How's about some corrective oral surgery?
Mike and Psmith. So much cricket.
SO. MUCH. CRICKET.
Ugh, I could have lived a perfectly happy life without having to learn about overs and centuries and low balls just to get through the fricking book. And yeah, sure, I could just skip it, but the writing is still funny and there's always the chance there'll be something worthwhile in amongst the wickets and creases and whatnots.
It's like when I was reading H2G2 way back when I was, like, 9 or something, and roundabout Life, the Universe, and Everything (at least, I think it was that one...) there was all the super-mega-obvious space computer stuff that was actually just Cricket Central, and then Arthur bowled the cricket ball/doomsday device, and it just went flying over my little American head. I mean, I knew that it was cricket-related, which is something, but it still made me feel not a little stupid, and I've always sort of resented not being born English since then.
But anyway! Mike and Psmith. I rather like Psmith, although it's really impossible not to like the guy. I mean, really. He's in public school, and he wears a freaking monocle. And dresses immaculately. And talks wonderfully. He's kind of like if Bertie and Jeeves ever had that mpreg!baby that, thankfully, no one's made them do (yet). Just lovely.
Speaking of those two, Central has now failed me, so I must find some other way of reading the last two novels and four short stories (I read one of the stories I was missing at the library yesterday). It's kind of disheartening, because not only do the libraries not have much of them, but my scouring of various second-hand bookstores has likewise turned up squat. I guess Wodehouse never made quite so big a showing in America as certain things would lead you to believe, but still, it would be nice if I could just find something every once in a while. Even Barnes & Noble failed me, having about 7 Wodehouses total. Most disturbing, if you ask me.
In lieu of being able to finish up the Jeeves canon, I decided to just go ahead and start on Psmith and/or Blandings, but, of course, I had no idea where to begin, having devoted my studies solely the memoirs of that Wooster. That is to say, I know all about all the Jeeves books and the order they're supposed to go in, but when I was standing in front of that shelf yesterday, all I had was that Leave it to Psmith was probably one of the Psmith books and that I hadn't an earthly where to begin with Blandings. Luckily, what I ended up checking out was at least the first Psmith book, even if it wasn't the first in a different but related series, and a whole bunch of Blandings short stories, so that's at least something. If I can read Jeeves willy-nilly, I can do the same for Emsworth, by Jove!
So yeah, that would appear to be that for the time being. D-dubs is nearing its end, which I must admit I'm looking forward to, even if the lead up is basically a load of sparkly nonsense. I get the feeling RTD wanted to leave Moffat some sort of mess to clean up in his stead - kind of like what Bush has been doing for the past 7 years. Or rather, what Bush would be doing were he to, say, declare war on Iran on December 17th or something. Just a nice sort of Welcome-to-the-gig! present, is what I'm trying to get at. But then again, what do I know? Lord knows I like Moffat's serials, but I wouldn't want a whole series like them, you know? Although series 4 has disappointed the fuck out of me. Which makes me sad, because I really do like Donna. I just...can't deal with most of the episodes.
People want to go clubbing on Friday. This makes me anxious, because I don't particularly enjoy feeling awkward. But I do enjoy my friends. So I don't know. I just hope it goes more like prom and less like homecoming. Or those stupid Fry's Spring "dances". Or any of 41w's parties. Oh god, it's not gonna go well at all.
SO. MUCH. CRICKET.
Ugh, I could have lived a perfectly happy life without having to learn about overs and centuries and low balls just to get through the fricking book. And yeah, sure, I could just skip it, but the writing is still funny and there's always the chance there'll be something worthwhile in amongst the wickets and creases and whatnots.
It's like when I was reading H2G2 way back when I was, like, 9 or something, and roundabout Life, the Universe, and Everything (at least, I think it was that one...) there was all the super-mega-obvious space computer stuff that was actually just Cricket Central, and then Arthur bowled the cricket ball/doomsday device, and it just went flying over my little American head. I mean, I knew that it was cricket-related, which is something, but it still made me feel not a little stupid, and I've always sort of resented not being born English since then.
But anyway! Mike and Psmith. I rather like Psmith, although it's really impossible not to like the guy. I mean, really. He's in public school, and he wears a freaking monocle. And dresses immaculately. And talks wonderfully. He's kind of like if Bertie and Jeeves ever had that mpreg!baby that, thankfully, no one's made them do (yet). Just lovely.
Speaking of those two, Central has now failed me, so I must find some other way of reading the last two novels and four short stories (I read one of the stories I was missing at the library yesterday). It's kind of disheartening, because not only do the libraries not have much of them, but my scouring of various second-hand bookstores has likewise turned up squat. I guess Wodehouse never made quite so big a showing in America as certain things would lead you to believe, but still, it would be nice if I could just find something every once in a while. Even Barnes & Noble failed me, having about 7 Wodehouses total. Most disturbing, if you ask me.
In lieu of being able to finish up the Jeeves canon, I decided to just go ahead and start on Psmith and/or Blandings, but, of course, I had no idea where to begin, having devoted my studies solely the memoirs of that Wooster. That is to say, I know all about all the Jeeves books and the order they're supposed to go in, but when I was standing in front of that shelf yesterday, all I had was that Leave it to Psmith was probably one of the Psmith books and that I hadn't an earthly where to begin with Blandings. Luckily, what I ended up checking out was at least the first Psmith book, even if it wasn't the first in a different but related series, and a whole bunch of Blandings short stories, so that's at least something. If I can read Jeeves willy-nilly, I can do the same for Emsworth, by Jove!
So yeah, that would appear to be that for the time being. D-dubs is nearing its end, which I must admit I'm looking forward to, even if the lead up is basically a load of sparkly nonsense. I get the feeling RTD wanted to leave Moffat some sort of mess to clean up in his stead - kind of like what Bush has been doing for the past 7 years. Or rather, what Bush would be doing were he to, say, declare war on Iran on December 17th or something. Just a nice sort of Welcome-to-the-gig! present, is what I'm trying to get at. But then again, what do I know? Lord knows I like Moffat's serials, but I wouldn't want a whole series like them, you know? Although series 4 has disappointed the fuck out of me. Which makes me sad, because I really do like Donna. I just...can't deal with most of the episodes.
People want to go clubbing on Friday. This makes me anxious, because I don't particularly enjoy feeling awkward. But I do enjoy my friends. So I don't know. I just hope it goes more like prom and less like homecoming. Or those stupid Fry's Spring "dances". Or any of 41w's parties. Oh god, it's not gonna go well at all.