...crushed velvet seats/ ridin' in the back, oozin' down the streets...
In addition to my underwear habit, I have a book habit. I brought home French Women Don't Get Fat by Mireille Guiliano in the interests of looking nice in (or out of) my knickers. It's sensible stuff most of us already know, (keep portions small, don't eat on the run, have only the 'good' stuff) but much sexier when told to us by a woman named Mireille. It almost belongs in the 'cookbook' section, as it's full of lovely recipes, some of which even Primarily Decorative can follow. Her frequent use of Fronch phrases may be annoying to those who don't speak French- okay, they're annoying to some who DO speak French- but it permits her to use the phrase "pain quotidien" which does NOT mean 'daily pain.' And a great big thank-you kiss to the friend who favorably compared the expanded version of my backside to J-Lo's.
Add to My Shopping Cart (enticingly placed in an endcap at the forefront of the checkout line) Orson Scott Card's Shadow of the Giant, which I await uncommitted time to begin. Next lifetime sounds about right. I recommend the Ender books most highly; begin with Ender's Game. And visit OSC's website at Hatrack River. These books changed my worldview. Truly.
I wend my way through A Series of Unfortunate Events, which draw the adventure out (seemingly infinately over a baker's dozen) and inevitably lose momentum. BUT! Daniel Handler (Lemony Snickett's real name) subtly imbeds in the books valuable reading, research and writing lessons. Book The First, The Bad Beginning, introduces the concept of research for necessary information, and the value of marking various potentially useful passages with slips of paper (no dog-ears for the intrepid Klaus), The Reptile Room promotes irony of nomenclature, The Wide Window stresses grammar, The Miserable Mill instructs on use of the Table of Contents (and the importance of reading even the boring parts), The Austere Academy highlights note-taking, and so forth. In addition, the dry style employed here might be a child's first encounter with satire. Let us hope it is not their first encounter with alliteration.
I was led to Diana Wynn Jones's Witch Week by my young friend Ari(recently accepted into Baltimore School For the Arts, yaaaaay Ari!) She claims that the Harry Potter books are largely swiped from this work, so I seek verification. Yes, Rowling's a thief, but she steals from the best: McCaffrey, Tolkein, Dahl,... and Jones's book, while full of characters who appear, thinly disguised, in HP, lacks the pizazz, breakneck pacing, and can't-put-it-down-ness of Rowling's work. I think it's known as "style."
Frivolous Purchase Of The Day is The Bombshell Manual Of Style, by Laren Stover, to replace the copy I lent to That Girl, who probably reads it while naked eating chocolate covered strawberries, because that's her style. It's also her style to not have returned it.
I scored a blue lace demi-bra and matching panties from Victoria's Secret, which make me feel decadent just looking at them, and a sheer white set embroidered with pink flowers. My plan is to talk myself into reading the George R R Martin book, A Storm Of Swords, (that Coco gave me three Christmases ago) by bribing myself with a scented bath and fancy underwear. I like Martin's characters and storyline, but the books are full of violence and political intrigue, (not my favorite) and then he takes SO LONG to write the next book that I've forgotten the previous one...it almost seems not worth the effort. Except, once I get started, of course, it is. Imagine me, freshly bathed, enticingly garbed, reading something thick and fantastical.
And to the turtle-paced pimp-hatted man and his red Coup De Ville full of 'ho's: Get out of my waaaaaaaaay! You're coming between me and my beeeeeeeeeeeer!
I have a beer habit, too, apparantly.
(Pink Cadillac; Bruce Springsteen)