Category: c-i-l-l me now!

My Fair Lady

~ Wendy-Marie ~ Leave a comment

Blacklight: <looking at the library books piled higgledy-piggledy on the dining room table> “Dickens? I thought you hated Charles…”

Me: <shrieking>: “Monica Dickens! M-O-N-I-C-A! Never say that other name. EVER!”

Blacklight: “How can you hate Char….”

Me: <head explodes>

A few months ago I discovered the author Monica Dickens. And have been requesting every Monica Dickens title available through the inter-library loan system. I may or may not have the Follyfoot series requested (I totally do!). But there comes a point where even a completest such as myself (Blacklight: “Don’t you mean crazy pants OCD?”) breaks. Now I have slogged through the Slough of Despond, I have gone through the Valley of the Shadow of Death (and read Rae Lawrence’s Jacqueline Susann’s Shadow of the Dolls). I have read Tooner Schooner and the first two Meg novels. I have read every single Beany Malone novel my library system has. I have read Eloise Takes a Bawth. But there is nothing and I mean NOTHING (not even the 1918 HP Lovecraft knocking on my door wanting to go for a brisk 16 mile hike holding a crate of Magnum Double Caramel ice creams) that can make me read the abomination I found waiting for me at the library yesterday. You would think I might have gotten a clue from the title but lots of books can have the same title right? And if Ray Garton thinks writing In a Dark Place: The Story of a True Haunting was a career low…oh honey…I think I might have found something even lower….

MONICA. DICKENS. NOVELIZATION. OF. <choke> My Fair Lady…

I can’t even. No, you can’t make me. Even if you paid off all my bills. The cover alone (a washed out watercolor of Eliza in a pink dress getting gawked at by men folks) is awful enough. The artist was trying to pain Audrey Hepburn but ended up with a zombie Winona Ryder a few years before Winona Ryder was even born. Zombie Winona Doolittle wants to eat my brains and soul. Also isn’t that stupid dress suppose to be white? Have never seen the movie My Fair Lady and have no intention of doing any Google image search to get a definitive answer. Also why in the name of Great Tulu do you NEED a novelization of My Fair Lady says the person who bought The Abyss and Iron Man novelizations. And why drag Monica Dickens into writing it. Did she need crack money? School fees for her daughters? Did the price of hay for her beloved horses go up?

This…horror…this thing that should not be is going right back to the library this afternoon.

I Give Up!

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In my never-ending quest for a)  new things to read b) escape from my life and c) free stuff for my Kindle, I’ve been stuffing poor Mr Kindle with oodles of classic (hey there public domain!) children’s books. It’s at the point where I have more wholesome reading than Lovecraft. Then again aren’t wholesome, clean, upbeat children who respect their elders scarier than the Big Guy in R’lyeh? (Hmm…something to explore in another blog post mayhaps?).

Growing up, I was always a Louisa May Alcott and Laura Ingalls Wilder girl. That snippy, twee little red-headed demon…sorry Ames, I mean, one Miss Anne Shirley, never made it into my bookshelves. And I was the little girl combing the library and every tag sale from home to the shores of Lake Michigan (hey there Grand Rapids circa 1978!) for things to read. And I’m more than old enough to remember and have been the right age to watch the Anne of Green Gables miniseries in the 1980s.

Fast forward mumblemumbletwentysomethingmumblemumble years, I’m still re-reading Louisa May Alcott and Laura Ingalls Wilder, I even have a friend (hi Ames! <waves hand like a mad thing>) who has read Anne of Green Gables AND been to Prince Edward Island. Me? I read the 2008  biography of Lucy Maud Montgomery (Looking for Anne of Green Gables: The Story of L. M. Montgomery and Her Literary Classic by Irene Gammel) and….nothing…

Skip ahead to spring 2012. I have a HUGE hankering to re-read Laura Ingalls Wilder.

It’s late one Saturday night. Libraries aren’t open until Monday. The hankering is so great I will even PAY to buy for Mr Kindle because the thought of going to Barnes & Noble is PAINFUL. I don’t want to be anywhere NEAR children. I just want to read some Laura Ingalls Wilder

Check Amazon. Discover that the Little House series is NOT a Kindle or e-book. Pout and then decide to see if there is any Louisa May Alcott I haven’t read. And then think, “hey why not download all these Anne of Green Gables books…how bad can they be?”

