Another time suck

I started reading "Marley and Me." It's the story about a neurotic dog and his owner.

I read 100 pages.

All I could think was, "Dude, you're way too passive with this dog. Take his ass to boot camp."

I couldn't take it anymore. I had to walk away.

Major waste of time. Don't waste your money.

Major waste of time

I'm in a new book club. My old book club fizzled out because people didn't want to read anything heavier than “Mr. Snuffleupagus Goes to the Zoo”. I have no idea if this is a real book, but I think you see my point.

So, my new book club is reading “Under the Tuscan Sun: At Home in Italy” by Frances Maynes. This book is a major waste of time. Major.

This broad and her husband, who both happen to be faculty at two San Francisco area universities when the writing occurs (I later discover that she's at SFSU. Not sure where he teaches, because I don't give that much of a crap.). Anyway, they purchase this home in Tuscany, Italy and it hasn't been inhabited for 30 years, so it's a major fixer-upper. They need to get rid of scorpions and spiders that have invaded the house. Yeah.

This book pissed me off for several reasons:

1. Having so much money to burn that I purchase a second home, 7,000 miles away from my current home, where I can only spend a few months out of the year at.
2. Purchasing a home, regardless of location, that you have to sink a ton of money into in order to have basic things like heat, hot water and a functioning kitchen.
3. Two highly-educated people purchasing a home that requires above mentioned (and lots and lots of other) work and having the work done WHILE THEY ARE IN SAN FRANCISCO. And corresponding with the contractors by FAX. My parents and I never talked about building your own home or major construction projects, but common fucking sense tells me that I need to be present when that shit is going on.
   

At one point in the book, she mentions that she's the department chair—I later read on line that she was in charge of the Creative Writing department, so, really, the entire goddamn book could be a major embellishment, because let's face it, Creative Writers are people who creatively write and they are trained to MAKE SHIT UP. They go to school for years, spend thousands of dollars and they end up taking jobs where they MAKE SHIT UP.

The version I have of this book that I BORROWED (lemme tell you how glad I am that I didn't waste my hard earned money on this piece of shit book) is 310 pages long. I read the first 100 pages, skimmed the second hundred pages, and I'm not sure I'm going to waste my incredibly valuable time reading the last 100 pages. Zel suggested that I read the first and last paragraphs of each of the remaining chapters, and that I should still get the gist of what's going on. While that's a great idea, I'm not sure I want to waste anymore time on this huge piece of crap.

Oh, and Ms. Maynes, I mean no disrespect, but you're really not the brightest bulb. And, how in the fuck did you get a contract to develop your own line of furniture? Honestly.

And, no, I'm not gonna see the movie.

Book Club

The group of mom's I hang out with started a Book Club. We just finished "The Handmaid's Tale" by Margaret Atwood.

Second time I've read the book--thought it was brilliant.

One of the women in Book Club told me at a previous gathering that she was trying to potty train her 3-year-old daughter. She wasn't having much success. She was making the daughter wear her wet pull-ups on her head as punishment for not going potty in the toilet. I'm not kidding. I can't make this up.

This same woman said she didn't like Handmaid because it didn't have a final conclusion and that when she got to the Historical Notes at the end, she didn't get it.

Comment of the Day, May 18, 2007

Baby Kaos and I went to a new bookstore today. A new used bookstore. I'm not down with paying new prices for books.

We don't get over to the other side of town much, and that's where the bookstore is. We were on our way back from shopping at the secondhand baby clothes store. It's my new favorite store, but that's a different blog.

So, we go in to the used bookstore, and we're the only customers. No biggie.

The owner, who is an older woman, greeted us and asked if she could help us. I told her we were looking for children's books.

“Well,” she said, “I have some here, but he's a little young for those.”

She was pointing to “The Cat In The Hat”.

“And we have some over here, too,” she said.

“Baby Kaos,” I said, “Look! It's 'The Cat In The Hat'! You know this book!”

In other words, beeyatch, don't tell me my kid's too young for “The Cat In The Hat” because my son is a genius because we read to him everyday.

So we start looking at the books. And the owner starts talking. She asked if she could hold Baby Kaos, “After all,” she said, “I'm a grandma. You know grandmas when you see them, don't you Baby?”

I said, “Well, he's not had much lunch and he's pretty tired, so I don't think he's the best company right now.”

And she kinda disregarded what I said and did that thing that people do with their hands when they're getting ready to hold a baby—the “clap, clap, come 'ere” maneuver. You're done it. You know it.

Fortunately, Baby Kaos leaned his head into my shoulder. He's a great performer. But, she still didn't get the clue that he wasn't interested in her.

She kept talking. I learned all about that she's the mom of twins and that she has two granddaughters that live in California and that the granddaughters want her to move down to California but that she can't afford to live there and that they don't live in a great neighborhood and houses are sill $600,000.

“Do you mind if we look around?” I asked. I'm trying to make us scarce and be polite.

We start to walk away. Just walking around looking at books is really the entire reason I wanted to go in there anyway.

We're about 2/3 of the way through the store and I hear her say, “Are you a Christian?”

Sweet Jesus. You coulda knocked me over with a feather.

“No,” I said.

She said, “Well, if you were, I was going to tell you that we have a lot of Christian books for children.”

I said, “Thanks. We have lots of Christian friends, so we'll be sure to tell them.”

And we left shortly thereafter. I was a bit concerned that she was going to baptize Baby Kaos.

When Baby Kaos and I got out to the truck, I said to him, “If that dumb beeyatch would've looked at our noses, she would've known that we're a bunch of Jews!”