nobody here but us chickens

Page 2 of 112

Random Wednesday

Actually. I’d prefer it if you didn’t vote. Just stay home. You’ve caused enough damage.

I mean. Don’t you think?

I’m on a shutter drag kick. You know how I love my long exposures.

Is there something wrong with your typing fingers that is keeping you from responding to my email?

I don’t need your stupid rules.

Stop “forcing bots” to watch things. This is how we get Skynet.

Dear in the lord. That’s a new spam header.

I still love you, only slightly only slightly less, than I used to.

How did those kids get in that cave in the first place?

A stay at home bee mom. OK.

I’m absolutely positive I am not the right person for that job.

Well. That was the most unpopular three women shot in a while. Bummer.

I’m not even leaving for a month and I already have travel anxiety and packing anxiety. WTF. This is not how I pictured getting older.

about today

I don’t think you really understand what that word means.

I want to do a swap box. I love swap boxes. I’d do fiber share, but those ladies spend way more money than I can afford on a swap.

Can’t see half the world all of the time. Doesn’t matter what kind of corrective lenses I’m wearing. Lately it’s getting very frustrating.

I don’t think it was necessary to do an Eventbrite deal for the meeting. It’s a little over the top. And the constant emails I now get from Eventbrite are not my favorite thing either.

I hope this doesn’t turn into some type of Sam and Diane thing. That would be annoying.

Why yes. I would like to be less wrong.

Why does she have two knitting needles jabbed through a crocheted afghan acting like she’s accomplishing something?

This is not how I pictured

I can promise you that I will never vote for anyone who has been endorsed by Jennifer Granholm.

I need a good granny square poncho. Pretty much the one J-Lo wore in The Cell. And I can’t find a single gorram picture of it.


OMG I found part of it. I just can’t see the bottom. I don’t remember if it has fringe. It probably has fringe. I even love those colors.

Dammit. I’m gonna have to figure out how to crochet now. Can’t someone just make it for me?

Oh good. A two hour meeting. Yay.

This place is just bound and determined to go down in flames.

I somehow read that as “off to buy a planet.”

I don’t know. I think if you have to “learn” to love something, I’m not sure it’s the right thing for you.

Wow. 100% forgot that it is Wednesday and that I am working on this post.

Really. The ONLY donation we’ve received for this project was from me. Wow.

That is among the funnier things I’ve seen this week.

This migraine is just not going to let go. Fuck. Me.

A fake war. A fake romance. Sort of all the same thing in a sense.

I don’t know why I’m bothering. But I’m bothering. They’re just going to say no. For reasons that I will not understand.


Random Wednesday

I can’t help it if I don’t fit in with you.

The world has no shortage of assholes.

Also this lipstick lasts a long time. AND I feel like I need less lip balm while I’m wearing it. I think I’m hooked.

What’s a fancy way of saying “give us money”?

Ah ha. That would be why I can’t do this.

Damn. Mike Rowe’s losing all that weight, getting all super sexy again. Sheesh.

Oh dear Lord.

There’s no way they’ll let me in. I’m not their kind of academic.

Even if I have been described as brilliant by at least one PhD, who doesn’t even particularly like me.

Ugh. Yes, but I’m stopping for a chai. Which won’t help me cool off at all. But so delicious.

I can’t deal with this “real feel” 100 bloody degrees foolishness. I can’t.

An ad for “pee proof” underwear just came up in my IG feed. Jesus. I’m not that old. I can still technically have babies, for Christ’s sake.

I hate Facebook a little bit more every day.

I do find it endlessly amusing that all the people who bitched so loudly about ALL THE POLITICS are posting nothing but politics these days. People are fascinating.

I know it’s not what Sartre meant, but that doesn’t make it any less true.

Isn’t art what we make of it?

73% humidity. I feel like I’m swimming.

I won’t apologize for it.

I can’t help it if I find John Roberts oddly attractive.

