Tag Archives: Books

My 2012 Reading List


I suppose with all the sex talk and Rockstar drama I’ve posted, you may have forgotten that I actually love to read. So I decided to share the list of tomes that fed my brain this year. Unfortunately, for the most part, I have to say this year was the first that I could actually say I read a book and hated it. More than one, actually…

Waiter Rant by Steve Dublanica- Almost my life exactly, minus New York City. Lucky for him, his blog became lucrative.

Sex and the City by Candace Bushnell- I can honestly say the movie was better than the book. I was surprised to find the book had almost absolutely nothing to do with the HBO series that I so adore.

Sula by Toni Morrison- one of the many Oprah picks I own, I identified slightly with the title character, who is described as a “wanton seductress”. The only thing is, I don’t do it on purpose, and my skin is not chocolate-colored.

My Lesbian Husband by Barrie Jean Borich- a memoir by a lesbian English professor who lives with her lover in Minneapolis. She is very like me, except completely lesbian, a professor, and blonde.

I’m No Saint by Elizabeth Hayt- Sadly, this book did not stick in my brain at all. The only thing I remember is that I was greatly excited to buy a memoir about a naughty woman, only to find that whoredom is not all that interesting to read about.

Snuff by Chuck Palahniuk- Disgusting enough that I couldn’t stop reading. I often wonder if people have the same reaction to my blog…

The Lovely Bones by Alice Sebold- After finishing this, I couldn’t help but wonder what the hell all the fuss was about. Although I did like Alice’s take on Heaven.

Model by Cheryl Diamond- An enlightening memoir about the modeling business. Nothing you couldn’t learn by watching America’s Next Top Model, but it’s nice to know that plain looking tall skinny blondes with lazy eyes can make millions by walking down runways in next to nothing.

Redeeming Love by Francine Rivers- A nod to my Baptist upbringing, it was the only religious fiction book I could find that took a Biblical story about a hooker and turned it into a Western. Sadly, I was not as adoring as the other 750,000 people whom the book advertised having bought it.

Dolly: My Life and Other Unfinished Business by Dolly Parton- Just as amazing as the woman herself. Like her, my biggest vices are men, food, and sex. (Not necessarily in that order.)

One For the Money by Janet Evanovich- My friend Delightful lent me the first three, insisting that the main character Stephanie Plum was an exact replica of me. While I do not disagree with her, I am thoroughly convinced that if I had been cast in the movie instead of that weird looking blonde with the platypus mouth, they would have made the other 20 sequels.

Fifty Shades Trilogy by E.L. James- As big of a waste of time as the Twilight books. I am sorry I spent time reading this swill instead of writing proper smut for you all to read.

The Host by Stephanie Meyer- Congratulations to Steph for not repeating the mistakes she made in Twilight,  New Moon, Eclipse, and Breaking Dawn. I actually want to see this movie.

Phenomenal Woman by Maya Angelou- Can four poems be considered a book?

The Gods of Asphalt by H.E. Ellis- Because she is my future wife, she let me read it for free. Let me tell you a secret: It’s worth paying for.

Choke by Chuck Palahniuk- A friend of mine had been reading every publication of good ol’ Chuck. I have yet to see why he was so enamored by his writings.

Well, I think that about does it. On a normal year, there would have been many more titles in my list, but seeing as I’m the head Pizza Slut lately, I haven’t the time. Besides, if I’m having the time, I should really be writing things that all of YOU can put on your lists!

 

5 Comments

Filed under Books, Entertainment, fiction, Humor, Poetry, Uncategorized

Writing Lessons


So I am in the midst of the final leg of a trilogical journey. Let me make an observation here.

E. L. James’ writing did NOT get better with practice.

Yes, I am once again referring to the disaster known as The Fifty Shades bonanza.

One thing any person that reads occassionally may tell you if you ask is that a book that is excellent and well-written is hard to put down. (Unless, in some cases, it is too intense and one needs time to cool down.) Let me point out something here.

I’ve had no issues putting down these books. In fact, I’ve been wallowing through the last one for almost a month because I get so easily distracted from the relationship between Ana and Christian Grey.

