The One with Fifty Shades of Gray

Workout update:  Saturday, I almost died, thanks to a stitch in my side while I was running.  It started after the first 60-stint of running and continued until the end.  Yesterday, I started my Week 2 routine:  7 rounds of 2 minutes of running, 1 minute of walking.  I only added an extra three minutes of walking to that, and I did it all the way through without stopping.

Sadly, all this is causing me to GAIN weight, which was actually the opposite of what I was going for.

So Fifty Shades of Gray.  For those of you that haven't heard of it, it's the first book in this trilogy of "novels" about this guy who's hardcore into S&M.  And then there's this girl he wants, who's all like, "Oooh!  But I want you to LOVE ME."  They're terribly-written, repetitive, awful, awful books that have, inexplicably, taken the world by storm.

I'm reading the first one (which I bought on my Nook so if I'm reading it in public, I won't be judged.  Or worse, have someone start a conversation with me about them.)  I can't.  Stop.  Reading it.

It reads like fan fiction (which it is.  It was originally a fan fiction for Twilight.  Blech.) and the author uses the same phrases constantly.  She's always talking about her Inner Goddess, and she's just the whiniest, most pathetic, worst character in the history of literature.

And yet, I'm still reading.

I don't entirely understand the popularity of it all.  Some people are calling it "Mommy Porn," as it seems to be a bunch of middle-aged woman reading it.  My mother-in-law refuses to believe it started out as fan fiction.  My hairdresser (who is actually my age) told me that women of all ages come in and want to talk about the book.

It's legitimately one of the worst books I've ever read.

And yet, I'm still reading.

I refuse to read the second and third books, though, especially since a friend of mine told me what happens, and it's all just infuriating.

The weirdest thing about it, I think, is that the public libraries here refuse to carry it.  I can't remember the reasoning, as I had never heard of the books before when I was working there and we got an e-mail saying we weren't going to be carrying it.  I wish I could remember why.  (Here's an interesting article about why many libraries won't be carrying it.)

Aside from those reasons, it doesn't make much sense, because the library carries the A.N. Roquelaure (Ann Rice) Sleeping Beauty Trilogy, which I read in college and which is FILTHY in a way that the 50 Shades books could only hope to be.  And then there are the oft-read, tattered copies of the books by Zane the library carries.  I read one page of one of those and was shocked.  (And I'm no prude.)

All this to say, the library carries erotica, but apparently, not flash-in-the-pan, badly written, fan fiction erotica.  Which this series is.

And yet?  I'm still reading.

The One With a (Mostly) Wordless Wednesday

Some of these don't apply to libraries. Most of them do. (Click to enlarge.)

The One Where I Don't Have to Compromise

Yes, it's been months. Yes, I'm sorry. No, I don't have a long, substantial entry. Just an observation.

K has been here for the last 8 days, and will be here for the next 6. She has been. . .7 a lot of the time. That is to say, wholly disagreeable.

"Do you want to go to the store with me?"
"No, I don't want to."

"Do you want to have pizza for dinner?"
"No, I don't want to."

"Do you want to check out some library books?"
"No, I don't want to."

Besides that, it's been fine.

The thing that I discovered last night, though, is the little-known secret of parenting, step- or otherwise. With kids, you don't have to compromise, and it's glorious.

Say you're riding along in a car with an adult, whether your partner or otherwise, and they say, "I don't like this song." You would most likely feel compelled to compromise, to find something different that you can both agree on.

With kids, though, you're in charge. Unless you're doing something patently offensive, you can pretty much do whatever you feel like.

I worked the night shift at the library last night, and didn't get off until 9. D decided to go out and work, and so I had to bring K home with me from work. I'd been looking forward to getting back to my audio book on the way home (since it's about a half hour drive, I have plenty of time to listen to audio books) and didn't think I needed to deviate from that plan just because I suddenly had K in the car.

We're riding along for about 10 minutes, and she pipes up from the back, "I don't like this."

"Well," I said, "it's the book I'm listening to right now."

I didn't need to explain. I didn't need to compromise. That was the book I was listening to. Period.

There were no further complaints.

It was awesome.

The One With Offensive People Reading Books

My apologies to those of you who read this blog in a reader. The html etc. in my last post was messed up in an epic sort of way. I think I got it figured out.

Also, I just realized that, even though they were about a month apart, I began the post before this one and the one before that by talking about how much I love books. Sorry to be repetitive.

When we last met, I told you about offensive books that may or may not actually be offensive. Today is kind of along the same lines, but the offensiveness of the next book in question is more ambiguous. At least, it is to me.

Have you ever had one of those conversations with people that, you THINK you know the other person's opinion on something, but then it turns out you're WAY wrong

Par example, you're talking to someone about American Idol (which. . .I DO NOT WATCH), and the person you're talking to says, "Can you believe the shaggy haired guy?"

Now, their tone of voice leads you to believe that they share your opinion on the shaggy haired guy: that he's the most dreamy, talented man to ever stand behind a microphone. (Note: If there are currently any shaggy haired guys on American Idol, that is just a coincidence. I do not watch.) So you nod emphatically.

Then the other person continues by saying, "Seriously. Don't you have to have some TALENT and SEX APPEAL to be on these shows?"

Whoops.

Had you opened your mouth, the conversation would have ended quite differently, perhaps with a fistfight. Instead, your friend thinks you agree on something, and you know for sure your friend has lousy taste in men.

