Happy Halloween!!!

I must admit, though, that THIS ONE is actually my favorite...

The Book Report.

Bitter Is the New Black. It just rolls right off the tongue, doesn't it? Well, of course I adore the title! "The New Black"? Love it. And the subtitle, if proven to be an accurate representation of what's inside, sounds even more lovely & delicious to me: Confessions of a Condescending, Egomaniacal, Self-Centered Smartass, or Why You Should Never Carry A Prada Bag to the Unemployment Office. I'm not a big "chick lit" fan, but after having that brilliant title catch my eye, how could I not give it a shot, right!?

From Publishers Weekly:

It doesn't take Lancaster long to live up to her lengthy subtitle ("Confessions of a Condescending, Egomaniacal, Self-Centered Smart-Ass, or Why You Should Never Carry a Prada Bag to the Unemployment Office"): in just one chapter, she gloats over cheating a homeless man, is rude to a waitress and passes judgment on all of her co-workers (including her "whore" best friend). She's almost gleeful about lacking "the internal firewall that keeps us from saying almost everything we think," but she doesn't come off as straightforward, just malicious. (Of course, it's possible she's making up much of her dialogue, which is a little too clever to be believable.) Lancaster expects sympathy for her downward slide after getting fired from her high-paying finance job in the post-9/11 recession, and chick lit fans may be entertained watching life imitate fiction, but just when you start to feel sorry for her, the snotty attitude returns. In later chapters, Lancaster increasingly relies on entries from her blog (www.jennsylvania. com) and caustic replies to criticisms, and though things start looking up—her husband finds a job, she lands a book deal—it's not clear that she's been as chastised by her experiences as she claims.
Copyright © Reed Business Information, a division of Reed Elsevier Inc. All rights reserved.

I, along with the rest of the bloody country, just finished Running With Scissors: A Memoir by Augusten Burroughs... which I actually started reading about 2 years ago, before I realized that it was to be made into a movie & would become so "mainstream" (I'm glad I stumbled upon it before seeing it on the big screen. I guess). But see, I sometimes have this nasty habit of reading about 3 or 4 different books at a time (a good many of which are usually a/b depressing shit like serial killers or drugs -- I know, it's odd), until I reach the point in one of the books where I want to read nothing else & the others fall by the wayside. This particular one just happened to be one of those neglected for another when I was about a quarter of the way through it. So with the movie a must-see for me, I decided to pick the book back up again to finish it first (I ended up starting from the beginning all over again). Lately, I've been practicing more literary monogamy, I guess. There, have I validated myself enough? Hee, hee...

Oh. My. Gawd. I know there are people out there who will be offended, disgusted, appalled or who-knows-what by some of the subject matter (mental illness, child abandonment, homosexuality, it pretty much runs the gamut)... but people, I loved it! I'm sorry, it's freaking hi-larious. I know it's cliche', but the movie will have a daunting task in doing the book justice. I swear, the stories are almost unimaginable... I know it's told as a "memoir", but it's almost too hard to believe! The scariest & most hilariously horrifying part? That a.) someone actually did imagine these things, or b.) they really happened!!!

From the back of the dustcover:

Running with Scissors is the true story of a boy whose mother (a poet with delusions of Anne Sexton) gave him away to be raised by her unorthodox psychiatrist who bore a striking resemblance to Santa Claus. So at the age of twelve, Burroughs found himself amidst Victorian squalor living with the doctor's bizarre family, and befriending a pedophile who resided in the backyard shed. The story of an outlaw childhood where rules were unheard of, and the Christmas tree stayed up all year round, where Valium was consumed like candy, and if things got dull an electroshock-therapy machine could provide entertainment. The funny, harrowing and bestselling account of an ordinary boy's survival under the most extraordinary circumstances.

Next on tap after the Bitter book? Apathy and Other Small Victories by Paul Neilan. Catchy title and with its boasts of ironic & sarcastic humor, it sounds just like my kind of book. At least, "my kind of book" for the moment (until I get back into my crime and drug-filled biographies stage). "[t]here's only so much you can do," he shrugs, "and even that's not worth the trouble." I guess, right now, I'm just enjoying the laughs...

