Oh Julie Garwood.
I have such fond memories of you. You helped me survive 6th grade with your historical romance novels. Your spunky unconventional heroines were role models for my 12 year old self. Your brooding and rake heroes begged for reformation. I drank your romance novels like coke on a scorching day!
Ms. Garwood, now that I am older and wiser I'd have to say I've grown out of you, and here is why.
Ms. Garwood was exclusively a historical romance writer. Even as a pre teen I knew her stories were formulaic. Her heroes are an interesting mix of brute meets dreamer. He's always some sort of warrior. Either he works for the home office, or he's a barbarian conquering the Saxons. She's also well known for her formulaic heroines. Wiki says "Garwood's novels are particularly known for the quirkiness of her heroines, who tend to have an ability to get lost anywhere, clumsiness, and a "charming ability to obfuscate and change the direction of conversations to the consternation, frustration, but eventual acceptance of the other party." Sexy huh? Innocent is more like it.
Murder List is a contemporary suspense. I love my suspense littered with romance. Its the best. Hell, the marker of a good romance is the suspense between the characters, yeah you know they're going to end up happily ever after, but you're still sitting on the edge of your seat thinking, "Will they? Won't they?" What girl hasn't entertained the notion of the modern day knight in shining armor? She, in trouble, he an authority figure, helps her in her time of need through information and protection. Talk about 20th century fantasy material! I was so excited to read this back in 2004 when it was originally published because Garwood was only releasing maybe a book every few years, so when I saw it in the library's book bin, I was all for paying 10 cents for it. Was it a mistake? Maybe, but reading it was enlightening because it really showed me how much my tastes have changed in just five years of reading these!
Murder List is about Regan Hamilton, a hotel heiress who is in charge of her families vast philanthropic foundation. Alec Buchanan is a NY detective assigned to body guard duty because he pissed off his superior. Regan is looking into some shady self help guru who is stealing money from his clients and maybe even killing them. While looking into this guru's practices with her crazy rich friends (who are all doing work that pays them nothing while living off the family fortune. One friend is a high school science teacher who teaches auto mechanic classes at night, while the other is the art and style writer for the local paper) she is stalked by someone who has a grudge against her. The crazy shady guru (who is in the book for the first chapter and the last. Way to go Garwood! ::sarcastic::) has the group compose a murder list as an exercise to help the group cleanse themselves of their anger. Regan conveniently drops hers. Shady character picks it up. Proceeds to kill only TWO of the five people on her "murder list," like, a month after she drops it. Garwood makes it clear that Regan is having a hard time choosing names because well, she's just so gosh darn nice. Regan meets Alec because of the first murder and the killers subsequent psychotic love of sending her proof of the murders. Alec is attracted to her, they spend the entire book flirting and organizing her office with little to no detective work. They sleep together. They tell each other it won't happen again. Add in a new job offer in a different location, a false suspect arrested and a chase through the forest and you've got yourself a really really mediocre romantic suspense novel.
I can't even get into how much this book annoyed me. I have the other four contemporaries she's written as sequels and I don't remember them being this annoying. Regan is too nice for her own good. She'd never catch a dangerous fox of a detective/soon to be FBI agent like Alec in a million years in real life. Yeah, books are escapism, but I like my reality to be in the chemistry of the characters. I didn't feel this chemistry. Maybe there would have been more if Regan had been less sweet. Sweet in the way kids breakfast cereal is sweet, the kind that makes you a little nauseous and you know is a shitty way to start your day. But damn didn't I love this when it came out in 2004. It was like crack. Now I was just frustrated. I wanted her to be on top of finding this killer, instead of burying herself in organizing her office files and leaving the detecting to the big boy cops. Alec didn't even do anything, he sat there and alternated watching her tv and her legs the whole time.
Don't even get me started on the bad guy. He was just that, some random ass bad guy. The reader couldn't discover who he was in a million years. Garwood had to tell us it! Lame!
Now wait, its not ALL bad. I read these trashy romance novels when I was way to young to be thinking about sex all the time. I also read them with my head up in the clouds, wondering when I'd find my own prince charming to come save me. On a scale of the trashy romance novel's I've read and how they have impacted my poor adolescent brain? Lets look at the pertinent facts: nice girl gets reformed bad boy, bad guy gets punished, heroine, while sweet, is plucky in her own way, and while the chemistry is luke warm, Garwood makes an effort to show that Alec and Regan love each other.
