My friend, Cindy, complimented me on my Goodreads reviews. Some of them are pretty good, if I do say so myself. Here are a few random ones:
Houdini Girl (Doug Henning is not in this book. I wish he was. He would have made it more fun)
|| So seriously? Was this book written by a 14 year old boy? Because if you take out the references to fucking and smoking, the book would be about 10 pages long.
I spent most of the book trying to decide who I hated the most. The Red character had some interesting things to say about magic, but he was annoying and stupid. There was no reason to love Rosa other than that he loved fucking her and then smoking with her. The “lovely” Kim? I wanted to punch her in the face. She was all about fucking (surprise!). And Rosa…her entire character was fucking, with the frequent cigarette thrown in. Why on earth were she and Red together, other than fucking? There was nothing else to her–just fucking. And smoking.
The only reason I didn’t give it one star is because the magic stuff was kind of cool. And I liked the Denis character. And the Amsterdam scenes were interesting. But otherwise, oy. I might have enjoyed this when I was 14 and sex was still a mystery to me but I’m 30 years past and this book just bored the, well, the fuck out of me
Confessions of a Dangerous Mind (I sure did love me some Gene!)
|| At the risk of making you think I am batshit insane, please allow me to tell you a story from my youth. At times, I would imagine that I was on a TV show, complete with an audience who would laugh, clap and go “ohhhhhhhhhhhhh” when I did something bad. But the “ohhhhhhhhh” was one of those, “Oh no she dinnit! That Patti girl is so cray-cray!” kind of things that you say while laughing at the protagonist, while simultaneously shaking your head at their craziness.
So I would do stupid shit, imagining that the audience was finding me absolutely adorable and saying, “Isn’t she funny?” all the while. Eventually though, I got over this and curtailed my stupid shit. Chuck Barris, OTOH, must never have lost his invisible audience going “ohhhhhhhhhhhhh”; I mean, he practically brags about paying for dozens of abortions, leaving his dog to starve to death, and generally being a prick to the nth degree.
Why on earth would someone put this in his autobiography? I mean, seriously? Other than that he thinks we are going to shake our heads and go, “Oh no he dinnit! That Chuck just so CRAY!”
And seriously? This guy was an assassin? He’s still high from drugs from the 50s…I wouldn’t give him a gun if it was World War 3
Ya-Yas In Bloom (I think the author was wearing crazy pants when she wrote this book)
Are you fucking kidding me? Did this author not read her Divine Secrets book? I have to think not because of all of the discrepancies between that book and this one (wrong names of kids, for one). Shit like this makes me hopeful that one day a literary agent will notice me because at least I CAN FUCKING REMEMBER WHAT HAPPENS IN THE BOOKS I WRITE.
** spoiler alert ** The only thing that would have made me like this book is if they had eaten the father at the end.
Or had this guy in it: