Category Archives: Books

My 2016 Book List


A bookwhore who never talks about books is no bookwhore at all, right? (Sidenote: you would think by now that my computer would know that bookwhore is so a word! And spelt correctly.)

So anywho, since I am feeling lazy and must soon sleep, I will share with you the books I read in 2016. Yay for me- there are almost twice as many as there were in 2015! It seems that my interest in biographies made itself manifest this past year. Enjoy!

Lolita by Vladimir Nabakov (I was more disturbed than I thought I would be while reading this, considering all the controversy I’d heard about it.)

The Antelope in the Living Room by Melanie Shankle (I bought this to give to my friend as part of her bridal shower gift; however, it sucked balls, so I didn’t.)

Lake Wobegon Days by Garrison Keillor (A native of my Minnesota, Garrison is, and went to high school with my Auntie for a minute. The best part of this book was that, while Lake Wobegon is a fictional town, all the towns surrounding it are very real, and are all towns I live near.)

Secret Diary of a Call Girl by Anonymous (This book was only interesting because the author’s sexual inclinations rival my own. That is not to say that I have been or will ever be paid to do those things I so like doing. )

I’m No Angel by Kylie Bisutti (written by a former Victoria’s Secret Angel who gave up her wings because of her religious beliefs; how easily she gave up something that some of us of shorter stature could never hope to achieve…)

The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern (Received as a Christmas present from my best friend- damn does she know how to pick ’em.)

Playground by Jennifer Saginor (growing up hanging out at the Playboy mansion was such a drag, having all those boobies about..)

Sex, Drugs, Ratt and Roll by Stephen Pearcy (Yet another attempt of mine to get my Rockstar reading; I think I actually enjoyed it more than he did.)

The Great Gatsby  by F. Scott Fitzgerald (Great, of course.)

The Bride Stripped Bare by Nikki Gemmel (Another book I was going to gift to my friend as a bridal goof. I don’t remember much about it, except that I didn’t give it to her because it was horrible.)

The 19th Wife by David Ebershoff (A fictional telling of Brigham Young’s 19th wife. I learned a lot about them there Mormons.)

Whistling Past the Graveyard by Susan Crandell (Stolen from the bookshelf of my friend because of the title; a very fitting story to read during the times in which we live. I ended up suggesting it to my Aunt for her bookclub.)

Boundary Waters by William Kent Krueger (Another Minnesota author who I missed having lunch with because I was sick when my Auntie invited me to her silent auction winning.)

Kushiel’s Chosen by Jacqueline Carey (My only repeat read this year; I had planned on going to a masquerade based on the series, but alas, I spent all my moneys on books and glitter.)

Slade House by David Mitchell (This was read only because my friend denounced this book as the worst ever after HER friend raved about it. My friend was right.)

The Girl with the Lower Back Tattoo by Amy Schumer (I really wanted to like it. Amy is a much better comedienne than she is a writer.)

Not That Kind of Girl by Lena Dunham (Sorry, Amy. Your friend Lena is much better at writing about her life in such a way that makes me want to keep reading about it.)

While Beauty Slept by Elizabeth Blackwell (Winner of my Surprising Find of the Year, seeing how I found it at THE DOLLAR TREE. So good. A superb retelling of a classic fairytale with none of that ridiculous fairytale bullshit. Did I mention Sleeping Beauty gets the pox?!?)

Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children by Ransom Riggs (Because, ya know, the movie came out.)

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November the First


Hmm. I don’t write on here so much anymore. This makes me sad. So I shall begin anew.

I suppose I would do well to update you all on everything that’s been happening in the last, well- the last really long time. But in the words of Inigo Montoya: “No, there is too much. Let me sum up.” –

My baby is a seven months and a little bit old. Holy shit.  And even though I lost every bit of weight I gained when I was pregnant with him, I do not find myself motivated enough to lose the extra 50-60 lbs. I had before that. So sadly, I have not yet reached my goal of ultimate M.I.L.F. status. But, ya know- I’m still awesome. And I have the best kid who is so smart and funny and adorable. And I’m not even being biased. Let me prove it:

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Things between my Rockstar and I have not been the stuff of romantic comedies of late. Unless you’re thinking of the part in the movie when the couple argues and breaks up. No, we haven’t broken up; in fact, I suppose technically we’ve never even argued- you can’t argue with a person who doesn’t respond to your gripe. But in recent times I find myself bitching to myself over his lack of interest and general laziness in the relationship. After having expressed myself to him, I realize I’m kinda over it. A person can only take so much disappointment. And since his daughter now lives with us full-time, I am not in quite as good of spirits as I once was. Boo.

On a lighter note, I now work with an adorable hot chic that says I’m her favorite, and I have been approved for six new credit cards in the last two months, which is something I’m not quite sure is a good thing yet- other than the fact that finally after six years, I actually CAN get approved for things. Sadly, in those six years, I have not learned restraint, and also not-quite-but-almost maxxed out all said credit cards. BUT! I have a beautiful new copper loveseat in my perfect library that’s sitting in front of my very expensive electric fireplace I ordered with my Menard’s card.

Also, my most amazing friend Delightfulness is almost engaged, and apparently has a ridiculously large wedding budget that I get to help her plan with. Such a wedding will have no room for chubby bridesmaids, so I must force myself to not eat in the coming year, which will help with the whole M.I.L.F. thing.  Life is good.

Too, I am completely re-inspired to finally finish writing my book, though since I have an adorable little boy who has inherited my need for attention, the only time I have to write it is after work, when I sit down in front of my computer and get distracted by Facebook and Pinterest. Aye, me.

XOXO

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Thirty-Fucking-Four


Damn, I’m old.

Yes, yes, I realize that a good many people out there are much older than I, but having celebrated my birthday just yesterday and realizing I’ve accomplished not all that much has made me feel incredibly aged.

It is true, I’m much wiser than my 33-year-old self was, having experienced child-birth and having lived with an almost step-child every day for the past year. For this I suppose I am grateful. However, there are some downfalls to growing older….

I have less patience for mankind as the years go by- my theory that most people are assholes has been proven again and again over the past year. While I was willing to overlook such trivialities in the past, as the years go by, I more frequently find myself daydreaming of a time when  I can walk through a parking lot without having a farmer hanky blown in my direction, and the imbeciles on the roads are restricted from operating motor vehicles.

I realize how non-existant my will power has become- I am not my perfect goal weight. I have not finished writing my best-seller. I haven’t learned any languages, or trained the dog to quit barking, or finished painting the mural in my basement bathroom. Boo on me.

I feel like I’m eighty most of the time- this may have something to do with the fact that I am not at my goal weight. And that my diet consists of Caribou Coffee and French fries. And that my chosen form of working out is walking out to the mailbox daily to see if a million dollar check has arrived yet.

Whatever. At least I still look good.

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Survive and Thrive Workshop: Prompt #2


Write about what keeps you up at night.

The things that keep me up at night aren’t the stuff of nightmares.
Instead, they are the memories of days past.
You see, when the world is asleep, it is the perfect time for me to reminisce
on what has been, and what could have been, and what is to come.
In nights gone by, I HAVE been kept awake by worries,
those devious little monsters that wiggle into a person’s brain,
and scratch, scratch, scratch, with their wicked little claws.
I finally learned they only exist if I let them.
So I figured out a way to starve them out,
and I watched them, one by one,
as their emaciated bodies slunk away into the darkness.
These nights, I am kept awake by delightful things
like raging heartburn and stretching belly aches
due to pregnancy.
As irritating as these are, I suffer them gladly,
because I have waited almost a lifetime for this baby.
It gives me a chance to sit in the dim,
thinking on the things I will teach my boy.
I smile when I consider what a love for books I will impart on him.
Too, in these dark hours, I watch my Love sleeping,
and wonder if my son will have his nose,
and maybe those little smile lines around his mouth someday.
What is there to fear in the darkness?
Without the dark, the light would never look so glorious.

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Survive and Thrive Workshop


One of the really good reasons for having a best friend as an English major is that you get invited to join in such things as writing workshops on occasion. This is one of those times.

Our writing prompt for the day was this: What are your two most prevalent inner landscapes and how would you describe them?

My response?