Now for the good stuff: the sex. On the scale of 1-5, was a 2 (I think I need to really mull over this sex scene rating at length. Heh, length). Would I give this to my 12 year old daughter? Sure. She could be reading Twilight. Better she read about a couple who loves each for other reasons than how they smell. Better she fantasize about an idealized version of what really happens in bed between a couple than someone passing out because of the pain of a sparkly, venomous penis penetration.
What stack does it go in? Stack Three. "So glad I only paid 10 cents for this shit. Used bookstore here you come!"
If you like romantic suspense with law enforcement and stalkers try: Linda Howard's Dying to Please
Showing posts with label bargin shopping. Show all posts
Showing posts with label bargin shopping. Show all posts
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Thursday, April 23, 2009
On Romance. Trashy Romance at That.
I read a lot. Like in a book every two days. Yes, they are 90 percent of the time trashy romance novels. I'll defend my guilty pleasure till the end of time. Whenever I tell anyone that I love them, that I read them voraciously (a word I learned from said trashy romance novels) and that I read them openly in public, I always get a few typical questions. One of my favorites would have to be "Do you read those novels with the half naked men on them? Haha!" Sigh.
No I don't. First off any of the half naked hero/heroine romances, often called bodice rippers, tend to be published in the1980's 1990's and are usually out of print unless picked up by a large publishing house for a reprint. If I am caught reading one of them they tend to be dog eared and falling apart from moves from one house to the other, rain soaked storage in backpacks and purses and rips from hiding them long ago when I was ashamed of my habit at 11 or 12. The ones that do feature half naked covers tend to be really hilarious Harlequin "Category" romances. Most Harlequin romances are a single in a series, like the hilariously titled: The Greek Millionaires Secret Child or The Ruthless Billionaires Secret Virgin which cater to the poor employee/rich man fantasy. There are genres in the Harlequin world that deal with single fathers, and NASCAR. They have sub genres which include paranormal romance, erotic fiction, and Christianity (which usually have no sex and deal with romance in the scope of God and worship).
One of the reasons I don't read very many category romance writers is because of Harlequin's strict writing guidelines. I find that many of the books are formulaic (duh!) and the characters are hard to develop in 150 pages. But who am I to judge. You have to hand it to them, they know how to produce something that sells and by producing books that follow strict guidelines they are able to appeal to a broader reader base. I'm sure there are some evangelicals who would balk at buying an inspirational Christian romance from a publisher that also publishes novels such as The Duchess, Her Maid, The Groom & Their Lover but I am sure there are few publishing companies that crank out as many as Harlequin does. They even publish romance novels in Spanish and have been one of the first to jump on the Ebook wagon, realizing that these do get devoured and need to be purchased in bulk.
My only issue is that they don't publish queer romance, but then again, would I read it? And here is a major side note, I've read my fair share of queer romance. A lot of the time its either straight erotica or the worst purple prosed novel on the planet. On par with Twilight even, and that's the worst insult I can think of.
But this side note leads nicely into my next explanation, while Harlequin to some (even me!) is scoffed at, the romance genre would not be what it is today with out it. Truthfully, with those writing guidelines set out they've crafted I am sure it has made better writers out of some of the crappiest romance novel writers.
The bottom line of this silly post I've been sitting on for like a million years is that there are four stacks I stick the trashy romance novels I buy in.
Stack One: "Dude this was Great! I'm totally glad I paid 7.99 for this piece of fluff! (Emphasis on the fluff part)"
Authors include:
Amanda Quick, a historical novelist, who has a recent annoying tendency to add the paranormal into all her novels no matter what the pseudonym. Yes, all three of them. Her historicals tend to be lighter on that crap.
Linda Howard, a contemporary author who's pretty good about combining the romance with the serial killer action.
Christina Dodd, but only her historical romance. I'm not so much a fan of her contemporary, her plot lines are a little too convenient. Don't even get me started on her paranormal, I like to forget I wasted three hours at the airport on A Touch of Darkness
Stack Two: "OMGOMG I feel like my eyes are going to pop out of my head because the story is so riveting and/or because the sex scenes are making me blush like a virgin school girl!"
Authors include:
Sabrina Jeffries. The woman sure does know how to shock me by inserting masturbation and kinky sex scenes into Victorian time periods. Her heroines are feisty
Susan Elizabeth Phillips, another contemporary author who makes me cry every time I read one of her books. Even the really crappy civil war era romance.
Janet Evanovich. Not a romance author per se, but she writes some good romantic tension while making me laugh so hard I pee myself.
Stack Three: "Eh, going in the used bookstore pile. I skimmed the last 50 pages of this book."
Authors include a smattering of the above listed authors. These books once were combined into this last column. Thank god for Book Again. I will never toss another trashy romance novel in the goodwill pile ever again. I can now get more trashy romance novels for half the cover price and twice the lulz because of the cranky old ladies who work there and love romances more than I do. Plus they have a pretty impressive collection of erotic fiction. Oh wow, potential ew factor now that I think about it.
Stack Four. The Wall Dent Pile.
This stack is epic. I don't usually have many of these issues. But since I started going to Book Again and haven't had to count my twenties when the option comes to buy enough books to last me the work week, I've been taking risks on my trashy romance novel obsession. Just this week I had three wall dent books.
Arnette Lamb's, True Heart. I hate, hate, hate, with an epic fury, fake amnesia stories. You know the ones, the heroine has some troubled past, usually of her own making (in this case sneaking away to see her fiancee and gets kidnapped and shipped to America as a bond servant) and fakes amnesia once her loved ones find her so that she doesn't "hurt them once they know about the horrors she experienced." Ugh, I got 50 pages in and tossed it across the room. I was so excited because I had read the book before it and wanted to know how it ended.
The second was Christina Dodd's Treasure of the Sun. I did want to finish it. The plot was clever, set in colonial California, a American housekeeper employed by a rich Mexican. Totally cute what you did there, playing with the status quo, Dodd. Really cute. Too bad you didn't deliver! The story dragged so much I ended up skimming to see if the sex scenes were going to redeem it. Nope. Not at all! The heroine and hero don't even get to have sex in the pages I skimmed, because she's too shy. Fuck that! I don't read trashy romance novels to see the heroine get shy! I like my historicals non historically accurate in that sense. The other "real" sex scenes must have been hidden by her relentlessly slow story line.
The third was Elizabeth Boyle's Confession of a Little Black Gown, which I picked up last minute at Target because I was spending an impromptu night at The Boyfriend's and needed something to read while he was comic making. (Side note: Target = best place to get bestsellers. They are 20%-40% off the cover price sometimes!) This book might not have been as irritating if I had read the first in the series. There is nothing I hate more than buying the book right in the middle of a series and the whole story is a reference to The Secrets of the Little Pink Dress or some such nonsense. Ugh. I am not a big fan of detailed story arcs in romances. An author who is notorious for this is Johanna Lindsey. She spends 90% of her book in back story of secondary characters. It is not worth my time to even pick up anymore.
Really though, just to put it in perspective, none of these are the epic fail of Stephanie Meyer's Twilight. I put the book down like a million times with my "Really SMeyer? Really?" face on. The characters were so one dimensional I could see through the pages. The writing was so purple I thought it was bleeding.
Don't even get me started on how I feel about the main characters and what is considered abuse in an unhealthy relationship. Maybe I'll purchase the series and write a paper on it, I have so much ammunition for the Twihards out there who think Meyer is a goddess and LUUUUUUURRRRVVVVV Edward Cullen with every inch of their virgin lives. Oh, I can't forget the twimom's who think about Edward Cullen when their husband is making love to them at night. I really don't know who's more pathetic.
When I finished it and realized it was just a set up for the next book in the series I hurled it across the room. Fuck you Stephanie Meyer. Fuck you. I want three days of my life back. Thank god I bought it used at Powells bookstore, I'm glad I didn't fund you another 15 dollars!
Sigh, I finally think I'm done with this. It took about a week, but I think that's it. I may sit down with the next romance I've got and make notes so I can post a review here. Humph, we'll see how well that idea goes.
No I don't. First off any of the half naked hero/heroine romances, often called bodice rippers, tend to be published in the1980's 1990's and are usually out of print unless picked up by a large publishing house for a reprint. If I am caught reading one of them they tend to be dog eared and falling apart from moves from one house to the other, rain soaked storage in backpacks and purses and rips from hiding them long ago when I was ashamed of my habit at 11 or 12. The ones that do feature half naked covers tend to be really hilarious Harlequin "Category" romances. Most Harlequin romances are a single in a series, like the hilariously titled: The Greek Millionaires Secret Child or The Ruthless Billionaires Secret Virgin which cater to the poor employee/rich man fantasy. There are genres in the Harlequin world that deal with single fathers, and NASCAR. They have sub genres which include paranormal romance, erotic fiction, and Christianity (which usually have no sex and deal with romance in the scope of God and worship).
