Wednesday, June 28, 2017

Kill the Boy Band by Goldy Moldavsky


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4 Stars

IT’S MY 100TH REVIEW OF THE YEAR!!!!!


I have totally glossed over every single milestone number before this point, so I’m going to celebrate the monumental occasion of my brain not failing me for once with a review of a huge surprise hit for me.

The story here is about four diehard fans of a band called “The Ruperts” (named so because they all have the first name Rupert, natch). Said band “was formed on the reality show So You Think the British Don’t Have Talent?” If you’re now picturing . . . .



You’re not the only one.

When the girls hear about a Thanksgiving concert, they neeeeeeeeeeeed tickets. Unfortunately, they were all gone within 7 seconds or some such so the girls have to come up with a new plan in order to get close to their future husbands: “We’re getting a room!” Once the boys arrive it will be . . . .



Which will undoubtedly lead to each girl receiving her happily-ever-after with the Rupert of her dreams. Or maybe not . . . .

“What is your plan?”

“To kill the boy band.”


If you’re ancient like me and grew up with darkly humorous teenage tales such as Pump Up the Volume, Heathers and Jawbreaker - Kill the Boy Band might end up being the sleeper of the year for you as well. God this thing was a delight. Even this happening . . . .

i>“The obvious way to go would’ve been the Weekend at Bernie’s route. It’s this movie where two guys pretend that this dead guy, Bernie, is still alive by putting him sunglasses and walking him around with them and stuff.”

Ouch. I’m fucking old. Weekend at Bernie’s just got millennialsplained to me . . . .



I also found out how those screaming banshees are able to maintain their position right in front of the stage for hours on end . . . . .



Watch out NKOTB. The next time I haul my geriatric ass to one of your concerts I’ll be prepared!

Tuesday, June 27, 2017

The Edge of Everything by Jeff Giles


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2 Stars

This book was so disappointing it made me want to kick a kitten! Okay, that’s not true. It actually made me want to go adopt a few since it was “kitten weekend” at the local shelter . . . .



But I’m married to Mr. Poopy Butthole and he ixnayed that suggestion pronto.

The Edge of Everything got put on my radar due to my friend Rachel’s review which stated in the first line that it was “one of the more gruesome young adult novels I've ever come across” – a fairly accurate assessment, but unfortunately that didn’t help increase my enjoyment.

Other than reading the aforementioned review, I went in to this blind. The book opened up right before a blizzard was getting ready to set in with our female lead Zoe trapped at home with her little brother. When the snow really starts coming down and little brother is nowhere to be seen, Zoe is forced to venture out to find him. What she doesn’t expect is to run across a former “friend” of her father. At this point in the story I was like . . . .



And when the character “X” appeared stating he was there to take the bad man’s soul back to the Lowlands for eternity???????



A bounty hunter from hell? Double yes to that please. I also wasn’t sure what kind of world this was going to be. But then . . . . .

“She took a photo to put on Instagram later.”



Soooooo, it’s apparently not a different world and I am stupid. No biggie. I can make an adjustment. Until . . . .

“What did she even know apart from the fact that he radiated loneliness? And that she’d been drawn to him.”

At which point I started to ask myself . . . .



Low and behold my suspicions were confirmed when X stated . . . .

“He knew then that he loved her.”

After A MOTHEREFFING DAY. And then . . .



I wish. Noooooooo, I’m a glutton for punishment so I eyerolled my way through the entire thing wishing I would be granted a quick death in order to end my misery since I was forced to acknowledge that it is official . . . . .



As Zoe would say in all of her infinite wisdom, at this point in time I have no more evens to can’t when it comes to instalove and barfable bullshit when a REALLY SOLID STORY IS TAKING THE BACKBURNER AND BEGGING TO BE TOLD. Seriously. Zoe wasn’t even needed in this godblasted thing. X’s backstory was plenty on its own and he had THE BEST sidekicks in the form of Ripper . . . .

“Unfortunately, one’s children grow distant after they’ve seen one bash a servant’s skull with a teakettle.”

As well as Banger . . . . .

“Were you always this disgusting?” she asked him. “Oh, much, much more so.”

Two stars rather than one simply for those two characters. And of course this is the first in a series . . . . .

Monday, June 26, 2017

The Wangs vs. the World


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2 Stars

I really should have followed the advice of America’s favorite T.V. dad on this one . . . .



