Things I Learned In The Hamptons and Abound

Things I Learned In The Hamptons and Abound

Freshly returned from a wonderfully awesome trip to The Hamptons, I have learned some valuable life lessons that I am prepared to pass along to you, dear internets. 
 
...and thanks for the great time Kathy-wathy and Jenny B you are both top drawer.  

Kathy-wathy is not helping to compose this post, but I am sure she will add her two cents. 
 
-Rudy Giuliani would be more aptly named Rude-y Douchie-ani.
-Long Island is where De Loreans go to die... or be reunited with their lost Flux Capacitors.

-You can’t mute Cold Play with rats.
-It does not matter how many different types of beer I try, I will never like it, and it will make me wretch. URG ACK ACK (**Warning rant to follow**) Seriously, how can this be fare?  I get so tired of being the typical sissy girl who can’t drink beer and has to have the “girlie drinks”.  If the world had cider on tap, I could feel just as normal as anyone else.  When I was in the UK, I could walk into any pub and order a cider and be looked at with some respect.  ….even seen as hardcore because cider is a BADASS drink.  Fuck you -Merica!  Long Live The Queen!
-Rants aside, I did go to a pretty cool beer brewery where I learned I still don’t like beer.
-Big Fucking Babies span every culture and religion.
- Ladies never sit vaj-acent to furniture while wearing skirts.
-If you want to manipulate Jenny B. into volunteerily sleeping on the couch and giving you the comfy-womfy spot in Kathy’s bed, ask her the following question, “Hey Jen, do you want the couch, or do you want to sleep vaj-acent to Kathy?”
-You can’t come to a compromise on the dept ceiling with rats.
-Every trip through the “Hollund Tonnel” is a special experience.
-Kathy-wathy is now an even more hardcore Decemberists fan than me because of her BADASS Decemberistsie Vespa tattoo.  How did that happen?

-Thanks to Stacy, I now refer to butter as “shame stick” in my head.
-You can’t substitute crime dramas with rats.
-Saying “Butt me, old sport.” is the new hip and cool (1920s) way of asking for a cigarette.
-It is  imperative that one always asks what kind of melon is included in the “seasonal melon dish” before committing to an order.
- There can only be one party car.  All other cars are “total Mr. Grundies”.

-18 year old deaf, sneezy kitties make for the best couch buddies.

-Big Fucking Babies be warned, Stacy carries mace.
-When going to an outdoor summer event, always apply sunscreen.  Why am I the only one who seems to know this?!!!?
-You can’t restore peace and love with rats.

-Creepy Vespa Baby Manikin is trying to secret Kathy a message...but what?

-If one Decemberists’ song could embody Jenny B, it would be “Chimbley Sweep”. She loves herself a good chimbley sweeping.
-No matter what happens, Kathy-wathy will always find an excuse NOT to get in the ocean.
-It doesn’t matter how many times you ask, The Mighty Lord of Death will NEVER do a Pretty Woman dress up montage for you.  ...and HEAVEN FORBID you mention his Fancy Pants.
-You can’t fight crime with rats.

-"Vajewels" are singularly the best and worst things from the goodie bags.

-Cold Play is not proper dinner music.
- Jenny B. is good to have around to be “the muscle” in any situation.
-Kathy-wathy’s sit-down-and-stay pills will always be better than mine.
-It seems one can only get great Pad Thia in Boston.  ...so sad.
-Everyone has his/her own special gift.  Mine is “Thrill Kill Liz”, Kathy-wathy is “The Imasculater”, and Jenny B. is “The Debbie Downer”.

-I can and will buy BADASS shoes.-No matter how great things are going, NEVER EVER trust a member of Team Awful!! They are always conspiring against you.

-Look at the BADASS shoes Kathy-wathy and I got and be amazed.

