There Go My Dreams

...of being a Kirkus Reviewer.

Everyone harbors some little secret dream job, or the fall-back plan B if the day job doesn't work out. What better for me than the feared Kirkus, arbiter of smack-down snark for the publishing industry?

I've long thought Publisher's Weekly just a cheerleader for book sales and several others of just phoning it in; quite possibly as a reaction to the struggles of the book business. But not Kirkus.

I've met authors that are absolutely terrified that a bad review from them will impede sales. Did they have that much power? Doubtful. If other review sources saw merit it a work, I don't think it would have that much impact in the grand scheme of things. I've never spoken to anyone who said they were solely guided by Kirkus, and thus, they have gone by the wayside. How sad.

Where else will I get witty rebukes of calling a 400-page slog an 'insult to trees' or the encapsulation of someone's inner journey set to paper as 'better left unexplored'? Or the simply dismissive 'wretched drivel'?

I for one, applauded Kirkus for their contrarian stance in an era of participation trophies. Meghan Daum said it much better than I ever could here.

Retro or Obsolete?

Well!

Seems the Lake Superior State University's annual List of Words to Be Banished from the Queen's English for Mis-use, Over-use and General Uselessness includes a little dig at yours truly.

Do click on that link above to enjoy the whole article, but I would like to draw you attention to the final line:

Think these gendarmes of jargon should "get a life"? Watch it, kiddo. That phrase was banished in 1997.

Sorry, but over on this little synapse of the web the phrase is alive and well.

Why I Hate America

As mentioned before, I’ve really procrastinated about getting a passport. For, oh, about, 32 years. Since I’ve never gone anywhere or done anything – in short “No Life” – it’s never been an issue. Just an “I really should” and “someday I’ll…”. Yeah. Right. Whatever.

So when all the hoopla of “Now You Really Need One or We Won’t let You Back in from Canada*” came up, I thought I really should get around to it. Sometime. Whenever.

First, I got the forms. Back in December, I think. Went to my local post office and picked them up easily. Found out that the post office in next town over would take the completed application, as would the courthouse. I’m on my way!

Fortunately they were festooned with obnoxious orange headers which made them easy to spot as they spent the next six months moving from ‘to do’ pile to ‘just make a neat stack’ pile to ‘I really need to get to this pile’.

Read forms. Filled out simple questions. Argued with Mr. Right about how Hazel is Light Brown, and his eyes are NOT Light Brown, not even close, just put down Blue, damnit! BECAUSE I SAID SO!!!

Shuffle papers.

Applied to get a ‘certified’ copy of my birth certificate. Ranted about how many people can’t prove they are in this country legally, yet my legitimacy is questioned to the tune of $17. Wait another week.

Received proof that I am indeed alive. Lamented fact that there is no fee to pay in order to ‘Get A Life’, as this would be far more useful.

Had Al take my picture. Worried I wouldn’t look ‘innocent’ enough for customs. Worried when photo is flashed on nightly news next to phrase Suspected Al Qaida Operative the girls from High School will say, “Well she certainly has put on some weight!” before getting to: “I always knew she would amount to no good”.

Spent an afternoon discovering there is no way to resize a photo with the crappy software that came with the computer, and figured the next 20 minutes is not the time to try Photoshop out for the first time. Decided that will be my next Procrastination Project.
Wondered if the whole 2” X 2” thing was some plot to keep people from doing their own photos so they could charge $6 for an ugly DMV photo.

Went to appointed post office after work. Big signs greeted me, “Now Open Until 7 p.m.”

Stood in line. Stood. Stood. Wondered why these idiots haven’t learned the joys of on-line bill pay. Stood. Stood. Don’t really care about your kid at college. If he can’t figure out how to pick up his mail, is he really college material? Stood.

“Hi, I’m here for the passport…”

“I’m sorry. We only do passports until 4:30 p.m. Next!!”

Excuse me? Only to 4:30? How did I miss that on your big sign? Oh, wait, IT WASN’T THERE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

This whole passport scam is working like a charm! Now I WANT to leave the country. Forever!!!! Uncle Sam can let some third world blogger come in and do my complaining for pennies on the dollar. I should have asked for some old Priority Mail Boxes. They look pretty waxy. Just give me a shove towards Cuba, I bet Fidel would love to see me. He wouldn’t ask for no stinkin’ passport…



*You know, NASCAR started due to some moonshiners trying to out run the law. I’ve always thought Mr. Right would be a prime candidate for being a prescription drug runner for old people…

Window Into My (Geta)Life

End of the World as we Know it

No more RSX S-Type??

What is this planet coming to?

I demand to see the Emperor!

Actual Conversations (Your Recollections May Vary)

Al: Hi, Honey. I was just worried about you - it's 9:30 and you aren't home yet.

Me: Sorry, there was an emergency bathing suit sale at TJMaxx. I had to try on all the bikinis. I'm on my way home now. Got a good one.

Al: OK. Your mom called. She wants to talk to you, said you can call late.

Me: Thanks! Love you, be home soon. *** Mom?

Mom: Oh, thanks for calling back, it wasn't anything all that important.

Me: Not like my trauma.

Mom: What trauma?

Me: Didn't you hear? They stopped making my model of Acura. How dare they! I finally found a car to love!!

Mom: That's not trauma. Wait until they stop making the only bra that fits you.

Me: No comparison. Oh, I got a new bathing suit.

Mom: One or Two piece?

Me: Two. But all they have nowadays is brown.

Mom: Brown? That does sound strange.

Me: This one has some peach. Not bad. Wish they still made Yum-Yum Yellow though.

************************************************

Al: Did you find a web page called Sprint Sucks yet?

Me: Um, no... did you want me to start one?

I Demand a Recount!

See? Not funny.

Hey, kids! It’s time for another edition of “Well…(I never)!” the journal of righteous indignation.

The Oxygen network aired a special entitled: ’50 Funniest Women Alive’ this past weekend. What ranking did I get? None! Nada. Zip. Not even honorable mention!! Exactly who did the ‘voting’ here was never explained.

I agree with JoAnne Weintraub of the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel who noted some of the omissions were amazing:

Are the list-makers ignorant of Helen Hunt, Mary Tyler Moore, Valerie Harper, Betty White, Bea Arthur, Cloris Leachman, Carol Kane, Shelley Long, Penny Marshall, Julie Kavner, Jane Curtin, Nora Dunn, Jan Hooks, Ana Gasteyer, Cheri Oteri and Andrea Martin?



What are Janeane Garofalo, Jennifer Saunders, Sandra Bernhard, Kathy Najimy and Carrie Fisher - chopped liver?



So, at least I don’t have to lick my wounds alone. But the worst travesty of the whole two hours was giving Kelly Ripa #6!!!!!!!!!!





Are they nuts? Did she finance this whole show? She was the host! And she stunk!!! Do you mean to tell me someone genuinely funny could not be found? I hate that fake!! Or, as this blonde wrote, She is just a bad name to all blonde's out there. (sic)





I’m funnier during a root canal than she is on TV. Or real life. Or during a bomb scare. Or at a funeral…



I got screwed. And that’s not funny.





BTW: When is someone going to create a fansite for me? I mean, other than this one?