Happy Anniversary, Old Man. Sixteen years of awesome.
Here’s one for your Halloween spooky reading fun. Meddling Kids, by Edgar Cantero. I’m getting through this one verrrrrry slowly because of all my reading for the class I’m taking that I don’t hate, addiction to British procedurals, and spending actual time with my family. Also there’s that whole job thing, but whatevah.
Meddling Kids is very heavily inspired by Scooby Doo, but takes fun creative license. I haven’t got far enough in to tell who the bad guy is, but it’s definitely not a real estate swindler in a mask. I’m reasonably certain this is a take on the Cthulhu mythos, but we’ll see if I’m right.
I’m enjoying it so far, despite a couple of unintended anachronisms. The fellow who wrote it is not a native English speaker, which may or may not have contributed to that. I’m guessing probably it’s just a research glitch. But it’s fiction, so does it matter that much? (Yeah, OK, it bugs me a little, but I don’t think most people would care at all.)
The writing style is very interesting. It jumps around a fair amount from reading like a television script to narrative to first person reflection, but somehow not in an annoying way. I don’t know how I feel about the characters yet. But I do love the dog(s).
I even got this one from the library! Well, the Mister did, on account of he thought both Miss W and I would like to read it. She gave up before she finished the first chapter. Then it got stuck on our bookshelf where I discovered it looking for something else. Don’t worry, we renewed it. We’re not monsters. We’re not even real estate swindlers in masks who would have gotten away with it if it weren’t for … Also there’s the fact that the library bought this thing back in March and we were the first people to check it out, so I don’t think we’re depriving anyone.
I’ll update you on this one later in the month, but for now, I’m recommending it – if for no other reason than most of you reading this post grew up on Scooby Doo, like I did, and you’ll enjoy it for the homage it’s intended to be. Also if you don’t love Scooby Doo I don’t even want to know you any more, because clearly you are a soulless ghoul-masked real estate swindler.
P.S. I mean no disrespect to some very good friends of ours who are real estate agents and are honorable, upstanding, awesome people whom we are lucky to know. You know they must be good people if I’m qualifying my post. I clearly think very highly of them. I merely reference the bad guys in pretty much ALL Scooby episodes.
I don’t need advice, I need a bloody miracle.
Stop being so bloody overheated, October. You aren’t menopausal.
I get that you’re completely checked out of your job because you got screwed, but you’re making more work for me, and it’s kind of pissing me off. You’re still here. Do what you’re being paid to do.
God forbid you should be bothered to learn anyone’s proper name.
The Jennifers are NOT interchangeable.
There is literally nothing left to do but throw my hands up and watch this place burn to the ground. Figuratively burn. Figuratively.
Your using of that horrible air freshener is passive aggressive bitchery and it makes you an asshole. You know it’s a migraine trigger for me. I’ve asked you not to use it. Using it just makes you a dick. I’m done with you.
I should have joined the military. I would have been a phenomenal general.
It’d be so great if women would stop telling me I’m not allowed to worry about my son being falsely accused of sexual assault.
I went back to biting my tongue for a long long time. Starting to get sick of the taste of blood again.
YOU DON’T EVEN WORK HERE. GO YAMMER SOMEWHERE ELSE.
It’s sort of like a dead letter office, really.
Am I missing something here?
Yeah, grinded isn’t a word, Reason.
Haven’t done a book post in a while.
Wow, totally forgot this post altogether for the last few hours. Oops.
I wonder if anyone would notice if I just took a nap. I’m guessing no. If it wasn’t raining, I’d just go down to Biggby for an hour or so.
This nail file has about had it.
I really need to shave my legs.
According to Ayurvedic principles, I’m not remotely healthy.
I’m excited for the Supernatural return tomorrow.
I had to unfollow Jared Padalecki’s wife on Instagram. Talk about privilege. That chick is as out of touch with reality as Gwyneth Paltrow.
“The real heroes are the real heroes.”
Why did she go to a Norm Macdonald show in the first place?
I think the temperature might be dropping a bit.
Tomorrow’s going to be cold. Yay!
Lovely lovely rain.
I’m so hungry right now.
I’ve had my shoes off for most of the day.
Honestly. What’s appealing about mushy peas?
The only right answer here is “nothing.”
I started out as a journalism major. It’s not that hard to go back to it.
I should probably lock the doors.
You don’t have to go home …
Jalapeno potato chips are a perfectly reasonable 10 a.m. snack.
Honestly. Why am I even here?
That’s not even a turkey leg. Have you people never seen a turkey leg?
I hate it when women decide that they’re speaking for ALL WOMEN EVERYWHERE. I can guarantee you that 99% of the time I don’t actually agree with you, and probably a WHOLE lot of other women don’t either. I’m not with you. I’m not in your camp. I remain over here in my own teepee, permanent skeptic, all about the verify, not so big on the trust. Stop speaking for me.
friends who chamber
Do you even employ proofreaders there? Cos I’m thinking no.
Just because it’s there doesn’t mean you have to touch it.
So basically, it’s just search for shit to bitch at Jen about day. Awesome.
I should have called in with pneumonia for this whole bloody week.
I hate it when the back of the book doesn’t tell you what the bloody book is about. I don’t need to read all the praise heaped upon you. That doesn’t tell me a bloody thing. Just because a pack of random critics read your blather and loved it doesn’t mean I will. And I’m not very likely to read a book without knowing what I’m reading.
Can I just not come here any more? Can someone just give me some millions of dollars so I can not come here any more?
Son Volt was on my radio on my drive in and it was nice.
“A favorite among tastemakers.” Well, that’s enough to turn me off.
And of course the journals are far more concerned with having been duped than with the point the papers’ authors were making. I mean Mein Kampf for fuck’s sake. Here’s a breakdown of the authors’ work. (I haven’t read it yet.)
the doctrine of salvation
The Jennifers are not interchangeable.
“J. Cole does not want to be famous.” Well congratulations, I’ve no idea who the hell you are, so you’ve succeeded.
Maybe it’s just a question of semantics, after all.
I’ve literally asked this woman 4 different times to stop doing this and she just doesn’t give a shit. Absolutely no respect whatsoever.
I probably need
whisper whisper whisper whisper whisper
I think it’s finally boiled down to every man for himself in this place. Now that’s some effective leadership.
Oh hello, really old Snickers bar.
I seriously never would have guessed that that was Christian Bale.
No, I don’t believe all of my rights as a woman are being systematically stripped away since Trump became president, nor do I think they’ll be further stripped by a Kavanaugh confirmation.
Yes, I firmly believe that women who falsely accuse men of sexual assault should be prosecuted to the fullest extent possible.
I’m wordy today.
Could you please take the politics out of knitting? Thanks. That’d be great. You’re not Madame Defarge. As much as you might like to be.
Man, the Brits and all their CCTV. I could never live over there.
Can I just coast along, dya think?
I wish I had some crackers. Maybe there’s some Cheez Its hiding under the counter.
I’ll just check.
There are none. Sadness.
Just focus on the one thing.
I don’t even know what sounds good for dinner. Probably nothing.
Hey. If you don’t want me pointing out that shit is spelled wrong before it goes out to the public, that’s fine by me. But I’m taking that proofreading business out of my job description because I don’t want this to reflect on my skills. Which are mad. Yo.
There’s a lovely British lady playing the voice in my head as I read this chapter. Interesting.
I’m never going to make it to the end.
the branch of metaphysics dealing with the nature of being
It’s just fucking paper towel for fuck’s sake.
I want to see the lighthouse ghost!
I already have plenty of ghosts, I suppose.
Pu-pu-pu-pu-Puuuuutin is still kinda funny though.
I’m having a really hard time with this stupid thing.
Was Twin Peaks just an elaborate exploration of David Lynch’s search for meaning and spiritual truth?
It’s Rory’s voice. It changed. I don’t like it. Yeah, I don’t like A Year in the Life after all.
There is nothing to like about raccoons.
If I had said what she just said in as public a forum as she did, I’d be labeled a racist and probably fired.
I’m just desperately trying to find a way out. That’s all.
One’s German, one’s French.
I love this.
Sorry, but no. And I don’t feel bad about it either.
Oh good. Yet another jerk who thinks it’s totally OK to just walk into my cube just because! Dude. I have met you one fucking time. I don’t know you. Stay out of my office.
I don’t know. Seems to me that if you’re so against prostitution, this would be the dream alternative. Don’t want men buying sex from women? Give them robots. How is this a problem??
Well there’s something we can agree on. With the law of averages it was bound to happen sooner or later.
Literally none of this shit makes any sense to me.
Lucifer is a nicer fellow, in comparison.
Not a single morning this week has gone according to plan. Not a one.