I think you know the types of conversations I mean. I had one of those today.

This lady and I were discussing banned books, and she said, "Oh, we banned a book once."

I THOUGHT she meant this particular library branch. That someone had complained, and they had removed a book because of it.

"Oh yeah?" I asked, wittily.

"Yeah," she said. "It was this book. . .I think it was called 'Two Princes.' It was about this prince trying to find a princess, but he couldn't find one he liked, and he ended up with another prince. A man."

"Oh," I said, rolling my eyes in a knowing manner. "That's ridiculous." My eyeroll was meant to convey that I, too, thought it was ridiculous that they would ban a book for something as innocuous as a gay king. The misunderstanding of the conversation went both ways, however, as I learned when she continued with, "I know. Can you believe it? A gay king. In a children's book! Once I figured out what was going to happen, I stopped reading the book to my grandchildren immediately!"

Oh.

Oh.

This lady wasn't offended that a book about gay princes had been removed from the library. She was offended there was a book about gay princes written.

"I collected all of them from this library and shipped them off to other branches," she said as she walked away, basking in her own smugness.

. . . . . . .

Apparently, it's in vogue now to promote small-mindedness and lifestyles different than your own. Excellent.

Incidentally, the book she was talking about is King and King by Linda de Haan.

Unfortunately, it looks like that lady won, because we have no copies in the system. But along with the bad, there is some good. The absolute cutest book I think I've seen in life is called "Where's Walrus?" by Stephen Savage. (I'd post a picture, but Blogger is giving me fits today, so you should just click on it to give it a look.) It's about this walrus that escapes from the zoo and hides from the zookeepper by putting on different hats and taking on different jobs. The book has no words, just pictures, but it's awesome. Kind of makes me want to go have a kid so I'd have an excuse to buy it. Maybe next time I'll find something other than books to talk about.

Then Again, Maybe I Won't.

The One With the Offensive Books

I love books.

I think anyone who knows me knows how I feel about books in general, libraries, reading, etc. Love it.

So today, when one of my new co-workers brought up two books that had been "challenged" in the system by people who wanted them removed, I was interested in what other people find offensive.

Book #1 was "It's a Book" by Lane Smith.

The premise of the book is that this monkey is reading a book, and this donkey (introduced in the first couple of pages, actually, as a "jackass") doesn't get that in order to read a book, you don't need all kinds of electronic gadgets.

"How do you scroll down?" asks the donkey.

The monkey replies, "I don't. I turn the page. It's a book."

"Can you make the characters fight?" asks the donkey.

Again, the monkey replies, "No. It's a book."

And on and on. Finally, at the end of the book, the monkey passes over his book to the donkey and then heads out to the library to get another one. "Don't worry!" the donkey calls out. "I'll charge it when I'm done!"

At this point, the mouse that lives under the monkey's hat says, "You don't need to. . ."

And when you turn the page, he finishes his sentence: ". . .it's a book, jackass!"

I laughed when I read that. It was a very funny, very cute, well-illustrated book. The problem? It is categorized in our Easy Reader, picture book section. Call me old-fashioned, call me too PC, say whatever you want, but I agree with whichever patron is it that brought this to our attention.

Can you imagine being up in front of a group of small elementary school-aged kids (and their parents!) and reading this out loud? Admittedly, if you're super-vigilant about what your kids read and you want to avoid profanity (even though yes, I KNOW "jackass" is another word for "donkey." I know this. But the double entendre is clearly intentional), then you should be screening the books beforehand. Sometimes, though, you just can't do that.

My vote on this one? Keep the book in the system (because it really is good), but put it in Juvenile Fiction, or even Adult Humor. Most of the story would go over young kids' heads anyway. (What little kid knows what a blog is? Or Twitter?)

Book #2 was "The Polar Bears Are Hungry" by Carol Carrick.

The story is about a mother polar bear and her cubs looking for hard-to-find food and ending up trying to break into a house to get food, being brought to "bear jail" and then being re-released into the wild. The pictures are beautiful. There is a vague liberal global warming agenda, but while it would be pretty obvious to astute parents, unless a parent wanted to say, "And all this is happening because of X, Y, and Z," kids wouldn't get it. How frightening the book would be would, in all actuality, depend on the tone of voice of the adult reading it.

The person who complained said there were pictures of bears viciously eating seals (not true. It just mentioned the bear was hunting seals. Which. . .they do.); that they "drugged" the bears and sent them to "jail" (true, but not as frightening as the lady made it out to be); and she said that it was "propegating" the "theory" of global warming, which is SO UNTRUE, because everyone smart knows that the Earth has, throughout the years, goes through periods of extreme heat and extreme cold.

I'd like to pause a moment here and comment that, um, did she not just disprove herself? She said the Earth isn't any hotter than it was 20 years ago, but then she goes on to say that the Earth continually gets hotter and colder.

Um?

She suggested that we get rid of every copy of that book in our system and send them back to the publisher, and that we then buy books about the REAL eating habits and habitats of polar bears. Which, I'm pretty sure this book has all of those things.

I guess some people just need to complain and be indignant.

One of my co-workers suggested maybe she just wants us to have copies of books about how polar bears hang out at the North Pole, where it's always frigid, with Santa and his elves.

That made me laugh.

If I haven't bored you enough yet, more about books in my next post, including offensively gay books and the cutest book I've ever read.