I need to stop being so hard on myself.

Sorry, I was so busy laughing at the absurdity of ever actually being able to follow through on that statement that I lost track of everything.

I have very little random today. I don’t know what’s going on.

They can’t all be winners.

Never thought I’d be choosing fireplace doors as a job activity …

It smells really weird in here today. Like old rotting onions and chicken bedding that needs to be changed, only not quite as pungent.

I need this shirt. Because it’s true.

Wow. OK. I get the message. Thanks. Thanks so much.

I guess it doesn’t matter. Fuck it.

I know. I talked to him first.

I’m not at all comfortable today.

I do really like that song. I wish it was on Spotify so I could add it to this playlist.

I should get those Americana All Stars. It’s like Converse made them just for me.

Yes, I am incredibly competent. I know it’s a shock.

I like tiny Twixes.

This is the Mondayest Thursday ever.

I don’t know. I give up. Let’s all drive to Florida.

This podcast about the Boston Stranglers is pretty good. Very well done.

Your badge is no good here.

I started writing that letter something like a month ago.

I don’t know why this roll of garbage bags is sitting here.



I’m much better at convincing others than myself, I suppose.




Random Wednesday

Does it involve Lorence Wenke? Because if it involves Lorence Wenke, my answer is no.

I most definitely do not get that joke.

I’m not sure I’d call that “new.”

Peter Fonda’s not sorry at all. Also he looks like a pedophile.

Everyone had completely forgotten you existed until you made a public ass out of yourself, dude.

I don’t know what you call this mood, but I don’t like it at all.

Maybe it’s not really a mood. More a frame of mind.

I just accidentally deleted an email draft full of kind of super important shit in Gmail and now it’s gone forever and I think I may vomit.

Maybe if I start listening to audio books on my way home from work every day I’ll stop thinking so much.

I can’t help it if after knowing me for this long you still don’t get my humor. At some point that’s on you, not me.

I’m sorry I’m not a better human.

It’s because boobs.

I could never do video tutorials. I can’t make my neck move like that.

Maybe I should start wearing lipstick again.

well, succulents are very popular right now.

I don’t think I had the same relationship with Mr. Rogers as the rest of you seem to have had.

Ugh. No more potato chips for me. Bleah.

Yeah, at some point I just stop listening to you, to be honest.

Fuck off, Jamie.

Great. Now I have Sisters of Mercy stuck in my head.

I think the trick might be to get it out of the way early.

The problem with research is settling on a place to start and deciding which direction to go from there.


This made me el oh el.

I wish I were going somewhere instead of just staying home again.

I’m completely off my game today.

Not sure about it.

I don’t know what I expect from these things any more. But I always come away disappointed.

I don’t even need to take notes.


The Trespasser

Once again, I have only the Kindle version, so I printed the cover for your entertainment purposes.

Let me preface this by the usual – there are possible spoilerish statements in what follows. Read on at your own peril!

Let me also preface this by expressing my love for Tana French. I really, truly, love Tana French. I love how each of her installments progresses organically from the last without being a technical sequel. I love that they’re gritty without being cliche. I love that they’re set in Dublin and the surrounding area – a stop on my someday maybe list. I love that her characters are all deeply flawed human beings but flawed in entirely believable and realistic ways.

I do not love this book.

I really, really do not love this book. I did not love this protagonist when she was introduced in the last book. I love her even less now that she’s the main character. She is entirely cliche. I’m something like just under halfway through the book and I swear to God, I’m having chest pains from holding my breath waiting for the massive chip on her shoulder to tip her down a flight of stairs.

Why do so many writers fall into the trap of “If I’m going to portray a strong female lead she has to be a ball busting bad ass with no room for any kind of softness because soft = weak and GOD FORBID A WOMAN SHOULD EVER APPEAR WEAK” even though softness does not at all imply weakness and why is it OK to portray men as soft but not women and also, why do we have to hate on men and emasculate them at all?