The Jennifers are not interchangeable.
I’ve decided that the term “middle of nowhere” is offensive, particularly to the people who live there. Clearly it is somewhere. Stop being so dismissive of rural communities. Ruralists.
I will never stop celebrating Halloween. Never. NEVER!
Evidently I got red paint on my travel mug too.
Why does it smell like garlic in here?
If I close my eyes for just a second too long right now, I will absolutely fall asleep at my desk.
Look at that. Look at it.
Maybe I’ll post late. So I can add more. So sleepy.
I don’t think the Supernatural parodies are that funny. I wanted to. But I just don’t.
My sinuses feel like the Sahara.
I can’t tell you what
I do so appreciate the tea.
The oatmeal raisin cookie always starts out tasting good, but by the time you’ve finished it, it’s been entirely too much sugar. And possibly butter.
I can’t stop yawning.
Yep. HR. Helpful as ever.
Oh nothin’. Just watchin’ the hurricane blow in.
Yeah, it’s not “off the grid” if it has “high speed internet.” I mean that’s literally ON the grid.
I think it’s that you can’t actually stop yourself from being a dick.
It’s not the fishbowl. It’s not A fishbowl. It’s the seminar room. It’s right there on the door. “Seminar Room”
I’m pretty sure they were supposed to have taken the flag down before the weather started, but it’s been awesome to watch.
It’s very loud.
But then how will I pay for my Xanax?
ffffuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck. I have been reading the wrong goddamn chapter.
HR is a joke. Utterly useless. Everyone hates you for a reason. A valid, valid reason.
The whole entire point of converting this room was to get it on the University system and you’re telling me it’s not on the University system??
Why do people give emergency contact information in their auto replies? “If this is an emergency, please contact public safety.” Why would anyone be contacting you via email in an emergency?
I just typed course lookly instead of course lookup. I do not know what is wrong with me.
“Yeah and so, yeah. Yeah and so.”
But what about KEVIN???
It just seems like Clarence Thomas all over again to me. In other words: Utter bullshit.
I don’t actually hate that many people. Not really.
Where is my certificate? Where is my 10 year anniversary pin? WHERE IS IT??
I’d take Steve McQueen over James Dean any day.
It’s funny how you say “we,” as if you had anything at all to do with it.
OK, look. Luke’s daughter is annoying as hell.
How am I supposed to respond and wrap up if no one comments on my discussion post? Answer my own questions? I guess I could answer my own questions. That’d be weird, but whatever.
I have Just Like Heaven stuck in my head, and I am so not in the mood.
I am not the co-chair. I don’t get to make any decisions. Why do I feel like the co-chair?
I forgot my Little Debbie treat for after lunch today. Sadness.
Stupid create button. Did you HAVE to put it where the home button used to be?
I just searched my blog for the word terrified and one of the posts that came up was talking about BLTs and now I really want a BLT.
When was the last time I had a BLT? I cannot remember.
Man, I really need some new Chucks.
Well if you’re going to give it to me. OK.
I don’t know. I’m finally attempting a second run at Gilmore Girls: A Year in the Life and while there are things that are still bugging me, I do like it better than the first time I watched it. I really kind of hated it the first time I watched it.
I’m not heartbroken about Neil Gaiman. There’s no point.
Huh. The wheat for Triscuits comes muchly from the Mitten. Nice.
I just saw this question on someone’s post: “Can your boss do your job and would he be willing to do it?” Yeah that’s a big fat no.
Interesting juxtaposition: The Daily Wire and Vulture in my inbox at the same time.
This work load has been shockingly light. What are you talking about?
Tomorrow is picture day!
Everything hurts. Everything. This virus is never leaving my system. I’m clearly dying.
No, really, stop texting me. I’m so pissed at you.
Everybody buy a copy of this book that my new friend Joe wrote. He’s been working with me for the last year (and my committee) to bring Gaiman to campus. This book should be really really great.
I want pizza. And also BLTs. Not so much in the mood for tacos. But mostly just a cup of French Breakfast.
This is so fantastic.
But. Why wouldn’t you remember how old you were in 1979 if you were alive then?
Bleah. Bring back the cool temps. I beg of you.
OMFG could you NOT talk with your mouth full of food? Is that possible? Do you really need to get those words out RIGHT FUCKING NOW??
WHAT is with this mohair trend? It’s the only natural fiber I can’t wear. Makes me itch like crazy.