I just couldn’t help myself, though. I mean look at that cover. Adorable! And then when I discovered it was about not only one of my favorite things . . . .



But also about a super-rich family who lost all of their money and whose only hope to regain their fortune was by returning to China and laying claim on some old-but-not-forgotten land, I was hoping for something along these lines . . . .



Sadly that wasn’t what I ended up getting.

The Wangs vs. The World had a lot of potential. The patriarch, Charles, had “turned shit (or in this case urea) into two hundred million dollars’ worth of Shinola” by creating a cosmetics empire . . . .



Before losing his ass (and house, cars, jewels, clothes, you name it) due to a bad business decision. When Charles was presented as sort of a stereotype/cardboard cutout of a character, I wasn’t too concerned. I figured the story would focus mainly on his three children. Then I met them . . . .



And the son was even worse! An unfunny want-to-be comedian. #snore

The only saving grace was the stepmother, Barbra . . . .



Ha! I’m kidding. She was super blah too.

It’s a shame this book fell so flat for me, but it did. It’s probably a good practice that any time a publicity statement labels a book as “hilarious” said book actually contain at least some humor. If you’re looking for something over-the-top and funny, pick up Crazy Rich Asians instead. That one was a hoot.

Wednesday, June 21, 2017

Modern Lovers by Emma Straub

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3.5 Stars

My face the entire time I was reading Modern Lovers . . . .


(Aren’t I adorable?)

Let’s just snag a little quotey quote from the book in order to explain what you’re getting into with this one, shall we?

“The novel will be inspired by the tropes of classic love stories such as Romeo and Juliet and Tristan and Isolde, set in modern-day Ditmas Park, Brooklyn, with two neighboring families falling in and out of love simultaneously.”

The families in question are Elizabeth, Andrew and their son Harry, as well as Zoe, Jane and their daughter Ruby. The now middle-aged adults have been friends since college, when they (along with Lydia, rest her soul) became one-hit wonders with a little diddy called “Mistress of Myself.” Lydia’s membership in the 27 Club finds a Hollywood producer requesting the remaining bandmates to sign off on the story. And that’s where our tale begins. Readers quickly discover the much sought after “life rights” are merely a jumping off point in order for us to get involved in the lives of Zoe and Jane, restaurateurs on the brink of divorce – Elizabeth and Andrew, a successful real estate agent and her manboy husband – and Harry and Ruby, former playmates as toddlers – potential sex partners as teens.

This isn’t anything that’s going to change your life, but much like The Vacationers my reaction upon finishing was . . . . .



I have to say, Straub is a master when it comes to making the location be almost like an additional character. Last year she made me dream of vacationing in Mallorca. This year she has me wanting to rob a bank in order to purchase an old house in Brooklyn . . . .



It appears as though Straub has found a formula for her stories. While sometimes this gets tiring or seems kitschy (*cough Dean Koontz and the god blasted dog cough*), her ensemble casts and detailed settings have made my experience with her books two for two. If you’re looking for a summer read, this one might be a winner – especially if you’re like me and are no long allowed to use the waterslide due to last year’s unfortunate incident . . . .



Tuesday, June 20, 2017

Almost Dead by Assaf Gavron

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4 Stars

Eitan Einoch (or “Croc” to his friends) spends his days counting time (literally) at what just might be the most boring office job in the history of the universe in Tel Aviv. Due to incessant nagging requests from his girlfriend, Croc rides a “Little No. 5” (a/k/a minibus) to and from the office each day, believing that any suicide bomber worth his salt wouldn’t waste his chance on 72 awaiting virgins by only blowing up a handful of victims. But then . . . .



Miraculously Croc survives with only a bit more than a headache. Remembering a conversation with a fellow passenger whose hinky meter was going off right before the big ka-boom, Croc decides to track down said passenger’s girlfriend in order to pass on his last words. On the way his car is caught in the crossfire of another targeted bus. Again, Croc proves that . . . .



(Ha! I have a sneaking suspicion Assaf Gavron never imagined a Destiny’s Child reference popping up in a review of his book, but I do what I do.)

And right when things are looking up . . . . .



Croc’s unheard of ability to beat death makes him a bit of a national hero, and that is how we come to meet Fahmi. Fahmi tells of his rise to want-to-be Palestinian suicide bomber from a hospital bed, where he lies in a coma – which made me keep picturing . . . .