What I’m saying, in all my run-on glory, is that French has suddenly fallen into that (to me) tired ass trope of you can only depict women two ways – (1) I will kick your ass and maybe share some steamy sex with you, but I will not be NICE because NICE IS WEAK; or (2) I’m a weak pathetic milquetoast who needs either a good strong man to lift me up or a (see no. 1) STRONG female to show me the light and the error of my weak pathetic ways.

Plus. Also. Backstory of some sort of trauma involving a man – daddy left. Fiance died tragically. Blah blah boring ass blah.


I just don’t remember French being so obvious about it in the past. I mean every book comes with its share of tropes and cliches and what have yous. That’s pretty standard everywhere. But it’s like she got to The Trespasser and just suddenly didn’t give a fuck any more.

And the story line itself. I feel like the first 40something% because page numbers are not reliable in e-versions which is kind of annoying was just a giant red herring waste of time. And yet another massive cliche in itself. And I’m honestly questioning if I even have the energy to plow through the rest of this thing.

I mean I probably will. If for no other reason than to find out which character will be featuring in her next Dublin Murder Squad installment, which, if there is a God and He is in His Heaven, will be back up to the standard I’ve come to expect from someone who is normally a really frigging outstanding novelist.

I guess there is one thing I love about this book. The cover. That’s a great cover. But I still haven’t even figured out what the hell the title means. Did I mention I’m almost halfway through the book? Usually a girl can discern the meaning of a title by now. But also? Why is French’s name bigger than the book title? That just seems like “Hey, we already know this is not Tana’s best work, so buy it because it’s a Tana French and let’s just not get into the rest of it, mmmkay?”

Have you read it? Tell me I’m not wrong. Tell me it’s as bad as I think it is. And then tell me the next book will be better. Sooooooo much better. Because if it’s not, I really think Tana and I just need to start seeing other people.


Random Wednesday

“Don’t vote for the person who tells you you deserve something. Just don’t do it if it’s something other than life, liberty, or the pursuit of possible happiness. If everyone is telling you you deserve something, vote for the one who is promising you the least. Be suspicious of the man or woman who tells you you deserve everything. Because you don’t.” ~ Mike Rowe

Maybe it’s something else.

I’m just not sure I can do this anymore.

“Libs are always hating on Chick-fil-A, but Chick-fil-A has never arrested a black man for not buying a sandwich.”

I don’t think anyone’s reading it anyway.

She just seems to be deeply out of touch with how “regular” people live. I mean she might as well be Gwyneth Paltrow.


Why is that being treated as a complaint?? That’s fucking stupid.

I need some speakers.

Sorry. Right back to where I was before. I just don’t feel like I belong and you’re doing nothing to change that with your actions and no amount of telling myself I do belong is making that true…

This just in: jentober is not actually heartless.

I can’t make people follow directions. I can’t make people follow directions. I can’t make people follow directions. I can’t make people follow directions. I can’t make people follow directions. I can’t make people follow directions. I can’t make people follow directions. I can’t make people follow directions. I can’t make people follow directions. I can’t make people follow directions. I can’t make people follow directions. I can’t make people follow directions. I can’t make people follow directions. I can’t make people follow directions. I can’t make people follow directions. I can’t make people follow directions. I can’t make people follow directions. I can’t make people follow directions.

Ooooh these are pretty! I’d obviously keep them up year round.

Let me just tell you how sick I am of hearing about the fucking roads, shall I?

Too many Goddamn cooks. Send your own fucking emails. I’ve had it with this whole endeavor.

I need some kind of attitude adjustment. Send help.

It’s all fades and brioche, fades and brioche, fades and brioche, all the time. M.E.H. No thanks.

Also I can’t wear mohair, so let’s nip that rising trend in the bud, shall we?

No, really. I need help please.

Stop sending me emails telling me to stop sending you my photos that I am not sending you. Spammy McJerkface.

