Book reporting it up.

Thanks for all of the book recommendations. Ordering books has been a nice respite from the canine oozing wounds / doggie diarrhea around my house as of late. And oh, yes, I’m blogging at 6:30 a.m. because Lil’ Frankfurter jumped off the bed at 5:45 and I just *knew* something was afoot. Let’s just say he tried but didn’t make it all the way to the door before dropping trou.

So, because turnaround is fair play (talking books here, not pooping on the floor), here’s what I’ve read or, more likely, listened to lately.

Role Models by John Waters

I thought this would be a book where somebody famous (yeah, it’s that John Waters) interviews other famous people. But not so much. While Waters does talk about his run-ins with awesomeness like Johnny Mathis, he also tracks down folks like an overweight pothead lesbian stripper who was infamous in Baltimore in the 60s. I love the idea of finding role models in unexpected places, but I will admit I got a bit bored at the end of the book with the graphic descriptions of gay porn. I’m guessing not every reader would find that dull.

by Tina Fey

Oooh, shocker! I loved this book! I tried to read it in bed, but my laughter kept waking My Guy up. Now, he’s reading it, and laughing like a hyena. It makes me happy.

The one thing that wasn’t so much a shock but more of a surprise was Fey’s no-BS approach to the whole women-in-comedy / feminism thing. She’s pretty much like, “Yeah, it’s stupid but it’s still an issue, so get over it and quit whining and just do what you’re gonna do but for god’s sake, don’t cry at work.” Which, since I’ve felt like crying at work lately, is a bit of tough love.

Say Her Name by Francisco Goldman

Goldman’s young wife was killed in a freak accident, and this is his rumination on grief and loss. Not exactly a pick-me-up, but authentic. However, I must admit that if you’re looking for first-person grief lit, I much prefer Joan Didion’s Year of Magical Thinking. However, Say Her Name is more from an analytical standpoint, and is honest about, oh, fucking women who remind you of your late wife. And calling it “fucking.”

Lies Chelsea Handler Told Me by a bunch of people who know Chelsea Handler

My one-word review: Ehh.

In a nutshell, Chelsea Handler is evidently a bit of a nutjob who loves to play very involved practical jokes and to mess with the heads of her family, friends, and coworkers. Working for her would stress me out – I’d always be afraid that she was going to send some e-mail from my computer to the CEO of Corporate Behemoth, telling him that I have hemorrhoids or something.

The interesting string that connects all of the tales in this book is that despite the embarrassment, shame, and general inconvenience that Chelsea’s hijinks cause, every writer loves her and swears she’s loyal, generous and kind. Hmm.

In addition, I’m still working my way through Janet Evanovich’s Stephanie Plum series. However, I’m a bit off … last one I got from the library, I had this exchange at check-out:

Librarian: Have you read other books in this series?

Me: Yeah.

Librarian: Oh, so you want me to remove the last disk from this audio book?

Me: Huh?

Librarian: Well, you know how it ends, right?

Now, I like this exchange because I like my librarians with a little bit o’ sass. However, it means that my worst nightmares are true: Librarians are judging me based on the crap I check out! Which brings me to another book I recently read:

This Book Is Overdue: How Librarians and Cybrarians Can Save Us All by Marilyn Johnson

This mostly entertaining but sometimes mind-numbing book talks about modern library science – it ain’t just about moving the card catalog to computer, baby. Different sections of the book cover topics ranging from librarian bloggers to librarians fighting the government to protect the privacy of our library records. Also? I had no idea that people poop in libraries. Like, in the stacks. Librarians don’t get paid enough. Seriously.

And that’s my book report. I’d like my Pizza Hut personal pan pizza now. Thanks.

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