So, I'm in the middle of Jasper Fforde's Lost in a Good Book, and I come across this:
I bought a ticket, hurried to the check-in and spent ten minutes listening to a litany of pointless antiterrorist questions.
"I don't have a bag," I explained. She looked at me oddly, so I added, "Well, I did, but you lost it the last time I traveled. In fact, I don't think I've ever had a bag returned to me after tubing."
She thought about this for a moment and then said, "If you had a bag, and if you had packed it yourself, and if you had not left it unattended, might it contain any of the following?"
She showed me a list of prohibited items and I shook my head.
"Would you like an in-drop meal?"
"What are my choices?"
"Yes or no."
She looked at the next question on her sheet.
"Who would you prefer to sit next to?"
"Nun or a knitting granny, if that's possible."
"Hmmmm," mused the check-in girl, studying the passenger manifest carefully. "All the nuns, grannies, and intelligent non-amorous males are taken. It's technobore, lawyer, self-pitying drunk, or copiously vomiting baby, I'm afraid."
"Technobore and lawyer, then."
--------- Lost in a Good Book by Jasper Fforde
Char is probably laughing herself silly at me right now, but I am getting seriously hooked. I mean... I actually had to stop reading this book for a short time, because... I got so stressed out when the main character's husband disappeared, and I couldn't help but take it personally!
And I am seriously in love with Pickwick the Dodo, and her "Plock, plock, plock." I want a dodo. I want a herd of dodo's wandering around in the backyard, nibbling on the vegetation and making "plock, plock" noises. Doesn't matter that they're extinct. I want one.
*brief discussion follows with the Husbandly One about the short story, "The Ugly Chickens"*
This is a relief, actually, because I've been in a bit of a reading bind, lately. I had picked up a newish Anne McCaffrey at the library, Catalyst, but... I just couldn't get into it. And the Husbandly One, who is a Vine Voice for Amazon and somewhere in their top 5000 for his reviews, sometimes gets freebies from Amazon if he's willing to review them. So, he gets books, and if he isn't interested, he gets Miss Priss or myself to read them and tell him what we think. Mind, the books we get are galley proofs that still need a lot of editing, and I try to keep that in mind, too, but... this last book THO got me... I couldn't read. It was a Mercedes Lackey book, Much Fall of Blood and I have to say, I had to give up halfway in because, seriously, the last time I was that confused, I was reading a somewhat incoherent fan-fiction. I'm hoping the copy I got was seriously preliminary because the story would leap perspective literally mid-paragraph. One second, I would be reading it from Character A's perspective, and the next, it would skip Characters B, C, D, and J, and leap all the way to Character Q. In the same sentence.
It seriously screwed with my poor brain. And... I was never sure if we were Viking Werewolves, or Mongol vampires, or Viking Mongol Undead, or WHAT... because... well... like I said, let's hope this was just the extremely un-edited version, because O.O if it wasn't!!!
So, it was a very nice relief to get back in to a Thursday Next book.
And by the way, I recently finished My Life in France by Julia Child with Alex Prud'homme, and it was awesome I absolutely loved that book. It makes me wish very much that the movie "Julie & Julia" had been "Julia Child: My Life in France," instead. It would have been a much better movie, seriously.
And in case you're wondering at my sudden volubility, I have lost my voice (probably thanks to the stress of the last few days), and the Husbandly One has made me a very, very strong hot toddy, so Jo is pleasantly squiffed. Plus, I am very, very tired after a rough day of shopping for school supplies... on the tax-free weekend.
Prolly should have had the hot toddy before going school supply shopping, because seriously... ugh.
Next year, I'll start buying in July, when the supply lists come out, and save myself the hassle. I don't get the grabby, pushy, shove someone out of the way so you can snatch the one out of the 250 other boxesof the same thing that someone else already has their hand on. I don't do touchy-feely; I do ouchy-bleedy.
Oh, yeah, one man in particular learned a very harsh lesson. Do not grab Jo's bodacious booty and try to explain that it happened because you were making a grab for the glue-sticks, especially if the glue-sticks in question are at eye-level (and Jo's bodacious booty isn't). Most especially, don't do this in front of your wife.
I am sure he'll regain hearing in that ear... someday.
And now, my dear ones, I am going to pour myself into bed. Goodnight!