So what do you guys think? Should we ban profanity and books about the natural life cycle?

The One Where HarperCollins Hates Libraries

Sorry for the hiatus, y'all. Lots going on, not feeling like talking about most of it.

There comes a time in everyone's life, I think, where you realize that big companies, with their millions of dollars of income every year, are really just out to screw you. I've already said my piece about insurance companies, but now I have a new company upon which to unleash my (completely justified!) bile: HarperCollins.

Most of you know I work in a library. I refer to myself as a librarian even though I haven't found the money to go back for my degree to make it official. But here's one thing I don't need a degree for: I love books. I love books as much as I love food, and you guys know that's a LOT.

When e-Books started being a thing, I worried. I worried that the printed book was going to go out of style in a few years, and I worried that I'd be forced to get an e-Reader just to read the books I love so much.

My house is full of books. There are books everywhere. I'm always reading. Books and reading and all that are all very important aspects of my life.

(I know I'm jumping around here, but I'm getting to the point.)

HarperCollins has decided that they are going to limit the number of times they are going to let libraries check out e-books. I've linked to the letter they posted, but the basic gist of it is that libraries may purchase e-books for check out, but they can only be checked out 26 times. HarperCollins has decided that after these 26 times are used up, the libraries must purchase the books again.

This is. . .infuriating to me. If libraries made a habit of buying books that would only last until they were checked out 26 times, we'd have nothing. We'd have no books on the shelves, and the point of libraries would be moot. HarperCollins is just going for the money. They don't care about getting the books out. They don't care about people reading. They care about the money.

If you go here, you can read a very eloquent open letter to HarperCollins that says everything I'd love to say here, but for some reason, am missing the words to say.

The writer of HarperCollins' "open letter to librarians" said, "Twenty-six circulations can provide a year of availability for titles with the highest demand, and much longer for other titles and core backlist."

Any book that lasts just a year? Has no room in a library. And if e-readers are the wake of the future and all that, why would you make it so hard for someone to get books on it? Why are you punishing people who maybe don't like holding books, but who like reading? (Like people who, up until this point, maybe used audio books.)

It seems that many libraries are boycotting HarperCollins or HarperCollins' e-books or whatever. I've got a whole list of things I'm boycotting, so maybe we just need to add HarperCollins to that list.

I'm not suggesting they give unlimited views for one price forever, but 26 views? Ridiculous.

What do you think? I think HarperCollins is all about how much money the can eke out of libraries who already are having to cut their budgets way, way down, and who just want to provide an inexpensive service to their patrons. I'm not saying we should get anything for free. But be reasonable, HarperCollins. All you're doing is pissing off the people who use you the most.

The One With The Girl Who Distracted Me From Writing

I've fallen drastically, desperately behind my NaNoWriMo numbers. I'm approximately a week behind, and with this kind of project, it's really hard to catch up.

I'm also working on another project. . .a food blog, so I can keep this one for my day-to-day, and that one for food-related things. Once I have a spare few dollars, I'll buy the domain name I want, and then I'll be in business. So if you're not so much interested in food, you can read that one instead. If you're not so much interested in me, you can read that one. Win-win.

(Although, come to think of it, I don't think that you'd be reading this if you didn't have at least SOME interest in me. But I think you know what I mean.)

Part of the reason I've fallen so far behind on my writing is because I've been reading. I started the "Millennium Trilogy" a while back, and have finally gotten to the third book. It took me a while to read the first, ("The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo") and I finished the second one ("The Girl Who Played with Fire") yesterday. Today, I started "The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet's Nest," and once I finish this one, I'm not 100% sure what I'm going to do with myself. Write, maybe.

The second book had a weird effect on me, actually. It was a really good book. . .but I wanted it to end. I wanted to be finished with it so I could start on the last one. It was good, but I think probably about 100 pages could be cut from it.

Let's see, what else has been distracting me from what I need to be doing?

Food Network. I've been addicted to "The Next Iron Chef" for the last few weeks. It's pretty obvious who's going to win (I HATE when shows make it so obvious who's going to win. . .especially when said person has ALREADY HAD a show on the network) but my favorite guy is still in the running. D accused me of having a new boyfriend, and he may or may not be right. This guy is awesome and badass. Also, he made a dessert last week inspired by his girlfriend's favorite sweets (Aww!) and made his grandmother's potato recipe for one of the challenges. (AWWW!!!) I also looked up his restaurant in New York, and checked out the menu. Super-delicious sounding. Also super expensive.

Speaking of delicious food in New York. . .I don't know if any of my readers are in the Manhattan area, but has anyone ever been to the Antique Garage in SoHo? Apparently, they use word-of-mouth for their advertising, so I'm guessing there wouldn't be any billboards or anything.

I went up to New York last year (two years ago?) with a friend of mine and his dad, because he was checking out NYU. We randomly came across this run-down looking, really pricey restaurant and had dinner there. Since that day, I've wanted to be on that Food Network show, "The Best Thing I Ever Ate," because the dinner I had that night. . .I haven't been able to get it out of my head. I had this thing called the Shrimp Casserole. I'm aware that the word "casserole" brings to mind a heavy thing with maybe cheese and breadcrumbs and stuff like that, but this was like nothing I've ever had. It was light and flavorful and I may or may not be having a foodgasm right now thinking about it. The most incredible thing I've ever put in my mouth. (That's what she said.)

