Monday, March 8, 2010

Will meet for lunch ...

Here you get two weeks worth of food, books and movies for the price of one. This past week I learned a nice way to combat my hermit ways: Daytime dates. Saturday I went book hunting with the Rock Star, fresh from surgery and hopped up on steroids. I wanted to see her rage out, like lift a bus or something. No dice. Saturday night I watched people have fun on Twitter. Sunday I met up with Rnam and Em at my friendly neighborhood coffee shop. No hangovers. No social shame. Who wants a lunch date next weekend? 

In other news:


Garlicky Leek and Artichoke Soup: I love when someone else goes through the trouble of writing out recipes from the current issue of Vegetarian Times on the Internet, so I don't have to find an alternative version to link to. Thanks, stranger. Anyway, I made this one. (The linkees photos is way better). I didn't puree my soup at all and I was careless with my dollop of pesto. Regardless, first this soup smells good, then it tastes wicked good, but it is a horseshit reheat. I tried to have leftovers for lunch, stuck it in the microwave, had two bites and then ditched it. But man it's good hot off the stove. Especially if you are an artichoke freak, which I am.

Sharp Objects: A Novel by Gillian Flynn: If you can suspend your belief long enough to buy that Chicago’s fourth-largest newspaper would send its cub reporter to a small town eleven hours away to cover the grisly murders of two girls, than the rest of Gillian Flynn’s novel  is really easy.

Full review here
The Good Thief: A Novel by Hannah Tinti: In "The Good Thief," Hannah Tinti has created the equivalent of a carnival moon walk for adults. It is an adventure story, complete with an orphan and everything: Ren is a one-handed klepto who has recently been sprung from a priest-run home for boys slash winery by a man named Benjamin claiming to be his brother who weaves a fantastical tale about their dead parents. He’s brought along visuals. Two partial scalps to prove the massacre.
Full review here

Ballistics: Poems by Billy Collins:  I don't read a ton of poetry these days, but when I do it is his. (Or Bukowski, or Simic, I suppose). He could almost be classified as a comedian, penning mini Laffy Taffy lines. He is a total treat, taking short stories about usable objects, scraping off the fat, and leaving behind something simple and funny. In the collection "Ballistics" more than I remember in his other books, he is very self-referential. He becomes a character in his own words, his poem becomes the subject of the same poem, he stops a piece in the middle to address the reader. The effect is totally charming. More often than not, I chuckled at the last line and then dog-eared the page. 

Full review will be here

The Ticking Is the Bomb: A Memoir by Nick Flynn: Fantastic writing. Bite sized chapters. I'm still trying to decide why I didn't love it. So don't start looking here for reviews yet.

The Stepfather Sean McNamara as a serial killer posed as a doting stepfather, with teen candy by way of a character from "Gossip Girl." And if there isn't enough tension in the plot, Dan Humphry's girlfriend in this one prancing around in her underwear whipping her hair around and making sassy faces.

Night of the White Pants:  I can't decide if this movie is more like "200 Cigarettes," "License to Drive," "Ferris Bueller," that Beth Cooper thing. ... Luckily I find it hilarious when the main character walks around in his underwear and an apron. I like imagining how this flick got made: Selma Blair knows someone who wrote a "one crazy day" flick filled with chaos. She agrees to be in it, and brings along another recognizable male actor. Sha. Bam.

No comments: