Friday, September 9, 2011

Hemingway is pretty good.

Tomorrow is your last chance to win this week's copy of Not My Type so click over to iCandy Handmade to enter!

It's that nerve-racking time again when reviews start rolling in. First up is Jenny at Mommy Snark. You can check out her take on it here. (I think she liked it!) Oh, and here's why you should be reading her blog anyway: she's a mom of five who has a funny, snarky (obvs!), and often tender take on motherhood. She's expecting her sixth and shares the joys of the comments she gets from her nosy North Carolina neighbors (bless their hearts). "Here's a pamphlet on where babies come from."

How about some book conversation not related to my book? Yeah, yeah, you thought I was incapable of talking about anything else. All right, snapshot from book club last night:

Mel C: So this kid is emailing my sixth grade daughter. It's darling. He tells her he likes her and he signs his first, middle, and last name.

Book club: Awww, cute!

Me: All three names? Serial killer.

And scene.


Kristina P. said...

Or future apostle. There's such a fine line, apparently.

Carolyn V said...

Yikes! Serial killer? That would freak me out a little.

Jenny P. said...

I did like it! :)

My grandpa once sent a card to my grandmother on Valentines Day, twenty five years into their marriage. He signed the card, "With love, F.B. Ayres."

Initials and a last name. So heartfelt, yes? My grandparents have both long since passed away and we still laugh about that card.

Melinda said...

Or he's gay...

Donna K. Weaver said...

"Me: All three names? Serial killer."

ROFL Seriously. You made me laugh at loud.

InkMom said...

My sister stole the story about FB Ayres. I was totally going to tell it.

But here's my other one:

When Craig and I were dating (weeks away from engagement) he bought me a dozen roses for Valentine's Day. (Because instead of a fun and romantic date he took me to his cousin's wedding reception (who has a wedding reception on Valentine's Day?!?) where I had to meet a bazillion relatives who all had to give me the once over and then discretely share opinions with my beloved. It was awful.)

Anyway, when he dropped me back at home, the roses (smuggled in by his roommate) were on my dresser and the card was signed with his full name, middle initial included. I half-way expected it to be followed by "Esquire" but that may have been a deal breaker.