And download I did.

And start to read.

Over the past two weeks I’ve slogged through (in order) Anne of Green Gables, Anne of Avonlea, Anne of the Island, Anne of Windy Poplars and Anne’s House of Dreams.

Last night I flung Anne of Ingleside onto the floor, not giving a damn or a gram it was a library book* and snatched up a book on Hammer Films in the Bray years to stare at pictures of Sir Christopher as tasty hot why couldn’t I be alive in 1950s England to tap THAT total babe Dracula.

Mmm..mmm..mmmm…Sir Christopher Lee…so…tall…SO VERY HOT…huh…what?

Oh yes, Anne of Everyone Lurves Me and People Who Don’t Are Total Dumbass Meanies. And Anne of All The Guys Want Me Because I Am THAT AWESOME. And let’s not forget that classic Anne of ZOMG Some One Doesn’t Like Me BUT THEY WILLLLLL OHHHHH THEY WILLLL WORSHIP ME!

Once I can pry myself from the loving grasp of Mr Couch, I am going to march over to my work desk, snatch up Mr Kindle, cover him in a bazillion kisses for ever exposing him to Lucy Maud Montgomery and delete EVERY SINGLE DAMN ANNE BOOK CACKLING SO WILDLY THAT BERTHA ROCHESTER WOULD SAY “Damn girl! You need HELP! Git A Grip!” before scamper dampering off to try to burn Edward alive…AGAIN…

Usually once I pick a series to read, I READ THAT melon farmer. I read that melon farmer so hard that I will spend the whole day on Mr Couch with the series stacked up next to me IN ORDER! I will get 4 hours of sleep if it’s during the work week. I will “cook” with Mr Book in one hand while I’m plucking the Success rice bag out of boiling water.

I have read every scrap of Miss Read’s Thrush Green and Fairacre series (that was hard reading…Mrs Pringle and Betty WEAR on a person).

I have read every single Angela Thirkell Barsetshire series right down to the ones where you think “okay….there are twenty pages left…who is going to marry whom with a special license?”.

I have read EVERY SINGLE FROSTED POP TART MARY LASSWELL AND BEANY MALONE BOOK THAT MY CENTRAL CONNECTICUT LIBRARY SYSTEM HAS!

But I will never, ever, not even if I can group marry Thomas Jane, Dylan Moran, NPR’s Stephen Thompson, Garret Dillahunt, movie Thor AND Christian Bale, finish Anne of Ingleside or read Rainbow Valley or Rilla of Ingleside.

There is no way.

You can’t make.

You’re not my mommy!**

*all the librarians out there can stop worrying. The book wasn’t hurt by saying hello to Mr Floor. It’s now safely jammed deep into my library return bag next to the I will never watch it in a million years first season Game of Thrones Blu-ray.

** okay, two things I liked in the Anne books. Katherine Brooke (Anne of Windy Poplars) pre “ANNE IS THE MOST AWESOME AND I OWE MY LIFE TO HER” makeover. And Leslie Moore (Anne’s House of Dreams ) until she is all “ZOMG ANNE I AM THE WORST PERSON FOR HATING YOU AND EVERYTHING PERFECT IN YOUR LIFE” . Damn it, Katherine and Leslie! Hate away! You two ruled for a brief and shining moment.

A Gift from The Lonely Doll

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***And you thought the Eloise series was….INTERESTING….behold…THE LONELY DOLL May 2011 backlog posts!***

Another Lonely Doll book!

Another bazillion dead brain cells!

It’s Christmas time!

And just how do Lonely Dolls and Bears who appear to live in a luxury apartment in New York City celebrate Christmas?

Why they go out to the country!

To visit Mr Bear’s cousins!

(Blacklight: “Sure….Mr Bear’s cousins…”)

But Edith wants to make sure Mr Bear has a very special Christmas! So she decides to make a present! She’s going to knit Mr Bear a scarf!

Cue Blacklight and Little Brat Little Bear “sure….”.