My inner landscapes…. I’m not really sure they can be separated.

After all, can a person separate a piece of themselves from himself? There’s certainly a farm, although it’s been many many years since I’ve actually spent a goodly amount of time there.

As if that matters.

It is as vivid in my mind as this afternoon’s lunch.

There’s a hill across the gravel road that always seemed huge to me, which in reality is probably much more considered a grassy knoll.

Forgive me. I was small when last I saw it.

A barn, where countless hours were spent shoveling cow manure to the musical ramblings of The Judds and Alan Jackson.

I do wonder now why shoveling shit held such glamorous allure for a ten-year-old. Odd.

Over there, an almost matched pair of classic Chevy trucks are parked, given new life by a cousin I always thought was “the coolest”.

Behind the barn sits a row of pig huts, and beyond that a rather unimpressive cattle pasture seemingly bare of grasses, but still entertaining enough that I spent hours wrestling boulders the size of my head up,catapulting them onto the barely crusted-over cow pies.

What glorious explosions of leafy green poop!

I grin to myself, remembering the thrill.

That was then, a simpler, more innocent time, but it’s still here within me somewhere.

Moving on.

The landscape of now is rife with imagination; mixed, too, with the stress and unease of humdrum, everyday life.

Oz, Neverland, Wonderland, and Willa Wonka’s Chocolate Factory all appear at times, though my yellow-brick road is sometimes blocked with piles of unpaid bills and regrets.

No. No regrets. I must remember there are no regrets, only choices that have taught me more than I might otherwise have known.

To my left is Ireland, because who DOESN’T want to go to Ireland?

It is, after all, the place where all the epic fantasy movies are made.

Alice’s white rabbit runs past, late as always, across the moors of England to my right.

You know- the ones Eustacia Vye spent so much time on.

It depends on which day you are here, what other places you might see.

New York City is never too far, the night lights of which rival Vegas, which is just there.

You see? Don’t mind the mostly nude women walking about- we all need something pretty to look at.

If you prefer, I can point you in the direction of the menagerie.

The unicorns and mermaids will be awake by the time you get there.

Of course, it snows on occasion, because I AM from Minnesota; our weather here can be….fickle. worries. The sun will come out tomorrow.

A little red-headed orphan told me so.

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New Year, New Me


…As if I really needed to improve on me in the first place.

I did decide that I need to be a little bit more focused, but oooh! Look at the pretty Christmas lights across the street! OK, so being focused is something I might really have to focus on. At least I’ve realized that much. It is hoped that becoming a mother this year may help in that department just a little. I do not wish for my son to see me as a flaky person. (I shall do all in my power to hide the fact that I am from him.)

As far as my blog goes, I know how much of a disappointment I have been in the past year, and I resolve to do better. No more all-day marathons of Glee or The Tudors until after I have written on my blog. And just to test me, Netflix has found it necessary to make ten seasons of Friends available for viewing. Bastards.

Too, I find it necessary to finish writing at least one book this year. It would make sense for said book to be the one I’ve gotten the most work done on; however, I feel that authoring and illustrating a children’s book may be in my nearer future. But, since I have no child-like inspirations that come to mind as of yet, I resolve to work on my already-begun book for now, at least two hours a day. (Two hours is many hours for me to stay focused these  days. Perhaps after the Babe is born, I shall jack it up to four hours a day.)

As most normal people do, I ,too, resolve to lose weight this year. The really awesome thing is that I get to wait until April to work on this one. (The second-best thing about being pregnant.) To ensure that my initial goal to be the hottest mom ever is reached, my Rockstar’s Daughter has hinted that she believes I will forever be fat after the baby is born. (Perhaps only in hopes that she can have my never-worn, too-small little black dress.) After telling her how rude such a sentiment was, I silently thanked her for reinforcing my intentions of amazing hotness.

I thought that perhaps I would choose a resolution that would make me a better person- namely, to be kind to those certain individuals that irritate the piss out of me. I then thought better of any such ridiculousness, as I am not so good a person that that objective would ever be met; too, it is just so much easier to ignore such peoples. Luckily, one of these unfortunate souls is no longer employed at my place of business, so any behavior considered rude by my scorning of this person is forgiven already. Yay me.