Anyway, I thought of that again today and told D that sometime within the next year, I need to get back to New York and have this thing again, $24 price tag be damned.

(I'm a little worried about starting a food blog. I feel like 75% of my life is taken up by eating, thinking about, and making food, so I'm not going to have anything else to talk about here.)

So what about all of you out there? What's the best thing you've ever eaten?

The One Where I'm Not Working Full-Time

Note: I would like to add two alternates to my List of 5. Matthew Morrison and Justin Timberlake. Thanks.

So last Wednesday was my last day of full-time pseudo-employment. Thank you (THANK YOU!) to the people who left comments, wishing me luck and such. I felt. . .I don't want to say "loved,"

because that's a wee bit dramatic, but I really, really appreciated it. So thank you.

Since Wednesday, I've been. . .admittedly really, really worried about money, because, like when I lost my job in 2009, I had a lot brighter outlook on how soon I could work things out than it turned out to actually be. (That's an awkward sentence. I think you know what I mean, though.)

I have, however, cleaned pretty much the entire apartment, including throwing out a bunch of trash and bringing 3 bags of stuff to Goodwill.

I also made a cake on Sunday. I'd never made a layer cake before, so I used a box mix to practice on. It actually turned out really well. I made two layers of white cake and frosted it with chocolate (also out of a box. Or can.) I also decorated it with this can of yellow frosting D bought me a while back.

It turned out really well. It's almost completely gone, as D came home and had a couple big slices (he was a fan) and I'd eaten pretty much half of the thing since Sunday (thanks, PMS!). D's birthday is coming up soon, so I'll be making another one in the coming days.

I love my library job. Love. It. I worked a full day Saturday and the 8 hours there passed in about half the time that 8 hours passed in my old job. (Not. . .literally, obviously.) I'm going to be working another full day Friday, so that's cool. I've had only one really hateful person I've helped, and on Saturday, we had a guy that was flashing his junk to people in the parking lot, but other than that, it's been basically smooth sailing.

And finally, I bought a dress to get married in! It's not a. . .wedding dress, per se, but it is the dress that I am going to wear when we finally make it legal. I bought it at Goodwill, and I strongly suspect it was, in a former life, someone's bridesmaid's dress. I can't post a picture of it (because I might be getting married in green instead of white, but I still think the guy shouldn't see it prior to the wedding day) but it's like. . .it's what I imagine Tinkerbell's much more conservative sister might wear.

When I brought it to the register, the lady at the counter, who had a Fran Drescher voice and an Amy Winehouse bouffant, was like, "This. . .isn't for a Halloween costume, is it?" I told her it wasn't, and she was visibly relieved.

"I've been worried someone would buy this for a Halloween costume," she told me. "And it's just so pretty."

I told her I was wearing it to get married, and she said, "Oh, HONEY!" and was so excited. She then told me how practical I am, and wished me well.

And that made my afternoon.

Also, side note? It's been raining since D left on Sunday. I'd like to think that now that he's home, it's going to stop.

The One Where Oprah May or May Not Be Satan

First of all, my posting was featured on Mushroom Printing today! Yay!

I'd mentioned a while back that I was reading the Kitty Kelley biography of Oprah. I finished it last week, and, I have to say, I'm not the least bit surprised at what I read.

I have never liked Oprah. Ever. She had, basically, trashy TV, and then she tried to go all new-agey and "I'll help you help yourself" and while telling people they needed to be healthy, her own personal weight ballooned up and down, effectively making her a hypocrite. Plus, she puts HERSELF on the cover of all of her magazines. I know other people do that, too (Hello, Rachael Ray! Hi, Martha Stewart!), but Martha doesn't do it always, and Rachael is. . .Rachael.

Nothing about Oprah seems sincere, and yeah, she gives money to people and charities, but she also makes sure everyone KNOWS she's giving money to people and charities. She's all, "I know how you FEEL," when talking to poor/downtrodden/whatever people, but y'all? Oprah has not been poor in about 50 years, and she is most certainly NOT downtrodden. She always pulls the race card, but no one's going to say "Boo!" to Oprah.

The book, while not particularly well-written, was interesting and plenty salacious. Obviously, the things written in it are not un-true, because you know if they had been, Kitty Kelley would be sued for everything she's worth and the book would have been yanked off of bookshelves.

So the conclusion that I can come to is that Oprah is just as nasty as I always thought she was.

Then there's the point of this. Oprah's Book Club.

I'm one of those people that, when something I like gets really popular, I'm like, "Dude. . .no." Because what happens then is that people think you like it because of other people liking it, and not because you discovered it first.

I've read a couple of the books on Oprah's list, either not knowing they were on her list, or before they were on her list. Most of them were pretty good. (Except for "Eat, Pray, Love," but that is another post in and of itself.)

I got an e-mail from the library today with the heading "Somebody peeked in the Oprah box!" (which. . .FYI. . .THAT'S WHAT SHE SAID!) It was a link to an AP article about how the Associated Press had bought a copy of the book with the "Oprah's (effin') Book Club" sticker on it, so people already knew what the book was, even though it wasn't "announced" until today (Friday.)

The e-mail was talking about how many more copies of the book we'd need, etc.

Then a second e-mail came, talking (complaining) about how, logistically, it's always a nightmare when Oprah announces her books.

I went to the hold system at 2:27 p.m. to see how many holds had been put on the book. There were 330. Right now, at 3:42, there are 347. It'll break 400 by the end of the day, I promise.