The Life and Times of the BFB

Dear Gracious Reader,

The regular rules do not apply to the following blog post. (When Kathy-Wathy and I are usually blogging together, I will type as normal and Kathy-Wathy’s words will be in all caps.)  The list below is a brainstorm of epic proportions compiled throughout the day… So read on, dear reader…

We never ever thought that our lives would be in danger at a Decemberists’ concert.  We have seen The Rolling Stones, been to an Ozzfest, and listened to a Bob Dylan concert in person, and yet it was at a Decemerists’ concert where for the first time we thought a brawl would actually erupt. One would expect to be putting his/her life at stake attending the first three events, but the last place we ever expected to be in mortal peril would be at a show featuring the band who penned such songs as “The Chimbley Sweep” and “My Mother Was a Chinese Trapeze Artist.” 

It all started with the opening band Best Coast.  They would have really been popular in the days of Hole and Courtney Love.  This major douche bag sitting in the row right in front of us got really pissed off when at least four rows in front of him some people were standing up talking.  Picture a brunet man about the same size and shape as The Comic Book Guy from The Simpsons only greasier and more foul smelling. He began yelling at the people to “sit the fuck down.”  Then, he began throwing things at them.  Everyone felt very awkward as this major douche threw a massive hissy-fit.  Someone from the concert venue actually had to talk to him about his behavior.  The people around him tried to point out his flawed logic and suggested that he might be over reacting.  This lead to “Mr. Douche Baggary” pouting for the whole of The Decemberists’ concert and refusing to stand, although everyone else in the venue was standing and enjoying the meat-candy that is one Mr. Colin Meloy.  It should be noted that Colin encouraged standing, jumping, and chair shaking.

This led us to wonder what life circumstances would lead a grown man to pout for the whole of a concert.  What follows below is what we affectionately call, “The Life and Times of the BFB… Big Fucking Baby.”

BFB LIFE STORY

-the two women with him at The Decemberists’ concert were actually his mom and sister

-lives with his mom, Bernice (“Just call me Bernie”) and stepdad, Ken. 

-real dad, Gene, lives in Cumberland, MD

-gets super pissed when Ken enters his basement layer without permission

-takes it personally that The Decemberists' limited edition poster for their Raleigh show actually listed the location as Raleigh Amphitheater in Cumberland, MD

-pissed to miss summer finale of Dr Who in order to see Decemberists

-wanted Decemberists to sing every song from "Picaresque" (especially "Eli the Barrow Boy")

-chip on his shoulder about how "Lost" ended

-still in shock over Jar Jar Binks

-is Team Jacob

-hated “Wolverine”

-saw all “Matrix” movies, and is pissed that the last one sucked

-pissed that Anna Paquin is no longer in “X-Men” and resents “True Blood” for taking her away.

-unsatisfied with “True Blood’s” explanation of Vampire day walkers

-takes issue with fact that JK Rowling came out after the fact saying Dumbledore was gay when clearly there was sexual tension with McGonogle

-feels Leonard Nimoy has never gotten credit he deserves as an artist because his reputation is sullied by Shatner's Priceline commercials and being in “Shit My Dad Says”

-unsatisfied by Twitter presence of his favorite comic book artists

-Dungeons & Dragons cloak ruined by dry cleaner, no longer fits, nothing to do with weight gain

-all the damsels at last Mideval Fair were mooning over that stupid show-off Lancelot

-Resents that "Queer Eye For the Straight Guy" never actually helped him get a chick

-wants to write Gilmore Girls fan fiction, disappointed in the lack of interest in this by the fan base

-banned from role play tweeting as John Locke

-pissed that sister ruined end of "Gilmore Girls" for him

-resents Obama wanted to see Osama death pics

-hates those Columbine douches for making it so he couldn't bring his kitana blade to school

-entire comic book collection only thing ruined by flood in basement

-is embarrassed when he has to drive Ken's Mercedes suv to meet eharmony dates at the Subway

-why do online romances always go awry when he mentions living with parents?

-plays Second Life, has an alt who is a furry

-in order to impress women he always breaks out his "realistic British accent"

-suspects his therapist doesn't take him seriously

-secretly watches “Sex and the City” when everyone's asleep. Thinks of himself as a “Samantha”

-suspects his mother no longer "accidentally" walks in when he is masturbating

-Aleksander Skaarsgard and Maksim Chmerkovsky are only men allowed in his spank bank

-identified with the shut in hacker in “Girl with Dragon Tattoo” series...thought Lisbeth should have ended up with him, instead of pining away for that “Calle fucking Blomqvist.”

-spank bank totally wiped out by Sony playstation hacking. Takes this personally

-thinks Stephen King is a sellout

-"totally got bombed" on some parsley someone sold him in high school. This is the extent of his drug experience

-used to identify with Danny in New Kids on the Block in elementary school

-thinks Jordan Catalano was a complete douche bag, identified with Brian Krakow.

-personally offended by James Franco

-watched one episode of “Freaks and Geeks.” Didn't get what the fuss was about.

-"What's Judd Apatow got that I haven't got?"

-drink of choice: Bartles & James

-wants own car simply so he can have vanity plate: Frak U

-has been to a furry convention

-speaks Klingon. Fluently.

-his Second Life avatar (main) is a pro wrestler

-he has dreams of joining his local semi pro wrestling league but is embarrassed by thick hair all over his body

-once attempted self-depilation with Nair and Nads, which only resulted in his pillaging of the family first aid kit and some permanent scarring

-his father’s nickname for him: "Meat"

-had never forgiven Kevin Smith for "Chasing Amy"

-thinks Ted Nugent "has some right on ideas"

-can't get over his failure to locate any Native Americans in his genealogy

-dies a little bit each time his sister's friends laugh at his wolf t-shirt

-only drinks Tuscan Whole Milk

-tries with all his might to groom facial hair into interesting shapes

-has a pet chinchilla named Wookie. It attacks him every time he tries to feed it

-when he was in kindergarten he got in trouble for telling the other kids the truth about Santa

-Stan Lee blew him off at Comicon

-will never get over The Decemberists’ failure to grant him a backstage pass

-would like a brand. Is afraid he would cry too much.

-instead likes to talk about elaborate body art he has planned. "the truth is out there." in Klingon.

-never got over David Ducovny's leaving "The X Files"

-is still a little afraid of the dark

-can't watch "Twin Peaks" alone, but has no friends so he just can't watch it unless his mom and sister are around.

-thinks he discovered putting mentos in soda 2 liters

-always insists on spelling things that end in -er with an -re cause that's how the British do it

-has seen "Braveheart" 100 plus times, feels sorry for Mel Gibson

-he always cries (in a good way!) at the end of "Dirty Dancing"

-feels self righteous that when he goes to the movies, he's the only one who stays till the end of the credits every time

-is a movie talker. Even though he has nobody to go to the movies with except his mom and his sister

-can't understand why nobody respects Cliff Claven

-still maintains Cliff should have gotten his own show instead of Fraser

-has a job delivering newspapers to stores and vending machines

-can't decide, and it keeps him up at night, which of Dr Who's companions is hotter: Amy Pond or Rose Tyler

-hates Matthew Gray Gubler with a passion as hot as the sun

-doesn't know why K Vangsness (Penelope Garcia) won't answer his love letters

-favorite authors - HP Lovecraft, EA Poe, Dean Koontz

-favorite state – Iowa

The Decemberists: Bearers of the Keys to Hell's Gate

A few weeks ago, Colin Meloy of The Decemberists tweeted a link to article posted below. The article from the website Conservapedia.com warns listeners of the dangers of The Decemberists’ music. Meloy sent his apologies to anyone who had unwittingly chosen “fleeting entanglement over true romance” or encountered any “pro-monarchist messages” as a result of listening to his music. I can not express to you the minutes I have spent in devilish giggles over this morsel of genius.

The Article is below. Read it now. Now, now, now!

**************************************************************

The Decemberists are an immoral, liberal, Indie-rock band from Portland, Oregon. Their members include Colin Meloy, Chris Funk, Jenny Conlee, Nate Query, and John Moen.[1] They played a concert for Barack Obama, and endorsed him for the presidency. [2] They are known for glorifying rape, suicide (most often by drowning, and some songs simply involve death by drowning, without suicide being involved[3]), and various other sinful acts in their music; the songs "We Both Go Down Together" (rape and double-suicide)[4], "The Landlord's Daughter/You'll Not Feel the Drowning" (rape and apparent homicide by drowning, in the respective parts of the song[5]), and the entire story arc of the latest album, "The Hazards of Love," is based around rape, intercourse, homicide, infanticide (although at least the character who so gleefully sings of his childrens' murders is the villain, although lead singer Meloy takes undue joy in the song) and the eventual double-suicide of the main characters by drowning[6]. Apparently they also suffer from a severe lack of originality, as well as a severe lack of morals.

When asked whether he felt his music could corrupt those who listened to by glorifying rape, homicide and suicide, leader singer Colin Meloy said that he "didn't care".

Decemberists Songs with Potentially Negative Influences

Mariner's Revenge: Glorifies obsessive revenge and murder.

July, July: Encourages fleeting entanglement over true romance.

Legionnaire's Lament: Encourages alcoholism.

We Both Go Down Together: Encourages rape against a unrequited love.

O Valencia!: Pro-gang message.

Yankee Bayonet: Glorifies the Confederate cause in the American Civil War.

Infanta: Pro-monarchist message.

Eli, the Barrow Boy: An anti-Christian and possibly Wiccan image of life after death.

While I understand that the person who wrote the above article is misguided and at times, misinformed as to the theme of some of the songs, I wish that I had written it … or at least could add to it. (The web page won’t let me without joining it.) I mean, I never realized I was listening to such dangerous and morally apprehensible music. This is the band that my cousin refers to as corduroy wearing, accordion playing tree huggers. I cannot believe that my immortal soul has been in such danger of being corrupted. Who Knew?

I simply cannot resist the urge to pick up the mantle of aforementioned misguided individual and look at more of The Decemberists’ catalogue for further hidden evils. I will do this an album at a time. Look! I have already completed two!

Five Songs

Oceanside: Encourages sexually promiscuous behavior in public places

Shiny: Encourages sexually promiscuous behavior in public places with carnies (Note: “with carnies” is said here in a shocked whisper.)

My Mother Was A Chinese Trapeze Artist: Anti-American, Pro communists, prostitution, and gambling themes and black market child sails

Angel, Won’t You Call Me?: Pagan themes that encourage groveling for the attentions of a loose woman

I Don’t Mind: Encourages apathetic attitudes embodied by gen-Xers who will undoubtedly lead to the ruin of America

The Apology Song: Glorifies irresponsible handling of the belongings of others

*********************************************************

Castaways and Cutouts

Leslie Anne Levine: More Anti-Christian, Wiccan images of life after death

Here I Dreamt I was An Architect: Encourages teenage premarital sex and reckless behaviors such not using seatbelts

July, July!: (already kindly critiqued by the geniuses at Conservapedia.com)

A Cautionary Song: Encourages children to think of their mothers as common street whores

Odalisque: More prostitution and glorifies unfit women as mothers

Cocoon: Peeping tom-mery and Anti-Christian images of life after death

Grace Cathedral Hill: Suggests that conservatives think that they can buy their ways into heaven and romanticizes depression as something men find sexy

The Legionnaire’s Lament: (already kindly critiqued the geniuses at Conservapedia.com)

Clementine: Use of casual cursing and encourages vagrancy

California One/ Youth and Beauty Brigade: Makes light shirking civic duties such as returning library books

This is for Me, Not You

It has been a long time since I have written on this thing… over a year long. My last entry was on the loss of a dear friend, while cathartic at the time, has turned into a stumbling block of sorts. I mean, how could I follow that up? Anything else seemed inane and insipid. I have at least five started entries saved in the annals of my blog banks: the begins of a list of my favorite words, there’s something about going to a Vanderbilt estate in Mass, but some how talking about my amblings at Emily Dickson’s house or my run in with the Kardashians just seems to fall short. Nothing has seemed worthy enough to go next. However, with my hopes of finding some a semblance of joy outside of work, which has been sucking it away in droves lately, I have decided to face the issue head on… address my elephant as it were. Writer’s block? … yes Uninspired? … yes

So here I am trying to prod myself into motion and remember what keeps me going. This blog was intended to be a place where I wrote about my amblings and turn them into humorous tales to share with friends who might be interested in what I am doing. It was more or less meant to be a something I enjoy writing from time-to-time and a chronicle of my life so that I can look back and remember when…ah. If someone else gets a chuckle from it, well mores the better.

