Flintstones vitamins part !!!

Category: dribblings

I am SO SORRY that for three days in a row I’ve done nothing but bitch about gorram Flintstones vitamins. But we’ll get thru this.

So for the last three days my stomach killing me to death and I won’t get into my vowel movements, but just know that those have become a thing now, okay. I mean, more than usual. And the only thing I’ve eaten that is weird or different lately are those dang vitamins.

So I need an iron supplement, I take the Flintstones with Iron, my body rejects it with terrible stomach cramps + horrible BMs, and I just want to know if this is some Alanis level of IRONY. (get it? see what all I did there?) or is there some kind of dumb virus going around?

Ten million strong… and pooping.

 

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Flintstones Vitamins part !!

Category: dribblings

Hey so anyway the Dino to Fred to Barney ratio is crazy out of whack. I got curious cos when I was looking in the jar at the shapes I didn’t see any cars. So I did what any normal person would do, I dumped the vitamins out of the jar and into a bowl for further investigatin’.

THERE ARE NO CARS. IT IS ALL OVER. YOUR CHILDHOOD WAS A SHAM. THE RUSSIANS WON. GAME OVER, MAN. WE ARE ALL GOING TO DIE.

Wha’ happened to the cars? They add Betty, ditch the car, but keep The Great Gazoo? I have mixed feelings about this. See, I hate The Great Gazoo. He was mean and rude. I’d much rather have the car vitamin. But on the other hand, maybe crunching a Gazoo to death in the morning could be a good thing, like I’m conquering rudeness AND anemia in one bite!

And the fact that I have an existential crisis every morning over cartoon shaped vitamins tells you EVERYTHING you need to know about how I’m handling my mid/late 30s.

Oh, you’re older and have way more problems? Don’t minimize MY pain, jackass, get your own blog. Meanwhile I’ll be over here wondering why the Betty vitamins look so mangled. There is definitely a Wilma bias going on here.

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Opo, the Blood Douche

Category: dribblings

I tried to donate blood yesterday and they (once again) would not take my gypsy blood because it was anemic or something lame like that. So I texted a pal about it and she was all, “It’s called a multi vitamin. You take one every day. YOU’RE WELCOME.” Which translates to, “If this happens again and you haven’t been taking a vitamin everyday I swear to God you better not bitch to ME about it.”
Fair enough.

I was at Walmart (not bragging, just not shopping at The Smug Grocery Store) and checked out the vitamins and decided right there I wasn’t going to be taking a giant vitamin everyday. Nay, not when there are STILL Flintstones vitamins to be had. Okay honestly, the 8 year-old inside of me was all, “Dude! Get the Flintstones! Flintstones!” and while you probably shouldn’t let the 8 year-old you make any kind of medical decisions, I figure vitamin choice isn’t that big of a deal. (Now that I’m thinking about it, I’m not sure Me at any age makes good medical decisions.) Anyway, 8 year-old me is like, a really smart 8 year-old okay? Let her have the Flintstones.

Plus! They have Flintstone GUMMI vitamins! But the joke is on you, Jaimie, cos the gummi ones don’t have iron in them, and that’s what you need, so you have to buy the old crunchy kind. So see, there’s a smart choice, yes, get the Flintstones, but only the crunchy kind cos that’s got the junk in it that I need.
You would never know I went to college and everything.

It’s nice to see that some things never change. Flintstones vitamins are still the same shapes, although I have not run across a Dino yet. And they have the exact same taste that you remember from 1983, fruit pennies, I believe is the flavor.

Do kids know who the Flintstones are? I mean, these vitamins are marketed for them, right? Not for stupid 36 year-olds. But I don’t think they are on TV anymore, are they? So how would they know that the BEST ones are Dino and The Car?

