Now that I live in Wyoming, the youtube ads that play before my video have a dark and scary message.
Gone are the commercials enticing me to buy shiny, new and improved stuff.
Now I am treated to this:
Hooray! I wanted watch a funny cat video and now I have images of meth-addled youths in my brain. I can see it now, kids across Wyoming: "Mommy what's a hustler?" These disturbing videos were created by the director of Requiem for a Dream, Black Swan, etc. Like Requiem for a Dream wasn't the best advertising to never do drugs; I have to see some girl slit her wrists before I can enjoy the breathy falsetto of Kay Perry.
Population of Wyoming, get off the meth! I don't want to see these ads anymore!
As this year is drawing to a close I pause to dwell on all I learned, saw, tasted, experienced, listened to and read. My brain was transported to far-away vistas by the likes of Clive Barker, Neil Gaimen, Rick Ridoran, Joyce Carol Oates, Phillip Pullman, Sherman Alexie, Roddy Doyle, Jeffrey Eugenides, Colm Toibin, Edna O'Brian, Francesca Lia Block, and many more besides. But instead of detailing the good books I read I wanted to talk about the absolute worst.
Shatter Me,by Tahereh Mafi is by far the most atrocious book of 2011. The book is a sappy, over the top romance, thinly disguised as a dystopian novel. "We" have done "something" to the earth and now the "Reestablishment" rules the world.
The main character, Juliette, is amary-suecharacter suffering from, what I like to call, "Bella Swan Syndrome." She is a special snowflake who doesn't know she's gorgeous, she is a whiny do-nothing, she constantly complains, and all the boys love her. I won't dwell much on the "plot" because I don't want to ruin the book. Instead I will focus on the literary shortcomings. Mafi uses inappropriate passive voice. The punctuation in the book is inconsistent. It is littered with fragment sentences. She also uses a nauseating amount of strikethrough.
Clearly the writing of a sane person.
Mafi's metaphors are both unintelligible and long winded, "I'm dripping red paint on the carpet." What does that mean? Also, instead of describing a character as black, Mafi says they have "chocolate" features.
The author personifies every inanimate object within reach. And Juliette, who narrates, uses a boatload of similes to describe herself.
At one time or another Juliette's body parts are: a lump of nonsense, a crepe, a reptile, a maze of impossibility, a handful of hot butter, a race horse, mush, a Venus fly trap, chips of ice, windows, a whisper that never was, a shaky pen, a water balloon, and a piece of pavement being trampled to death.
Now, here are the worst, least literary lines from the "book."
"There aren't as many trees as there were before, is what the scientists say."
"I am a raindrop. My parents emptied their pocket of me and left me to evaporate on a concrete slab."
"These words are my vomit. This shaky pen is my esophagus. This sheet of paper is my porcelain bowl."
"I wish I could stuff my mouth full of raindrops."
"I think you look rather lovely with all your body parts intact."
"His lips are two pieces of frustration pressed together."
"The dining room is big enough to feed thousands of orphans."
"I want to bury my tears in a bucket of regret."
"The sun is...redirecting its warmth in our general direction."
"His gaze is...two buckets of river water at midnight. I'd like to cry into his eyes."
"He's more wrong than an upside-down rainbow."
"I'm blushing through my bones."
"Truth is a jealous, vicious mistress that never, ever sleeps, is what I don't tell him."
"I realize I'm paying attention to nothing but the dandelions blowing wishes in my lungs."
"He's accompanied by no one."
If you, like me, enjoy reading terrible books to mock the terrible writing; Shatter Me can be purchasedhere.
I really recommend the book if you like overwrought metaphors, no character development and hot teens! Also this will be the first in a series and the movie rights were purchased by Fox. Soon I'll be able to bash this story across platforms!
Anyone who has met more than 5 time will undoubtoudly surmise that I am not particularly feminine. I don't wear makeup often, no jewelry, skirts are unlikely. I burp shamelessly, and I only shave up to my knees. I am no master of the feminine arts. I can mess up toast. I allow gravy to boil over. I add a tablespoon instead of a teaspoon. I could go on.
That's supposed to be fruit salad.
This Christmas I am at my sister's house. Since she works hard all week I decided that I would help by making some food for our holiday dinner. And damn did I deliver!
This pastry-wrapped brie ball took literally minutes to make!
I dug deep within myself and summoned up all the repressed knowledge gained from those lazy hours watching the food network. Somehow I made some halfway decent sides to go along with my brother-in-law's superb prime rib.
Yes pigs-in-blanket take ten minutes to make, yes ranch baked oyster crackers aren't souffles.Yes my carrots were a bit burned on the bottom and my greens a little wilted but all in all it was a unbutton-the-top-button-of-your-jeans rip-roaring good time.
Maybe I summoned the power of baby Jesus. I sure hope father time helps me pull off a new year's feast.
My sister doesn't want to be a helicopter parent. She has a lot of love in her. In this modern world it's tough to let your little one spread their tiny wings.
She couldn't bear to be away from her beloved child so she co-slept for several months. I'm conflicted about this. M is too young to know this is on her (she hasn't worn it yet since I've been here), and the monkey backpack is really cute.
Well this is fashion forward.
I want to go walking with M to see if I get any comments, either pro or con, from concerned parents. It seems like a good way to give your toddler freedom without letting them toddle into danger.
As I mentioned before; my sister's dog is the devil. She is a miniature hound of hell. Currently, she is in the dog house, if you will, for attempting to escape the comforts of this apartment. She sprinted for the mountains; disrupting the Christmas peace that had descended not five minutes previous.
This is the second time this mongrel has attempted a holiday escape. Two years ago, to the day, she absconded in below zero weather. She must be craving some attention.
I'll show her how to set up a blog; that'll fix her right up.
This is Lyla. She is evil incarnate. I thought those meddlesome cats were trouble; I was wrong. This smelly fluff ball is determined to make my life a pain. Her breath smells like a dead raccoon. She wipes her snotty nose on my pants. She has to go out every 5 minutes. She's yappy as all get out. She bites the baby. She follows me everywhere which causes me to trip over her hairy torso. She is dim and crossed-eyed. She makes me sneeze.....She's watching me right now.....