Thursday, October 29, 2015

Rotting Dead F*cks by Matt Shaw

22444473
4 Stars
 
"When Hell is full, the dead shall walk the Earth. I’m pretty sure it’s a quote from the Bible. Maybe not word for word, but something similar. And if not then it is definitely a quote from a George A. Romero film and - right now – those films should be our new Bible.”

You might think Rotting Dead F*cks to be yet another standard zombie fare. Things in the world were going along swimmingly when . . .

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Zombie apocalypse. Per usual there’s no explanation why. Poop simply hit the fan. This is the story of several non-brain-nommers and their efforts to keep said brains un-nommed during the immediate aftermath of the zombie breakout. Of course, since this is a Matt Shaw story it takes things to a totally new level of discomfort. What begins with . . .

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Quickly morphs into . . .

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and then . . .

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(Just replace that newspaper with a Kindle.)

Thar be triggers. Consider yourself warned.

If you can stomach the really-not-okay parts of the storyline, you’ll find yourself reading a real adrenaline rush of a novella. I read pretty fast, but this one left me cursing myself because there was no way for me to go faster, leaving me hyperventilating and nothing but a bundle of nerves ready to lash out at anyone who dared pull me away from my reading trance.

Good thing Shaw knows to keep his stuff short. He also continues to impress me with his horrifying brand of debauchery. Mitchell has already requested my assistance in making friendship bracelets for them to share . . .

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Probably a good thing you live across the pond, Mr. Shaw. Just sayin’

Tuesday, October 27, 2015

Last Days by Adam Nevill

15793201
3 Stars
 
“What happened was inevitable. Cops in LA saw it before with old Charlie Manson. Cops someplace else will see it again. You don’t need no FBI or profiler to tell you different. They left the road, son, and they got chewed up.”

Well, shit.

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Do you like a real slow burner of a book on cold days (kind of like the equivalent of a savory crockpot meal)? Yeah, apparently everyone else but me does too. What can I say? I have a short attention span and demand instant gratification.

Documentary filmmaker Kyle Freeman is down on his luck. He’s robbed Peter to pay Paul on his last couple of films and is in serious debt when a billionaire producer comes waiving hundreds of thousands in his face. His assignment? Document the history of the Temple of the Last Days and obtain evidence on film that the paranormal activity rumored to surround the group is more than just a myth.

So what exactly is the Temple of the Last Days? Shelby said it made her think of a coven. My good Catholic upbringing made me think of the lovely nuns who taught kids like me so selflessly . . .

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In reality? The Temple of the Last Days was a cult ran by a twisted psycho. Kind of like if this guy . . .

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and this guy . . .

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No, the other Jim Jones. You know, the guy whose followers all drank his Kool-Aid – kinda like what Shelby makes all of us loyal followers do here on GR ; )

Last Days started out being all about free love and damning the man and wild trips hippie style. But when Sister Katherine reached Thetan Level 7 things got a little f’d up. Kinda like what will happen when Tom Cruise rules the world. All hail Xenu . . .

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Kyle takes the project thinking it will be the easiest hundo thou he’s ever made – but it doesn’t take long before things start getting more than a bit sketchy. Unexplained deaths, possible apparitions, out-of-body experiences, and dog/squealing pig sounds? Y’all KNOW ain’t nothing good comes out of some squealing pig sounds . . .

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EVERYONE loved this book. We’re talking Shelby and Sha and Eleven and Kimberly and Bill and Paul and a different Paul. I mean these are people who DIG horror stories and are experienced with reading things of the terrifying variety. When they said this was scary, I was expecting S.C.A.R.Y. . . .

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(SIDENOTE: A majority teeny little part of me wishes my kids were little enough I could traumatize them for life with this snapchat app. Best cause for therapy ever.)

I don’t know what happened. Well, yeah I do. I read it wrong. Duh. But I refuse to take any accountability so I’m going to blame it on the timeframe – “six locations in three countries in eleven days.” This book should have been like taking a spin in an Indy car. Instead, it was like taking a spin with Ricky Bobby after his little breakdown . . .

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However, with that begin said Last Days was pretty much what I hoped Night Film would be – just a titch spookier. No pointers on how to wrap your brain around my logic – just know that I didn’t like Night Film and I liked this one just aiiiiight compared to everyone else.
*shrug*

Friday, October 23, 2015

Die Dog or Eat the Hatchet by Adam Howe

27073484
5 Stars
 
Die Dog or Eat the Hatchet is a collection of three novellas. I’ll be *cough* “reviewing” *cough* each separately. As always, this is giffed to the max so read at the risk of burning all your data in one go.

DAMN DIRTY APES

“The greatest trick the skunk ape ever pulled was convincing the world that he doesn’t exist.”

Reggie Levine used to be a hot shit prizefighter – that is until he came across one Boar Hog Brannon. (Mitchell has been impossible to live with since reading those words. No, Mitchell, we aren’t giving this an automatic 5 Star. DO. NOT. ASK. AGAIN.)

Anyway, old Reg retired his boxing gloves and retired his ass to a permanent spot at the local uhhhhhhh, “watering hole” . . . .

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It’s there Reggie drinks his breakfast, lunch, and dinner and serves as a bouncer for the proprietor, Old Walt . . .

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Sidenote: I’m just gonna go ahead and leave the following here for me to come back later when I need some “inspiration” . . . .

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When a couple of locals decide to delve in to the world of adult film . . .

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Nope. I’m talking about some fetish porn in the form of a dude wearing a mascot costume that smelled like a fart in an elevator. It’s right before the big finish *wink wink* when the movie crew finds themselves abruptly interrupted by a surprise guest . . . .

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(Can’t tell which is Bigfoot and which is Clay Matthews.)

Anyway, I digress. With the starring male now MIA and a local Skunk Ape hunter hot on the trail, Reggie finds himself recruited to save the day.

This was a ton of fun. Action-packed and filled with humor. 17 Stars from Mitchell, but 3.5 for me since I knew where it was going the whole time. I don’t post spoilers, but if you follow my reviews enough you’ll notice I have a fondness for certain reoccurring characters (not Goldblum this time Jeff, so STFU). That's not to say I still didn't have a superfuntime : )

DIE DOG OR EAT THE HATCHET

Y’all ready for this?????

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So much ewwwwww. Me likey.

Die Dog or Eat the Hatchet is a charming little tale of Terrence Hingle a/k/a “The Sorority Slayer.” Terrence found himself residing in the nuthouse after an . . . “encounter” with five members of Kappa Pi . . . .

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(Note to all men: Yes. This is exactly what women do whenever we get together.)

After biding his time Terrence makes his grand escape. Things are going along swimmingly until he makes a stop for gas and meets brothers Dwight and Dwayne . . .

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Terrence finds that despite all his rage, he is still just a rat in a cage.

This book is seriously f’d up. It gets a billion stars from both Mitchell and me. Now, if you’ll excuse me . . .

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GATOR BAIT

“’It’s a delicate operation I’m running here. Any man rocks the boat, he’s going overboard.’
Or below deck, I thought.”


An . . . uhhhhhhh unfortunate incident . . .

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forced our MC to hightail it out of the city with no money to his name and minus a couple of fingers to boot. Ending up in a “backwater tonk in the willywags” it’s soon discovered that he can play a right fine pianey which earns him a job and the moniker “Smitty Three Fingers.”

Home of some world famous hooch and bare-it-all coochie gals, The Grinnin’ Gator is quite the destination. Smitty discovers he’s landed himself a pretty sweet gig. He has a roof over his head, is earning pert near city dollars even though he’s back in the stix, and he’s been lucky enough to stay on the owner’s good side so he’s not too worried about a close encounter with the resident badass, Big George . . .

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Everything will remain gravy as long as he remembers he has “sworn off dames for life” . . . .

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When I saw the title Gator Bait my mind immediately went in one direction . . .

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Which, of course, morphed into something else . . .

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Which led to . . . .

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Which is pretty much the same as saying . . .