One of the reasons I don't read very many category romance writers is because of Harlequin's strict writing guidelines. I find that many of the books are formulaic (duh!) and the characters are hard to develop in 150 pages. But who am I to judge. You have to hand it to them, they know how to produce something that sells and by producing books that follow strict guidelines they are able to appeal to a broader reader base. I'm sure there are some evangelicals who would balk at buying an inspirational Christian romance from a publisher that also publishes novels such as The Duchess, Her Maid, The Groom & Their Lover but I am sure there are few publishing companies that crank out as many as Harlequin does. They even publish romance novels in Spanish and have been one of the first to jump on the Ebook wagon, realizing that these do get devoured and need to be purchased in bulk.
My only issue is that they don't publish queer romance, but then again, would I read it? And here is a major side note, I've read my fair share of queer romance. A lot of the time its either straight erotica or the worst purple prosed novel on the planet. On par with Twilight even, and that's the worst insult I can think of.
But this side note leads nicely into my next explanation, while Harlequin to some (even me!) is scoffed at, the romance genre would not be what it is today with out it. Truthfully, with those writing guidelines set out they've crafted I am sure it has made better writers out of some of the crappiest romance novel writers.
The bottom line of this silly post I've been sitting on for like a million years is that there are four stacks I stick the trashy romance novels I buy in.
Stack One: "Dude this was Great! I'm totally glad I paid 7.99 for this piece of fluff! (Emphasis on the fluff part)"
Authors include:
Amanda Quick, a historical novelist, who has a recent annoying tendency to add the paranormal into all her novels no matter what the pseudonym. Yes, all three of them. Her historicals tend to be lighter on that crap.
Linda Howard, a contemporary author who's pretty good about combining the romance with the serial killer action.
Christina Dodd, but only her historical romance. I'm not so much a fan of her contemporary, her plot lines are a little too convenient. Don't even get me started on her paranormal, I like to forget I wasted three hours at the airport on A Touch of Darkness
Stack Two: "OMGOMG I feel like my eyes are going to pop out of my head because the story is so riveting and/or because the sex scenes are making me blush like a virgin school girl!"
Authors include:
Sabrina Jeffries. The woman sure does know how to shock me by inserting masturbation and kinky sex scenes into Victorian time periods. Her heroines are feisty
Susan Elizabeth Phillips, another contemporary author who makes me cry every time I read one of her books. Even the really crappy civil war era romance.
Janet Evanovich. Not a romance author per se, but she writes some good romantic tension while making me laugh so hard I pee myself.
Stack Three: "Eh, going in the used bookstore pile. I skimmed the last 50 pages of this book."
Authors include a smattering of the above listed authors. These books once were combined into this last column. Thank god for Book Again. I will never toss another trashy romance novel in the goodwill pile ever again. I can now get more trashy romance novels for half the cover price and twice the lulz because of the cranky old ladies who work there and love romances more than I do. Plus they have a pretty impressive collection of erotic fiction. Oh wow, potential ew factor now that I think about it.
Stack Four. The Wall Dent Pile.
This stack is epic. I don't usually have many of these issues. But since I started going to Book Again and haven't had to count my twenties when the option comes to buy enough books to last me the work week, I've been taking risks on my trashy romance novel obsession. Just this week I had three wall dent books.
Arnette Lamb's, True Heart. I hate, hate, hate, with an epic fury, fake amnesia stories. You know the ones, the heroine has some troubled past, usually of her own making (in this case sneaking away to see her fiancee and gets kidnapped and shipped to America as a bond servant) and fakes amnesia once her loved ones find her so that she doesn't "hurt them once they know about the horrors she experienced." Ugh, I got 50 pages in and tossed it across the room. I was so excited because I had read the book before it and wanted to know how it ended.
The second was Christina Dodd's Treasure of the Sun. I did want to finish it. The plot was clever, set in colonial California, a American housekeeper employed by a rich Mexican. Totally cute what you did there, playing with the status quo, Dodd. Really cute. Too bad you didn't deliver! The story dragged so much I ended up skimming to see if the sex scenes were going to redeem it. Nope. Not at all! The heroine and hero don't even get to have sex in the pages I skimmed, because she's too shy. Fuck that! I don't read trashy romance novels to see the heroine get shy! I like my historicals non historically accurate in that sense. The other "real" sex scenes must have been hidden by her relentlessly slow story line.
The third was Elizabeth Boyle's Confession of a Little Black Gown, which I picked up last minute at Target because I was spending an impromptu night at The Boyfriend's and needed something to read while he was comic making. (Side note: Target = best place to get bestsellers. They are 20%-40% off the cover price sometimes!) This book might not have been as irritating if I had read the first in the series. There is nothing I hate more than buying the book right in the middle of a series and the whole story is a reference to The Secrets of the Little Pink Dress or some such nonsense. Ugh. I am not a big fan of detailed story arcs in romances. An author who is notorious for this is Johanna Lindsey. She spends 90% of her book in back story of secondary characters. It is not worth my time to even pick up anymore.
Really though, just to put it in perspective, none of these are the epic fail of Stephanie Meyer's Twilight. I put the book down like a million times with my "Really SMeyer? Really?" face on. The characters were so one dimensional I could see through the pages. The writing was so purple I thought it was bleeding.
Don't even get me started on how I feel about the main characters and what is considered abuse in an unhealthy relationship. Maybe I'll purchase the series and write a paper on it, I have so much ammunition for the Twihards out there who think Meyer is a goddess and LUUUUUUURRRRVVVVV Edward Cullen with every inch of their virgin lives. Oh, I can't forget the twimom's who think about Edward Cullen when their husband is making love to them at night. I really don't know who's more pathetic.
When I finished it and realized it was just a set up for the next book in the series I hurled it across the room. Fuck you Stephanie Meyer. Fuck you. I want three days of my life back. Thank god I bought it used at Powells bookstore, I'm glad I didn't fund you another 15 dollars!
Sigh, I finally think I'm done with this. It took about a week, but I think that's it. I may sit down with the next romance I've got and make notes so I can post a review here. Humph, we'll see how well that idea goes.
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
A Grown Up House
You know what the difference between a grown up house and a college house is?
Frames. Yep, plain old fashioned picture frames. Silly I know.
My coworker and I talked about this a bit at break when she asked how settled I was in my new apartment. I told her I was still drowning in boxes, empty and otherwise. (goddamn trashy romance novels!) And how I spent a ton of money this weekend on frames, and trying to make my room look grown up and not so childish. She related to me her realization on "grown up" homes, when she went to a house party that a friend was throwing with her boyfriend. She walked in and all the dinner and flatware matched. Posters and pictures were in frames and there was a color scheme going. That's when she realized SHE was a grown up.
One of my really good friends from college is living with her much much older boyfriend, and she is/was always the type to worry about matching and stuff. Now that they live in his house she's even more aware, even though she really cant change anything without his consent. My Partner In Crime is similar. She loves the color combination of purple and grass green and has crafted her room at her parents house to showcase those colors. When I was living in the California house I choose every color of red imaginable and decked my room out in that. But it was still a college room, with posters that didn't match and Christmas lights. So I threw out my Christmas lights, and decided on something a little different for a color scheme. Orange, black and golden yellow. My mother and best friend insist that its going to look like Halloween. But I think if I'm careful and go heavy on the black and light on the orange (or tend toward a more bronze orange) I should be ok. I'm kinda nervous. I'll be a grown up.
Yesterday I took one large step in being a grown up and purchased 50 dollars worth of picture frames. Three poster sized ones, one long narrow ones, four 8x10's, and four little ones. I framed some of my favorite pictures from Team Gay in Santa Cruz. I took two of the large poster frames and collaged my last weekend in Santa Cruz Polaroids, juxtaposed with a few of my favorite (This one is called "Wrong Nail") Gil Elvgren pinups. I always had a collage wall in the dorms with things I found interesting; articles, ads, flyers, pictures and bottle caps I found around campus. I decided to toss all that crap and keep only a few cherished ones for my pin up polaroid collage. I have about six or seven fans that I want to put up on the walls also, that I've collected over the years. Now its all about moving things around and getting a stud finder.
Today's Gem: Ikea has the best frames for your money
For fifty bucks I got 14 frames. I bought six black frames and eight clip frames which consist of just glass and particle board for backing with silver clips keeping them together. The tiny clip frames come in a pack of four for 2.99. The large clip frames which were measured about 20x13 or something were only 4.99. The black frames were 4.99 and 7.99. I swear you cant go wrong because they were 20 dollars a piece at Michaels!