“When I saw the budget they were offering, I said, ‘Fuck this.’” Yeah, that’s how I feel about a lot of shit too, David Lynch.

But seriously, how did I get on Vulture’s mailing list?

No one told me The Posies were going to be at Bell’s tomorrow.

No one tells me anything.

everything is everything

“How are you??” “I’m on Xanax.”

Wow, I was just starting to get into it and then WHAM – a dig at homeschoolers AND Ayn Rand in the space of five minutes. Sad.

Just maybe think that blue lipstick through a little more thoroughly. That’s all I’m saying.

There is absolutely no legitimate reason that this should be taking this long. None.

I wish I had a cookie.

The problem with having a protein shake for lunch is that now I’m freezing my ass off.

Are you serious? Because that is literally what I asked you to do two months ago. WTF does your office even exist for?

I’m not sure I’m loving this new phone. I definitely do not love that the rear facing camera flips the image. My old phone did not flip the image and I loved that.

Is anyone enjoying my book series?

Dammit. Forgot to bring that other blue with me.

All this standing is not working for me today.

This is the grumpiest Random in a while. Damn.

Oh good. It’s the “walk back and forth and in and out of the office in flip flops” portion of the day. I was so afraid I’d missed it.

This is fascinating.

People are being whispery and bitchy and weird again. I hate it when that starts cycling up. Makes for very unpleasant vibes.

Here’s a cool thing you could do: Donate to my cause of bringing Gaiman to campus.

Huh. If I’m going to be the only one left in the office for the rest of the day, it might have been helpful of people to LET ME KNOW.

I give up.


The Goldfinch

I couldn’t hold up the book, because I only have the Kindle version, so I printed out the cover to share my disdain.

WARNING – This post is a big fat spoiler, so if you haven’t read it and plan to, don’t read on.

I’ve thrown this image of the painting in here to block the spoilers for you (you’re welcome) and also to say – LOOK. The painting itself isn’t even particularly compelling. It’s like they made the very cover of the book a big fat foreshadowy warning.

I’m throwing this on the pyre since I mentioned it in my introduction. The difference between this and other titles in my series is that I know precisely why I can’t finish this book – I fucking loathe it.

Sorry (not sorry at all), perhaps that’s a bit harsh. Nevertheless it is true. This book has no redeeming qualities. None. And it just keeps going on and on and on and on and on. I mean Jesus. How long must you subject the reader to the seemingly endless poor life choices of your utterly despicable protagonist?

I take it back. The dog. The dog was the one decent thing about this black hole of human waste.

Literally every single bad thing that happened to this jackass-not-a-PRO-tagonist (whose name has completely escaped me now) was one hundred percent his own damn fault. Everything could have been avoided had he simply not been a selfish asshole for five minutes. But no, he made bad choice after bad choice. He lied, he stole, he consumed untold quantities of illicit substances – he was a giant dick.

I don’t care how this book ends unless it’s in his untimely and well deserved death.

He could have redeemed himself at any point, too. That’s the truly irritating part. Like, dude. Just make one decent decision. Just tell the truth about one goddamn thing. Just give back the stupid painting. But no. Shove it back in your pillowcase or wherever the hell you’re keeping it today and keep panicking. Marry the sociopath. Forge more antiques. BE A DICK ALL THE TIME. Yeah, that’s totally the right path.

He’s not even an anti-hero. He’s just a villain all the way around. (What the hell is his name? … Theo. Thank you, Google.) I mean I love a good anti-hero. What red blooded American girl doesn’t love a good anti-hero?

And I’ll admit, I don’t have a lot of patience for addict stories. I’ve known an addict or five in my life, and I don’t have a lot of sympathy. Sorry (again, not sorry).