This bugs me. Why are people such sheep? Why do so many people worship at the Church of Oprah? What makes her any more special than anyone else?

It bugs me because she KNOWS she has this effect. It bugs me because I don't understand why.

I, for one, will not be reading this book. Mainly because it sounds dumb to me. But also because Oprah recommended "Eat, Pray, Love" and we all know how THAT turned out.

All I'm really saying is that anyone with THAT MUCH mind control over THAT MANY people? Has to be evil.

EDIT: It's 3:46. There are now 350 holds.

The One With the Second Gay Book Club Meeting

Had my second Gay Book Club meeting a couple weeks back and it was, as is to be expected, something worth making commentary on.

D and I got to the Busy Bee Cafe early. D's been carless for. . .a while now, so we pretty much have to either travel everywhere in a pack, or someone sits at home, unable to go anywhere except to the places of business within walking distance. This place was NOT within walking distance.

We'd been arguing about. . .something, I don't even remember, and we'd just grudgingly ended the argument, so we're sitting there, tersely, with our respective beers when Charles walks in, carrying his copy of the book, and a giant fruit tart.

Yeah, a giant fruit tart.

Turns out, when I'd RSVP'd for the October book club meeting, and I'd made reference to the fact that the meeting would take place the day before my birthday. Charles had mis-read what I'd said and thought that THAT day was the day before my birthday. So he brought me a celebratory fruit tart.

How awesome is that? Seriously. I've met this guy once, and he's bringing me birthday fruit tarts. Very sweet.

So we stand there for a few minutes, until 6:30, when we're supposed to start, and NO ONE ELSE has shown up. I introduce Charles to D, who is working on something for one of his clients, they make small talk, and then we decide that probably no one else is coming. Book club members be damned! We're going to sit and have a couple of beers, maybe some dinner, and we're going to talk about this book.

Now, if you'll recall, this is an LGBT book club. D, bless his heart, who is neither L, G, B, OR T (Just D), was all, "Hey. I'll join you!"

So he did.

We sat and talked some about the book (which I didn't like, Charles liked mostly, and D had not read) until this other guy showed up. I THINK his name was Derek. He was very proper. Nice enough. Just very proper.

We sat there, talking about the book, drinking beers, and eating hummus. The hummus was pretty good. Needed some more flavor, though.

(I'm realizing at this point that this story is not as interesting as I'd initially thought. Sorry.)

We ordered dinner. Charles had the "Hot" Ham Sandwich (ham with gouda, jalapenos, sweet potato paste stuff and arugula) which he said wasn't actually that hot. Derek(?) had a hamburger. He told the waitress, "When I say 'nothing but cheese' I mean I want nothing on it but cheese. No vegetables. No onions. No lettuce. Just. Cheese. Do you understand?"

Yikes.

D and I split a burger. The burger itself was really good. It was a "Tom & Jack" burger (with pepperjack cheese and fried green tomatoes). I wasn't too thrilled with the fried green tomatoes, but at least now I can say I've tried them.

And then there was the fruit tart.

My God, I love a fruit tart.

We stayed until 9:30 or 10, and then headed home (with the leftover fruit tart). D charmed the gay menz, and a good time was had by all.

Hopefully next time, when we read this book, there will be more people. It was fun with 4, though.

Also, I'm supposed to pick the book for November, and I haven't come up with anything yet. Any suggestions? (It doesn't have to be LGBT-centered, by the way.)

The One With the Gay Book Club

It occurs to me that I never really said anything about my Gay Book Club. I have had a thing sitting in my "posts to edit" list for a while about it, but I never went back to it. So here's that.

I wrote all about my first Book Club experience. Well, my first one HERE. When I lived in the mountains, I went to a book club a couple times, but I was the wrong. . .demographic. I know I'm going to be all mad about being older when I get older, but for the time being, it sucks how very few people will take me seriously, due to age. This was definitely the case at the Mountain Book Club.

So I searched for a different book club and came up with something called Q Readers. Q Readers is an LGBT book club, and I realized that here, I had found My People. (I don't. . .think I need to clarify which of those letters I fit under. I mean. . .if you REALLY need clarification, by all means, I'll tell you.)*

I'd signed up for the inaugural meeting, but was out of town. . .I think it's when Carol got married. . .so I didn't make it. Apparently, that was a good thing, because there are two Borders' on the road where it was held, and most of the people went to the wrong one. So there were a bunch of pissed off queens, and not a lot got done.

Anyway, the same week as the Awful Book Club of Doom, (Heeeey. . .the ABCD!), which was on a Tuesday, there was a Q Readers meeting that Friday. On Thursday, I got an e-mail reminder saying, "Hey! Your group is meeting tomorrow, and you haven't RSVP'd!" D was out of town, so I thought, "Why the hell not?" I RSVP'd "Yes" while I was at work and went to the library after work to get the book.

It was "Sharp Objects" by Gillian Flynn. The book has 272 pages, so I knew reading it by the time book club rolled around the next night wouldn't be a problem. (Incidentally, I did finish it, and had time to start a second novel. I read quickly, as you might have guessed.) Why I did not like the book could take up an entire other entry, so I won't get into it. But I finished it, and that's what mattered.