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or #sploosh since I don’t have a peen and all that.

Even though I bought it awhile back, I finally heard enough to get off my dumper and read the dang thing. At under 100 pages I really have zero excuse for being tardy to this party. If you’re a fan of the ewwwww as well as some seriously developed characters and story all wrapped up in a tight little bundle, this one’s for you. And the noir tone? Yummmmmmmm. Just like icing on the cake. Unfortunately Mitchell came across this quote . . .

“Big George’s diet consisted mostly of chickens and rabbits . . . and once a PRIZED BOAR HOG . . . “

So he was out. He also demanded that I give it 1 Star, but I just shoved a sock in his mouth and found a replacement buddy to finish the read with me . . .

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Frank Engator says 7 Stars (he’s new at this reviewing stuff and how the Goodreads rating system works) so we have to cap it at 5. He also sympathizes with ol’ Smitty and his lack of digits since he suffers the same affliction. Should’ve kept your damn paws out of the honey pot, Frank!

This ARC was provided to me by the author after he saw my review of Gator Bait (a story which I PAID FOR, thank you very little). Adam Howe writes stuff I want to read. It doesn’t matter if we’re “friendly” on Goodreads – it’s hard to find someone who writes stories that are simultaneously twisted and yet oh-so-very-entertaining. He also delivers novellas of the perfect length with just enough mindf*ckery to keep me on the edge of my seat, but not enough to make me run away from them screaming.

Thursday, October 22, 2015

Sweetbreads and Sweet Nothings by Evelyn Esrig

27179299
3.5 Stars
 
“What is it they say? You never forget your first love.”

Soooooooooooooooooooooooooooo, this book blurb started spreading around the Goodreadsphere earlier this week. It became crystal clear there were only two camps – on one side of the room sat the normies who didn’t want anything to do with it and on the other side . . . .

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Yeah, all of us freaks pre-ordered this sum bitch en masse.

For me I’ll admit as soon as I saw the title I may have let out a bit of a squee and offered up a tiny prayer to whatever freaky book god would deliver me a book about Sweetbreads and Sweet Nothings. When the blurb confirmed this story would be about cannibalism Mitchell practically knocked me out of the way to get it pre-ordered. We were both expecting something very particular in this “romance” . . . .

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Mitchell was less-than-thrilled when it turned out there was less ewww in the form of the nomnomnom and more ewww in the form of the fact that it seemed like we were reading the equivalent of a Sam Smith record playing on an endless loop . . .

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Now, if you are of the weak-stomached variety, you’ll probably still barf. However, if you’re like me (a/k/a totally normal) you’ll look past the potential gross-out factor and see this novella for what it is – how to find closure and move on with your life after you’ve lost a partner. Imagine if you could sit across the table from someone you loved who decided to take his own life . . . or if you could speak to cancer or heart disease or whatever else took your love away. If you could release all of your hatred, if you could be provided an explanation of why, if you could find peace. This story is obviously not for everyone and it’s most definitely not perfect (probably around 3 Stars as far as writing/character development/etc. and negative 1,000 Stars for that fug cover), but I’m giving it 3.5 Stars for originality and for the fact that I thought I was just reading something for a cheap October thrill and ended up experiencing something much deeper.

Okay, the review portion is over – now I’m going to hop on my soapbox for a second. This week I’ve seen lots of posts (about this and another story) saying “this is subject matter that should NEVER be written about” or “shame on the author.” Everyone has the right to opt not to read a book, to 1 Star it because you hated it, to rage review it because you found it offensive – but be careful throwing around those “NEVERS.” You may regret it someday if you find your right to speak freely taken away . . .

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Alright, stepping of soapbox. Now on to the mad props for all my homies who jumped right into the fire with me on this one . . .

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Rosa, really and Wart and Susan and JaHy and Shelby. You guys are all hilarious psychos and I love being friends with you on Goodreads.

ORIGINAL "REVIEW":

That awkward moment when none of your friends want to read a book because of the disturbing blurb which is the reason you want to read the book . . .

