Friday, August 25, 2006

Lighten Up

I don’t know about you guys, but this has felt like a long, sober week.

Which perhaps is evidence of a lack of booze, for starters.

I’ve been keeping really busy. About 90% of the next Spinetingler has been put into the first format. From here, it goes out of my hands, gets checked for errors, formatted for the web, etc. My new website design is almost ready to be put in place. I’m going over Suspicious Circumstances again, and have a few things to adjust in it before the ARCs are printed in a few weeks. I have a bunch of interviews I’m supposed to schedule for September.

I’m writing what’s proving to be one of the hardest reviews…ever. I knew I should never have decided to review a Rankin book.

My niece turns 12 tomorrow and I haven’t finished getting a birthday present together.

And I’ve been sick. So it’s been a lovely week filled with naps and grumbling. My new nickname is Surly Bear and I’m not complaining, because it’s much nicer than Bitchy Chick.

So, in celebration of the week being over, we shall have jokes.

From Deletta (yes, dammit, I am going to call!)

The blind date hadn't been all that great and she was happy when the evening festivities were finally over.

At her apartment door, her date suddenly said "Hey! You wanna see my underwear?"

Before she could respond, he had dropped his pants, right there in the hall, revealing that he wasn't wearing any underwear.

She glanced down and said, "Nice pattern. Does it come in men's sizes?"

A Joke From JT

A nun is sitting with her Mother Superior chatting.

"I used some horrible language this week and feel absolutely terrible about it."

"When did you use this awful language?" asks the elder.

"Well, I was golfing and hit an incredible drive that looked like it was going to go over 280 yards, but it struck a phone line that was hanging over the fairway and fell straight down to the ground after going only about 100 yards."

"Is that when you swore?"

"No, Mother," says the nun. "After that, a squirrel ran out of the bushes and grabbed my ball in its mouth and began to run away."

"Is THAT when you swore?" asks the Mother Superior again.

"Well, no. says the nun. You see, as the squirrel was running, an eagle came down out of the sky, grabbed the squirrel in his talons and began to fly away!"

"Is THAT when you swore?" asks the amazed elder nun.

"No, not yet. As the eagle carried the squirrel away in its claws" it flew near the green and the squirrel dropped my ball."

"Did you swear THEN?" asked Mother Superior, becoming impatient.

"No, because the ball fell on a big rock, bounced over the sandtrap, rolled onto the green, and stopped about six inches from the hole."

The two nuns were silent for a moment.

Then Mother Superior sighed and said, "You missed the fucking putt, didn't you?"

JT censored out that word, but I put it back in. There’s no shame on this blog.

Have a good weekend everyone.


mai wen said...

Hey Sandra, I agree, this week has been very long and sober for me as well!

Thanks so much for the jokes, that's just what I need for a Friday afternoon to get me through the rest of my work day!!

Anonymous said...

Hope you feel better soon, Sandra and that life starts looking brighter again.

anne frasier said...

sandra, i've had the blahs all week. i don't even know why. i think i'm pooped. we're all pooped.

Sandra Ruttan said...

Either that, or it's some weird psychic convergence Anne!

Blogger ate my previous comment, I see, so let's try this again.

Mai Wen, glad the jokes hit the spot!

Sue, thanks, I'm sure I'll feel much better with SC and Spinetingler are done. Or I'll obsess over the book and think of other things I wish I'd changed...

ivan said...

How do you do a review in the first place.
I have done dozens of them, all published,(Toronto SUN, Star, etc.), but for the life of me, I have no idea even now how to write a review.
I used to go by the seat of my pants, being careful not to condemn a work outright.
I made the mistake once of doing pretty well a hatchet job on one major Canadian writer, and, thankfully, the editor killed the copy.
There is the emotional response to the work, wincing here and there where the author lapses into amataurishness and plain ignorance eg, "everyone picked up their chairs"--then there comes an in-depth analysis of what the author is trying to say.
Nowadays, I treat a book or article I am to review much the same as I would treat a short story of mine. First the emotional enthusiasm about the work, then the non-verbal flash of the idea,which almost exhausts you by its passing, then the hard copy, using good old tried and true Ben Franklin journalism.