I got to the (correct) Borders' and found the group's founder, Charles, a short, friendly black guy. We introduced ourselves and chit-chatted. Next to show up was Michael, a ridiculously tall, ridiculously LOUD white guy. The last person to show up was this guy named Craig, who I loved, by the way. He looked like that actor, Kevin James, but reminded me so much of my friend John from high school, I had to send John a text when I left telling him about it.

Me and three really gay guys. THIS was what I was used to. These were My People.

So we sat and talked about the book, and talked about other stuff, too. It was revealed that I am, in fact, not a lesbian (mark that letter off the list!), when Craig suggested another group I could join, made up of Professional Lesbians. This followed with a discussion of Chasing Amy, and a discussion about D.

After asking if I'd be willing to share D (I demurely declined), it was decided that he should become the club mascot, standing shirtless by the table where we meet and holding up a giant rainbow flag. These guys were all up ons the idea of D. (This sounds creepy. It wasn't.)

The other thing I should mention is that these guys all knew each other in one form or another from other groups, but they included me in all the conversations. Awesome.

Charles had what I believe was the comment of the evening, though, when he said, "I'm also a member of a gay law enforcement group. . .it's me and a bunch of lesbians." For some reason, I really laughed at that.

So I'll be going back this month, and possibly taking D with me. He said he'd like to go, because he's never been to a book club meeting before. This month's book is "Lamb: the Gospel According to Biff, Christ's Childhood Pal." It's OK so far. . .but it's kind of dense and hard to read. It's also very disconcerting that I got the "special edition" when I requested it from the library, and now it looks like I'm carrying around a Bible and randomly reading it. That makes me feel awkward.

No more awkward than carrying around the other book I'm reading, I guess, which is Kitty Kelley's biography on Oprah. For the record, I can't stand Oprah, but the book got so much controversy I, of course, had to read it.

*I was going to make some stupid joke like, "Obviously. . .I'm a MTF transsexual!" But then I was afraid that people would take me seriously and be looking at me funny. Also, it may or may not have been in poor taste. Of everything I've been called in my lifetime, a former man is not one of them. For the record, I have all my original ladybits. kthnx.

The One Where My Book Club Blows

Just got a message in my Spam folder with the subject line, "Sarah -- You can become the new King of Cleveland!"

. . . . . . .

I was not. . .aware Cleveland had a king. Or that a female could be king. Obviously, I am on the wrong career path as of this moment.

This kind of makes me miss the days when King Djibashae Tutalegument of Nigeria wanted to deposit 1,500 trillion dollars into my bank account. Hey, Djibashae! Where's my money?*

Book Club was tonight. Let me set a background here. I've been signed up for this meeting for the last month and a half or so. I've been super jazzed. I've been looking forward to breaking out of my social anxiety-laden shell and meeting some people and talking about books. Getting opinions and stuff.

D went with me to the coffee place, and I roundaboutly asked him (Read: Demanded) that he stay. The meeting was at a coffeehouse, so he was able to get work done while he was sitting there, listening to whatever he had playing in iTunes.

So I sit down at these tables, and realize what I did not actually expect: I am clearly the youngest person there. That always makes me feel super awkward, because people assume that young = stupid. For the majority of people my age, yeah. That's true. But not all of us are stupid. Someone asks me if I'm new, and I said yes. She says she could tell.

She could tell because everyone knew each other. Even though the meetup description said, "There're new people at every meeting!". . .well, I mean, I guess that wasn't a lie. I was new, after all. But EVERYONE ELSE knew each other.

"How're the kids, Doreen?"
"Oh, they're great, Helen, thanks for asking! Daniel is still talking about the pot roast you brought to mine and Damien's potluck dinner last week."
"Oh, hey guys! Are you talking about the potluck? Me and Greg sure enjoyed that!"
"That's right, Cynthia! I think we should all get together soon and have another potluck. . .maybe a girls' night out afterward!"

Kind of like that.

So our moderator, a woman who is most definitely going to look like Betty White in about 20 years, starts off with a fairly innocuous question. . .that I can't even remember. What I DO remember is that I had a BADASS answer to it, so I said, ". . ." (whatever my answer was.)

Except.

This other lady had the same opinion I did, and took the beginning of my sentence and then ran with it. . .effectively taking it from me. That sounds melodramatic, I'm aware, but there's really no other way I can describe it.

OK, fine. I'll wait until something else comes up.

So then there was something I wanted to say something about. I started to say whatever it was I wanted to say, and half a second after I started talking, this other lady started talking, and raised her voice to be heard over me. I tried a tactic I use occasionally when D and I argue, where, if I'm being interrupted, I continue saying what I was saying in the hope that he other person will be like, "Oh. She's still talking. I'll knock it off. Maybe she's saying something important."

But no.

She raised her voice so she could be heard over me, and I just kind of gave up on the entire concept.

One person sent my a sympathetic look when that happened, but I was like, eff a bunch of book club.

So I sat there and just listened.

And let me tell you. . .what I was listening to made me mad that I'd chosen to waste an entire evening on this thing. I've been to book clubs before, and when I did, we discussed. . .the book we'd all read. At this one? The novel had been about Alzheimer's, and this one woman went on and on in a sort of monologue for about 15 minutes about the fact that her father (or mother?) had died of Alzheimer's. And then after her monologue, it became about mental illness as a whole. And then somehow, diabetes was thrown into the mix.

I'm texting D throughout this entire travesty of an evening, telling him how bored I am, etc. He's sitting there, but he's got headphones on, so he's not having to listen to every little inane detail about what these women were talking about.