Perhaps it’s the “Gah!” and “Argh!” I keep reading.

Let me explain.

There is a bit of sexual content in these books, and nearly every instance is punctuated with these words.

I don’t know about you, but even in the throes of passion, I’ve never used the word (if indeed it even is a word) “argh.”

In fact, when I think about it, even my un-passionate moments are devoid of this word.

It is safe to say that I would perhaps only use the word “argh” in a text, that would not be spoken out loud.

Men, I have a question for you- If a woman cried “Argh” while you were doing here, would your reaction be to groan in your throat and come?

I didn’t think so.

How about “GAH!” ?

Does that speak to a baser feeling in the pit of your stomach?

I actually began giggling when I read two pages of a sex scene and noticed Ana repeating, “Ah.” “Ah.” Ah.” Was she gonna climax, or was she gonna sneeze?

It is true that I have never weilded my penis in a way that would perhaps make women react thus, (except my faux one that one time with that one girl) but I would assume that “Oh, god” and “fuck me” would be the standard desired response.

Too, would a man punctuate his thrusting with “You. Are. So. Beautiful.” ?

Because Christian Grey did.

I believe I would also giggle if that happened in real life.

Anastasia Steel described it as “Hedonism gone wild.”

Here is an excerpt from the last book.

“In one efficient move, he dispenses with his pants and boxer briefs so that he’s gloriously naked and looming large and ready over me.”

Translation: “He whips his huge boner out and is ready to stick it in.”

Here is an example of how I would have worded that phrase- “He smoothly slipped out of his clothes, and I drew in a sharp breath when I saw his want for me.”

Please tell me that’s a bit better than “someone looming large over me.” It sounds as though he had a monstrous mutation hiding in his pants.

No, Anastasia’s not the only one who states the obvious in monosyllibic and uninteresting ways.

“Oh, you’re so ready.”

No shit, Christian. You generally want a girl to be wet after playing with her clit and stroking her nipples. If she’s not, I’m sorry to say that she’s probably not that into you.

“Oh, what you do to me.”

Tell us, Christian, because I can’t quite figure it out by the thing looming large over Ana.

At least he thinks she has a “glorious ass”.

 

 

23 Comments

Filed under Books, Humor, Life, Love, Sex, Uncategorized

E.L. James and Her Limited Vocabulary


So, I’ve been reading the Fifty Shades of Grey trilogy.

Now is the designated moment when you are to think to yourself, “Ooh! I loooove those books!” or “What a waste of time.”

As I have not yet completed the series, I cannot say that I have formed a complete opinion on that subject, but it is safe to say that my preferance is leaning toward the “waste of time” choice.

I’ve been trying my darndest to forget the fact that these books were originally Twilight fan fiction. Sadly, if you take away the vampire/werewolf angle, all the reminders are there. The lead character is named Anastasia Steele (it seems E.L. has a hint of Danielle Steel’s imagination) who is a self-described plain jane. She is reminiscent of Bella Swan in the fact that she falls down alot, though she has slightly more personality- or should I say personalitieS, as she refers often to her inner goddess and subconscious as seperate entities within herself?

The question is, what makes a write like this try to make us believe that EVERY male mentioned in these books is unfailingly attracted to our main character? I understand that many men can be attracted to a somewhat normal looking gal, (as this seems to happen to me quite frequently) but really?! Not every sequal in my life is filled with another incident of would-be rape by my boss or my best male friend. And I will fully admit that not EVERY guy I come in contact with is attracted to me. There was that one guy that one time…

Moving on.

The biggest flaw I’ve noticed thusfar in these books is the repetitive mentioning of Anastasia’s love interest’s beauty. E.L. has surely gotten this idea from Stephanie Meyer. Christian Grey is described as beautiful, adonis-like, and HOT. Don’t get me wrong, but why the fuck does every main character in a book need to be so fucking perfect? Can’t they have a perfect face with an acne problem? Or maybe just a hint of a pot-belly going on? I have been in love a few times, and none of those people were exceedingly perfect to look at. Of course, if Christian Grey wasn’t so beautiful, Ana would never even look twice at him, because he is a controlling, stalkerish asshole. Do you think she would have let him spank her mercilessly if he looked like John Malkovich? I think not.