These large clip frames are ideal for a collage of pictures. I saw these really cute frames at target which were about the same size that consisted of different panes of glass in one frame which gave each picture placed on each glass panel depth. They were so expensive. So I settled for these clip frames instead. I went to Michaels and got scrapbooking paper in my highlighting colors (orange and gold) and placed them as the backing. Then collaged them to give them some depth all on their own. I tend not to be the type to want symmetry for some reason. I like everything to be a tiny bit asemetrical. So mine are all at odd slants and going wonky directions. We'll see how it looks. For more practical reasons these clip frames are ideal because if you decide your color scheme is different you can change out the back paper for your new color. I have a feeling this will happen every six months or so for me. I get so bored easily.
Gem #2: Michael's > Joann's for crafty stuff, but Joann's > Michael's for price.
Ugh I paid six dollars for yarn for beardaversary. WTF! I'm pretty sure it would have been cheaper at Joann's. And I feel like I'd also get a ton more of selection. My beard btw is going to be rockin'.
Hmm, I think that's about it. Oh, yeah, one more: always always always check the As-Is area of ikea. I snaked a rockin' black shag rug from the As-Is area for 53% off. (And by snaked I mean I literally snaked it out from under some hipster/scenester/goth/punk girl, she was just staring at it with her hands on her hips and Partner in Crime whipped it off its hanger and we stuck it on my cart. Man did we get the stink eye) It was only 24 dollars. It was the floor model so it did have some left over sticky paper residue in the corner but with some tweezers and carpet cleaner it looks as good as new. And now I can use my huge hardwood floor for more than just walking. Like impromptu champagne-taco bell-picnic-framing-parties with the Partner in Crime on my clearance urban outfitters square floor cushions. Or as Partner said, "Now you can have sex on your floor!" Hmph. That'll be the day.
Frames. Yep, plain old fashioned picture frames. Silly I know.
My coworker and I talked about this a bit at break when she asked how settled I was in my new apartment. I told her I was still drowning in boxes, empty and otherwise. (goddamn trashy romance novels!) And how I spent a ton of money this weekend on frames, and trying to make my room look grown up and not so childish. She related to me her realization on "grown up" homes, when she went to a house party that a friend was throwing with her boyfriend. She walked in and all the dinner and flatware matched. Posters and pictures were in frames and there was a color scheme going. That's when she realized SHE was a grown up.
One of my really good friends from college is living with her much much older boyfriend, and she is/was always the type to worry about matching and stuff. Now that they live in his house she's even more aware, even though she really cant change anything without his consent. My Partner In Crime is similar. She loves the color combination of purple and grass green and has crafted her room at her parents house to showcase those colors. When I was living in the California house I choose every color of red imaginable and decked my room out in that. But it was still a college room, with posters that didn't match and Christmas lights. So I threw out my Christmas lights, and decided on something a little different for a color scheme. Orange, black and golden yellow. My mother and best friend insist that its going to look like Halloween. But I think if I'm careful and go heavy on the black and light on the orange (or tend toward a more bronze orange) I should be ok. I'm kinda nervous. I'll be a grown up.
Yesterday I took one large step in being a grown up and purchased 50 dollars worth of picture frames. Three poster sized ones, one long narrow ones, four 8x10's, and four little ones. I framed some of my favorite pictures from Team Gay in Santa Cruz. I took two of the large poster frames and collaged my last weekend in Santa Cruz Polaroids, juxtaposed with a few of my favorite (This one is called "Wrong Nail") Gil Elvgren pinups. I always had a collage wall in the dorms with things I found interesting; articles, ads, flyers, pictures and bottle caps I found around campus. I decided to toss all that crap and keep only a few cherished ones for my pin up polaroid collage. I have about six or seven fans that I want to put up on the walls also, that I've collected over the years. Now its all about moving things around and getting a stud finder.
Today's Gem: Ikea has the best frames for your money
For fifty bucks I got 14 frames. I bought six black frames and eight clip frames which consist of just glass and particle board for backing with silver clips keeping them together. The tiny clip frames come in a pack of four for 2.99. The large clip frames which were measured about 20x13 or something were only 4.99. The black frames were 4.99 and 7.99. I swear you cant go wrong because they were 20 dollars a piece at Michaels!
These large clip frames are ideal for a collage of pictures. I saw these really cute frames at target which were about the same size that consisted of different panes of glass in one frame which gave each picture placed on each glass panel depth. They were so expensive. So I settled for these clip frames instead. I went to Michaels and got scrapbooking paper in my highlighting colors (orange and gold) and placed them as the backing. Then collaged them to give them some depth all on their own. I tend not to be the type to want symmetry for some reason. I like everything to be a tiny bit asemetrical. So mine are all at odd slants and going wonky directions. We'll see how it looks. For more practical reasons these clip frames are ideal because if you decide your color scheme is different you can change out the back paper for your new color. I have a feeling this will happen every six months or so for me. I get so bored easily.
