Four days. Be excited.
For a few winter seasons, I’ve been loving the long winter coat from afar. It looked so pretty, but so did my grandmother when she wore it. So, I put it in the pile of trends that would never come to be for me; harem pants, peplum tops, gladiator sandals…
But you know what? After 30 years in Ohio, a girl gets tired of her ass freezing off. Time to put this trend in the OMG I LOVE IT column.
Long Tie Waist Parka, size XXL, Old Navy
Navy Fair Isle Knit Hat (Mens), American Eagle
Plaid Fur Lined Boots, Target
It’s been a while since I’ve read anything from my favorite ginger, Grace, so to say I was jump outta my skin excited to finally get my hands on the third and final installment of Alice Clayton’s Redhead series would be an understatement. I’m about to give you a zillion reasons as to why I loved this book, but first…
OH MY GOD CURVY GIRL GUIDE IS IN THE BOOK!
Moving on to a small confession. I actually haven’t been reading too many smut books lately. They are certainly a delightful treat, but sometimes my brain just needs a story to bite into and chew for a bit. A book with 20% illogical story and 80% hate sex just doesn’t do it for me.
In The Redhead Plays Her Hand, we are once again peeking in on the lives of Grace and Jack, and the passion and sex is still there, but so are the emotions, namely, mine. My emotions are there. This book isn’t about sex, it’s about being a woman. Grace steps up in this book as the anchor of the relationship, on top of battling internal and external battles about her weight. I spent the whole book loving her and cheering her and wanting to stand beside her screaming, NO WE WILL NOT GIVE YOU ANY FUCKS ABOUT THE SIZE OF OUR ASSES, SOCIETY.
I devoured this book. I am so thankful for the story Alice weaves throughout each page, watching a woman own her skin, a relationship falter, all the while giving us a guilty pleasure taste of the skeeviest part of Hollywood faux-life. By the end, I felt complete, and I totally cried.
Read more of my book reviews here!
Yo Amazon, I’m really happy for you, Imma let you finish, but Andy Gibbons already makes the best drone deliveries of all time.
Sometimes when you are married to a geek, the most brilliantly hysterical things happen. Like robotic vibrator airdrops. Welcome to my everyday life.
P.S. Worth every cent.
P.P.S. Andy says I should remind you this is very dangerous, and not try this at home or anywhere near your vagina.
Yes I wear this in public. You can find it here.
A week ago, my girls and I had a fun night out of Chinese food and the latest Hunger Games movie, Catching Fire. If you read my book review, you might remember Catching Fire was my least favorite of the Hunger Games Trilogy. The “New Moon” of Hunger Games, if you will, aka, suckville.
I had very low expectations for this movie, as evidence by the amount of alcohol I consumed before showtime, and to be honest, I was kinda dreading it. I remember how angsty I was when I read they had to go back into the games, and then all the people I love start to die, blah blah emotions.
And then the movie started and I spent the next two and a half hours on the edge of my seat, heart beating out of my chest, full on panic attack amazement. I had to pee pretty early in, but I didn’t want to miss a second, so I mentally willed my body to reabsorb the urine, because that movie theater was sold out, and peeing in my cup was too risky. Of any movie that was ever based on the book, this was the best. In fact, it was better than the book. It was gory and scary and vindictive. I cried at least three times.
I rarely watch a movie that instills an actual sense of loss, and Catching Fire does that repeatedly.
Cinna was brilliant and heartbraking. Haymitch was both funny and complex and could not be more perfectly cast, Phillip Seymour Hoffman? SHUT UP AMAZING.
My only complaint is the amount of kissing Gale and Katniss did, because I truly don’t remember them being that affectionate in the books, but even so, I’m still just not invested in their love story. #GaleIsNotMyWreckingBall
And to those of you annoyed with my darling Peeta, take a second and appreciate the gender reversal this series is so successful in portraying. You see, Peeta’s not a pussy, he’s just playing the sensitive/helpless/vulnerable role usually held by a woman.
We’re not entirely used to see that in testicle form just yet. Give it time.