Let us not forget how “mercurial” he is. This is not in the god-like sense. It is in the “I’m bi-polar” sense. But let me just ask- what 22 year old woman describes ANYONE as mercurial? I love descriptive words, but even I would never use this one. And most definitely not repeatedly. I would instead have worded such sentences this way- “The dude once again forgot to take his meds, which caused him to be entirely too moody, and made me want to punch him.”

The thing is, I really want to like these books. The S&M factor is quite intriguing. Or at least it WOULD be, if Ana hadn’t ruined the only attribute of interest that Christian possessed. It’s not fair that because virginal Ana isn’t into caning, Christian has to put aside his darker desires. E.L. could have at least made it believable. I do not think a man who is used to beating women mercilessly is really going to be satisfied with a little spanking here and there. He sounds hardly more adventurous than my Rockstar after he’s gotten into the Jim Beam.  I think a prequal based on Christian’s Red Room of Pain BEFORE he met Ana would be much more interesting.

Also, I would like to point out that a woman does NOT come every time a guy says, “Come for me, baby.” And a man does not always come at the exact moment that the woman he’s fucking comes. It would be more believable if he came right in the middle of her orgasm and pulled out, leaving her to finish up her orgasm manually while yelling, “You fucker! You never wait for me!”

That’s all I have to say about that.

18 Comments

Filed under Books, Entertainment, Humor, Life, Sex, Uncategorized

3 Questions


I was disappointed to find today that on my new email account, the Spam is not so blatantly advertised. In fact, I had to go searching for it. Searching for spam, you say? What a strange and demented habit, you say? (I must point out here that many things I do are strange and demented. That’s what makes me me.) When finally I found the hidden spam, I was delighted to see that the contents therein were enough to supply me with ideas for blog posts for weeks to come. One of the first was an advertisement that looked something like this:

Ask these three questions and women will love you forever!

Since it was spam, I could in no way justify clicking on these curiosity-inflicting words; however, this got me to wondering what mysterious three questions men could ask that would make women fall madly in love with them. These are just a few that I came up with:

Will you marry me?

It seems this is a question most normal women long to hear. I have no doubt this could be one of the three, though if someone were to ask me this exact question at this moment, my response would be, “Shut the fuck up. What is wrong with you?”

Do you want to see my twelve-inch dick?

This also seems a likely choice for one of the three mysterious questions. While I do not understand the allure of such a thing as a ruler-length schlong, I know that there are many women who would love a man forever simply because he possesses one.

Would you like to live in my castle?

I would have to say, “Hell, yeah!” to this one. It is probably pertinant for any man with a castle to follow-up this question with an explaination of what capacity he would wish you to live there. You never know, he may have a full S&M dungeon that you mightn’t be able to handle.

Do you want to meet Chris Meloni?

Again, this question may be especially tailored just for me. It is unlikely that most women would be impressed with the chance to meet Elliot Stabler…

Can I turn you into a vampire?

This would be the best way to ensure that a women would, in fact, love you FOREVER. What with the Twilight craze and everything, I have no doubt that there are masses of women willing to evolve to soul-less undead creatures.

Will you be my first?

This one is a bit tricky, simply because if you are to take a man’s virginity, you must plan on the probability that he won’t be the best. However, if he happens to be beautiful and innocent, I can see where this question could hook a few women.

Can I buy you an endless supply of shoes? Or Books?

One or the other would get women. I know it.

Can I love you forever?

Depending on if he’s an annoying butt-sucker or not, a woman might go for this. I would call bullshit.

Please let me know if there are any questions you know of that I haven’t thought of? I’m deeply curious to figure out what the “three” are.

3 Comments

Filed under Books, Entertainment, Fashion, Humor, Life, Love, Money, Sex, Uncategorized

To Days Gone By


I miss the days I spent surrounded by a plethora of beautiful used books waiting to be re-boughten.

