I went to the library yesterday and scored two replacement books: Bunny by Mona Awad and The Wonder Boy of Whistle Stop by Fannie Flagg. I started with Bunny mainly because the book blurb on the dust jacket said the story made a reviewer cackle while nodding in terrifying agreement. Sounded to be right up my alley. But and it’s a big butt, this book is not for me.
I was very sure I’d enjoy it since I ❤ dark and twisted. Why? Well because dark and twisted is not my typical life said no one ever. I read to escape and needed that after the week I had. If you really stop to think, all life is atypical … what a cluster. Not all day, everyday, all the time but often enough … the weight of the world is heavy. But I digress.
I used to be of the “if you break it, you bought it” philosophy. Mixing metaphors here but what I mean is that I finished every book I ever opened … to the bitter end … no matter what. Well y’all, that’s not me any longer. No sir/ no ma’am. No way / no how. Time is a precious commodity. Sadly I stopped reading Bunny about a chapter into Part Two. I plan to check out more from Mona Awad though. See if “it’s not you, it’s me”.
Now for a pantser. LOL. I’m still chuckling. Dropped off the weekly groceries at B’s parents. Where his mom informs us she has to go to the store to get PoPo new clothes since he has lost so much weight. 40 lbs gone since the fall and hospital stay, now back home but still in PT. We told her we’d go. She herself has zero business driving. If she insists, we’ll take her or we can help her order online like last time.
She is resistant. Wants to shop old school. To a degree, I get that but he won’t be going along to try on anyway. Convenience is important at this phase of their lives. She’s prattling about sizes and how he never wears his pants at the right spot. Telling him how he needs to wear pants around his waist not below his belly (which has become non-existent). The convo went something like this:
“Mom, they’ll deliver right to your door”
PoPo not hearing B continues “I’ve tried wearing my pants over my belly button. Five minutes later they drop. To where they’re meant to be.
“No one wants to see your crack”, MoMo says.
“Well maybe they do” PoPo retorts. “I’m a plumber okay. I like being a plumber“.
By this time I’m snort laughing.
Lulu a bit confused asks “PoPo what does being plumber mean?”
I snort some more.
Probably not PC but it’s funny y’all. Don’t ya think? Stereotypical of course. And just so ya know, I have an affinity for plumbers and anyone who works a trade. B has done quite well for himself and for us that way.
As always, more to come.