"WKRP (and us) in Cincinnaaaaaaaati..."

Jon & I went to Cincinnati last weekend and had a fantabulous time... Went to the Cincinnati Zoo & Botanical Gardens, ate arguably one of the best meals I have ever ingested at Morton's Steakhouse (blue-cheese stuffed olives in my dirty martini won BIG points!), got drunk at the Bengals-Panthers game, and just had a darn-tootin' good time!!! Even stayed next to the building used in the opening credits of "WKRP in Cincinnati" -- a fact which was not lost on Jon...We really did enjoy the city itself -- so clean and easy to get around, and the fall foliage colors there are really so lovely there! We had such a dry summer here in Mississippi that we haven't gotten to enjoy the changing autumn colors as much -- the leaves just fall right off after turning... plus, in Cincy, we had the best weather for each day that we had planned... very lucky! Warm & sunny for the zoo, chilly & breezy for the game (good football weather!), and turning colder just as we were heading home...Even after a really good vacation, it's always [somewhat] nice to get back home... and I can show you one little girl who was quite happy when we walked in the door Monday night (okay, I admit it, I was probably just as excited to see her, too!):

Guilty Pleasure...

Yes, I admit it: I am hopelessly addicted to Dancing With the Stars. Joey Lawrence actually has pretty good rhythm for a white boy. Mario Lopez and Karina Smirnoff are sex on feet. And Jerry Springer? Well, he's just funny as hell. I swear, make fun of me all you want, but if you haven't watched it, you're missing out. Pure entertainment, I tell you... I will even admit that I have voted online during the show. God, am I pitiful or what?

And my favorite part of the show? Bruno Tonioli, the judge who looks, sounds and acts exactly like Franck Eggelhoffer, the wedding planner played by Martin Short in the movie Father of the Bride. Everything he does is Franck-ish... I swear, he IS Franck. It's fantastic!

There. I said it. I feel better. ;)

Changed.

I hate to admit it, but I have. Changed, that is. So many things have happened to me in the past year -- nay, 2 or 3 years -- that I can't help but be changed by them. Changed for the better? Well, now, that I don't know about...

I think there is an added bit of skepticism, disappointment and fear in me now. I'm not quite sure I know who or what to trust because not everyone or everything is as they/it seemed to be. I am now officially JADED. It scares me to feel like I may not have all of the answers, even though I know I shouldn't have all of the answers. Life is not about having all of the answers to all of the questions, but rather, about your search for them, right? That is the journey.

I never have been one who liked change -- and that is a lot of what I have gotten lately. I'm a traditionalist at heart. Change scares me. Change has flipped my world upside down. Change has, well, changed me. And to that, I say this: "Pbbbbbbbttt!!!"

Perhaps I just had it too easy for too long? Or am I having yet another one of my famous pity parties? Or rather, pity BASHES!? Either way, I just want to slap myself and say, "Quit feeling sorry for yourself -- you have it so good"... but somehow, I just can't do it. Ho-hum... but enough of my bitching.

Sounds like I need to work on my faith and trust, huh? Sounds like something, anyway...

My Celebrity Look-Alikes?

I'm not saying I necessarily agree with these, mind you, but anything that says I even remotely resemble Vivien Leigh? Well, I can't let that slip by... ;)

The Really Sad Part Is...

... that these two whores are fighting over THAT! That thing to the left there!!! I mean, come on, "ladies", have some standards for yourselves, please. (I use the word "fighting" loosely because, as this article says, "Hilton... never made any attempt at retaliation." Pussy.)

I'm sure whatever diseases Travis Barker caught when he got his cool tats could potentially breed & mutate with God-knows-whatever is living inside the crevices & corners of a skank-ho like Paris Hilton & kill us all like Bird Flu gone mad!!!

Two words: Fucking Gross.

Nanners, Apples & a Big Bowl of Self-Esteem... Brilliant!