I miss stashing yet another book I couldn’t afford underneath the counter, and re-adjusting the books that were already there when the entire pile threatened to tumble down around my feet. Instead, I now only stash endless amounts of pizza in my gut, which I’m sure will have a crippling effect on my digestive system at some point.

I miss the thrill of a customer bringing in the books their child is outgrown, and I miss the feeling of sheepishness that would come over me when I realized said books were titles I could never live without, despite the fact that I am a mature adult. (Most of the time.)

I miss the customers who would stop in just to visit with me- the older blonde woman who raved about my shoes to her sickly husband; Dino, who always called me Sweety; and even the son of the Alzheimer’s man, who had the gall to leave me to babysit his ailing father. Now, no one raves about my outfits, because who would have anything nice to say about a grease-stained manager shirt that refuses to stay buttoned at my breast, no matter how many times I safety pin it?

I miss being able to wear my collection of adorably awesome shoes every single day. Instead, I now must don my hideous black non-slip work shoes.

I miss going to work and being left to my own devices. Now, I have a health inspector looking over my shoulder at every turn.

I miss having a chance to read all the books I would never buy, (as if there really is such a thing). Instead, I get to read applications of people applying for delivery drivers and servers, and I remain unimpressed when they have no previous experience and use their parents as references.

I miss the occassional stop I would make to the Pretzel Maker, where I would purchase deliciously-fresh pretzel bites. Now, I generally get to eat the non-fresh pizza of customers who forgot to pick up their orders.

I miss smelling nice. Because no matter how much perfume I spray on myself, there is always the underlying smell of D’odour du Pepperoni.

I miss arranging books in such a way that will catch one’s eye. I now get to arrange the freezer in such a way that will keep the frozen pizza dough from tumbling out every time one opens the door.

Does anybody own a bookstore that they need a Sparklebumps in?

6 Comments

Filed under Books, Humor, Life, Uncategorized, Work

Memories of a Warrior Princess


So I woke up this morning, and the memories of one of my past lives came flooding back. Let me tell you who I used to be.

I do not recall my father’s name, nor my mother’s, but I remember the story of how they met. My father was riding his war horse through the forest on a mission from his king, when he stopped by a river to water his steed. As he approached the river, he saw a beautiful dark-eyed woman bathing in the water. He watched her with desire for a long while, until she turned and saw he was there. She was so angry at having been watched in such an intimate situation without having been asked that she picked up a stone from the river’s floor and flung it at the Knight’s head. She had very good aim, and the man immediately crumpled to the ground.

When he awoke, he was disappointed to find that the dark-eyed woman had had sufficient time to clothe her bosoms (and other bodily parts), but he was thrilled to find that she was caring for the head wound she had inflicted on him. He apologized for his indecency, and the woman replied, “It is not up to me what is done with you now. You have seen the nudity of a Gypsy princess. My father will decide your fate, and I must say he generally chooses death for those who offend his daughter’s honor.”

The knight rolled his eyes and said, “Well, perhaps his daughters should not skinny-dip in public rivers then.”

No man had ever before dared to sass the Gypsy princess, (her dad preferring death for offenders and all) and she decided right then that this sassy knight was worthy of saving, so she suggested that instead of going before her father, they should run away. The knight didn’t want to be beheaded, and the woman was gorgeous, so he was all for it. Soon after, I was conceived.

My parents had run all the way to the ocean’s edge, and one day, while my father was gathering supplies, my mother went out to the beach to look for seashells. Suddenly, a pirate shipped approached. As soon as she saw it, she tried to run to find my father, but being largely impregnated with me, she didn’t get far before the pirates overtook her. They boarded the pirate ship and presented my mother to the captain, who was reknown as a wretched and cruel man. He was impressed that my mother showed no fear, despite her precarious situation, and so he decided to keep her aboard and see what would happen.

After a few weeks, my mother gave birth to me, and named me Ula (which means jewel of the sea) because every time she looked out at the ocean, she was unimpressed by the endless miles of water that held no beauty for her. Only a week later, the pirate captain requested my mother’s presence in his cabin with the intent of having his way with her. My mother refused to have her honor taken away in such a manner, so she flung herself over the ship’s rail, and was eaten by a kraken.

The captain was heartbroken, because after only a few weeks, he had fallen in love with my mother’s beauty, and as he looked at baby me, now motherless, he decided he would raise me as his own, and teach me all the skills I would need to prevent myself from suffering my mother’s fate.

I spent the years of my childhood learning the ways of a sword, and the ways of a ship. I must tell you, I’m quite certain the bowels of that ship stunk like unwashed male bodies and much farting, but to me it just smelled like home. The captain loved me as his own, but when I was nearly ten, he told me the truth of my parentage. Because he was the cause of my mother’s suicide, I could not allow him to live, and so I slit his throat with the knife he was using to carve his swordfish. While his blood seeped out onto his dining table, I went on deck and demanded the crew to return me to the beach where my mother was captured. I informed them that I had murdered their captain, and if they did not obey me, their fate would be the same. Because each of them had had a hand in my combative training, they knew that I was not lying, for I knew every man’s strengths and weaknesses.

After a month, we arrived back to the beach where my life had been forever altered before my birth. As I waded to shore, the pirate crew stood aboard the ship with their arms raised in salute, because they all would miss me. I bore no ill will to them, because they had been my family, and because they had only been following the will of their captain when they had kidnapped my mother all those years ago.

I left the beach, and began the search for my father. Though I had never seen him, my mother had described him in great detail to the captain, and he had in turn described him to me before I had flayed him like a fish. As I wandered through the trees, I caught sight of a tiny cabin, and approached with the thought of asking the inhabitants within if they recognized my father’s description. There was a man chopping wood in the yard, and when he heard me approach, he turned, and I was face to face with my father. I knew it was him, because the captain had said my mother described his eyes as cerulean blue, such as she had never seen in her lifetime. I had no doubt that this was he.

When my father set eyes on me, all the color drained from his face. He told me later it was because he thought he was seeing the ghost of my mother as a child. (Apparently I looked alot like her) He said that after my mother had been stolen from him, he had considered returning to his king and begging forgiveness for his desertion, but something had told him to stay near the beach. He thought it was because he was to be reunited with my mother someday, and he could not hide the disappointment that it was me instead. Even so, we grew close, as a father and daughter should, and he was greatly impressed by my skills with a sword.

Several years later, we were hunting in the forest, when my father was attacked by a great bear. I happened to hit the bear straight in the eyeball with my arrow (lucky shot) and kill it. Sadly, my father had been mauled to fiercely that there was nothing I could do for him. He lingered between life and death for a whole week, until finally he asked me to grant him the reprieve of death. As the tears poured down my face, I placed the point of my sword over his heart and pushed. From then on, I was no longer known as Ula, jewel of the sea, but as Brona, which is sorrow.

But the story of my life as Brona is for another time.

5 Comments

Filed under Books, fiction, Life, Love, short story, Uncategorized

Adventures In MOA


Hello, My Lovelys! Let  me re-introduce myself. I am Sparklebumps, and I work as a Pizza Whore, which makes me unable to post daily on my blog like I’d like. Instead, you have to wait 4 days in between amazingly entertaining posts. So sorry about that. I missed you.

Today I get to to tell you of my adventures in MOA. For those of you not from Minnesota, (I believe that’s all of you besides Delightful) MOA is what we Minnesotans call…dum dum dum…. THE MALL OF AMERICA. The greatest mall in the ENTIRE world. The convergance of everything retail. (And some things not, like Hooters) A place filled with sparkly and over-priced items….

I must admit, each time I go to MOA, I am slightly more disappointed than the time I went before. I am still not entirely sure why, but I think it may have something to do with the fact that I end up walking by the same stores 6 times and don’t buy a thing. In the 15+ years since MOA has been there, I can honestly say that I’ve only bought something there twice. (Unless you count the purchases in the multiple candy stores.)