Then, somehow, it turns into a conversation about how people in their 20's take everything for granted. ("Hey, guys!" Internal Monologuing Sarah yells, "We're not ALL like that!" And then it turns into a conversation about how, if this were to happen to us in real life (a loved one having Alzheimer's) how, "Since we're women, it would be easier for us to take on the role of the caretaker." But if we, as women, had the disease, we'd expect our menfolk to just fall apart and not be able to take care of anything themselves.

Um.

I can tell you one thing with the utmost of certainty. If I had Alzheimer's, D wouldn't fall apart in the least. But if he had it? I wouldn't know what to do with myself. Maybe that's because I "take everything for granted."

And then everyone started chiming in with, "Oh! My husband's the same way! Oh, it's be so much easier for me to take care of him than for him to take care of me."

And then? They all started talking about what a brilliant book "The Notebook" is.

OMFG.

THE NOTEBOOK?

Why didn't they just say that Justin Bieber is the most awesome superstar in the history of entertainment, that Michael Jackson would be a great babysitter for your son, or that Perez Hilton would be the ideal person with whom to share your umost deepest, darkest secrets?**

If I wasn't convinced before the Notebook conversation that this wasn't the group for me, that just did it. Because Every. Single. Person. agreed with the "That was the Best! Book! Ever!" statement.

So, needless to say, only about 10 of the 90 (90!!) minutes was spent talking about the book. I'd come for a conversation during which I could feel smart because I had something intelligent to say about something I'd read. But instead, I felt like an outsider, because I had nothing to say about any of the topics at hand. Had I said, "'The Notebook'? REALLY? I HATED the movie, and I find everything Nicholas Sparks has ever read to be insipid and stupid," I probably would have gotten the exact same reaction: No one noticing I was a part of the group.

Needless to say, I will not be going back. And my experiment into the World of the Socially Un-Retarded failed. Epically.

I guess I need to find a new hobby, because reading the same thing other people read clearly isn't going to work for me.

Eff.

*Um, I never fell for this.
**Clearly, my knowledge of current events is awesome.

The One Where I Talk About Books

I started a list. It's here. This is Day 4. I am two days behind.

Day 04 - your favorite book

I want to know whose bright idea it was to come up with some of the things on this list. I can't think of many people who legitimately have ONE favorite of any of these things.

Incidentally, I was asked this question on Monday night by one of the library volunteers. You'd be surprised (or maybe not) how many times you get asked "What's your favorite book?" while working in a library.

My stock answer has always been "The Great Gatsby" by F. Scott Fitzgerald. This is a brilliant book, with tons of symbolism and imagery that I don't really care a lot about. Legitimately, one of my least favorite things about being an English major was that we had to analyze EVERYTHING. Why was that character named Bob Smith? Why did the author choose to put the woman in a red dress rather than a blue dress? What was the author's intent for making the main character's mother have Eggs Benedict and apple juice for breakfast the morning of the murder of the dog?

I don't actually care about any of that. Plus, there's no real way of knowing the author's intent for anything unless you actually ask them.

So I don't love "The Great Gatsby" because I know why the light at the end of the dock was green, or why Gatsby's love interest's name was Daisy or why Jordan eventually ended it with Nick. I don't really know any of these things, and I don't much care. I just know that I love the book. Plus, if you look on the cover, there are pictures of naked people in the face's eyes. (hee hee)

Asking someone like me (an English major, someone who works in a library, etc.) their favorite book is like asking Kate Gosselin which one of her kids is her favorite.

(Ew. I just referenced Kate Gosselin. EW! I just did it again.)

It's a really hard choice. I can tell you that, Gatsby aside, I've read some really awesome literature in my day. When I was in college, I had a professor who I may or may not have had a raging crush on (I did), named Michael Parker. Michael Parker (who is one of those people who must, under all circumstances, be referred to by both first and last name), taught both the creative writing class and the modern literature class I took in the Spring semester (I think) of my sophomore year.

(It should be noted that I did not take the classes because I had a raging crush on him. I didn't know him from Adam when I signed up for the classes. It just so happened it worked out that way. It was actually kind of a pain, because if I skipped the morning class, in the afternoon, he was all, "So, Sarah. Where were you this morning?" Same with skipping the afternoon class.)

Anyway, one of the books we read was "Mrs. Bridge" by Evan Connell. To this day, it remains one of my absolute favorites, and is maybe the only book whose ending was so beautiful and poignant that it made me tear up. But just a little. I'm not a wuss. My copy of "Mrs. Bridge," however, met with a horrible end in a coffee-related trucking accident. I've been unable, thus far, to find another copy with the correct cover. (The cover corresponds to and matches the cover of my copy of "Mr. Bridge.")

Even though I could go on (and on and on and on. . .) about books, I'll just mention one more that. . .I don't want to say it changed my life, per se, but it did something to me that I can't quite explain. I hated the ending, but the rest of the book was amazing and incredible to me, and I couldn't put it down in the day and a half it took me to read it.

"The Time Traveler's Wife" by Audrey Niffenegger, although a little confusing and weird in spots, was just beautiful. It's a legitimate love story that left me really quiet when it ended. I was disappointed that the story was over, and I wanted back the feeling I had when I was in the throes of it. Lovely book. The movie, however, was awful. Terrible. No chemistry between the main characters, and if you hadn't read the book, you'd have little to no idea what was going on.