I guess that’s my whole problem with books like this. Or even reality. Everyone has a choice. Everyone has endless choices. Why are people always making the wrong ones? Shit. Now this has turned into a preachy homily on living a better life. Like I’m better than anybody else. I’ve made my share of bad choices. (I mean, let’s just not talk about the 90s, OK? Also that period around the 2008 election in which I finally threw off the shackles of pretending to be liberal and went a little overboard. Actually genuinely sorry about some of that vitriol, chickens.) I guess I just think if you’re going to write 700+ pages on some drug addled angst ridden selfish piece of shit, there better be a healthy dose of redemption thrown in. And if there is one thing this book is lacking, (and there isn’t just one thing, let’s be clear), it’s redemption.

Unless that happens at the end, which I’ll never know, because I am not finishing this book. I like myself too much for that.

I wish the world offered refunds on books you bought and now wholly regret. Is it true that it took Donna Tartt ten years to write this book? I can’t believe it isn’t taking every reader ten years to slog through it.

I’ve just this minute realized that two of the books I hate most in the world were Pulitzer contenders. This piece of trash won it for fiction, and Eggers was nominated for non-fiction. Who the hell makes these decisions??

Maybe I should file this one under a new category – “Books I Utterly Despise.”


Random Wednesday

… the collision of standard shipping.

I’d rather have donuts than muffins, though.

There was really no need for a response to that.

New phone. Most unexpected. I’ll have you someday, Pixel! Someday!!!

Too much caffeine, or not enough?

Serial Killer Jesus

My knee is not happy with you at all.

This is an interesting read.

I like straws. I have sensitive teeth.

Aww! Good on you, Country Time!

Yeah, that’s not much of a statement.

I made it through that and I’ll make it through this.

Why is that funny to you?

Well it’s not a murder house.

Dude’s eyebrows always look like that. They’re weird, and when the light is angled just right, they look even more bizarre. But they aren’t falling off.

Why would I give a shit what books Sarah Jessica Parker wants me to read?

Happens all the time.

It’s always butt cheeks and nipples with you.

That’s precisely the problem with these kids today. All the intense beards.


THIS is why God invented Xanax.

That’s pretty hilarious.

I don’t need another tote bag, but I do love that one.

Ha. A lingering sense of doubt.

But it’s not in my pocket.

Been trying to find a new scent. To no avail.

Makes me want a chicken sandwich.

Pretty sure I definitely do not need the LinkedIn app, thanks.

My enthusiasm for Paul Holes has waned, just a bit. I’m good with that.

Don’t get me wrong, I do enjoy My Favorite Murder, but don’t you think it’s just the eensiest bit overrated?

Maybe I’ll just mix up my own scent. I’m in the mood for something with cardamom. I miss fall.

I’m not feeling especially enthusiastic about my lunch. Alas.

I don’t like the fingerprint pad in that location. It is counter intuitive.

It would have been just fine.


Who needs lunch, anyway, really?

Hey Amazon? I’m not a nurse. Why would you ever think I needed nurse related anything? Nothing in my purchase history could possibly have led you to believe that I needed a shot glass reading “nurses need shots too.”

The fire department was called for this? Seriously?

Why is she dressed like a prostitute?

This is a little ridiculous, people.

I especially like how you can’t see the price til checkout.

I feel a little bleah.

No, no, no, that’s the word.

What the hell is that about. Dude. You are awful.

There is just no escaping you, is there.

SOMETIMES it’s not a question.


I should give up soda again.

Should is the operative word. But will I? Who can say?

What’s that you say?


Random Wednesday

Slow and steady wins the

I forgot to get donuts for national donut day. I guess I suck. My waistline thanks me.

Took this Buzzfeed quiz and of all the famous graves in the world it could have given me, it picked one I’ve actually already been to: Edgar Allan Poe. Figures.

Sometimes I comment on a friend’s post on FB cos it seems like a conversation I’d like to join and eeeeeeeeveryone there just ignores me and then I feel like a loser idiot and delete it and leave. So yeah, I’d love to take part in your Outlander conversation, and I can tell you “Je suis prest” means, but I won’t. I’ll just keep myself to myself.