Anyhoo, yesterday was the first day of spring break for my Rockstar’s Daughter, and he had taken the day off, so we decided to venture the 70 miles to entertain ourselves at MOA. Despite having bought new 5″ heels that I haven’t had the oppurtunity to wear yet, I wisely refrained, and instead donned my sequined ballet flats.

The intent was to entertain the Daughter for the day in the Nickalodean-themed amusement park that sits smack dab in the center of the mall. Since I am not the child I once was, I can no longer spend a day taking multiple rides on the Spongebob roller-coaster without feeling like I will hurl my lunch all over the children standing innocently around. So I stuck my Rockstar with the job of chaperoning his Daughter on the many vomit-inducing rides and ventured out into the rest of the Mall.

Having been absent from the MOA for nearly two years, I was delighted to find a few newly added stores. Imagine my excitement when I passed and then did a retake of the Betty Page Store. WHAT?! An entire store dedicated to the fashions of the greatest burlesque dancer of all time?! Not only was this wondrous store full of polka-dotted textiles and sailor-inspired dresses- it had T.V.’s actually playing Betty Page videos! I felt a little awkward when the sales girl startled me out of my strip-tease watching trance…

Also, I was exstatic to find that my beloved Betsey Johnson has decided to grace Minnesota with one of her stores. The most awesome of shoe and clothing designers has made it possible to NOT have to fly to Vegas to purchase her wares. Sadly, her adorable bubble dresses do not come in sizes sufficient enough to cover my excessive boobage, so I was forced to only try on her equally-adorable shoes.

In my voyage through the Mall, I also realized where it is that I belong.

From four stores away, the glitter of Swarovski called to me, and I was immediately drawn to their display windows. I stood slack-jawed as I walked into the store and found myself surrounded by everything crystalled and sparkling. How unendingly happy I would be if I was to work in such a place every day. I am quite certain my almost-O face assured the manager that I was unfit for employment, however.

It seems that creepys exist away from my town of residence as well. I was minding my own business, ogling yet another shoe store as I walked by it, when I realized a not-unattractive man was following me. I continued on my way, quickening my pace, intent on losing him. Sadly, my short little leggys were lacking the extra 5″ of stilletto necessary to outrun a persuer, so he easily matched my pace. I stopped, and cringed, waitng for the expected assault. It came.

“Hey, I’m Ray.” Ray’s eyes did a once-over of my body, which always immediately makes me hunch into myself.

“Hi, Ray.”

“I was, uh, just wondering if, you know, maybe, uh, I could get your phone number and get to know you.”

Narrowing my eyes, I straightened myself out and hit him with my best defense.

“I have Man Parts. You can have my phone number if you still want it.”

I, in fact, have no Man Parts, but apparently Ray didn’t want to get to know that.

Also, as I was waiting to meet up with my Rockstar and the Daughter on the third floor by Steve Madden, a boy resembling Justin Beiber kinda sauntered over in my direction, stood several minutes ogling my boobage, and then decided he was too much of a pussy to engage me in conversation. That was a little weird.

Strange, too, was the instant I came around a corner and had a man nearly collide with me, only to have him say, “Whoa! I saw your shirt and had to look twice!” (For your info, there was no cleavage showing yesterday.)

When I met up for a snack with my Rockstar and his Daughter, I was thrilled that after a decade of aching to check out Hooters, my wish was finally to be granted. We entered Hooters and I realized I did not hear the choir of angels I expected as I stepped through the door. Instead, the musical notes in my head fell flat, as my boner would have if I had one in my pants. Let me tell you something. When the Hooters menu states that you will be “served by a beautiful Hooters girl”, what they mean is “you will be served by a girl who is a size 00 wearing a push-up bra who has no ass to fill out her delightfully-orange shorts.” Because every waitress there had a waist smaller than my right thigh. Is this a sick game? Is Hooters just a cover for pedophiles? Because all those girls had bodies of 12 year olds. By the way, Hooters wings are NOT that great, so when your boyfriend tell you that’s why he goes there, don’t believe him. At least I got a thrill when my Rockstar bought me a Hooters T-shirt. Which I fill out quite nicely WITHOUT a push-up bra, I might add.