So Edith knits and knits and knits. She even smuggles the scarf to THE COUNTRY and knits some more. And what does Mr Bear open on Christmas Day? The world’s biggest striped scarf! Little Brat Little Bear is quick to point out the flaws in the scarf (too long, holes, dropped stitches).

Edith cries. I would have wrapped Little Bear up in the scarf, poured a pot of honey on him and left him in the woods. Edith is the nicer person. Edith also gets a brilliant idea (no, NOT THE HONEY ONE).

By story’s end all three Big Bears (cue Blacklight cackling madly) are wearing a scarf each…AWWWWWWW….and Little Bear lives another day (DANG IT!).

If I was stuck in an elevator with only one kiddie Christmas book to read and the choices where A Gift from The Lonely Doll  or Eloise at Christmastime, I’ll take the Lonely Doll. The elevator shafts are well too maintained at The Plaza to realize my Christmas miracle wish of Eloise in free fall.

And I can always dream of Little Bear getting lost in the woods…

Eloise at Christmastime

~ Wendy-Marie ~ 1 Comment

***Holiday Horrors…another May 2011 Eloise series backlog post…READ THIS…IF YOU DARE!***

Who would think a children’s book (I know, I know, Kay Thompson never considered Eloise a children’s book but can you find it in the adult section? NO!) would send me into a screaming rage full of burning questions?

Just who in the name of all that is good and holy are Eloise’s parents canoodling with for management to allow this little monster thing from the depths of hell to stay at their hotel? Don’t other guests complain? Does Eloise’s mother have pictures of herself, the owner of The Plaza and a farm animal?

Because trust me, Eloise is a total brat from hell. Imagine the sheer torture of working there as some little monster races through? Having to smile and be all “oh that’s just Eloise” because you need the job THAT BADLY?

Blacklight: “Honey, aren’t you reading this book a little too deeply?”

Okay, okay, okay. Bottle the rage. Bottle it bottle it bottle it.

It’s Christmas time and Eloise is scampering dampering around The Plaza spreading pure evil Christmas Cheer a la Eloise! There’s presents for everyone! (Golly! No Eloise goes to boarding school until she’s 21? Because THAT WOULD THE MOST AWESOME PRESENT EVER).

Scamper Damper Eloise, Scamper Damper.

Do you have some Advil for me?

No?

FROSTED POP TART!

Eloise’s mother has the sense of mind to be far far far away from The Plaza. Smart woman! Then again she did spawn Eloise. Why? Deal with the devil for her teeny-tiny feet and charge accounts? Hmmm…is Eloise a Meal Ticket baby…okay THINKING WAY TOO HARD AGAIN!

Scamper Damper Eloise.

GET TIPPY NANNIE!

GET TIPPY EVERYONE!

Cue Blacklight pouring tequila shots for EVERYONE!

Eloise In Paris

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***You can’t escape it…May 2011 Eloise series backlog post…not even hanging with the Big C in R’lyeh**

Things must be getting hot at The Plaza because everyone’s favorite hell child thing that should not exist in a world hotel dweller Eloise is on her way to Paris!

Or Kay Thompson wanted a reason to write off a trip to Europe.

Or someone had worse pictures than Eloise’s mother, the owner of The Plaza and a farm animal.

Whatever the reason, that happy sigh you heard is everyone at The Plaza knowing they can breathe free, have no guest complaints about a certain so called six year old thing that pretends to be human. The horrid wail you hear is everyone in Paris, me and Blacklight because he is trapped in the apartment by a monster cold while I write this.

Blacklight has second hand Eloise damage. Can we file a lawsuit against the estate of Kay Thompson?

No?

DAMNNNNNNN!!!!

So off to Paris go Eloise, her animals and Nannie. But darn it! They’ve just missed Eloise’s mother.

Am beginning to think Eloise’s mother is a mastermind of pure evil so tricksy that Machiavelli and Lord Vetinari take notes. Instead of the long suffering Plaza Hotel, the Relais Bisson (a real place) becomes the home base of the Eloise party.

And then the name dropping begins in earnest.

Git paid Kay Thompson Git paid!