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Wednesday, October 21, 2015

NIght of the Living Deadpool by Cullen Bunn - illustrations by Ramon Rosanas

18478261
5 Stars
“The world will end . . . not with a bang but with a whimper. The painful truth of the matter is a little different, though, ain’t it? Because the fact of the matter is that the world keeps on keeping on. We just ain’t in charge any more.”

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Yep, that definitely seems to be the case for the old Merc with the Mouth when he wakes up from one seriously wicked food coma . . .

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Turns out while he was sleeping it off, the entire world was overran by the undead. Sure, there might have been a few warning signs of what was to come, but Deadpool had his priorities straight – like flipping the channel during the boring news and catching a marathon of the best television show ever created on T.V. Land instead . . .

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Now Deadpool is the only superhero alive, and it’s up to him to save humankind . . . with fart jokes. I keeeeed – well, sorta. Along the way Deadpool will cross paths with various people and deal with . . .

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Yes, Rick. And stuff too. We’ll also FINALLY learn how the zombie apocalypse came about in the first place . . .

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And watch as the action builds to a crescendo . . . .

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(That was supposed to be a “Blaze of Glory” gif – but it turns out I like this song better so if you don’t like it SUCK IT!)

I hate to admit when someone like Jeff is right, but since it’s only happened once so far in our friendship I’ll go ahead and give him credit. Deadpool is the bomb dot com and gets all the stars. Dear Deapool . . .

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Tuesday, October 20, 2015

Dear Asshole - 101 Tear-Out Letters to the Morons Who Muck Up Your Life by Jillian Madison and Michelle Madison

10227996
1 Star
 
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If there’s one thing every person on the planet has in common, it’s that we’ve all had to deal with an asshole at some point. When I saw this little beauty available on the clearance shelves at my local Half Price Books for a measly buck I snatched it right up. I mean I work for attorneys for Jeebus’ sake – I figured I could probably use at least 100 out of the 101 tear-out letters confronting a-holes about their a-holery. Unfortunately, things didn’t quite go as planned.

While the idea behind this book was great, the delivery left much to be desired. When writing a funny book, it always helps to be – ya know FUNNY. This book served as a reminder why so many people think women can’t be comedians. Rather than unleashing hilarious or snark-filled rants to assholes, the sense of entitlement and low blows about weight/money/fashion made it pretty clear they were written by the asshole.

I’m all for leaving a note to the “Dear Asshole Who Didn’t Flush the Toilet” (a/k/a my children), or the Dear Asshole Who Keeps Pushing the Snooze Button” (a/k/a my husband), as well as the “Dear Asshole Sports Fanatic” (a/k/a my husband and children), and I’m sure he’d be interested in leaving me a “Dear Asshole Backseat Driver” note in return. But when everything from someone having the nerve to sing along at a concert to a person who stole a pen is deserving of a bitchout????? Homegirls need to do one of two things. Either . . .

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or . . .

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Not to mention some of the bass-ackwardest rants. You do realize the person in front of you ordering 8 coffees is most likely an intern (i.e., indentured servant) and would much prefer sitting in his/her cubicle playing Candy Crush instead of retrieving assorted half caffs and soy lattes, right? The person who actually deserves to get a note (or preferably a kick to the crotch) is this guy . . .

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You should also realize that some graffiti “artists” (quotes on you) you rage about have been commissioned to beautify the urban core . . . .

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And while most of us have been victims of a bad haircut or had our nasal passages nearly burned out by the person who wears too much body spray, if you are making notations about how much time someone spends “spam refreshing” your blog, YOU are most definitely the asshole – not them.

Oh, and another thing. You’re not allowed to complain about how unfair your ice cream shop experience was unless you are like me and when you get home this happens . . .

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Can I write a Dear Asshole letter to my actual asshole??????

If you’re looking for a similar idea with a much better execution, give Passive Aggressive Notes: Painfully Polite and Hilariously Hostile Writings a try. And if you find yourself regularly annoyed by people who don’t know how to park, do what I did and have some of these printed out . . . .

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It may save you from needing carpal tunnel surgery.