Gem #2: Michael's > Joann's for crafty stuff, but Joann's > Michael's for price.
Ugh I paid six dollars for yarn for beardaversary. WTF! I'm pretty sure it would have been cheaper at Joann's. And I feel like I'd also get a ton more of selection. My beard btw is going to be rockin'.
Hmm, I think that's about it. Oh, yeah, one more: always always always check the As-Is area of ikea. I snaked a rockin' black shag rug from the As-Is area for 53% off. (And by snaked I mean I literally snaked it out from under some hipster/scenester/goth/punk girl, she was just staring at it with her hands on her hips and Partner in Crime whipped it off its hanger and we stuck it on my cart. Man did we get the stink eye) It was only 24 dollars. It was the floor model so it did have some left over sticky paper residue in the corner but with some tweezers and carpet cleaner it looks as good as new. And now I can use my huge hardwood floor for more than just walking. Like impromptu champagne-taco bell-picnic-framing-parties with the Partner in Crime on my clearance urban outfitters square floor cushions. Or as Partner said, "Now you can have sex on your floor!" Hmph. That'll be the day.
Saturday, February 28, 2009
On Cleaning, Family and Friends.
Status of the move: 8/10ths done.
If there's one thing I've learned in my moving is that you can NEVER have too many hands. When it comes to hauling boxes and hiking up stairs, one really must have friends to spare. Since I come from a pretty traditional Mexican family, we know how to treat our helpers. Since I'm a raging lush, I know how to treat MY helpers. Why lunch and mimosas of course! They'll deserve them once they have to drag all our furniture up the stairs. We have 8 large pieces, two tvs, and two beds to move tomorrow. My room is almost done, just my clothes, and the bare necessities are left. Oh and another huge under the bed storage box full of books.
About moving: Really, if you're a bibliophile like me, moving is never going to be easy with the books you cannot bear to part with. I even purged them, and planned on taking them to the used book store (so I could get MORE books at some point) and still I have seven boxes of books and no place to put them.
Back to the subject, I am having my fantastic and overwhelmingly lovely boyfriend and equally as charming and wonderful best friend come over and help me move and unpack tomorrow. I have invited a few choice flaky friends to also help, but we'll see if the draw of free booze will be worth them showing up. I plan on putting my two favorite people to work alphabetizing my trashy romance novel collection, and strategizing on where to put my furniture. I have a very worn bedroom set that I am pretty sure dates back to the 1920's. Which is in various states of refinishing. But I could never give it up, I have this HUGE vanity mirror that I adore more than anything. Its just frustrating because its so damn large. And then hopefully, if time permits, I can drag them both to ikea and we can look at bookcases and shelving. Once we have a bit of an understanding of how many books I have and how much space I'll need. I even contemplated making a cinderblock bookcase, but I'm not quite sure how classy that will look.
My grandmother came over today to line the kitchen cabients. Liner keeps dust and other nasty things from invading your dishes. I stole some of the cling liner and lined my medicine cabienet and bathroom drawer. It really makes gross boring drawers look much cleaner and less shady.
Today's Moving Gem: The 99 cent store is god for many things.
I'm sure my college friends would be sure to tell me that the 99 cent store uses sweat shops, cuts down rain forests and child labor. But honestly, at this moment in this economy, I could give a flying fuck less. I was able to buy every single cleaning product (plus shower stuff for my brother, paper towels, toilet paper and toothpaste) for 23 dollars. I'm not kidding when I say every single cleaning supply you'd ever need. It costed more to get a mop and a broom at walgreens (ok so WAY overpriced) than for me to get all that stuff. And I found it quite charming, if inconvienent, that they charge for plastic bags. In addition, they also sell condoms. How win is that?
While my grandma meticulously lines the cabinets, my brother bitches and moans about being unemployed, and living in the living room and how crappy it is. I really am not sure how living with him is going to be. I can't even get into how frustrated I am at his whining. The point of my grandma mention is, that my mom doesnt have a bed yet, so she has to sleep on my air mattress, but like a dumb ass I packed my air mattress with all my sex toys. So this is how the conversation went:
"babe? I'll need the air mattress. Is it in one of the boxes in your room?"
"[shit!] Uhhhh, let me look mom, I think I uh, maybe its still at home."
[Frantically search for the box with air mattress and strap ons in room hoping against hope that it is there and not at my stepdad's house. No such luck.]