Very few culture spots in Paris are lucky enough to evade Eloise. Even the House of Dior doesn’t manage that! And they’re the ones who popularized the New Look and the Sack dress!

One of the Dior vendeuses is all “merci NON!” and thisclose to doing a Teen Baby eyeroll at the thought of turning hellchild Eloise into a Dior clad little lady. I love that Dior vendeuse so hard and so bad.

Ain’t gonna happen, so just bill (Eloise: CHARGE IT DUMMY! CHARRRRGE IT!) Mama Eloise and git paid.

But eventually the citizens of Paris must rebel or an act of government is passed because our demon seed Eloise returns to America and her beloved Plaza Hotel (still not connecting with the clever as Mr Fox Mama Eloise).

I wonder if you wander The Plaza today, do the ghosts of the depressed and tormented Plaza staff of yore from Eloise’s reign of terror still haunt the hallowed halls?

Eloise In Moscow

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***Another horror from the May 2011 Eloise draft vaults…READ THIS…IF YOU DARE!***

You have to hand it to Mama Eloise.

Somehow she manages to send her demon spawn daughter to Moscow without a second thought. Heck, Eloise’s grandmother even ships a big old limousine to Moscow for Eloise’s stay. Of course when our precious tot (can’t believe I typed THAT without breaking into gales of laughter) arrives, Mama Eloise is elsewhere.

As I’ve said before, clever bish that Mama Eloise.

Perhaps Mama Eloise is hoping her tiny tot will be sent to a gulag. Eloise and Nannie and stupid dog (can’t remember name, don’t feel like looking it up, don’t EVEN WANT to open that book again EVER!), roam about Moscow, see the sights, annoying their spy/guide and causing the usual Eloise mischief. There’s some spy sub-plotline but seriously if ELOISE DOES NOT GET SENT TO A GULAG WHO CARES!?!?!?!

And so help me Deity of Your Choice…there’s one more Eloise book!

Heavens have mercy on me!

Eloise

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Every ten years or so, like bouts of malaria, Kay Thompson’s demon spawn from the inner bowels of hell alter-ego Eloise resurfaces in my life. Heck, I can still remember the unholy fuss the Today show made over the 40th anniversary. And don’t get me started on dropping several copies of Eloise: The Ultimate Edition  (collection of the four original Eloise books) on my foot, my frosted pop tart right baby toe is screaming in pain as I type and that WAS ALMOST TEN YEARS AGO! The latest run in with the undead little demon parading in human form Eloise was almost stepping on Sam Irvin’s Kay Thompson biography at the Book Barn Downtown and a few days later coming across original editions of some of the later works at the N-w B-t-n library. So I figured it was time to welcome Satan’s love child the little angel back into my life. I should have listened to my poor right foot that went totally numb when I touched Eloise in Paris. But sadly, I didn’t.

For those lucky souls (Blacklight) who haven’t meet THE MOST FAMOUS RESIDENT OF THE PLAZA HOTEL EVER (the Dadster, sibling Tichy), the most evil creature on the planet ever and that means more evil than Justin Beiber Eloise is a lively six year old who lives in New York City’s world famous The Plaza Hotel with her doting Nannie. Nannie is English and likes to drink and order from Room Service. Nannie must get paid a fair whack from Mama Eloise because honestly would YOU want to be responsible for this child? Eloise, whose mother must have pictures of The Plaza’s owner with an eight ball, an underage donkey and a chainsaw, has free run of the hotel. She commandeers the elevator, she scamper dampers here, there and EVERYWHERE. She scribbles on walls, peeks her nose into places she has no business…hello The Venetian Room is FOR GROWNUPS ONLY YOU LITTLE BISH! Yet somehow there are other guests who stay at The Plaza. I think the manager must drink heavily. Either that or Mama Eloise has pictures of him with that underage donkey too!

Now “Gwen stop being a bitch” you might say. Or “Eloise is just the most wonderful child ever, so free and creative”. Or “The Poor Little Thing Is Just Acting Out Because Her Parents Abandoned Her”. Interesting points. You know what? I was a creative little monster who got spanked when she colored Barbie’s hair with magic markers and food dye. And cross dressed Ken and GI Joe. And yup, we never do see the two unholy creatures each responsible for half Eloise’s DNA. We never hear about Eloise’s father. And Mama Eloise is always far far far far away. But can’t Nannie discipline the little monster? Come on Nannie DO IT DO IT DO IT!