My next house, should it have paintable sides, and should I have a next house, should be Norwegian red, like my Grandma Ingeborg’s cabin, or that wonderful slate gray that the new house down the road is.

Man. I need to hook that DVD player back up so I can have a Buffy marathon. It’s been too long.

Aw man.

This is among the more vile things I have ever eaten.

Um. I need this skull. (No I don’t. I don’t need more stuff. I don’t.)

I need a road trip with my camera.

Man. Someone needs to make some way less depressing Kalamazoo postcards, like right now.

That all sounds revolting.

you know what musta

All I want is pizza.

I am afraid to comment on threads in Ravelry to correct someone because I don’t want them to be offended or think I’m being bitchy. But it’s frustrating, because that lady is wrong.

It’s like the Elizabeth Warren style family tree.

Well that was completely unnecessary.

I will wear Doc Martens until the day I die.

I got kind of busy and completely forgot it was Wednesday.

I feel like making chocolate chip scones.

I need to join the Pixel family. I’m pretty sure.

I stood too long yesterday. I paid the price.

OK, that dude is a piece of shit, but also? Just stay the fuck off Tinder.

More pieces of shit. What Persky did was almost as bad as the actual rape.

God I hate Sammy Hagar.

Wow, I sound like a lunatic. Awesome.

Really? Who’s gonna read that?

Jesus. How do I get on these mailing lists??

Sometimes when people share stories about their kids on social media I find myself going “Yeah, no. That never happened.” And then I wonder if people do the same thing to me.

Well. I like those kinds of concoctions.

I should get donuts tomorrow.

I definitely should not get donuts tomorrow.

Oh! I could get a Den Pop tomorrow. Haven’t had a Den Pop in ages.

My poor jaw.

woe unto


Random Wednesday

There are a lot of things I should have done with my life, but I do enjoy the weirdness of where I ended up.

Aside from the job anyway.

I want to go to Crime Con. Don’t judge me.

Gah. Summer makes me itchy.

Well, hello there.

I don’t know. I can be pretty bold.

I have thoughts on I’ll Be Gone in the Dark. I’ll probably share them.

It’s the 58th of April !

Jeeps gone. Yay! Now to get the John Deere fixed.

I find humus offensive.

Man. I want to be a Broadway knitter. For fun.

I wish this bracelet were just the tiniest bit smaller.

I don’t need

Look, I’m no stranger to vindictively correcting someone’s grammar, but familiarize yourself with the style being used before you make an ass out of yourself. I mean. This is just petty foolishness. And unintentionally hilarious.

I’d rather he not get squished, thanks.

Yeah, I’d rather be doing just about anything other than that.

Does this mean I can’t wear my chicken sweatshirt any more?

It’s because I’m cute, isn’t it? I’m totally OK with that.

But what if I’m actually the antagonist?

I just found a serial killer’s name on a sticky note in my desk drawer.

Oh wait, he’s not a serial killer. He’s just a cannibal.

I’m sorry. I just can’t deal with Gillian Anderson’s British accent. She should sound like she’s a Michigander.

At least her accent is more legit than Madonna’s I suppose.

I gotta stop using legit.

WHAT. New Dresden. NEW DRESDEN. New Dresden New Dresden New Dresden New Dresden New Dresden New Dresden New Dresden New Dresden New Dresden New Dresden New Dresden New Dresden New Dresden New Dresden New Dresden New Dresden New Dresden New Dresden New Dresden New Dresden New Dresden New Dresden New Dresden New Dresden New Dresden New Dresden New Dresden New Dresden New Dresden New Dresden New Dresden New Dresden New Dresden New Dresden New Dresden.

I’ve waited so loooooooooong.


I’m actually probably more excited about Butcher than I am at the prospect of getting Gaiman to campus. And only a little because I don’t think we’re going to get Gaiman to campus.