My Rockstar and his Daughter returned to the rides after the Hooters debacle, and I was hustled by the Israeli woman at the Natural Healing kioske when she found out my hands resemble a farmer’s. After she insisted I rub my hands with her miracle salts, she continuously lowered her price on her products, thinking I would break and buy. I stayed strong, and did NOT spend $59, or $49, or $29 for one jar of salt. I must say, my hands are incredibly soft. So soft, in fact, that my Rockstar insisted on actually holding my hand at various intervals throughout the day. That woman’s salts were indeed miraculous. After many hours of ogling shoes and other shiny things,  I ended up at Barnes and Noble. Of ALL the stores in ALL the Mall, I ended up spending 3 hours in a bookstore. Imagine that.

P.S. The only other store I spent a decent amount of time in was the Disney store, only to be sorely disappointed that they had no Little Mermaid merchandise.

6 Comments

Filed under Beauty, Books, Fashion, Food, Humor, Life, Love, Uncategorized

Reflections on a Former Life


So the other day, I walked by the Bookstore-Formerly-Known-As-My-Place-of-Employment. I have done this on several occassions, simply because I am curious as to who they’ve deemed worthy of replacing me with. I am sad to say that they have found no one of my calibur . No, I’m not being cocky here, (he, I said cock) I am just being honest. The manager whom customers complained about to me is still employed there- even though I AND my co-fired co-worker mentioned his sexually explicits remarks to the owner. My superiorly-designed window displays no longer decorate the windows, and all the beauteous books I tried so hard to organize are complete chaos.

It happened to be sidewalk-sale weekend, and I peeked in the window to find an unknown clerk working, so I sauntered in to check things out.

The chic working seemed to not know where anything was, there was a line of customers waiting to ask questions, and I found a book on the sidewalk sale tables that we ALWAYS had priced at least $10 marked down to $2. So fuck you, my old bookstore. I bought that book and lost you $8. That’s what you get for firing me!

Anyhoo, later on, I got to thinking about my former life as a Bookstore Bitch, and there were a few things I need to say:

I miss you, my middle-aged blonde lady who read Religious Fiction Mysteries. I appreciate the fact that you would come in every Tuesday to see what shoes I was wearing, and the fact that you were kind enough to comment on the adorableness of my carefully-chosen outfits. I adore you for laying down the law to your sick husband the last week I saw you, saying to him, “I HAVE to go to the bookstore and see what Sparkle is wearing today! You have no idea how cute she is!” Thank you, too, for agreeing with me that my manager was a douche, and for refusing to buy books when he was working.

I miss you, Dino, because you always called me Sweetie, and told me what kind of bird you were painting each week. You were nice enough to hang out for a bit when my scary stalker man wouldn’t leave, and made sure to interrupt him any time he tried to make conversation until he finally left. I am sad that I can no longer keep an eye out for bird books for you, and saddened that I shall no longer get to hear stories of how your Mama-san loves sparkly jewelry from JCPenneys.

I miss you, nice mother, and your 4 beautiful daughters, who would bring in loads of perfect books every month to sell. I believe you are the intelligent equivilant of the Kardashian family, and if you were famous, you and your daughters could run the world. Especially the daughter who read all the sociology books.

I miss you, cute old man suffering from Alzheimer’s. I am sorry that I can no longer be there to talk you out of buying The Politics of James Bond for the 14th time.

To the retired woman with the amazing life- thank you for sharing stories of meeting the king of whatever African country it was you used to live in, and thank you for sharing an excessive love of books with me.

To the mass of lard on a scooter- Fuck you, lady. I know it was you who got me fired, and yes, I will most certainly glare at you in an evil manner every time I see you at Barnes and Noble, because guess what? There ain’t a goddamn thing you can do about it because I don’t work there.

I despise you, my former manager, for your holier-than thou-attitude.. You did not fool me with your “Christian” views, because I saw your true pervertedness every time we got in a book mentioning sex or nakedness. Your paging through said books is not what offended me-no. It was the fact that you made a point to tell me how sinful and evil I was because I live unmarried with my Rockstar. To you I say, Na-na-na-na boo boo. I’m having sex with my Rockstar while your wife is out having a life and NOT having sex with you. So suck on them balls.