As my consolation prize, I'll throw in "Lolita" by Vladimir Nabokov. Yes, it's the story of a man obsessed with his pre-pubescent step-daughter, but I dare you to read that book, a book of love and jealousy and crazy obsession, and tell me that you don't, at some point, just really feel for the guy. Another awesome read.

The One Where John Edwards' Former Aide is Obnoxious

If you're wondering, the "maternity prom dress" is up to $10,000 in eBay bids, and also, in case you were wondering, it is "not actually a maternity dress." It is a size large. So what you're telling me is that a large majority of the clothes in my closet are actually maternity clothes. Score. If I start having babies, I won't need a new wardrobe.

I know I mentioned a million years ago that I'd read that John Edwards book written by his former aide, Andrew Young. I took notes (NOTES!) on this book so I could write about it, but today, when I went back and looked at said notes, I realized I'd shorthanded it, so a lot of it, I'm only like 67.8% certain what I meant when I wrote it down.

What I have to explain, first and foremost, is that the guy that wrote this book is a gigantic tool. He obviously OBVIOUSLY was involved with John Edwards and his campaign because he thought it would get him big bucks "when" Edwards became president. My theory also (a theory that was repeated by Rielle Hunter, John Edwards' baby mama, in her interview with GQ magazine) is that this guy was in love with John Edwards. He was obsessed with the guy, and, according to a quote someone (I think Elizabeth Edwards) said to him that he wrote in the book, he was "hold[ing] [the Edwardses] close so [he could] advance [himself]."

One thing that points to the "this guy was in love with Edwards" theory is in the chapter that references John Edwards' $400 haircut debacle. Allegedly, Edwards didn't know the haircut was going to be that expensive because he "didn't usually take care of things of that nature" on his own. I don't really care one way or the other about any of that; what makes ME laugh is the fact that, while Andrew Young is going on and on about Edwards' obsession with his own hair, he said, "[Edwards'] hair, which was naturally thick and lustrous. . ."

I feel like, if I were a dude, a supposedly heterosexual dude, I would not be referring to another dude's hair as. . .anything. Especially "thick and lustrous." I laughed, a lot, when I read that.

Then, in further exhibitions of toolishness, Young mentions in the course of the book that Elizabeth Edwards had written a book and had thanked him in the acknowledgements. . .but in this book, Young thanks "The Edwards and Anania families. . .except John and Elizabeth." Yeah. . .thanks to everyone except the man he was obsessed with and that man's wife. . .both of whom made surfe he was paid handsomely for his time and effort, even though all this guy does is bitch and complain about the work he was doing throughout the entire book.

Um, how about you say, "No, I'm not doing that. I quit"? Yeah. Because you wanted the money that came along with the job. You wanted it then, and now it has come crashing down on you, you and the unethical things you did, and now you want to play martyr.

I'm saving everything I have to say about his part in the whole John Edwards-Rielle Hunter affair, because that will take up an entire post on its own.

More reasons this guy is a tool:

*He spends the first chapter of the book talking about himself, how he got together with his wife, how much he believed in Edwards, etc. My question here is. . .who cares? I don't pick up a book called "The Polititian" to read all about some guy who used to work for a politician and is now bitter because he got screwed. The book is not called, "The Politician('s Bitch)".

*The epilogue of this book is about Andrew Young's dead father. Again. . .I'm really sorry his father died, but I did not pick up this book to read about how his father died. I picked it up because I am a celebrity gossip whore, and was interested how everything actually happened. I mean, this chick (with the help of Edwards' sperm) brought down an entire presidential hopeful's campaign. Salacious stuff, right? That's what I was hoping for. Instead, I read about Andrew Young's dead father.

*Apparently, in Elizabeth Edwards' book (which I have not read, but which I keep seeing at the library and I may have to pick up, even though I think Elizabeth Edwards is another one who needs to shut up) she portrayed Young as an obsessed fan. I'm thinking, after reading "The Polititian" that this might be a more accurate portrayal than the woebegone, downtrodden Andrew Young he himself portrays.

*He keeps complaining throughout the book that the house he and his wife were building was "getting bigger and morwe expensive than planned." First of all, if that's the case, tell the builder what you actually want. Secondly, boo freaking hoo. You used to have the money for a giant house. I feel so sorry for you and your gobs of cash.

*He had to go into hiding for some reason, and where did he choose to take his family for this occasion? Disney World. I don't think I even need to make commentary on that one.

*All throughout, he complains about the things he "had to miss" (school functions, family time, etc.) because John Edwards was calling. Hey, how about this? Say, "Can't do it right now. Give me an hour." Maybe he would have said something like that if he weren't so obsessed with Edwards and his naturally thick and lustrous hair.

So, all that to say, I was pretty disappointed with this book. While it was interesting to see what went on behind the scenes (supposedly) throughout the campaign and all that, Andrew Young is just whiny, self-involved, self-pitying, and has his head so far up his own ass that you can't really take him seriously. The book didn't really tell a whole lot more than the news media had already shown, and the most honest part of the book was in the prologue when he says, "A lot of people will say I am writing this book for money. This is partially true. . ." and then he goes on about being unemployable (thanks to the Edwardses, of course). I could give him props for saying, "Hey, yeah, I wrote this because I needed the money," but from there, I just want to slap him.

I DO have a lot to say about the whole Rielle Hunter thing, but that's for another day.