Memoirs Of An Evil Genius: Happy Holiday$!

December 13, 2007

Happy Holiday$!

What's this "writing"? It seems so new, so unfamiliar!

I kid, but not really. It's been forever since I've updated, but it's been forever since I've done just about anything except for work. Fortunately, my episode is in the finalization process, so MOST of the headachey parts are over. OVER! Of course, the qualifier "most" is "most" important here. I've learned to stop relaxing, because at 6:30 when I'm supposed to leave I know someone will come running up, all, "OMG! There's a thing that needs to be done RIGHT NOW for tomorrow, and if you don't do it nine million people will die!!!!" and then the 24 clock starts beeping and the screen goes to a four-way split screen, and...well, you know the drill.

But! I am finally approaching the finish line for reals. For REALS, for reals, because we deliver on the 21st and I go home on the 21st for the holidays, and I'm not doing any work on Christmas. (Incidentally, I did a typo right there and said I wasn't going to do any qork on Christmas -- I'm not going to make that promise. Frankly, I have to do a lot of qork just to get me through the holidays.) What I WILL be doing is freezing my buns off and feeling poverty-stricken.

Oh, did I neglect to mention that I have had my car in the shop THREE TIMES since I bought it IN SEPTEMBER? First the engine light came on and it cost ~$200 to repair. Then the engine light came on and it cost $700 to repair. Then, and you'll love this, the ENGINE LIGHT CAME ON -- ten days later -- and it cost $600 to repair! And now? Do you want to know what's happening now? Do you? Just listen: NOW the BRAKES are making horrific groaning noises, in manner of Shrieking Eels or similar, like they might be fixing to give up the ghost any old day. Not comforting! Add to these expenses the holidays -- WHICH, by the way, are taking off downhill like MY CAR WITH NO BRAKES -- and I'm practically sweating money. I would love to stop my bank account from hemorrhaging, but it appears to be hemophiliac at this point.

Which reminds me: has everybody finished their Christmas shopping? I HAVEN'T! Who has time? I bought a bunch of shit over Thanksgiving, and a bunch more over the subsequent week, but I've got more and more and more people to buy for every year. And now that I have a "better" "job", people seem to expect more. Apparently I can't get away with shopping at the 99¢ Store anymore. I don't care what people say -- you never have too many ceramic hobo clown candle holders.

Anyway, I just wanted everyone to know I'm not dead. Like my mom. Who called me two weeks ago, and when I didn't answer called everyone I'd ever met to ask where I was and was I okay. I was fine, by the way. I was just drunk. It was a Tuesday morning, after all.

(Kidding! It was Saturday morning.)

(Kidding again! It was Saturday afternoon.)

December 13, 2007 in A Few Of My Least Favorite Things, Car and Driver, Holidays, On The Job | Permalink

Comments

Book 'Em, Dr. No

Dean Koontz: Intensity
Suspenseful and unnerving, this book suffers from only two minor flaws. While Koontz's purple prose lends itself well to description and rumination, it does no favors for the scattered bits of dialog in this otherwise well-written tale. Additionally, after a crashingly good horror story with genuine moments of real introspection, the final denouement seems trite and preachy. Overall, though, an exciting read.
Joanne Harris: Gentlemen and Players
My one complaint about Joanne Harris is that her protagonists tend to be abrasive and unlikeable. Not so here, which is possibly her best to date -- our hero is one of the most enjoyable characters she's developed yet; even the villain has a cunning appeal, and Harris pits the two narratives against each other, ratcheting the suspense as she slowly brings things to a boil.
Mary Roberts Rinehart: The Door
This complex and atmospheric mystery, published in 1930, is the genesis of a well-known phrase - which I can't reveal without ruining the twist ending. Suffice it to say that Rinehart is a very clever writer, although she relies heavily on a device throughout this book where she forecasts all major plot points and then doubles back to develop them, flashback-style. The herky-jerk nature of this style dampens some of the mounting suspense, but it's an engrossing read overall.
Janet Evanovich: Visions of Sugar Plums
My mother is a woman obsessed with Janet Evanovich, and she has been insisting for years that I read her interstitial novellas. This is the first, and it's a cute, breezy Christmas tale. There's a supernatural element that wasn't my cup of tea -- too much peanut butter in my chocolate -- but if you're a fan of Evanovich, you'll like it.
John Buchan: The Thirty-Nine Steps
A brisk and engaging spy thriller, this novella - the source material for Hitchcock's famous film - barely exceeds 100 pages. It strains credibility a bit, but it's still a fun read, and although the Georgian era references and colloquialisms are sometimes hard to follow, a glossary of terms (!) at the back of the book does help.
James E. McWilliams: A Revolution in Eating: How the Quest for Food Shaped America
An excellent book, especially if you're interested in culinary anthropology or American cultural, social, geographical, or political history. The author charts the evolution of regional American cuisine from colonial times to the Revolution.
Janet Evanovich: Metro Girl
Typical of Evanovich's style - this is light, easy, and fun; a good summertime book. Perhaps a bit too stylistically similar to her Stephanie Plum series, but if it ain't broke...
Heather Graham: The Seance
So bad. SO. BAD. Just...just so bad.
David Kamp: The United States of Arugula: How We Became a Gourmet Nation
An authoritative and compellingly-written look at the rise of gourmet cuisine in the American culture, charting it from Le Pavillon to Chez Panisse to Whole Foods. It will make you want to cook, y'all. For reals.
James Patterson: 1st to Die: A Novel
A recommendation from my mother -- she's hooked. I thought it was good, but Patterson's blunt, staccato writing style took some getting used to. Still, if you like procedurals, it's an effective diversion.