...for feline companions, that is!
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
Monday, August 11, 2008
should have been a public @$$ whipping
While there is obviously some stern talking-to going on, this woman calmly scoops up this little girl when she emerges from her little adventure. If it'd been mine, I'd have beat the shit out of her right there in front of everyone to enforce the bad-ideaness of the whole thing. This probably happened a decade ago and it still makes me fume, especially when I see the little girl ignore her, then climb on the pile of animals to smile and wave. I'm like Carol Burnett as Mrs. Hannigan in Annie, "Kill, kill, kill!"
Sunday, August 10, 2008
Bad Art Night honorable mentions
Bad Art Night pics
It is impressive, no?
Behold! "Lady with Shirt!"...I hope she kept her receipt. KT, your's was suitably hideous as well. She got more "worst effort" votes than I did, much to my extreme disappointment.
yay for guthrie's again!
I'm telling you, the Guthrie's at Eastwood Mall is continuously putting out good signage. If you'll recall, the last sign they had up advertised the appetizing FINGER SAND COMBO! Now, you can GET THE FINGER!
p.s. That is not a UFO in the middle of the photo, it is my car's oh-so stylishly pitted windshield.
Friday, August 8, 2008
something winged this way comes...
Going back in time a bit, I will relate the tale of woe that was my drive home from the BFE...otherwise known as The Beautiful, Yet Remote, St. George's Island, Florida.
I will reiterate that there was no cell phone reception on St. George's Island and there were at least 3 cell phone carriers represented, including one that supposedly allows a large crowd of it's employees to follow individual subscribers around, if you catch my drift. We had wireless internet from sunup to...well, sunup, but no cell phone reception.
As we all left very sadly of a Saturday morning for the long, long, long, long, long, long, long, long, long, long, long trek back to Birmingham, I had the windows down and the radio on just enjoying life, liberty and the non-pursuit of work. About 30 miles into our trip, as my left hand was riding the breeze outside my car window, something punched me in the left cheek. As it quickly began to sting and I hear some buzzing, madness ensued. I swatted frantically at my cheek and my car, still traveling at a swift 70-75 mph, swerved a bit. I still had not seen my attacker and my frantic mind instantly came up with possibilities Darwin would have been proud of like the buzzing fer-de-lance, the airborne scorpion, or something of an arachnid nature which I flatly refused to think of a moment more.
Actually, it was the gunshot stinging on my chest that took my attention away from my other morbid thoughts. Now I'm swatting at my chest frantically, torqueing my fingers on the seatbelt and, again, swerving all around. I feel something buggy on my hands and see something small being swatted but the driving and the stinging of my cheek and chest are kind of thought consuming.
About 10 minutes later, heart calm but still stinging, I see something in the floorboard out of the corner of my eye. It was a giant wasp crawling around. My only weapon, a 34 load bottle of Gain! I took off my seatbelt, again with the swerving, and SQUASHED HIM! (I thought)
About 20 minutes later, much calmer but still stinging, I hear buzzing near my head and the little bastard had the audacity to survive the Gain-smashing and is buzzing about the window. This time I would brook no arguements! Again, I took off my seatbelt, twisted my leg up to get at my flipflop, and then I REALLY sqaushed him!
I still stung all the way home and itched for days afterward, but I did survive! And no one in our caravan of cars noticed the swerving!
that is all.
I will reiterate that there was no cell phone reception on St. George's Island and there were at least 3 cell phone carriers represented, including one that supposedly allows a large crowd of it's employees to follow individual subscribers around, if you catch my drift. We had wireless internet from sunup to...well, sunup, but no cell phone reception.