Ah well. I probably don't drink enough.

Sandra Ruttan said...

Oh, damn Ivan. I don't know. My niece asked me that this week and I said I start off with a brief explanation of what the book is about - no major spoilers - then I go into what did and/or did not work for me about the book. I try not to trash, but qualify the why of it.

This book is proving hard because there's a lot I want to say about it personally, which has no place in a review. I've desperately wanted to vent on the blog, but can't do that before the review comes out at least, if ever.

So, I'm left with a number of things about this book that have lingered with me all week that I can't express. Which is driving me fucking mad, because the review just doesn't feel like it does justice to what I really want to say.

I think the solution is more alcohol. Now.

anne frasier said...

i think it's mental exhaustion for me.

sounds like you could very well have the same thing.

ivan said...

Read John Updike's reviews in the New Yorker.
Does the trick for me sometimes.
H just picks and plucks.

JamesO said...

Thanks for the jokes, Sandra. The first one reminds me of a friend's sister, who was walking home one night with a friend when a flasher opened his raincoat to them. She looked at him and said (with a slightly germanic accent) 'Hmmm. Looks like a human penis, only much smaller.'

The Horse Doctor was flashed when she was at Aberdeen University, many years ago. The police came round to interview her about it afterwards and asked if she remembered anything about the man's face, to which she answered 'I wasn't really looking at his face.'

I hope you get better soon. Alcohol is much the best medicine for the bleahs. It's either that or a song. I forget which.

Julia Buckley said...

Yeah, because nuns go golfing all the time.

Sandra, I hope you're feeling better! May the writing muse come and sit on your desktop.

Sandra Ruttan said...

Could be Anne!

Ivan, I hate reading reviews. Sorry!

James, can we just lean on alcohol? Thanks! And very funny stories.

Julia, nuns don't golf? I've only golfed once. I have no idea what a handicap is.

Boy Kim said...

That reminds me... do you think that's the real Campbell Armstrong over at Val's place, Miss Blabberwoman?

I played golf with a nun once. And it's true - they swear like crazy all the time on the golf course.

Sandra Ruttan said...

I don't know Boy Kim. I tend to look at email addresses but even then, it's possible to fake them. Impersonation is something that's happened before. What do you think?

Unknown said...

Sandra hope you are feeling better soon! I think it's just a bleah kind of week. I have a tough time with every review i write...sometimes like pulling teeth. :) Course the next one I write is gonna be tough because I'm having a heck of a time even reading the book. 120 more pages to go... Oh joy.

Boy Kim said...

Yep, it's easy to get a contact email address from a website and then type it in.

My gut tells me it's him, but one of my ventricles disagrees.

DesLily said...


...and I'm Thorry!

Anonymous said...

I always love a good catholic joke. Now, it's time to hit the booze.

ivan said...

The Irish are pretty good at writin' too!

The Rentable Writer said...

Wow, Sandra, I really like your new site layout! Great job. I think I'm officially back online. I'm doing a review right now (my first!) and I've got three more chapters to go in my novel! (And then editing, editing, editing, querying . . .). Seeya around!


Sandra Ruttan said...

Andrea, I'm feeling better today, thanks! And I feel bad about that review! Just glad it isn't my book.

Boy Kim, yeah, it's hard to know for sure. But I'd go with your gut. Well, you sort of have to. :P

DesLily - that's how I'll sound in a month, no doubt. :)

John, can I just drink it instead?

Ivan, my grandmother was Irish Catholic. And my grandfather, an Orangeman or whatever they call 'em. I'm a hopelessly conflicted writer.

RW! You're back! YEAH! This is great news!

Bonnie S. Calhoun said...

Sorry you're down and ill! This too shall pass.

The jokes were great...heard the nun one years ago...still funny!