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Another Year Older part II

Category: dribblings

The second way I can tell I’m getting older is that one of our local grocery stores has closed forever. It was my preferred grocery store. I avoided all others like the smug jerks they are. But now, NOW, I am forced to do my grocery shopping at The Smug Grocery Store (or I could drive 10 miles to ALDI, which is like the yard sale of grocery stores. Good deals, yes, but I mean, I don’t have time to trip around that maze. Boxes all over? Are they constantly restocking? GET YOUR SHIT TOGETHER, ALDI.)

The Smug Grocery Store is the WORST.  The layout of the store is like that maze at the beginning of The Labyrinth with the tricky walls that keep moving? Everything in it is $1 – $2 more expensive than any other store that exists. You gotta have one of their CARDS to get the discounts. I hate that so much. Their produce section isn’t worth a single damn. They have one bag of apples, some shitty grapes and that’s it. God help you if you wanted a variety of produce choices.

Three weeks ago my coworker went to TSGS and this happened. This is all TRUE, BTdubs.

My coworker goes to the deli counter and asks the lady for a pound of fried catfish and an extra piece on top. Without moving the lady says, “Well, that’s gonna be like, $8.99.”

“Oh, did the price go up? It was $5.99 last week.”

“Oh,” the lady replies, “I don’t know. Let me check.”

Well that’s a red flag. The lady is just making up prices of things.

“No, you’re right it’s still $5.99 a pound.”

“Okay great, I’ll take a pound and an extra piece.”

“Well, okay. But. I’ll have to give you all small pieces.”

“Okay. Wait, no. Why do you have to give me all small pieces?”

“Cos if I give you the bigger pieces the pound will weigh more.”

It is at this point in the story that I WOULD HAVE LEFT THE STORE AND WANDERED STRAIGHT TO THE HIGHWAY IN HOPES OF BEING CLOBBERED TO DEATH BY A MOVING VEHICLE. My coworker took the high road and tried to explain to the lady that a pound will always be a pound no matter what size the pieces, and could she please get a pound of catfish with an extra piece on top? The lady boxed up roughly a million tiny pieces of catfish and gave it to my coworker who took the box, finished her shopping, and drove home. When she got home she opened the box of fish and noticed that the price was $5.40. Meaning the lady DID NOT EVEN give her one pound of catfish.

Last week my coworker goes in again to get more catfish. I said, “You tried it again?”

“You won’t believe what happened this time.”

“No, I will believe it. After “the pound will weigh more” I’ll believe ANYTHING you say about TSGS and it’s awfulness. What I DON’T believe is that you went back again.”

“So this time I thought I’d make it easier on the deli lady.”

“Like how? You got a job at the deli and boxed up your own fish?”

“No. Besides this time there was a different lady. I told her I wanted 5 pieces of catfish.”

“Oh. I see. Take the “tricky” weight out of the equation.”

“Exactly.”

“Well, how did that go?”

“So I says to her I want 5 pieces of fish and she gets the tongs and picks up a piece of fish, like medium big in size, and I tell her that I want them to be around that size.”

“Oh. Well, that actually sounds like a good plan.”

“Yeah, so I get home and open the box and there’s only 4 pieces of fish in it.”

“No WAY.”

“Way.”

“Oh my gosh. Hey, did I tell you about Mumbles the Butcher?”

“No.”

“Well I took dad to TSGS, Dad by the way, hates that store more than I do.”

“I didn’t know that was possible.”

“It is. You think I’m bad? He’s the worst. Anyway, he wanted some ground beef and there was a sale going on, $1.99 a pound. So we get to the meat counter and there’s a butcher guy there putting out TONS of some kind of “fancy” ground beef that was $4.99 a pound. So dad says to him, “Hey, where’s the $1.99 ground beef at?” the guy looks at dad and mumbles something, I’m not sure if he was mumbling to dad or to the possible myriad voices in his head, but he sets down the last of the beef and goes back to the butcher room and comes back out 5 seconds later with 7 more packs of the $4.99 beef and then he won’t look at us. Like, he never acknowledges us after that.”