I think this is going to be short this week. I’m OK with that.

I laugh, but inside I’m crying.

I’m super excited about new Neko Case this week too. Man.


Yeah, I’ve totally been derailed. I just lost like two hours.


This might be my new favorite version of Sleep All Summer. Holy shit.

Well. At least it’s in place now.

Oh shit. Well they’re not going to do us any good in fucking SEATTLE.

aaaaaaaaaaaaand that is why I don’t want to use your pharmacy any more.

………………………………………………………………………….. but I get to meet Jim Butcher.

i want to shoot shoot shoot shoot the whole

Ever feel like

I’m probably not a very good friend. I try very hard to be a very good friend. But maybe I just suck.

Wow. Now that I’ve brought us all DOWN.

Can’t stop listening to this song.

Shit, I forgot.

This post sucks.

I was derailed by Harry Dresden.

Can’t I just sit near the water? Do I actually have to get in it?

There is very little on this Earth that is worse than a staff retreat.


Two cities I will never visit: Colorado Springs and Sacramento.

This J.D. Robb is pretty good. Seemed like she slumped a bit for a minute, but the last few have been really good.

It’s more than any of us deserves.

I do love video calling for Stormageddon. What a wonderful thing.

What even is that?

I need to finish winding that yarn tonight.

I don’t think it’s gonna rain after all. Sadness. Wow, Sunday’s gonna almost feel cold after this week.

10,000 miles isn’t gonna get me anywhere. Plus it’s Delta. They’re liable to kill me.

I need to be a millionaire. Billionaire. Gajillionaire. Debonair.


Books I Can’t Seem To Finish

(This is not a fair representation. Some of these I’ve read entirely. Some I simply have not gotten to. But Joe Pernice, I love you so, but I just never did finish that book.)

I meant to write this a week ago. I kept forgetting. Obviously I should do it now, with a million other things on my to do list.

I have a pile of books, chickens – some on the Kindle (app, cos I don’t actually own a Kindle), some real, solid, physical, paper books – that I have started, and just cannot seem to finish. I don’t know why. Well. That’s not entirely true. Some of them are just terrible books. I’m sure there are people out there who thought they were brilliant. Certainly there were editors and agents who read them and said “By God! THIS is a bestseller!” (The Goldfinch, anyone? Of course, they were right, but I still can’t get through that awful piece of trash.) But I just can’t see it. And chickens, life is too short to finish books you just can’t get into.

The last book I forced myself to see through to the end was A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius, and let me tell you, I will never read another word uttered by Dave Eggers again. By the time I turned the last page in that angst ridden pile of pulp I wanted to punch that smug, whiny, self righteous ego maniacal hipster jackass right in the neck. (Not that I would, I’m not advocating violence against self important critics’ darlings.) I will never suffer like that again, chickens!

(Zamyatin was a gift. I need to get off my ass with that one. Who doesn’t love a good Russian dystopian future, really?)

Unfortunately for me, there are plenty of other books that are perfectly worth the read, that I just cannot seem to stick with.

I’m becoming a … I don’t know … what’s a word for a girl who can’t stick around past the fourth date? I’m that. I can’t commit, try though I might.

And thus, here we are. I thought I’d do a series on these books – what I think of them, why I should give them another go – or not. Sort of like an unbook club. You should join me. I’ll even throw in a few I actually did finish and what I loved or hated about them (kinda like a real live book review! el oh el Although. Now that I thin about it. Maybe those should go in a different category. Cos duh). I do love reading. I’m not a monster.

(Politinerd. Straight up. I’ve read a fair amount of this stack, but a lot of it is in the “to read” category. Also, sorry for the tilted, not up to my usual quality photos. these were all shot sort of haphazardly on mah phone.)

« Older posts Newer posts »

© 2018 antijenx

Theme by Anders NorenUp ↑