I miss you, Money Guy, because we always had great and intelligent conversations daily. I found you to be completely fascinating, since you were  retired, yet kept bees, and baked, and counted money, and collected cars. I am sorry you’re stuck with my douche of a former manager as a Son-in-Law, because I know you can never be rid of his annoying self. Thank you also for your recipe for caramel rolls. I still cannot get them to rise.

To the $600+ worth of books I had stashed away in the back room- I am sorry the payraise we were awaiting never came. I regret to inform you that you shall not get to be a part of the Sparklebump’s Library Experience. I hope you all go to good homes where your owners will love you and take care of you properly, without dog-earing your pages.

I guess that’s all I have to say. If any of you are new to my blog, and do not understand where my angsty attitude comes from, be sure to check out my Price of Fame post. XOXO

 

 

10 Comments

Filed under Books, Friendship, Humor, Life, Love, Uncategorized, Work

One Sparklebumps For Sale


For Sale

One mentally-maladjusted individual; slightly used. No dents.

All natural triple DDD’s included.

Measures out at 5’3″ and a 1/4.

Goes by the pseudonym “Sparklebumps”. Also responds to “Crazy Bitch”.

Runs like a dream when re-fueled with copious amounts of sugar or french fries.

Fits in a size 9 shoe- ass looks best when in a 5″+ stilletto.

Requires attention, regular orgasms, flattery, and books to operate properly.

Has supplied many hours of marathon sex, laughter, and stress-inducing behavior.

Can provide music, magnificent bedroom play, hugs, and trivia answers.

Horniness and entertaining buffoonery greatly heightened when provided with alcohol.

Hysteria may result if not suitably boned daily.

$6,000,000 or best offer.

Will consider newer model Mustangs and European castles on trade.

Contact Sparklebumps c/0 Rockstar at 867-5309 or via comments.

Series queries only please. Will not respond to bill collectors and/or IRS personel.

17 Comments

Filed under Humor, Life, Love, Money, music, Uncategorized

Sparklebump’s ABC’s


A is for Attitude, some say I have it;

To them I shall say, “Suck my armpit.”

B is for Books, full of beautiful stories,

and also for Boners, I always want more-ies.

C is for Chris- hot Chris Meloni;

DDD is the size of my magnificent boobies.

E is for Eric, also known as Rockstar,

I likes him  best when his Boner is hard.

F is for Fuck, the most versatile word,

as in dumb Fuck- a noun; Fuck me- a verb.

G is for Grumpy, that’s me in the morning,

H is for Heels, and also for Horny.

I is intelligent, (in other words: me)

J is for substantial and sparkly Jew-el-r-y.

K is for Kisses, the French kind are best,

L is for Love, what men feel for my chest.

M is a Mustang, I’ll have one someday,

and also for Music my Rockstar will play.

N is for Nothing- there’s Nothing for N,

but has got Orgasm; Orgasm’s my friend.

P is for…. Pizza Slut, which is a job that I do;

(You were thinking Penis and Pussy, but I sure fooled you!)

Q is for Quirky, I’ve been told I am such;

R is my Rockstar whom I love so much!

S is for Sparkles, and Shoes, and also for Sex,

my three favorite things all begin with an S.

T is Thesaurus, my favorite book,

if you want to be smarter, you should come take a look.

U is for Undies, I wear some of the time,

but I like life best with a naked behind.

V is for Vittles, I DO so love to eat;

French Fries, and candy, but please, Sir, no meat.

I like to drink too; so…. let me just see,

WWW…. I’ve got it! Whiskey!!!!

X is a toughy; nothing starts with X!

except X-rated movies that have lotsa sex.

Y is for Yes- what you always should say,

because I hate to hear No; I want things MY way.

That leaves us with Z, the very last one.

A trip to Zimbabwe! Now wouldn’t THAT be fun?

15 Comments

Filed under Beauty, Books, Humor, Life, Love, Poetry, Uncategorized