Having said all of the above and getting it out of my system, I think that I am ready to get back to writing. Yes, I realize that this is a self-indulgent entry. Just ignore me as I move on.

In Memorium: My Reminiscings of a Cherished Friend

At this time last year, I lost one of the best people I have ever had the fortune to know, my friend Carl Berg. I met Carl when I was in college. He was the boyfriend of my friend Kris's sister Michelle. At that time, to me, Michelle was just Kris's sister and her boyfriend was this guy who showed up surprising her on the weekends. Seven of us lived in a big Victorian house on 10th Ave. off OSU campus, and it is one my happiest times in my college career. I got to know Michelle and Carl better and they ceased being people connected to my friend Kris. They became my friends too.

Photographed above: Michelle and Carl

The moment that Michelle and Carl became endeared to me is still fresh in my mind. (Forgive me readers who have heard this story many times.) It was late at night, and Carl and Michelle came home from a night out. They were debating something. I don't I think ever caught what they were debating about. Michelle went to the computer in the front room to e-mail her father Joe, better known in the Andrews household as Papa Schulte. Carl went into the kitchen to cook something. Aaron and I sat in the room in the middle of the kitchen and the front room listening to them. Michelle started to say something to Carl to which he replied, "Zip It." Michelle called back, "I'm not zippin' ," and then continued on. Carl called back, "What ever, tell it to Joe." Michelle said that she would tell it to Joe and then went on only to have Carl tell her to zip it again. Then went around in circles like this for quite awhile while Aaron and I sat in the middle and laughed.

Carl loved surprising Michelle, and he often called Michelle on Friday nights saying that he had to work late and won't be there for hours. Two minutes later there would be a knock at the door, and it would be Carl who had called from outside the house. It wasn't long until all of us looked forward to Carl's coming to stay for the weekends almost as much as Michelle. Everything was just more exciting and funny with Carl around. He had a gift for bringing out the best in everyone around him. Those were the days when we stayed up late playing scrabble and Aaron and Carl would do the "Cactus Twist" for our amusement.

A few years after college, Kris and her husband Kijana built a house, and I had the opportunity to live with them. Michelle and Carl also moved in to Kris and Kijana's "boarding house". I have so many great memories from this period in my life: playing games every weekend,using Homie figurines as game pieces, playing cards, baking cookies, and lots of T.V. watching. There was nothing better than weekend games watching Carl and Michelle get competitive with each other over what ever game we were playing. I feel so lucky to have had this time with Carl. He and I would stay up late and watch David Letterman and The Daily Show. We loved talking about how Letterman made fun of G.W. Bush each night. Then there was Carnivale. OH the legend that was Carnivale. Carl and I loved that show to the chagrin of Kris and Michelle. We lived for Sunday nights to see what was going to happen. Then we analyzed the episode and what each element might have a hidden meaning. We talked for weeks about all of the secrets that would be revealed when the carnival reached Babylon. Of course nothing was revealed and there were only more questions.

Photographed Above: Carl and Kijana

I recall one Christmas night, everyone came over to my mom's house to hang out. Carl came out of the bathroom with a box of tissues. He wanted to know what kind of scam my mother was running. He went on to show the room that the tissues had someone's name written on it, and concluded that my mother was stealing the tissues that her students brought to school. For some reason, my mother is the only teacher I have ever met who has left over tissues at the end of the school year. What else is there to do with them than bring them home? Carl gave my mom a hard time about it, and when I went to Kris's for New Year's Eve, we wrapped up tissue boxes with students' names on them as a joke. The next Christmas night, Carl showed up with a gift for my mom. It was a box of tissues with his name written all over it written to look like a child's hand writing.

Photographed Above: Carl w/ Christmas Pinata Jesus. I brought all the way from North Carolina for Carl to smash. We noticed the strange resemblance.

Carl was one of those people who lived life. I mean really lived life. There are very few people who you can say make everyone they come in contact with smile, but Carl was one of those people. Everyone loved Carl, and Carl was everyone's friend. He has had such a positive effect on my life to the point that he changed how I look at the world. I was freaking out one night because I was having trouble scheduling to take the PRAXIS, a test you have to take to become a certified teacher, and if I didn't get scheduled for it, I wouldn't be able to start grad. school as I planned. All I could think of was all the ways this was going to screw up my life. Everyone else had gone to bed, and I told him my issues and how there was no way I would be able to calm down and get any sleep. He listened to me and then asked me if there was anything I could do about it that night. I told him no. "Then why worry about it when you can't do anything about it now?" he said. "In the morning make the calls you need to make, and worry about it then. It won't do you any good to worry now when you can't fix it." I realized that he was right. I have a tendency to worry about things I have no control over, but that night I went to bed and slept well. Ever since then I have tried to remind myself of what he said to me that night when I fret over things that I cannot control.

Carl reminded me to enjoy life and to not take the world so seriously. On my last day working at Target, a job I hated with every fiber of my being, he convinced me that I should just not go. Being the responsible, guilt ridden person that I am, I said that I couldn't possibly do that. He assured me that indeed I could, and called Target for me. He gave them some cock-n-bull story about how something had happened to me, and I had a concussion. We laughed, and I ate my chinese leftovers while he watch the OSU game on t.v.

I know that I've now missed out on so many grand experiences with Carl gone. We will all laugh and smile less as a result of his absence in our lives. Those who knew and loved Carl have lost so much that there are no words to describe the void. Sometimes when I think about losing Carl, I don't feel anything except a deep sadness, frustration, and anger that someone so full of life and joy could be taken from this world too soon. It makes me want to go up to those people who claim that every thing happens for a reason and that good comes from everything and scream, "What good could possibly come from loosing Carl? Nothing good will ever come from this!" A world without Carl reminds me that life isn't fair, and that horrible things happen arbitrarily. They hang in our memories without reason to attach to them. However, deep down I know that this is not the way to honor Carl's memory. Knowing Carl is to know that what Carl would want is for us to remember him with a smile and a humorous anecdote.

More and more these days, I can think of Carl and smile. Someone will say or do something that triggers a memory of those days on 10th Av. or at Kris and Kijana's, and I'll smile and say, "One time my friend Carl..." Just the other day, Karen and I were talking about something, and a memory of Carl came to me that I hadn't thought of in years. I went on to regale her about the time Carl and I watched the movie Bad Cop, and we noted each time that Harvey Keitel did something that made him a bad or good cop. I should mention that Carl was a film studies major.

I am so proud to be able to say that Carl isn't my friend's sister's boyfriend. Carl isn't my friend's boyfriend. Carl Berg is my friend. I am a better person to have known him, and I miss him everyday.

Photographed Above: Carl with Sophie B.

I Rate Books: Pride and Prejudice and Zombies

Rated in this Edition

Pride and Prejudice and Zombies

By: Jane Austen and Seth Grahame-Smith

Pages:317

Copyright:2009

It has been quite a longtime since I have written an installment of I Rate Books, a few years in fact. I suppose that I am writing this edition for lack of anything better to do. Actually, to my chagrin, I haven't been doing much reading this summer. I blame laziness and a social life. I took Pride and Prejudice and Zombies all the way back to Ohio with every intent of reading it. It ended up sitting in the living room for the duration of my stay only to be shoved back into my suitcase usurped by Augusten Burroughs' latest work A Wolf at the Table. I picked the novel back up upon returning to North Carolina as it seemed like a good pool side read. But that's enough back story. On with the review.