Eloise almost ten years after I spent several weeks flinching every time I had to stock the picture book section has the same effect on me. Pain…oh the pain.  I can’t WAIT to return this particular book to the library! Uncombed hair and unbrushed teeth be damned!

The Clan of the Cave Bear

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True story. I’m a brand spanking new freshman. And of course I’m haunting the library every day. I find The Plains of Passage on the New Fiction shelves and almost trip over my damn feet racing to the circulation desk to check it out. That was mumblemumbletwentyyearsagomumblemumble. Now I’m not so sure I’m going to be racing to the circulation desk when the N library gets the final Earth’s Children book. Don’t get me wrong. I know Jean Auel researches her books like a melon farmer (see I don’t curse all the frosted pop tart time!). But if I do linger by the AU fiction shelves at the library, I’m not scooping every Jean Auel book into my bag. First, them books weigh a TON! And second, Ayla, our fair heroine Cro-Mag of all Cro-Mags, makes me stabby. Maybe it’s the constant Ayla is a smoking hot babe, Ayla invents EVERYTHING, Ayla is the AWESOME SAUCE, and the beyond explicit humpa-jumpa that starts mid-way through The Valley of Horses. So no big surprise my favorite Earth’s Children novel is The Clan of the Cave Bear. It’s the first and best of all, I barely want to fling it at the new windows.

For those who’ve managed to never encounter The Clan of the Cave Bear and mind you EVEN BLACKLIGHT HAS READ THE CLAN OF THE CAVE BEAR, it’s the story of an orphaned modern human little girl saved from certain death from infection, hunger and exposure by a group of Neanderthals (The Clan) who find her as they search for a new home.  The majority of The Clan, a hard working, strong, heavily gender split people, come to accept the little girl, renamed Ayla as best as they can. It’s like a pack of wolves adopting a Shitzu puppy. They’re closely enough related but still oceans apart in understanding and culture. Things will muddle along but it will all end in tears. And on the last page it sure does.

The Clan of the Cave Bear is such a sad book. The Clan is marching towards an extinction caused by their particular evolutionary niche. And Ayla, no matter what she does or what happens to her, will never become a true Clan member. That Shitzu isn’t going to be a lean, mean critter no matter how long Fluffy McPrincess Poofy Poo spends with the wolves. Fluffy McPrincess Poofy Poo is a walking dustmop. Only Fluffy McPrincess Poofy Poo will be eagle food before five plus books filled with Fluffy McPrincess Poofy Poo is the awesome can be spawned.

So to wrap it up (and to stop tying Ayla or Fluffy McPrincess Poofy Poo again), The Clan of the Cave Bear, good but sad. Jean did her research and I like that! Go Jean Go! Ayla (okay, one last time!) bye-bye. The rest of the Earth’s Children series, only if am so drunkalunk that American Idol becomes my favorite show.

Sinners

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When you get to my great age (okay I know I’m not THAT old but when you’ve spent the day chatting with a younger coworker old enough to be your son, well…you know), you forget certain things. Turning off the oven (guess who has charcoal briquettes…I mean chicken nuggets for lunch tomorrow?), charging your cell phone, checking the weather report BEFORE leaving the house in cute velvet ballet flats on a rainy day, remembering Sinners has to be the worst 1970s Jackie Collins novel EVER!

Even worse than The Love Killers.

Actually The Love Killers has an interesting story, three women getting revenge for the murder of their friend. But Sinners?

WHISKEY TANGO FROSTED POP TART. Why didn’t I remember how bad this was?!?!

The only thing keeping me from flinging said book against the wall was a) did NOT want to have to buy replacement copy and b) book hitting the wall would have woken up the small children next door leading to their mother yelling for them to go back to sleep. So Sunday Simmons Is An Idiot Sinners ended up on the nightstand.