"no, um its well, at the house. [stare at grandma guiltily] If you go pick up the boxes dont open them. I uh, well I think there might be some scandalous, and really shady things in there. [please don't let her ask what I mean, please dont let her ask what I mean.]
Thankfully my mom loves my use of the term Shady and Scandalous and laughed awkwardly and let it go. I thank god every moment that my grandmother is hard of hearing, because that would have been difficult to explain.
Gem Number 2: Never Pack Your Sex Toys in a Box Your Mother Would Look in.
Next Post: Just How Many Trashy Romance Novels Does This Slut Have?
(She MUST be exaggerating, no one has seven boxes of books full of bodice rippers.)
If there's one thing I've learned in my moving is that you can NEVER have too many hands. When it comes to hauling boxes and hiking up stairs, one really must have friends to spare. Since I come from a pretty traditional Mexican family, we know how to treat our helpers. Since I'm a raging lush, I know how to treat MY helpers. Why lunch and mimosas of course! They'll deserve them once they have to drag all our furniture up the stairs. We have 8 large pieces, two tvs, and two beds to move tomorrow. My room is almost done, just my clothes, and the bare necessities are left. Oh and another huge under the bed storage box full of books.
About moving: Really, if you're a bibliophile like me, moving is never going to be easy with the books you cannot bear to part with. I even purged them, and planned on taking them to the used book store (so I could get MORE books at some point) and still I have seven boxes of books and no place to put them.
Back to the subject, I am having my fantastic and overwhelmingly lovely boyfriend and equally as charming and wonderful best friend come over and help me move and unpack tomorrow. I have invited a few choice flaky friends to also help, but we'll see if the draw of free booze will be worth them showing up. I plan on putting my two favorite people to work alphabetizing my trashy romance novel collection, and strategizing on where to put my furniture. I have a very worn bedroom set that I am pretty sure dates back to the 1920's. Which is in various states of refinishing. But I could never give it up, I have this HUGE vanity mirror that I adore more than anything. Its just frustrating because its so damn large. And then hopefully, if time permits, I can drag them both to ikea and we can look at bookcases and shelving. Once we have a bit of an understanding of how many books I have and how much space I'll need. I even contemplated making a cinderblock bookcase, but I'm not quite sure how classy that will look.
My grandmother came over today to line the kitchen cabients. Liner keeps dust and other nasty things from invading your dishes. I stole some of the cling liner and lined my medicine cabienet and bathroom drawer. It really makes gross boring drawers look much cleaner and less shady.
Today's Moving Gem: The 99 cent store is god for many things.
I'm sure my college friends would be sure to tell me that the 99 cent store uses sweat shops, cuts down rain forests and child labor. But honestly, at this moment in this economy, I could give a flying fuck less. I was able to buy every single cleaning product (plus shower stuff for my brother, paper towels, toilet paper and toothpaste) for 23 dollars. I'm not kidding when I say every single cleaning supply you'd ever need. It costed more to get a mop and a broom at walgreens (ok so WAY overpriced) than for me to get all that stuff. And I found it quite charming, if inconvienent, that they charge for plastic bags. In addition, they also sell condoms. How win is that?
While my grandma meticulously lines the cabinets, my brother bitches and moans about being unemployed, and living in the living room and how crappy it is. I really am not sure how living with him is going to be. I can't even get into how frustrated I am at his whining. The point of my grandma mention is, that my mom doesnt have a bed yet, so she has to sleep on my air mattress, but like a dumb ass I packed my air mattress with all my sex toys. So this is how the conversation went:
"babe? I'll need the air mattress. Is it in one of the boxes in your room?"
"[shit!] Uhhhh, let me look mom, I think I uh, maybe its still at home."
[Frantically search for the box with air mattress and strap ons in room hoping against hope that it is there and not at my stepdad's house. No such luck.]
"no, um its well, at the house. [stare at grandma guiltily] If you go pick up the boxes dont open them. I uh, well I think there might be some scandalous, and really shady things in there. [please don't let her ask what I mean, please dont let her ask what I mean.]
Thankfully my mom loves my use of the term Shady and Scandalous and laughed awkwardly and let it go. I thank god every moment that my grandmother is hard of hearing, because that would have been difficult to explain.
Gem Number 2: Never Pack Your Sex Toys in a Box Your Mother Would Look in.
Next Post: Just How Many Trashy Romance Novels Does This Slut Have?
(She MUST be exaggerating, no one has seven boxes of books full of bodice rippers.)
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