One voluminous Bone

I have read a book this year.

Finally.

I mean, Christ! Where does time go? I’ve been living with SP since the beginning of March, but still haven’t had a chance to set up the Demon Box, never mind read at the rate I used to as a Singleton. There just seems to be so much housework and maintenance and gardening and shopping and meal-making and Moom-walking* and curtain-twitching to do. I’m practically a Desperate Housewife!
Now, I know I may have mentioned before that my career aspirations reach as far as that of a glamorous, well dressed, housewife, but now that I am one (OK, forget the glamorous and well dressed bits), I’m more than a little disappointed with the amount of gruelling work that’s involved. To make things worse, I haven’t even been able to give up the day job! What’s the point of a boyfriend who isn’t going to work all the hours the gods send to keep their better half in crimplene A-line dresses and immovable hair-dos?

Anyway: Moan over. The book I have finished reading was Making Money, by Terry Pratchett. Here it is:

I’m not going to review it because I haven’t got enough time (this is yet another post written while I’m at work), but if you want to know what it’s about, click the link up there which will take you to the Wiki entry. It can’t be that bad because SP read the blurb on the back cover and was immediately intrigued. So much so that he now wants to read it.

Now that I’ve finished Making Money, I can move onto a rather weighty tome given to me for my birthday by a close friend. Actually, this friend isn’t as close as I’d like, both geographically and physically. Still, Shepperton isn’t too far by broom when I feel the need for stalking visiting him…

The book in question is Bone, by Jeff Smith. I’ve only just started it, but my not-close-enough-friend raved about it, so it must be good as he’s a very discerning and well read editor. I think I’m going to like it, not least because some of the background art reminds me of Bill Watterson’s Calvin & Hobbes strips, and there appear to be numerous bizarre and imaginative creatures in it**.







* Moom is our dog. Well, she’s like a person in the house, but definitely a dog when we’re out, what with chasing things and bum sniffing, and the like.
** Perhaps not quite as bizarre as the diaphanous slime creatures of Ahnooie 4.

Concerning flight

I watched Superman Returns last night. Well, SP wanted to see it because James Marsden’s in it. I don’t think he could give two figs about the film – He just wanted to gaze upon James’ beauty and razor sharp cheek bones. I must admit, I never turn away in horror when he graces the screen, so I didn’t mind too much that SP was being more than a little blatant. One comment did give me pause, though. He was talking about preferring James as Cyclops wearing that leather costume in X-Men when he hesitated with a big grin on his face. “Cwoooarr!” he said. “I wouldn’t mind his massive cyclops coming at me.”
And this was while I was in the room. Sitting right next to him! The cheek.

Anyway, the point I was going to make is related to both last night’s televisual viewing and something Tim said recently about having flight as a super power. It was while I was piloting Broom to work this morning, wrapped up tightly, that I marvelled about the amount of scantily clad flying superheroes (and supervillains) who don’t seem to be affected by windchill. Superman I can understand due to his resistance of the cold (he lives in an Arctic ice castle, for starters). The Human Torch keeps warm because he’s on fire. Phoenix is all powerful and probably shields herself from the deleterious effects of flight. But what about the rest of them? How do they keep warm and/or stop their eyes streaming? How? Do any of you lot have superpowered alter-egos and have to adapt to the effects of your powers?

Oh, and Tim, if you’re fed up with being so attractive, you’ll just have to try and switch off your Timtational sexy pheromone secretions!


- - -

Just to be tangential: There aren’t enough people called Cynthia. I don’t know any Cynthias except for Cynthia Nixon and Cynthia from some old British comic (I believe she burnt some cakes during her gang/class’s re-enactment of historical events?). And even then, I only know of them. Does anyone else know any Cynthias?

To beanie, or not to beanie...

Now, I'm not a huge fan of beanies. I'm not even a fan of huge beanies. Even though some people do still manage to look cute (and a little bit dangerous) in them.

However, something I saw on Monday is making me have second thoughts. I was walking to work at the extra early time of 07:05 (the earliest since moving out of the original Castle DeVice and in to the new Castle DeVice, aka Smug Towers, with SP) when I saw Seat Leon Man drive by, my heart skipping a beat. I hadn't seen him in months thanks to my move and later start times at work. Something made me look twice, though. He was wearing a beanie!

Awww... He looked soooo cute, but still retained his masculine allure (even if he might not have legs). A bit like Tim, really (although, I know that Tim has legs - And nice ones at that).

Perhaps beanies are the way forward? I mean, even the mini-Tim* who lives next door to us wears one, and despite being only 17, manages to look fanciable (as long as one manages to imagine him being 10 years older).




P.S. I still haven't got Demon Box set up in Smug Towers (I'm posting this in my lunch break at work), so any blogging and commenting will be sparing (especially those NSFW blogs - Sorry MJ) until I sort out DB's new home. I'm hoping for the small spare bedroom as a study - I've just got to convince SP.


* OMG! He really does look like Tim, only younger. He even has the face-fuzz! I haven't seen if he has any chest-fuzz yet, but, quite frankly, I don't think I want to. He's 17, for gods sakes!