*shudder*

The dual narratives rotate throughout the book, leading up to the inevitable moment when the men’s worlds intertwine.

I need to take a moment and give mad props to the ladies and gentlemen at the big (not to be confused with porny) library . . . .



Obviously not much needs to be done in order to get me to read . . . but dangling free stuff in front of me and presenting a list of recommendations to help me “Push My Shelf” has been quite the eye opener. I not only realized why some books (*cough The Red Tent cough*) should have continued to collect dust on my shelf, but I got to read this little gem I would have probably never even stumbled upon if it had not been for this challenge. It proposed some questions people all around the world should be asking themselves . . . .

“They talk about the Muslims, but who dropped two bombs on Japan and killed three hundred thousand?”

And presented some sage advice . . . .

“We need to be strong, not to be cowed. Everyone should get on with their lives. Get on buses. Drive on roads. Drink coffee! Because if we don’t have a normal life, what do we have left? We have to remain human beings. That’s the most important thing. That’s the only thing, I suppose. Because what are we if we’re not human beings? If we lose ourselves, then . . . well, we’ve lost.”

Somehow it managed to do it with a brilliant wit, as well.

Recommended to anyone else who wants to “push their shelf.” The glass is mine, though . . . .



Book # 5. Challenge complete! THE PINT GLASS IS MIIIIIIIINE.

Monday, June 19, 2017

Drunken Fireworks by Stephen King


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3 Stars

I had every intention of reading this on Independence Day. All hail Goldblum . . . .



But when I found myself about to pass out from heat stroke and 15 minutes to spare before my oldest’s baseball game this past weekend I decided to bump this to the forefront in an attempt to keep my brain occupied before it fried inside my skull. 

King begins this tale with a little anecdote about a golden oldie cruising the local grocery in her Hoveround Scooter who stopped him in order to tell him she’s not a fan of horror stories and seeks out stuff like Shawshank Redemption instead . . . . and then proceeded to tell King “no you didn’t” when he pointed out he wrote that one too. King states . . . . 

“You write some scary stories and you’re like the girl who lives in the trailer park on the edge of town: you get a reputation.” 

Basically, if you’re a sissybaby like the Grocery Store Golden Girl, this might be a King story for you.

When I first saw the title for this (courtesy of my pal, Melki), my mind instantly went to . . . . 



Turns out I was a bit off the mark. 

Ever since a combo of Alden’s Dad dropping dead, leaving a pile of loot insurance and Ma hitting it big on a scratch-off lottery ticket, the two have been living high on the hog, spending their evenings watching the lake and sipping on fineries such as “Dirty Hubcaps” while continually being irritated by the “Eye-talians” who reside in a McMansion across the way. It was bad enough listening the fun and frivolity of their weekly barbecues – mainly in the form of one of the Massimo man-boys who liked to accompany any singing by (literally) tooting his horn . . . 

“Someone ought to dip that trumpet in olive oil and stick it up his ass. He could fart out ‘God Bless America.’” 

(If you read that in Shelby’s voice, you’re not the only one.)

But when those [racial slur redacted] tried to one-up Alden and Ma’s 4th of July celebration of black cats and sparklers, it was on like bing bong and the following year (as well as the year after that and the year after that), the feuding families waged an “arms race” like no other . . . . 



This story is strictly for shits and grins. After reading Melki’s review, I think the paper version was probably lacking quite a bit in comparison to the audio. It was still great fun, though. I mean, who doesn’t want to blow the hell out of stuff in order to show their neighbor up on the 4th?????



If you don’t? Well, you probably ain’t very patriotic . . . . 



God bless ‘Murica!

Thursday, June 15, 2017

We Are Never Meeting In Real Life by Samantha Irby


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4 Stars

Let’s just get things out of the way and address the pink elephant in the room. The title of this one alone almost gave me an out of body experience and most definitely had me saying . . . .



Then she added in a homeless-as-fuck looking kitten for the cover art as a bonus and I was sold.

(Have no fear, Samantha Irby, I am far too lazy to actually leave the comfort of my couch in order to stalk you properly. It shall strictly be via the intertubes.)

Several years ago I had a bit of what you might call an addiction to the blogosphere. It started with The Bloggess and other “mommy blogs” like People I Want To Punch In The Throat and several more I can’t remember the name of now and also Hyperbole and a Half and I Can Has Cheezburger (because DUH) and Shit My Dad Says and Damn You Autocorrect and Texts From Last Night and Texts from Bennett and Parents Shouldn’t Text and one about what a dog’s texts would say and on and on and on.

Now I know this might seem insane to you guys, but I’m actually pretty fucking good at what I do for a living. And if you think I read fast? Well, you should see how quickly I can draft and filing a pleading or create a closing binder. Like a boss, yo. Long story long, with an entire universe of fellow weirdos right at my fingertips and zero desire to interact with actual, real-life humans - like EVER – the rabbit hole became harder and harder to pull myself out of once I got in and I knew I could end up getting fired if I let myself go there at work. Then Jenny Lawson wrote a seriously disappointing second book that made me realize our pretend friendship probably wouldn’t work out so well after all and the entire imaginary bubble burst so I quit blogs pretty much cold turkey (and began to focus on memes and gifs – lucky you). All this is being disclosed to let you know I had never heard of Samanthy Irby before seeing this title so I can provide zero insight as to whether this is fresh material or simply “upcycled” content from Bitches Gotta Eat that has been repackaged with a mangy cat on the front.

As soon as I saw this thing (somewhere at some time ‘cause y’all know my momma must have dropped me on my head a time or twelve since I cannot remember shit), I ran straight to NetGalley in order to get a copy. Then I noticed the publication date had already passed and forced politely requested the porny library order a copy. Which they did (probably because they’re scared of me by now, but whatever it takes, right?). Oh and NetGalley? You can go ahead and decline me. You know you want to and since I managed to land a copy already there’s no need to keep pretending you’re not going to . . . .



Good news is, since this wasn’t an ARC I’m allowed to quote it. And quote it I must because you need to know if your big girl panties are actually large enough to handle what Ms. Irby is about to throw at you – a/k/a I’m pretty sure you probably need to be at least 72% asshole to truly find her relatable. Lucky for me I’m 97.4% asshole so she was my lobster.

Shall we start with the sewer rat looking mah fah with the yellow backdrop? That’s Helen Keller. Irby was forced to take her in as a roommate when a co-worker brought her crusty eyeballed self in to the animal clinic for saving and they couldn’t force her on anyone else with a clear conscience . . . .

“Could you imagine if Helen was your boyfriend? You’d wake up at five thirty in the morning for work, tiptoe around so you don’t wake up His Highness, stub your toe in the dark multiple times while hastily dressing in clothes that you won’t realize don’t go together until you’re out in daylight waiting for the bus, and spend twelve hours slaving under a brutish dictator, only to come home and find that your companion is lying in the exact spot in which you left him. Except now that the sun is up, you see that his stinky body is curled around that sweater so new you haven’t even had a chance to take the tags off yet. And then what does he do? Get up to greet you with a kiss and a shoulder rub? No, that animal yawns in your face before taking a shit with the door open and asking how soon you can get dinner ready.”

And then she wrote literally an experience I have at least weekly with someone I work with . . .

“Joanna . . . asked me the other day to give her the name of a good book I’d read recently, and . . . I stood in front of her for, like, three real minutes cycling through every book I’ve rated on Goodreads in the last three months trying to determine which one would be the most impressive. I just stood there with my ears on fire wondering if I should just say A Little Life because no one would think you were dumb if you made it all the way through a seven-hundred-plus-page book. And I didn’t; I did not make it through that book, because a quarter of the way in, this other book about teenagers in love that I wanted to read came out, so I abandoned the smart shit to spend an afternoon sobbing over a story about children.”

Not to mention how she once had to pay twenty-seven dollars IN ONE DAY to the swear jar her boss put on her desk (please boss, don’t ever do this, I can’t afford it), or how she spent her formative years waiting for the moment Drake would get up out of that wheelchair on Degrassi and come for her, or that she’d rather be dead than hot in the summer, or that she knows not only all of the cast members of The Real Housewives of Atlanta (past and present), but also all of their children, pets and significant others by name, or when buying a garment for the pool she’d like to request to “see your most opaque turtleneckini and your finest ankle-length swim bloomers,” and admits to having things called “outside pajamas” . . . .



And then she told a diarrhea on the side of the road story . . . . .



That was the moment my husband and manchild “shushed” me because I was making it hard for them to concentrate on the ever-so-important MLB draft because apparently we’re getting a cut out of the signing bonuses this year or something?????

Maybe the most amazing thing of all is how Irby was able to mix in some real talk and serious subject matter and still keep it light (excluding one thing which I am TOTALLY going to spoil below so you don’t go in unprepared like me). She didn’t shy away from sharing about her abusive upbringing and a run-in with a pervy weirdo, her sexuality, medical problems, etc., but never in a “please pity me” way. She even offered some real truth big gals need to hear right now in case they think they aren’t allowed to have any self-worth just because they’re fat. Simply put, Samantha Irby wrote something amazing. I’ll definitely be picking up her first book Meaty sometime.

Now for the spoilsies. The goddamn cat died . . . . .



If you’re a fan, this is probably old news, but it wasn’t to me and even though Irby tried to keep it light, I still ended up looking like this at bedtime . . . .



None of y’all need to go through that.

Wednesday, June 14, 2017

The Hot Shot by Kristen Callihan


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4 Stars


Good golly, Miss Molly, I am seriously behind in reviewing. I read this sucker nearly a month ago. When I went to check what kind of notes I had left for myself regarding this one I found the following:

“Finn is so perfect he’ll make your crotch catch on fire.”



The eloquence. It just pours right out of me, don’t it?

As you can see from the placeholder “review,” The Hot Shot ended up being a surprise little bonus from the porny librarian even though it wasn’t available in Kindle format. I originally thought I’d finally force my company into fixing the glitch which is the status of my employment by reading it on my computer monitor during my lunch hour . . . . .



But thanks to the kindness of a stranger (who is now my bestie for the restie whether she likes it or not), I was informed . . . .



And I could, in fact, read pornographic ePubs using Overdrive on the Kindle and keep my dirty little secret away from the prying eyes of Big Brother. The only downsides to this feature were the tiny font which made me all up on the screen like a real perv due to old lady eyeballs that don’t see so great and no highlighting available. To make matters worse, although I attempted a game of beat the clock, this sucker disappeared before I had a chance to double-check my bookmarked pages. Long story long, you’re going to have to take my word (*cough expert opinion cough*) on this one.

The story here is about a photographer named Chess(ter) Copper(pot) . . . . .



(Quite possibly the worst of the endless list of terrible character names, but at least it made me chuckle.)

Chess has been hired to take some “artsy” (Ha!) pics of the local football team for a charity calendar where they go the Full Monty . . . .



It’s impossible to deny Finn is quite the male specimen – however, Chess is nothing but a professional and even though her ladygarden is hinting it could use some watering from the ginormous gardenhose Finn is hauling around in his jockstrap, the two wrap up the photo shoot and part ways. But there wouldn’t be a story if it ended there, so of course they run into each other like 47 seconds later at a bar while Chess is on a date with no potential and Finn is channeling his inner Kylie Minogue by whining to his homedog about how he can’t get Chess out of his head . . . .



The only problem? Finn is kind of damaged goods and is not interested in a relationship. Good news is, he’s not interested in a wham bam thanky mam with Chess either so he proposes the two become friends – which they do. When Chess finds herself homeless due to a . . . . .



Finn offers her a place to stay. And eventually the inevitable happens and they make many of the sexuals which had me . . . . .



It was a veritable Seussical romp with these two. They could do it in a bed, but first she might just give him head. They could do it against the wall, and even in the SHOWER STALL. Hygiene is of the most importance, yo.

If you’re like me, you have failed at reading romance after romance complaining about how . . . .



The Hot Shot might be a winner for you. While there is some angst, it’s not crybaby bullshit and best of all WHEN THESE TWO HAVE A PROBLEM THEY TALK ABOUT IT. Like immediately. They don’t run away from things or make a mountain out of a molehill. It was so refreshing. Although the first book in this series wasn’t a big winner for me (because stupid female lead and drama llama), I’m so glad I gave it another shot. If the porny librarian can provide me a hook up, I’ll probably even read another : )

ORIGINAL “REVIEW”:

I just discovered that when a book is only available as an "ePub" (meaning not Kindle friendly) from the library's Overdrive site, there's an option to read it directly on your computer. Today is probably the day I will officially be fired from my job . . . . .