I have a theory that author Grahame-Smith wrote Pride and Prejudice and Zombies with the plan of tricking countless, unsuspecting readers into reading a Jane Austen novel. I, like so many other readers, stumbled onto this book in love with the idea of zombies terrorizing Austen's characters, but I got stuck in the trap... the trap of Jane Austen. I took a quarter long course on Austen in college, and vowed upon leaving the class that I would NEVER in my life pick up one of that women's books again. I have always been a "The book is always better," person, that is unless it comes to a Jane Austen novel. When it comes to her, I say watch the movie and save yourself the time, effort, and frustration of wandering through the social laws of the time. I just can't stand the prattle. Readers, I was tricked, and found myself reading Pride and Prejudice again. Oh, that Grahame-Smith is a clever one, pushing culture and classics on all of sorts of people who would never had picked up an Austen novel otherwise. I offer up as proof of this my friend Kathy who on finishing Grahame-Smith's book said to me, "I think that I might read the actual Pride and Prejudice now. Of course I couldn't let that bitch Austen win, and I told her to just watch the Colin Fith mini-series. (-and you thought that I could make it through a post without mentioning a Colin.) On finishing the zombie edition, I can honestly say that she got everything she needed from the zombies.

Pictured above: Colin Firth as Mr. Darcy

Sure it is Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy fighting Zombies, but if you read this novel, I am certain that you could get a passing grade on a multiple choice test over Austen's novel. Grahame-Smith does change a few aspects of the novel to fit the zombie element in, but much of the original text and plot remain the same. I do have to admit that all of the blood, guts, and gore are amusing when put along side English society. I can say that he did make some improvements on the original text regarding misters Collins and Wickham. I wish I could tell you what misfortunes they befall, but that would be cheating. What made reading the novel all worthwhile, are the bookclub discussion questions at the end. They are, of course, written tounge in cheek to the same tune as what you would typically find in lame ass bookclub discussion questions.

The plot of the novel is not exactly what I thought it would be. I had imagined that it would take the well known characters on a new adventure, and not a retelling of the story with zombies, vomiting, and martial arts. Perhaps there is room somewhere for a sequel. SPOILER***I did find it a bit disappointing that the reader never finds out why or when all of England was attacked by zombies. I was also nonplussed by the fact that the zombie are never defeated. They are just there to carry on with the rest of Austen's characters.*** I was also a bit irratated by the the fact that some of Grahame-Smith's changes eliminated conflicts in the plot, and the fact that said conflicts were resovled is never mentioned in the text. I put this down to lazy writing and editing, or perhaps the publishers do not expect their readers to put too much thought into the plot. An example of one such instance is (SPOILER***)after the misfortune that befalls Mr. Collins the Bennets are willed the house at Longbourne. This eliminates the nessecity for the Bennet girls to all find "good husbands", thus it renders Jane's relation with Mr. Bingly a mute point other than the fact that she might acutally love him. To anyone who who knows the novel's story line, she/he knows that this is all that Mrs. Bennet thinks and cares about, and yet she never mentions the fact that she nolonger has to worry about being put out of her home upon her husband's ultimate demise.***

Above: Illustration from Pride and Prejudice and Zombies

In the end, should you read this book? Why not? It's fun, and if your an Austen fan you will just get caught up in the story you already know by heart but with a twist. If your looking for a good zombie read, you'll walk away having read a classic novel... more or less. It makes me wonder if there will ever be a Bridget Jones's Diary and Zombies. One can only hope that some zombies might come along and kill that bastardized franchise.

Postscript

In the spirit of full disclosure, Seth Grahame-Smith's Wikipedia page says that he got the idea for P.P.&Z. from his editor, and is not, as I suspected, an English professor tricking the world into unwittingly reading Jane Austen. But what does Wikipedia know?

Not to be out done... here's a little meat candy for the ladies.

Photographed Above: Colin Meloy lead singer of the Decemberist and "meatiest" of all the Colins

FYI RE: More Blogging
Kathy and I will be reunited with Mr. Meloy and The Decemberists this month. I assure that there will be blogging abound on Miss Kathy-Wathy's and my parts. Until then, happy reading.