M. Giant's
Velcrometer
Throwing stuff at the internet to see what sticks


Thursday, August 22, 2002  

Got a very nice shout-out from Deborah over at Chicklit today. Funny story about that site: I recommended it to Trash about a year ago, because she loves books and she’s always running out of stuff to read. I figured she’d love it. This is a Master of Library Sciences who did an undergraduate senior paper on Virginia Woolf, after all.

Then, a few months ago, she was browsing through Damn Hell Ass Kings to learn a little more about the impressive company I’d just weaseled my way into. Suddenly she called my name in that tone that lets me know when I’m in deep trouble.

“What is this?” she demanded.

“That’s Chicklit,” I said in that tone that lets her know when she’s asking a ridiculous question. I wasn’t even sure I was answering the right question; I actually wondered if I should have said, “That’s your monitor.”

“Why haven’t you told me about this?” she accused. “I need this! This is, like, a site just for me!”

“I know that,” I said. “That’s why I did tell you about it.”

Trash wasn’t having it. If this existed and I knew about it, there was no excuse for her not to know too. Clearly, it must be my fault.

“Are you telling me you’ve never seen this?” I asked incredulously. She hadn’t, and she wasn’t happy about it. Frankly, neither was I, because what does that say about her opinion of my recommendations?

“Remember?” I said. “I told you about the really cool site with the book reviews and articles and essays and stuff? Written by women? Chicklit?”

Hearing it sounded out flicked a switch in her head. “Oh, Chicklit,” she said sheepishly. “I thought you were saying Chiclet.” Thus she had dismissed my recommendation. “I always wondered, ‘why does he keep telling me about Chiclets?’ I don’t even like Chiclets. Why would I want to read about Chiclets?”

“You know,” I pointed out, “Chiclets actually have a long and noble history—“

“Oh, shut up.” Suddenly she had a lot of reading to do. Book reviews and articles and essays and stuff. I left her to it while I basked smugly in my rightness.

I’m relating this story not just because I appreciate Deborah’s compliment, but because I don’t need anyone else blaming me because they don’t know from Chicklit. Ninety percent of you probably already know about it, but now the other ten percent of you have no excuse. So there.

* * *

The overhydration “cure” I tried yesterday didn’t work. I’m still sick. That pretty much nixes our plans for going camping this weekend. I’ve heard about lots of unusual cold remedies, but spending a couple of days sucking down clouds of campfire smoke and sleeping on the ground isn’t one of them. Bummer.

That’s not going to stop me from going to Seattle next week, because we have an indomitable spirit of curiosity that drives us to never stop exploring our world, an insatiable wanderlust that cannot be quelled by mere germs. Also, we already paid for the tickets.

So I’m putting out a call for suggestions about things we can see and do in Seattle. We’ve already gotten a lot of great ideas from people (including Gael and Monty), but we never consider our vacations a success unless we can spend the flight home moaning about all the stuff we wanted to do but didn’t have time for. Send me an e-mail, and perhaps your suggestion can join the distinguished list of things we didn’t get to. Plus I’m a little low on Reader Mail this month, so you’d really be helping me out.

Feel free to tailor your responses to first-time visitors who have a rental car, six days in town, and an appreciation for bargains. There’ll be two of us, one of whom is going to be intermittently hocking up great yellow spoonfuls of lung-butter.

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