Halloween is getting closer with each passing day and I’m so excited about it that I’ve literally been living off of pumpkin pie and bite-sized candy for the last week.
…I don’t feel good.
So, while I try to maintain a normal blood-sugar level, it’s time for another #Blogoween post!
What is Blogoween, you ask? Well, I’ll damn-well tell you. It’s a month-long celebration of Halloween on your blog with daily prompts and different levels of post commitment. Find out how to sign up for the Blogoween event here. And a list of all the prompts is here.
Today’s prompt was local haunted hot spots. Turns out that my area isn’t exactly hopping with good ghost stories, from what I can google/gather, so I decided to take the prompt and turn into something a little bit more suited for Booknerd Wednesday.
Today we’re going to check out some of the most haunted libraries around the world!
Whether you believe in ghosts or not is completely irrelevant. We’re not here to discuss the merits of life after death. Although I will say, once people start reporting ghosts whispering “it’s Britney, bitch,” and “what’s the wifi password?” I might give a little bit more credence to the idea.
Right now, it seems like every ghost is wearing civil war uniforms and women are in bonnets, bemoaning a lost husband. Where are all the modern ghosts in trucker hats and flared jeans haunting a Starbucks? Where are my feminist ghosts at?
Yes, yes, y’all! It’s TBT time! Clueless and knee-highs, discmans and guys with hoop earrings…and the Foo Fighters singing this week’s throwback jam!
Yes, make me feel eleven again!
I have loved the Foo Fighters since the first moment I saw this video on Much Music in 1996. And today I get to fulfill a bucket list item of seeing them live in concert. Me and the husband have a date tonight in Toronto to see the Foo Fighters at the Rogers Stadium. I can’t even fully explain what it means to me to be doing this, so I won’t even try.
Just know that Dave Grohl is my one and only god. I literally have a picture of him framed on my wall in my living room. Not a poster. No. This is art. Framed art of Dave Grohl.
I love him. And I also love books (talk about a segue.) Here’s a look at books I’ve read and still love, and at books that have been on my TBR for a while but still get me hyped.
Main Character: PTSD and inappropriate work places romance.
Plot Twisty-ness: Given away in the synopsis, because I guess why the hell not?
This was pretty enjoyable, I have to say. For a debut in a series, it hit mostly all the right notes. But at the same time, it was missing aspects that I look for to really make a procedural more than just the typical.
The story boils down to an abandoned baby, a woman who’s been missing for four years (who is the mother of that baby,) and one seasoned, but borderline PTSD, detective on the case.
You hear all of that and you think, yes gimme! It sounds like the perfect recipe. But I’m left feeling a little bit like Gordon Ramsey on Master Chef when someone brings up a beautiful looking dish and he tastes it, gets a funny look on his face and says: “It looks fantastic, but where’s the seasoning? Did you salt the fucking chicken?”
Carla Kovach forgot to salt the fucking chicken on this one.
I’m coming down off of the Canada Day long weekend. For those among us that don’t know what Canada Day is, it’s our goddamn birthday! July 1st! HOW DARE YOU NOT SEND US A CARD!
It currently feels like there is nothing worse than going back to work after a long weekend. I’m exhausted even though I did literally the bare minimum for three days straight. To top it off, it’s been hotter than Satan’s taint outside. A heat warning has been in effect for a literal week. My dog is getting cabin fever because he can’t play outside longer than ten minutes without risking heat stroke. Same applies to my husband, honestly.
Climate change is going to kill us all, but first it’s making me sweat and I don’t like it.
I behaved like a vampire all weekend. Blinds drawn to create total darkness, keeping the homicidal sun away from my fair skin. The AC blasting, keeping me cool and fresh like a corpse in a morgue. And when my husband tried to touch me with his hotter-than-normal body, I burst into a hundred bats and flew away.
I was really hoping this was going to be sweaty, atmospheric summer thriller. But I only got 1 out of 2 from that list.
Depending on what’s important to you – the atmosphere or the thrills – you’re either going to love this or not.
Immediately upon starting this, I got a Revenge meets Gossip Girl meets Riverdale vibe. It’s got that spoiled teens with no adult supervision in the Hamptons thing going on.
It’s very rich versus poor. The pool owners and the pool cleaners. The Haves and the Have-nots.
The novel opens with a bang, so to speak, when the Haves suffer a tragedy the year prior – the Garrison estate goes up in flames, killing four members of the family. The only survivor is their teenage son, Tristan. The town is straight shooketh, casting blame and suspicion on the members of the Have Nots, because of course, the poor people want to kill the “elites.” Right, ‘Murica?
Back when it was originally airing, I watched Dexter religiously. If you didn’t love that show I question your taste on literally everything.
Now, a depressing number of years later, I’m re-watching the series, introducing it to my husband who had never heard of it. He was so very sheltered before me, you guys. I can’t even explain it without things getting weird. Keywords: Christian & cult.
Anyhooters…on one of the last episodes we watched Doakes is trying to make a break from the cabin where Dexter has him held captive – (it’s been literally five years since the series finale, you don’t get spoiler warnings anymore!) – and when he breaks free, he’s lost in the Florida Everglades where he stumbles upon a hungry alligator.
It got me thinking, what better way to get rid of a body in that area than feeding it to an alligator? That’s got to have been done before right?!
In doing some research for this weekend TCT post, I stumbled upon this fucked up story about a spring break gone terribly wrong, and an alligator pit.
For the record, these things are actual fucking dinosaurs, and that’s scary as hell.
Main Character: Way too focussed on the tingles in her hoo-ha
Plot Twisty-ness: A disconnected jumping of the shark
This book was super frustrating for me because it has the bones of something that could have been really, really good. But the execution was off; the focus was not on the right things so choices in the plot felt clunky, and out of place.
Set in New Orleans, I was desperately seeking to be overwhelmed with that atmosphere. To feel the weather, to hear the culture, to have the architectural city streets at the forefront of the scene creation. But it never came. The author brought in some Voodoo elements, but it didn’t fit with the rest of the book. Either go full New Orleans – dark and magical and historic – a Skeleton Key tone. Or follow the erotic, police procedural lane that 75% of the book was in – a Double Jeopardy tone. The two didn’t mesh well.
Honestly, I would have totally preferred a dark and magical New Orleans thriller, with voodoo and a sexually deviant serial killer. Like I said, the bones were there and it should have hit the gas in that lane instead of coasting in and out of the lines.
It just never came together the way it should. It didn’t feel like it knew what it wanted to be, hence the “clunky”.
I like the idea of this tag because I function from honesty always….but also because it reminds me of being on MySpace in the early 2000s. #emo
If you are familiar with my reviews or general things I write around here, it’s not going to come as a surprise to you that I can be very straightforward with my opinions and thoughts. And in the spirit of my honest principle (different from the pleasure principle) I’m going to be straight with you: This tag is lonnnggggg.
And it will only be interesting to you, if you a) want to know more about me to better stalk me via the internet, or b) think I’m funny and want to see what crazy shit comes out of my mouth.
I’ll try to keep my answers short and bitter sweet so it doesn’t take you as long to read as it did for me to write it.
Summer officially started last week! Do you feel it – the unbearable heat? Do you hear it – the sound of mosquitos eating me alive. Aw, summer.
The stepkid – hereby referred to as “15” for the purposes of my blog – had her last exam and is leaving on Saturday for an extended visitation with Crazy Pants, the bio-mom.
…and to me that means FREEDOM!
*slowly starts to paint face blue*
I whine sometimes, but being a stepmom is really not that bad compared to some of the horror stories I’ve heard in my support group. (It’s still a hard thing to do, hence the support group.) But, the kid is pretty clean and polite and doesn’t think I’m an evil twat, so I think I’m doing okay.
I will say, I’m glad the older one moved out because teenage 👏 boys 👏 are 👏 fucking 👏 gross👏. My clean/organized neurosis couldn’t take it anymore.
It’s all progress and winning in my life right now…you know, except for the stuff that isn’t. But, I have a good feeling about this summer *knocks on wood.*
Some people can’t wait for summer because it means the beach and amusement parks and camping and whatever the hell else extroverted, outdoorsy people do. I can’t wait for summer because it means quiet and a warm breeze coming through my bedroom window while I sit around in no pants (apparently you have to wear pants around stepchildren) reading the summer’s hottest books.
And what might those books be you ask? Well, I’m happy to tell you.
Here is my list of the new mystery & thriller books coming your way this summer. Get your TBR ready!
I’ve yet to read a YA mystery-thriller that really works for me. I’m looking for logic. And if there can’t be logic, I’m looking for it to not take itself so seriously.
I picked up this book because April Henry is one of my youngest stepkid’s favourite authors. I have been asked, for what seems like years, to read her books. Which is super sweet that the kid wants to share that with me, but at the same time, I’m really bad at pretending to care about something.
But I’m going to have to act like I liked this as not to disappoint and emotionally scar this young person in my full-time care. I don’t want to be dismissive.
So at home: I LOVED THIS AND I CAN TOTALLY SEE WHY YOU LOVE THIS AUTHOR AND WANTED TO SHARE IT WITH ME.
But, here, which is technically my private space (that is also accessible to anyone with an internet connection), I did not like this.
Not because it’s bad. But because I’m the wrong audience for it. My brain is way too rational. I require a book to make honest-to-life-sense, unless it’s purposefully setting itself up to be campy.
The Girl I Used to Be takes itself too seriously.
And I hate to say this, but I think my age stops me from being able to buy whatever shit an author wants to throw at me. Don’t worry about this illogical inconsistency, just enjoy. I CAN’T.