For my last resolution, I do so intend to be the book whore I so claim to be, with the help of Amazon’s list of 100 Books to Read in a Lifetime. I was a bit saddened that I had read only twenty-nine of these life-changing books, but I intend to make a good-sized dent in the remaining seventy-one. I was, however, excited to find that though I hadn’t read many off the list, I own a surprising number of them. Yay me once again.

As for you, my fine readers, I have found this video to wish you all a wonderful New Year. (My Rockstar has a man crush on Kid Rock, and laughs his ass off at this video.)

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To Raise a Little Man


So I suppose it’s about time for the big gender reveal….. I am actually a man.

Ha, just kidding. I am all woman. Except for the little 15 ounces growing in my belly.

Yes, my baby is a boy. YAY! A boy is what I’ve always wanted. But you know what they say: be careful what you wish for.

While the ultrasound technician was roaming around for the evidence of a teeny tiny penis on my baby, I was mainly ecstatic about the fact that he had two arms and legs. I know that seems like kind of a minor concern when there is the question of gender, but, ya know. It’s a little bit easier to do things with all your appendages. Anyhoo, the Babe was in a pose that could either mean he is ready to be a Prima Ballerina, or he’s just waiting to hold up his future NASCAR trophy. I’m not quite sure which thought is more disturbing to me.

When the technician pointed out his little testes, I had mixed feelings of elation and slight disappointment. ‘Tis true I wanted a boy, and I still do, but the idea of such absence of sparkles and ruffles in my future child’s life gave me pause. The only hope is that he may one day be a famous drag queen, because we know then there will be sequins and makeup aplenty.

After my appointment, I got to thinking about the problems I may have in raising a little man. (Other than the fact that my Rockstar wants to name him Vince, after Vince Neil of Motley Crue- a problem which need be addressed another day.)

What do I know about being a man? My coworker insists I am quite manly, indeed, so I shouldn’t have a problem, but I believe he only thinks so because of my appreciation for much sex, a subject we have talked about at great length. Honestly, I’m not quite sure why else he would find me masculine, unless my cursing sailor’s mouth convinced him. Who knows….

What I DO know is that I want my boy to read, and read a lot. I realized that other than blogland, there has been quite an absence of men that read in my actual real life. Sure, here and there, a male that loves books as much as I do has reared his head, but it’s been a disturbingly rare phenomena, like Loch Ness monster sightings. I’ve gone away wondering if I actually saw what I saw, kinda thing. I myself do not find reading to be a solely feminine act, but, you must admit, it doesn’t exactly go with beer and hot wings.

Aside from that, I want my son to be sensitive. Not meaning I want every drop of rain and flower petal to bring him to tears, but that if he sees someone in pain, or having a bad day, he will take notice, and perhaps try to better that person’s situation. Along with that, I want him to treat women like princesses, even though by the time he is old enough to think about girls, most of them will probably be sluts and/ or lesbians (in which case, he might get his ass kicked if he tries to treat them like princesses.. All girls should be made to feel special, even if they are only subpar.

I want him to have self-confidence, but not the yucky jock kind. I mean the kind that will allow him to not be bothered when his mother grows out his hair and people tease him for looking like a girl. The kind that allows him to be proud of himself, and teach others to also be proud of themselves.

If he marries, I want him to have at least a slight interest in planning his own wedding someday, whether it be to a girl or a boy. We all know the best boys are the ones that take an active role in such things, and are generally worshipped among women.

If he doesn’t marry, I want him to be happy in whatever life he chooses, and to have many adventures.

I want him to say what he means, and mean what he says, and not be afraid to say what it is that needs to be said, but know when to stay silent.

I want him to know it’s perfectly ok for him to like Barbie dolls, and to admire their exaggerated feminine features, but to realize that real women that look nothing like Barbie dolls are also desirable. I also want him to like dinosaurs, and realize they are the coolest creatures ever to live. (Besides for mermaids and unicorns.)

I want him to be just a little bonkers, because all the best people are.

I honestly don’t know how I will help my son to become this man I want him to be; luckily, I may be able to help him out in the bonkers department.

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