighbours' siamese cats hither and yon.

i was super-duper ANTI-wedding and marriage for like, forever (still am.) i didn't have a prince charming in mind or a checklist of qualities i wanted in my future life partner; no, the ever-prosaic and practical kid-version of me was all like, "you're together for as long as you're together" or "love is what's made over time" and all the rest.

yesterday, after brunch, the dotytron and i retreated to our separate lairs and worked in individual silence for 3-4 hours; me cranking out quilting blocks and he in the pursuit of cover letter eloquence and compositional glory. at around 5 in the afternoon, in the dimming light of day, i heard the door of the craft room open behind me. i turned to behold the dotytron, who without words of greeting or acknowledgement simply said, "i'm pretty sure i've got some raccoon sex happening outside if you want to come see."

i didn't know it then as a kid, but as we stood at the window to gawk like nosy tenement dwellers at the slow-moving, methodical display of woodland animal copulation, joined together by our silent, depraved titillation and profoundly immature thrill at the sight before us, as i stood there with him by my side, i realized that THIS is the kind of man you (and by "you" i mean, "i") marry. it couldn't have been any other way, really. as a child i floundered in blessed ignorance of the ringing truth: that at the end of the day, you really want to marry the kind of guy who'll alert you to raccoons f**king outside your window.

last night we ended up using our harvey's coupons for dinner. i'm all over the fast-food chain coupons that come in the mail, now. even if they do result in me sitting at the dining room table, wasting precious half hours with the flyers spread before me, contemplating the vagaries of their deals and combos and value-added whosits with talmudic intensity. there really is no way of getting the better of them. of not having your usual order attenuated by the unyielding force of their rules and bylaws. foolish, chinese me that i am, always on the hunt for a slightly better bargain or deal, i still try to pit the full might of my enculturated calculatory instincts against the outputs of countless well-compensated actuarial scientists employed by mcdonald's, taco bell, etc. in the end, i always hve to concede defeat. so, we paid a bit extra to upgrade our fries to poutine and settled for the standard original burger instead of the double.

we watched the golden globes even though the dotytron was hating every minute of it. lol! it was worth it to watch ricky gervais almost lose his s**t when he made the joke about no one loving a good drink more than mel gibson. lol!!! it was considerably less charming when mel gibson tried to act like he was in on the joke by pretending to be a stumbling, slack-faced drunk - mostly because he turned into an anti-semitic lout last time he got trashed. i also enjoyed hearing arnold schwarzenegger pronouncing "avatar" "ahvuhdarr"

look at helen mirren. just look at her. i've loved her since i saw her in "oh lucky man" for OAC writer's craft lo, 13+ years ago...



and look at this ADORABLE photo of diane kruger and joshua jackson:

the gofugyourself girls are always going on and on about how awesome they are as a couple and how adorable joshua jackson is and i agree 100%.

other random thoughts on the golden globes: christina hendricks has a mighty pair of golden globes of her own (hyuk, hyuk). RDJ stole the show with the best speech of the night. drew barrymore's breathiness seemed like a total affectation to me. i loved chloe sevigny, marion cotillard, and zoe saldana's dresses. i thought anna kendrick's dress totally washed her out. and carey mulligan is totally over-rated in my opinion and she always has a strangely mincing, tight-lipped smile that i find off-putting (also her dress was doing nothing for her.) and "nine" looks like one of the worst movies i'm ever not-going-to-see in my life.


tonight for dinner i made penne carbonara with guanciale from firenze. i also made this new salad consisting of thinly shaved fennel tossed with olive oil and salt, a layer of mixed baby greens tossed with balsamic and salt, a layer of proscuitto, and pomegranate seeds.

it still boggles my mind that there used to be a time when i didn't like fennel. it seems like a dream. i love it now.

organizing photos and putting them into albums has given me a raging headache. peace out.

fin.