As we all left very sadly of a Saturday morning for the long, long, long, long, long, long, long, long, long, long, long trek back to Birmingham, I had the windows down and the radio on just enjoying life, liberty and the non-pursuit of work. About 30 miles into our trip, as my left hand was riding the breeze outside my car window, something punched me in the left cheek. As it quickly began to sting and I hear some buzzing, madness ensued. I swatted frantically at my cheek and my car, still traveling at a swift 70-75 mph, swerved a bit. I still had not seen my attacker and my frantic mind instantly came up with possibilities Darwin would have been proud of like the buzzing fer-de-lance, the airborne scorpion, or something of an arachnid nature which I flatly refused to think of a moment more.
Actually, it was the gunshot stinging on my chest that took my attention away from my other morbid thoughts. Now I'm swatting at my chest frantically, torqueing my fingers on the seatbelt and, again, swerving all around. I feel something buggy on my hands and see something small being swatted but the driving and the stinging of my cheek and chest are kind of thought consuming.
About 10 minutes later, heart calm but still stinging, I see something in the floorboard out of the corner of my eye. It was a giant wasp crawling around. My only weapon, a 34 load bottle of Gain! I took off my seatbelt, again with the swerving, and SQUASHED HIM! (I thought)
About 20 minutes later, much calmer but still stinging, I hear buzzing near my head and the little bastard had the audacity to survive the Gain-smashing and is buzzing about the window. This time I would brook no arguements! Again, I took off my seatbelt, twisted my leg up to get at my flipflop, and then I REALLY sqaushed him!
I still stung all the way home and itched for days afterward, but I did survive! And no one in our caravan of cars noticed the swerving!
that is all.
Wednesday, August 6, 2008
! ! ! this just in ! ! !
About 10 minutes ago I had to call 911 because two patrons (a regular couple, though not a pleasant pair of people as patrons go) were having a knock-down-drag-out in the stacks. It was a man (whom we all refer to as Perfume Man due to his flowery cologne) and a woman (whom we all refer to as The Redneck Hippie) and the man was taking the worst of it. They were fighting their way to the desk when I called and, luckily, the police station is across the street so they were here in about 45 seconds. Five police officers came pounding up the stairs, took one look at the guy and said, "Oh, we know you. Get over here!"
Man and woman were taken outside to be questioned, then banned from the library from now on. We are to call the cops if we see them again. After all the bruhaha settled down, Lauren told me the lady had, about 15 or 20 minutes previously, a loud cell phone conversation (ironically enough, in the religion/spirituality section) in which the phrases "Oh great! This is just perfect! As if I'm not miserable enough!" and "You really are the egotistical bastard I thought you were!" figured prominently. I guess he didn't appreciate it.
That is all.
Man and woman were taken outside to be questioned, then banned from the library from now on. We are to call the cops if we see them again. After all the bruhaha settled down, Lauren told me the lady had, about 15 or 20 minutes previously, a loud cell phone conversation (ironically enough, in the religion/spirituality section) in which the phrases "Oh great! This is just perfect! As if I'm not miserable enough!" and "You really are the egotistical bastard I thought you were!" figured prominently. I guess he didn't appreciate it.
That is all.
Tuesday, August 5, 2008
bad art!
We had the finale for our summer reading program for the grownups tonight at the library and it as a BlAsT! We had three categories: paint, collage, or pipecleaner sculpture. There was wine and cheese and truffles and we had a slide show running of selections from the Museum of Bad Art. I will upload my pics asap so you can enjoy the rotteness with me. KT mentioned several times that my collage was hideous...I blushed with pride!
Saturday, August 2, 2008
if you haven't read this yet....
. . . .you still can't!
na, na, na, na, na! *raspberry*
Sorry, I couldn't resist. The actual reason you can't read it yet is it won't hit bookstores until Tuesday. I just happened to have been sent an ARC of Andrew Davidson's The Gargoyle bymy vast and awesome librarian powers the publisher.
Sorry, I couldn't resist. The actual reason you can't read it yet is it won't hit bookstores until Tuesday. I just happened to have been sent an ARC of Andrew Davidson's The Gargoyle by
As I've been talking to people over the past several weeks about this book I get all sorts of questions:
Q: Is he the gargoyle?