“What?! What did your dad do?”

“He yelled, “HEY PAL, THANKS FOR NOTHING.” And we left without the meat. Dad was livid.”

“Yikes.”

“Yeah, next time you want catfish, take my dad with you. It’ll be hilarious.”

 

So. Here’s the thing. I realize that the fact that I complain at LEAST every day about The Smug Grocery Store means that I am officially an old woman.  Like, a 300 year-old woman.

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Another Year Older part I

Category: dribblings

Fleegan.com and I have both turned another year older.

I can tell I’m getting older in two ways:
First, I had to get new glasses. Honestly, I was way overdue. I hadn’t had my eyes checked in 7 years. The squeaky-voiced, 18 year-old cheerleader/eye doctor scolded me on that.

“Mrs. Jones! You should NEVER go more than two years without an eye exam!”

“Yeah, I guess. I mean, I didn’t have any problems or anything.”

“You shouldn’t wait that long. Ever. Like, ever never.”

“Okay. Sorry.”

“Now. Before we do the exam I need to ask you a few questions.”

“Okay.”

“On your sheet here, you didn’t list any medications.”

“Right.”

“So what medications are you on? Did you bring them with you?”

“What? No! I don’t have any.”

“You don’t have any with you?”

“I don’t have any. At all. I’m not on medication.”

“You aren’t?”

“No. Why? You think I should?”

“No, no! It’s just, like, everyone who comes in here is on medication.”

“Is this a geriatric eye clinic? No one told me it was a specialist eye clinic-”

“No! No, it isn’t. It’s just, it’s been ages since I’ve met someone who isn’t on any drugs.”

How it POSSIBLY could’ve been AGES when she’d only graduated Eye Doctor School 15 minutes before I got there is beyond me.

17 days later I have new glasses with a much stronger prescription and I’m pretty sure it’s killing my brain. And when I take my glasses off at the end of the day I become Velma from Scooby Doo all blinky with arms stretched out trying not to fall into any ghost traps.

 

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Iron & Velvet by Alexis Hall

Category: 50 Books

This was an ARC from Netgalley. And I believe they described it something like “lesbian noir erotica with vampires and werewolves.” And I was all, “Sign me up for that!”

This is the first book in the Kate Kane, Paranormal Investigator series.

I love noir P.I. stories. I do. I’m a sucker for it. I love short, sarcastic observations and dialogue. Love it. I could eat it with a spoon. Lucky for me, this book is filled with short, snarky sentences. Kate Kane is a typical hardboiled detective novel character. This is from the jacket:

My name’s Kate Kane, and when an eight-hundred-year-old vampire prince came to me with a case, I should have told her no. But I’ve always been a sucker for a femme fatale.

and this:

I’ve got a killer on the loose, a war on the horizon, and a scotch on the rocks. It’s going to be an interesting day.

See? This is not great literature. But it IS great FUN.
The author does a good job with the noir-y, hardboiled stuff. He even gives a nod to Dashiell Hammett’s Sam Spade character. (Kate Kane, Sam Spade, see? And Kane’s partner is also dead at the beginning and is also named Archer so… homage?) This makes me feel like the author knows what he’s going for with this genre and he’s trying something new with it. New and possibly hilarious.

Now while I am totally in for a noir-y adventure, I will admit right away that I am not the best speculative fiction reader. I knew going in that the vamp/werewolf thing was going to be a toughie for me. I had no idea that it was going to be this tough though, cos it’s not JUST vamps and werewolves. It is also faeries, mages, monsters, witches, a golem, and there was one part where Kate Kane actually punches a ghost or a faerie or whatever, PUNCHES it off of a unicorn and then jumps onto the unicorn and tames it into letting her ride it.

And honestly at that point I wasn’t sure if I was reading the worst detective story ever or the BEST detective story ever. Like I say, SF is not my genre so I really had to remind myself to read this in the spirit of fun and not try to make it anything serious. This book was great fun and by the end I actually really enjoyed the story.

