The Curse of Literacy

I went to Borders on Mother's Day to buy my mommy a book. Yeah, yeah, I wait to the last minute. I'm like that. I'm also the baby of the family so I can get away with it. I bought, with money I should not have been spending but silly me thought she'd be getting a student loan check this week (more on that):

1. 700 Sundays: The Billy Crystal book, and the only book from the list of books Mom wanted that I could find at Borders because their staff is oh so helpful and their sections are labeled for shit. (that's right. I'm calling you out, Borders)
2. A Princess Di book for $4.99 because Joanie (Mom) loves her some Diana.
3. A hardcover of Dogs of Babel for $3.99 to replace the one I sent to my sister.
4. A Dirty Job: by Christopher Moore...the reason I'm so cranky today.

I love Christopher Moore. The man is sick and twisted, just the way I like them, yet funny and clever, also a requirement. I fell in love after reading Lamb: The Gospel According to Biff, Christ's childhood pal which the good Catholic girl inside me kind of felt uncomfortable about, but the adult me, the one who hasn't been to confession since Reagan was in office--or at least the first Bush-- loved it to pieces. Then came Fluke and Bloodsucking Fiends . Each one a page turner. I came home on Tuesday after school, promptly fell asleep as soon as the news started, and woke up around 2:oo am. In an attempt to get back to sleep, I began reading Dirty Job. The next thing I knew it was 6:00 am, I was 256 pages deep into the book and tired as all getout.

Bravely I went to work, and then to school (if only in hopes of obtaining a check from the chicks in Financial Aid). I got home, watched "Lost" and the season finale of "Invasion", then went to bed, because, as I said, I was tired. But there it was--A Dirty Job--just sitting on my bed waiting to be finished. "No," I said, "you can't tempt me with your clever prose. I'm no spring chicken you know. I need my beauty sleep. Plus, your tales of the underworld are kind of creepy and I live alone and it's dark." My protests fell on deaf ears (no shit, Laur, it's a book), so I had no choice but to pull another (almost) all-nighter to finish it. Dang, it was good. But now, I'm exhausted and far too tired to even think of knitting in public, or crocheting, as the case may be.

And I still didn't finish all the crap I had to do today and Carla is going to be mad at me. Wahhhh(tears of frustration)