People. Apart means the exact opposite of what you’re trying to say. Stop using it.
My dizziness is not from low blood pressure. Stop telling me I need to drink more water to fix it.
I don’t need that many fucking reminders. Jesus.
I have a very difficult time saying modernity. I have no idea why. Rural is easier to say. So weird.
Thanks for the Cheez Its. Much obliged.
This exercise is stupid.
I REALLY need to finish reading this. But Burke. Ugh. The state is not my daddy.
Shortest Random in history. Well, no. One of the first ones was like 5 lines long.
I typed longs.
I’m out of it. Way out of it.
WTF is this. I don’t even know.
Plug your shit in.
Let me count the ways I loathe the cult of the personality test. These days Strengths Quest is all the rage. We have freaking Strengths Quest coaches on campus. No. Let that shit GO.
This shit’s due in two days and I’m the only one in the class who has done it. What the fuck, people?
Why is it so cold in here?
Well. So much for my dream of meeting Neil Gaiman. Time to move on to a new dream. Move on with my life. Move on off of this committee.
I do like that hat. I might have to make it. But not right now. I’m not buying anything at all right now.
Eh. Was it FEMA or was it the mayor? Hard to tell which is more inept.
My income certainly did not hit that particular high.
There’s just nothin’ happening here. Quietest Wednesday in months.
I always switch Remus and Romulus with Castor and Pollux in my brain. It’s so annoying.
I should not have eaten that Tiny Twix. It was just enough sugar to make me feel craptastic.
Here’s my issue with the internet. I mean aside from the rampant assholery. People keep posting shit I want to buy.
I’d completely fail as an ascetic, but I’m a total champ at being a stoic.
And forever a skeptic.
BUY MY HOUSE
Somebody just buy my damn house.
The dinosaurs are starting to arrive.
Here’s to not sucking.
Wow. What a monumentally shitty day.
STOP COMING IN MY CUBE STOP STOP STOP STOP STOP STOP STOP
Absolutely no fucking respect whatsoever. None.
Look, there is a sign on the printer in big red letters that says OUT OF ORDER. If you still try to print to it thereby using and losing your print credits, that’s on you. I can’t help you when you do foolish things.
This paper is soooooooooooooooooo dry. Like I’ll get into a really great paragraph and then BOOM. You lose me. Stop saying epistemological.
I’ve been using this mousepad for nearly twenty years. I suddenly feel like I should wash it.
People keep posting hot cocoa memes. Hot cocoa is a winter drink. Hot cider is a fall drink. You people have it all wrong.
I thought that said “human function.” It did not.
It’s not “her and me.” It’s never “her and me.” It’s SHE and I. Jesus.
My knits have spiraled out of control. I need some serious organization and assessment of project status. It’s nuts. Like seriously nuts.
OK, but you’ve listed my name backwards.
I have nothing but respect for anyone willing to work. And I’m sick to death of people being treated as less than because elites think that their jobs are worth less. I get looked down on all the time by faculty and administrators because I’m viewed as an overpaid secretary. Forget my above average IQ, my BA, my demonstrated intelligence, and on and on. I’m judged by my job title. Screw the elites. Leave people the fuck alone.
Whelp. Guess I won’t be wearing Levi’s anytime soon.
OMFG Awesome. Tell me again how smart PhDs are? ARRRRRRRGH
I read that as “arrested or reincarnated.”
OMG I’m so hot. This office is never comfortable. Never.
I have never seen You’ve Got Mail and I’m completely OK with that.
I think I need a break.
What. It’s National Pizza Day?!?!?
Aloha Chicken should never be a pizza choice. Ever.
I’m stalled until one of these mfers decides to participate.
Who doesn’t save a copy of their work??
I hate the morning DJ on First Wave. His name is stupid and he pronounces it weird. Like Laahree instead of Lairee. Actually sometimes it sounds like Laahrleduck. Evidently it’s Larry the Duck. Which is a dumb name. This morning he played 99 Luftballons and then asked if anyone had ever heard the English version. Dude. Who the fuck hasn’t heard the English version??
You know what never gets old? You taking your mood out on me.
And now I’m freezing. Awesome.
This place is eating away at my soul.
Should we have tacos for dinner?
I don’t give a shit about Nike or that idiot athlete, but the new memes are cracking me up.
I don’t know who you are, but I need to lock this door now.
I’ll be better company next week. I promise.
I hate you new Gmail.
They said I was on the membership list. I’m not on the membership list.
S:?EGLHS:OIBNB”oIHSE’PRH “PEngb”SpboSOirgNWEOTINAW:OibS”BOin (this is my frustration speaking)
Why no, that is not my job, but I’ll be doing it anyway.
How many times have you looked at the job postings today, Jennifer?
I ask you, how is it even possible for anything short of a 20 man crew to steal $100,000 worth of ramen?? That’s roughly 400,000 packages of noodles. Who needs that much ramen??
Talk about yer oodles o noodles.
I just wish I could understand the WHY of so very many things.
Man. Watching Poldark. People are treacherous. Scheming and backstabbing and lying. Good grief. Must be bloody exhausting.
There is something in my eye and it really hurts.
You just really don’t understand the concept of standing outside the cube and knocking, do you? Not even a little.
I’m thinking of just changing my name to Hen because I mistype Jen so freaking regularly.
This is my current favorite playlist.
I find that sort of disturbing.
Yay pizza! I love you guys.
Not a good way to start my day, random stranger student person.
What is the deal with this piano lately?
Give me your money, please.
Shit. It’s already so late. Stupid first day of the semester. It’s been NUTS.
Um. Why is my kid’s head bleeding?????
OK, everything is fine. No stitches required. All is well.
Oh good. It’s that time of year where every RSO on campus begs me for space in my building.
Holy shit, the onslaught just does not stop. HOW IS TODAY NOT OVER YET???
I don’t know that I would refer to abortion as “self care” EVER.
Christ I could use a cup of tea.
my aim is true
I knew as soon as I spent money on this lost ID situation the damn thing would turn up. I was not wrong.
Well this is just going to have to post late. That’s all there is to it.
So. Much. Reading.
OMG that is riDICulous.
Gotta wrap these photos up.
WRAP IT UP!
Is it going to rain again? Who can say?
I don’t know where the Wyandottes are.
WordPress thinks I mean antidotes. I do not.
I should just give photography up entirely.
That is not your nose.
burger burger burger
I did it. I pushed through. I actually finished the bloody Trespasser. And you know what?
I’m going to throw in a pretty photo of a random Irish castle as a buffer because there be spoilers below.
You know what?
It never got any better.
I know you thought I was going to say “You know what? It was so worth it! It got soooooo good at the end!” I know you thought I was going to say the book totally redeemed itself and lived up the the Tana French standard we’ve all come to know and love and expect.
I am so sorry to disappoint you, chickens. But it just did not.
Worse yet, the only possible character I could see her basing the next Dublin Murder Squad installment on is kind of awful, and also it seemed like he was getting the axe anyway, so I have no clue.
Unless she goes with the one completely random guy thrown in just to be a pain in the ass and sound like a complete and utter dick. In which case, no thanks.
And then I thought wait. Maybe this is it. Maybe this is the team that she’s keeping around for the duration. Conway and Moran. Perhaps all future tomes set in that tumultuous Irish city will center around this intrepid team. This “I’ve miraculously resolved my daddy issues in this two page arc” and “If only I could beat my partner over the head with all the obvious clues instead of just coming right out and SAYING WORDS she’ll fucking get it” dynamic duo.
If that is indeed the way of it, I’m afraid I’m out, Ms. French. I’ll be forced to hang up my fan club hat forevermore.
Settle down, I don’t really have a Tana French hat. Do they even make Tana French hats?
Oh wait, I just remembered Fleas. Yeah, I could see that happening. Still not terribly enticing, but better than the previously mentioned possibles I suppose. Really Fleas is the only logical choice for the next book.
Honestly, I was so frustrated through this whole book. And it just went on and on and on until all of a flipping sudden it was over. Like “oh shit, I’ve been prattling on for days as if I were actually Conway wallowing in my own self inflicted misery, and I nearly forgot to actually finish solving the mystery that pretty much any reader with half a brain has gone ahead and solved by now because the murderer could obviously only be one of two people.” Boom. The end.
I get no satisfaction from this whatsoever, just so we’re clear.
Also, if I suddenly go missing after slagging Tana French, you might want to look into her mob connections.
Praying for your comeback, Tana! Fingers crossed for the next one! Maybe the one-off The Witch Elm will be just the break you needed from the Squad. Let’s all hope, shall we? Plus, hey, it’s based on an actual unsolved mystery, right?
Course your name’s bigger than the title on that cover as well …