Now while it is a fun read it still had some problems. The first half of the story is slow and a bit tedious. There are way too many characters in it and they all have crazy names, and I found it difficult to remember everyone. The sex scenes were brief and actually not that sexy, so I don’t know why it was described as erotica. But the part that killed me, that made me put the book down and yell out, “Bullshit!” was when Kate Kane buys some food for an informant, and she buys him KFC and a Pepsi Max.

Pepsi Max?

Are you kidding me with this?

Now, this was an advance copy, so maybe that part will change? Maybe it will get changed to a plain Pepsi or just generic soda, whatever. The Pepsi Max took me completely out of the story. I immediately called a friend and we had a discussion about it. It went like this:

“Hey, remember that lesbian noir vampire book I’m reading?”

“Yeah?”

“The character just bought a Pepsi Max.”

“Nope.”

“I know!”

“That’s too…”

“Exactly.”

I think the fact that a Pepsi Max jerked me out of a story but I was able to (mostly) coast along with the punching of a monster off a unicorn says a lot.

I really enjoyed Elise, the golem. She (it?) added this sweet innocence that the story really needed to balance out Kate’s brash attitude.

This is definitely not like any book I’ve read before, but I was totally able to read and enjoy it for the fun it is. Will I read book #2? I honestly don’t know.

This book is available December 16, 2013 by Riptide Publishing

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The Simpsons and Their Mathematical Secrets by Simon Singh

Category: 50 Books

Well, Simon Singh has done it again. He’s written another fun, readable book about math. How? How does he write such entertaining books about math? This is his gift.

In this book, he shows us that the writers of The Simpsons and Futurama are serious math people, we’re talking PhDs here. He briefly talks about the writers’ math histories and how they came to write for The Simpsons,  but this isn’t a biography, it’s a book about people who love math and number theory, and how they quite often write it into their hilarious cartoon shows. Singh writes in such a way that even those of us who are not that into math can (mostly) understand what is going on. His enthusiasm for math and numbers is contagious, so don’t think you’re not smart enough to read this book. It’s very enjoyable.

My only gripe about this book is the same gripe I have with most books that are about jokes/comedy writing. That when you write about how/why something is funny, it becomes a bit tedious and unfunny. I’m not sure there is any way around that, so this is not a judgement on Mr. Singh’s writing, it’s just one of the downfalls of writing about comedy.

Still, it’s interesting that so many mathematicians were all, “You know what? I’m going to give up this math gig and go to L.A. and do comedy writing.” and that they all ended up working on the same shows together. Crazy.

Great book. Kind of a geeky read, but still very readable even to us regular dorks, who after passing college algebra, stopped there.

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Stuff I Found in the ‘brary part IIIIIIIIII

Category: dribblings

All misspelled words are theirs (this time.)

On a 6’x4′ index card:

Do Better Think Better
about Lupe!

1-11-12

Lupe’s having a hard time he
misses his kids, he’s nervous bout
his papers & worries cuz he’s
getting a divorce. I need to
keep this in mind. we need to
read our bible together every night
and pray together. So we can
live for God together. I need
to always listen to him even if
I don’t want to, be kind to him
always. Enjoy my time with him
everyday & night cuz he’s my
husband, we are one! Do Better!

Is that not deliciously bazoo? I think my favorite part, besides the mystery of the divorce/yet marriage, is the wonderful advice of Do Better! You guys, just Do Better. Why are you whining about your life, job, kids, parents, whatever, just Do Better. I don’t want to hear about it! DO BETTER. Until you are DOING BETTER, shut the hell up and deal. No one has time for you not Doing Better.
Do Better.

Okay, this next piece of paper I found on the floor in the teen section. It was folded up and on the outside it reads:

I love you best friend a.k.a. Mrs. Dill (winky face) (then a heart) Aaron’s future wife. Hello.

When you open the letter it’s a list (YES!) and there are hearts and stars in the corners and kinda all around the list.

Across the top it has:

I love u! “Power in the name of Jesus!” “Fire, fall down” (bunch of hearts)

Phebe

– Good, possitive attitude.
– Remember you got Jesus, nothing or no one can bring you down.
– Say a “Huge Yes” so then you don’t even have to worry about the no’s.
– Be intoxicated.
– Don’t be an ALMOST.
– Be a woman of God.
– You are fearfully and beautifully made.
– Sing Let It Ring for the Glory of the King!
-Dream
-“Heeello.”
– “Nahh you hang up”
– “Nowwwh” “Nowww…”
-Ray Ray
-Motion 2013

This one has some really good advice too. I’m really learning a lot from the found scraps of paper around here. So guys, just be a woman of God, say a HUGE yes, be intoxicated (always helpful), do not be an ALMOST, and Do Better.

Dream.

 

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Southern Gothic Fever Dream IV

Category: dribblings

My pal, Carol, a fellow ‘brary goddess, (different ‘brary, but still.) and all-around amazing human, was actually the inspiration for me reading Absalom, Absalom! She once told me it was her favorite book. I wasn’t sure that I believed her. I mean, maybe it was ONE of her favorites, but THE favorite? Is that even possible? And after reading the book myself I know that yes, it IS a good book. (You will note, however, that even though it is a good book, I did not cut it any slack.) It’s a good book; and reading it was like wrestling a huge pile of eels made out of words. And when I finished reading it I felt like I had accomplished something… like maybe I had wrestled a pile of eels made of words and beat them.

And since finishing the book, since beating that pile of eels made of words, I have thought much about the book. Daily. It’s become a literature parasite. It’s in my head and won’t leave me alone. This isn’t a new thing for me. I have several literature parasites in my head, the three main ones are Beowulf, The Cask of Amontillado, and Suddenly, Last Summer. See, that’s two southern authors, and now my brain is being preyed upon by a third? Do you think there’s something about the south and it’s authors that makes for more literary parasites?

Anyway, Carol feels for Faulkner the way I feel for Capote. Actually, she probably feels more, cos y’see, she wrote a love letter.

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Southern Gothic Fever Dream part III

Category: 50 Books

I finally finished Absalom, Absalom! And here’s the thing, there is no hundred dollar reward for reading it. Boo. I know.

At the end of the version I was reading there was a timeline and character list. These would’ve been helpful to have while reading the book, but then I guess it would’ve given too much away? I don’t know. The ending was disappointing because to be honest, there’s not much of an ending. Is there a sequel?

Here’s my problem with the WHOLE book:
The men telling the story (what they know of the story and what they suppose about the story, cos let’s be honest, they just make up a bunch of shit for part of it.) the Compson men and Shreve, Quentin’s college roommate from Canada, the men telling the story HAVE NO STAKES IN THIS STORY. They tell this story over and over, adding shit to it, and they tell it all fevered and manic, like if it doesn’t get told someone’s going to die, and yet, not only is it not their story, it’s not even like, tangentially their story. They get nothing out of it. They aren’t related to it.
ALL of the story? Is none of their damn business in the first place. So I cannot understand why THEY are telling this story.

This is not to say that the story that is being told isn’t a good one, nay, it’s like crazy, out-there good. But it needs to be a Sutpen (or Miss Rosa) telling it. Or maybe one of the people who lived on their land like a slave or share-cropper, whatever. But you know who doesn’t need to be telling the story? Well-to-do white folk who weren’t even there, the closest of which lived 12 miles and a couple decades removed from the story.

Something I noticed while reading the book:
Faulkner really, really likes describing shirtless, young men’s chests. Lovety-loves it.

Also:
I was totally waiting for Quentin and Shreve to make out SO HARD.

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