News from the Read

Australia's been added to Google's Street View! It's like the punchline to the only joke I used to be able to tell: "Mike. Mike. I can see your house from here."

(I can't tell jokes. "A rabbi and a camel walk into a bar. Oh, did I ever tell you about how I used to steal toilet paper from bars? And this one time, before that, the bartender was letting me drink for free, and after every drink he kept saying, "You know these are on the house, right?" And I beamed a big smile and said, "Yes! Thank you!" I think his name was Scott. He had curly hair in a way guys don't have anymore - like The Greatest American Hero. I thought he was just really passively hitting on me, but now I'm wondering if I was supposed to tip? Awkward. Also, I was only 19. And the drinks were B-52s, but I never saw them made, so I didn't get the whole "bombing" part. A chocolate-y drink just didn't seem to go with the fruit-flavoured antics of Fred Schneider. But, chocolate, so who cares? So, then Scott found out that I was dating the guy in the band that was playing that night, and after the set, he gave said guy the bar bill. Ha." And no one ever knows what happened to the camel.)

Speaking of videos, and books, which we kind of were, remember when I was entering all of those sweepstakes? Well, I still am, except not for the past week because - WOW - there are so many. And I have other things to do... like dust off my teacher's edition of the class textbook.

People talk about "time to dust off the (whatever)," but I really mean it. Please enjoy this closer view of the dust that lives under the endtable.

Shot with the macro lens. (Along with 20 photos of Terry that are too blurry to share. But he's SO cute.)

Why's the dust so wiry? Meanwhile, if you see several pairs of eyes looking blandly at the camera, please don't leave a comment telling me so.

I do own a duster, but all that does is whack the particles to the floor for vacuuming, right? And I vacuumed yesterday, so best to keep the particles in place until next month.

Week! I meant week!

I mean TOMORROW. When I'll also be cleaning the windows for the second time since moving in.

The duster is kind of pretty, though.

So, a lot of these contests I enter are for book giveaways. I don't know if I want to read some of the novels being offered, but I figure the kids might. Okay, yes, for all of my complaining, I do have some students who like to read. True, mostly they're former students who come running desperately to my room, begging for a book because their current English teacher requires they bring one for silent reading. I bet their current English teacher vacuums the all-weather carpet and makes them tea, too. (Did I ever talk about how we used to drink tea in the sixth grade? Never mind. Later.)

Anyway, there are more book giveaways out there than you can shake a barcoded library card that fits on your keychain at. (Top 10 Inventions of My Lifetime, I tell ya.) Everyone has written a novel, mostly romance/chick lit. Everyone. If you haven't, then you are probably the upcoming focus of some sort of Ripley's Believe It or Not revival, because everyone has. Except me, and I don't know if that makes me feel like a thicky or kind of relieved that I'm the only person who can't dream up forty ways to describe throbbing manhoods. I'd be really hard pressed to come up with four, and notice that I'm failing to do anything punny with that "hard pressed" remark. Ahem.

So anyway anyway anyway, someone was advising these authors - of which there are umpty jillion publicizing their books with enviably slick websites - not to do book giveaways because "you'll just get a bunch of full-time sweepstakes entrants winning them." And so I felt sheepish. Even though I do love books. Although not so much romance. Because my heart is a cold rock. Not even a "chilly weight in her heaving breast, one that only the Aussie could warm with his smoldering gaze," but just a lump of granite, probably a bit like an asteroid. Powered by gamma ray extracts. Concealing the sunken lair of Monoxina the Ripe, leader of the Zelton resistance. (There's really not enough robot-friendly bodice ripping out there.)

But then! I came across a contest (now over, sorry) to win a book, and the book had a trailer. A trailer! This, with giveaways, is apparently a very big thing in book marketing now. The trailer was decent, but the book looked even better. Furthermore, it wasn't a romance - it was a new young adult novel with praise from Booklist and Kirkus and so on. Neat. I bookmarked it.

OR SO I THOUGHT. Because then, this weekend, my department chair mentioned in an email that we might have a little extra grant money. Were there any books I wanted? Maybe a few copies for a lit circle? And could I let her know ASAP because she was putting in the request on Monday?

I hadn't bookmarked it. It was no longer in my history. I couldn't remember the title at all, except that there was an extra /e/ in it somewhere. I looked for an hour. I Googled everything I could remember. Finally, deadline looming, I had to email her and say no, no requests. The one time I'm hip enough to request something published in the past fifty years, and... nada. Not to be seen around the grey lobe speedway until the next lap, sometime in 2018.

But I forgot about the magic button. It's called "SEND." Hit that and.... OH YEAH.

Maybe it's sensationalist crap, but I'm intrigued. Here's the proper link. It sounds like something the kids will like. Luckily, our DC is a miracle of goodness and accommodation, so it was added to the list in time.

Short story: sometimes we opportunistic sweep-peeps end up not only being customers, but promoting the book, unread, all because of a giveaway.

And now Mike is up, hurling as he does every morning (which is another post - I said I wasn't going to be gross today), and I think we're overdue for a 2-for-1 smoothie. "Oh August!" she wailed, dabbing the tears with her crinoline hoop skirt*, the one she'd worn to the ball** that fateful night***. "You mustn't go! You dasn't!"

* 5X Area 51 T-shirt, now in its second day of lounging service. Or third. I forget.
** (Mailbox)
*** The one after my paladin finally reached level 70.

Comments

[Heather in PA]

Hi there! My sis in law sent me a link to a newsweek photo essay about weird pet inventions. Thought of you immediately with the last one...

http://www.newsweek.com/id/149280&GT1=43001

It's number 18...

:)

[Shari]

Ha - I was so dazzled by #18 that I forgot to reply!

Dazzled, but it makes me nervous that I wondered how much it would cost... *ahem*!