Esio Trot

This is the next out of the Roald Dahl boxed set that I picked up at Costco… there’s not too much to say. It was adorable and cute and predictable and hilarious and I loved it. Awful darn cute, but very short, so my blog is going to represent that. Go out and read it, it’s fun. It will take you ten minutes. You will feel warm and fuzzy. Warm. Fuzzy. Read it.

The Magic Finger

You know, the more nasty I feel, the more I read. And the more nasty I feel, the less I feel like writing. Oy, I’m having a bad month. I caught some annoying cold again. It’s been a few weeks and it just won’t go away. I’m sick of it. Sick of sick. So there’s a really good chance this very short, very boring blog will be followed by about twelve more really short really boring blogs, all because I’m grumpy and sick. And MarioKart is waiting. But for some reason, I have this weird compulsion to keep logging these silly books… as though anybody cares! It’s like I’m back in elementary school and if I don’t do my book report I might get in trouble and the teacher will tell my mom and I’ll get in bigger trouble and the kids will make fun of me on the playground because for some reason they loved nothing more than to run by me and yell, “Jocelyn missed one on her homework!!!” when I got a less than perfect score, which was really mean because it’s not like I could help that I kept getting perfect scores on everything, it just happened because I seemed to know everything without trying and they didn’t know how to add or spell properly yet and they were just jealous but of course when I was nine I didn’t understand that they were just jealous but figured everybody hated me (which they did) and they thought that I sucked up to the teachers (which I didn’t) and that they only gave me good grades because my mom worked at the school (which definitely wasn’t true but I was afraid might be true) and so all their meanness and teasing and picking on me just made me hate myself and my stupid brain (which apparently was smarter than all the trailer park dunderheads I went to school with) when all I wanted to do was hurry up and graduate so I could be a vet until I figured out that you had to dissect cats in veterinary school and then I just wanted to be a lazy bum, which I am now, so I guess my annoying giant brain served me well and the dunderheads are now doctors treating poor innocent Amish in substandard Midwestern medical centers. Pant, pant.

Okay, that was just an attempt to win the longest sentence contest, let me know how I did. (You know who you are.)

Okay, so anyway, after that rampage, I’ll tell ya about one of the books I read. Um, it was called The Magic Finger. It was adorable. It’s a kids’ book, since I recently came across a gem of a collection at Costco- 14 Roald Dahl books packaged all prettily together and illustrated by Quentin Blake. I have always loved Roald Dahl books, both the crazy and the merely quirky. (Danny, the Champion of the World has always been on my all-time favorite list.) Anyway, The Magic Finger was really funny. It’s one of those books where you never learn the name of the narrator. And absolutely nothing happens to the narrator the entire time. She tells the story of her next-door neighbors, who love to hunt. But they make her mad, so she accidentally shoots her “magic finger” at them and all sorts of mayhem ensues. It’s one of the silliest books I’ve ever read, but I read it in 20 minutes whilst enjoying my Costco ice cream and it made my day completely delightful. The book’s great, read it, and be happy.

And I’m still grumpy, so I’m pretty much done here. Bye-bye-bye.