Now I read some awful books as a young lass (see review of June Flaum Singer novels, Rae Lawrence’s Satisfication) so what makes the divine Jackie’s Sinners stand out? Hmmm…

-over the top names: our Brazilian/French heroine SUNDAY SIMMONS, robo-bimbo aka Gold Digga DINI SYDNE…honestly, my brain HURTS just typing that last name let alone reading it…my brain was “ummm Didi, Dimbo….DINDI? Like Cindi? Whiskey Tango Frosted Poptart!”. Almost makes himbo actor Branch Strong sound refreshing versus a bi-curious porn star.

-Queen’s English to Americun English: thank the deity of your choice I gobble old British gentle read novels because if not I would have been the spouse asking “what’s a box-room?”. (very long story for another day).

At this stage of the game Jackie was still split between America and the UK. And it shows. Not so bad you need an annotated Jackie Collins (how COOL would THAT BE?) but still.

-Sunday Simmons: our golden skinned/haired lioness heroine with luscious knockers that can poke out your eye in a totally hot but classy way (Blacklight; “keep talking” Me: “Pervert!’) makes you LONG for Lucky Santangelo. Because Lucky has BALLS. Big, clanking, how can she walk brass ones.

Sunday Simmons? She has ethics about been exploited on a film in the first few chapters. Go Sunday, git yours. She manages to avoid getting too involved with man-ho actor Steve Magnum (they’re engaged but she finds out he’s cheated on her with her so called friend Dimbo DAMNIT DINDI before they do the deed).

But the divine Jackie sure makes up for it. By the last seventy five pages Sunday’s gotten raped or nearly raped by creepy hot French director/utter bastard Claude, the two actors in Claude’s film who do a rape scene BY RAPING THE LEAD ACTRESS WHILE THE CAMERA ROLLS, a group of twisted bleepers who can only get off on having sex at “black magic parties” (I dare you, I triple dog DARE YOU to get this far into the book) and lastly by her stalker/chauffeur Herbert Lincoln Jefferson.

And the last page?

Guess what’s most likely to happen to Sunday now that’s she’s escaped to England with her new boyfriend Charlie Brick? EWWWW….

In one of the earlier HP Lovecraft Literary Podcast episodes, hosts Chad and Chris mention that a story has an opening that feels like a first draft/trial run for a truly classic opening. British comedian Charlie Brick might seem like a rerun of Charlie Dollar but his quirky comedian with an outrageous former showbiz mother feels like a dry run for Lenny and Alice Golden in Lucky.

Same goes with a cameo featuring two strippers (one beyond skinny, one hugely plump) brings to mind George I’s two mistresses from Hanover AND the groupies who hook up with Al King’s doomed son in Lovers and Gamblers. Sorry…spoiler alert I guess…

And yes, I DID just make a historical reference about a Jackie Collins novel. 

Ramblings aside, Sinners lives up to it’s name. It’s full of sin/scandal/sex. It’s also a difficult read if you’ve only read Jackie Collins 1980s and after.

Read Sinners if you MUST, but don’t come crying to me or asking for the $8 to replace the paperback at your local library.

 

 

Real Monsters, Gruesome Critters And Beasts From The Darkside

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Yes I’m the person who has Monster Quest on her Netflix Watch Instantly queue (every single bloody episode) and is getting Mystery Quest parceled out DVD by DVD. And I’ m the person who has intra-library-loaned every single book by Joe Nickell and James Randi that her library network has. And has every episode of Monster Talk on her iPod.

But Brad Steiger’s Real Monsters, Gruesome Critters, and Beasts from the Darkside? Bigfoot, aliens, chupies, Loch Monster monster oh my. No, no, no, a thousands times no.

Chad Fifer and Chris Lackey (gods of the HP Lovecraft Literary Podcast) say in Episode 13 (Facts Concerning the Late Arthur Jermyn and His Family) a) why was it written? and b) there is finite time in all of our lives and there are better things you can be reading.  In regards to Real Monsters, Gruesome Critters, and Beasts from the Darkside I concurr fully with second statement. The first? I dunno know? Money? Preaching to the choir? Trying to convert evil skeptics like me? Who knows? What I do know? Back to the library with you Mister Book, back to where you came…