A: Ummm, in a way?
Q: Is this historical fiction?
A: Ummm, in places?
Q: Is this a love story?
A: Hell yes!
Q: Is this a book about religion?
A: Ummm, sort of?
Q: Is this book about pornography?
A: No. Only tangentially.
The questions go on and on (and are answered through the offices of my OWN OPINION, I might add, and obviously do not reflect the thoughts or opinions of the author, the publisher, the Pope, Snoopy, or the Three Muskateers)
At first I thought it was going to be tragic literary fiction, then I thought it was going to be occult fiction, then I thought it was going to be adult fiction (if you catch my meaning), then I was crying and laughing and I didn't care to try to classify it any more. Stories told by candlelight, epic literary references, tough social themes, heartbreaking love, staggering works of art...all this is yours in the book that touts itself as "all things in a single book bound by love." I don't know if that quote will be on the final edition that is no doubt already sitting in back rooms waiting for closing Monday night, but it should be.
The prepress buzz is humming so loud my fillings are hurting. Here are just a few:
So, I read the book, put it on my coffee table for a few days and stared at it in wonder, percolated on all that I had read, reread some parts that I had dogeared (hey, it's MY book and it's an ARC! I won't dogear the pages of the copy I buy!), then sent my email into the publisher via the little card they include. Here is my email:
Dear Mr. ____,
I have to start off by saying that I don’t believe I’ve ever read a book quite like this. Weird, dirty in some places, heartbreaking in others…compulsively readable but not for the squeamish. I can hardly wait to start suggesting it to my favorite patrons. Davidson does a better job of demonizing pornography than the dedicated anti-porn crowd, tells one of the most tender love stories I’ve read, gives insight into the life of a burn victim, and peers into the mind of an atheist all while exposing some of the deep-seated secrets of love and human nature.
I have to start off by saying that I don’t believe I’ve ever read a book quite like this. Weird, dirty in some places, heartbreaking in others…compulsively readable but not for the squeamish. I can hardly wait to start suggesting it to my favorite patrons. Davidson does a better job of demonizing pornography than the dedicated anti-porn crowd, tells one of the most tender love stories I’ve read, gives insight into the life of a burn victim, and peers into the mind of an atheist all while exposing some of the deep-seated secrets of love and human nature.
One of the most powerful moments in the book came for me in the section where he finally gets to shed his pressure garments:
"What an unexpected reversal of fate: only after my skin was burned away did I finally become able to feel. Only after I was born in to physical repulsiveness did I come to glimpse the possibilities of the heart: I accepted this atrocious face and abominable body because they were forcing me to overcome the limitations of who I am, while my previous body allowed me to hide them."
All things in a single book bound by love, indeed.
Thank you for the opportunity to share my thoughts on this title!
Thank you for the opportunity to share my thoughts on this title!
Holley ______
I sent it off and didn't really give it another thought until Thursday, when THIS arrived in my inbox!:
Hi Holley,
John _____ passed along the email that you wrote about my novel The Gargoyle, and I hope that you don't mind my forwardness in writing you directly. I just wanted to say that I'm so pleased you enjoyed the book, and to thank you fortaking the time to write such complimentary things. It never fails to delight me when I hear that The Gargoyle has made a good impression on another reader. Near the beginning of The Gargoyle, the narrator writes about how nice the librarians were to him when he was a child. That was very much my experience as well; libraries and librarians have always been very good to me.
Sincerely,
Andrew Davidson
I refuse to believe a personal assistant hurriedly threw together this email and sent it off, so don't even try to convince me. Mr. Davidson is obviously a professional and polite person who recognized those qualities in a fellow bookworm and took time and effort away from his busy schedule to thoughtfully compose a note and send it winging its way here. Yes, that will do very well indeed.
I never change, however, so you can be sure that my first thought when I saw and read was simply:
Cool!
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