The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo: A Rap. (Well, SOMEONE had to do it.)*

I recently finished the third book in the Millennium Trilogy, aka “The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo books.” And you know what? WHATEVER, Stieg Larson. I am not convinced that these works are a testament to his (purported) feminism, nor am I convinced that they needed to be as EFFING LONG AS THEY WERE, MY GOD. Toward the end there, I was just soldiering on, determined to push through to the end. A literary Bataan, if you will. And now that I’m on the other side, and have reflected on the series as a whole, I say again: WhatEVER, Stieg Larson. Except he’s, uh, dead, and basically, my only recourse at this point is a rap. A rap covering only my issues with the first book, since I know a lot of people haven’t read the others yet. (Even though I’m not spoiling, so much as I am…whining. Via rhyme.) Here we go:

Lisbeth Salander, master computer hacker!
Loves snoopin’ in yo’ Gmail, and her lipstick can’t be blacker.
Pierced all over, with a big-ass dragon tattoo.
That’s how you know she’s “dangerous,” to me, you, and you.

Mikael Blomkvist, financial reporter, of sorts!
Nondescript and middle-aged, or so the book reports.
Doesn’t pour on charm or make any maneuvers.
TOTAL sense that homeboy’s a…walking panty remover?

(Eyeroll! Eyeroll! I’m rolling my eyeballs!
It’s silly and unreal, but I’m in for the long haul.
Now lemme get back to the topic right here,
Like how Mikael met Lisbeth and—hold on, I need a beer.)

Mikael’s sued for libel by some Swedish billionaire,
We drill down to minutiae about which no one cares.
He’s facing jail, he’s desperate, and he needs to find a way…
A dude named Henrik Vanger then swoops in and saves the day.

Asks Mike to help him with a family mystery, if he can;
In return he’ll help bring down that bad rich Swedish man.
Mikael agrees and Lisbeth gets her tattooed self involved,
Mystery, you’d best get set to get yo’ ass SOLVED.

The book then takes a turn for the…hyper-detailed.
Computer models! Names of highways! BOOK, YOU HAVE DERAILED.
Someone else’s groceries! Then more direction stuff.
What’s next? A camera manual? MY GOD, LARSSON, ENOUGH.

I just don’t care how they all got from point A to point B.
Unless something blew up, Die Hard-style, or crashed into a tree.
TONS of wasted pages on trip routes: “South, then northwest…”
Come on now, yo, Stieg Larsson-- this ain’t no damned MapQuest!

Coffee! Coffee! Everyone drinks coffee!
They pace, run, and get shot at, and then crack the mystery.
You think the book is over, since the puzzle has been solved.
And then we’re back to…Swedish Baddie? It’s all too involved.

Another hundred pages; and at last the book is done.
But not before I get confused, like in Trig 101.
Implausible behaviors and absurd logic abounds.
Even the explanations do nothing but confound.

All that said, it’s riveting, the story keeps you hooked.
There’s just a lot of extra crap that's muddling the book.
I truly get why it’s been so prominently featured.
I liked it like Lisbeth loves her Billy’s Pan Pizza.

~Fin~

*No one had to do it.

Look, I Don't Want To Brag, But We Totally Saw One-Eyed Willie's Ship.

J and I just returned from our first "real" vacation together in over four years. By "real" I mean "actual vacation for the express purpose of doing nothing other than sitting on a beach, rather than me accompanying J to Chicago on business, which --while fun! -- is, I'm sorry, not the same thing."

We went to St. Lucia with good couple friends, and we all had a fantastic time together. I was (naturally!) stricken with weepy momguilt as I packed up and kissed the kids goodbye, but after an uneventful flight, a scenic drive to the hotel, and this view to greet us from our villa, I attempted to get over it:

We stayed here, and OMFG, you guys, nicest hotel ever. Gorgeous, pristine, quiet, AND our place was literally steps from the beach. Even J -- who generally hates the ocean because he "doesn't see the point," on account of "all the sand" -- loved the location. (ACTUAL STATEMENT THAT HE HAS REPEATEDLY MADE.)

We spent a lot of time hanging out there, which afforded us the opportunity to pretend that we are Professional Computer Wallpaper Photographers:

Also, to pretend that we are Goonies, because, I'm sorry, are you going to sit there and try to tell me that this is NOT One-Eyed Willie's Ship? Are you? Why would you do that? WHO ARE YOU, YOU TERRIBLE PERSON WHO IS LYING? Are you after the treasure? Is that it? ANSWER MEEEE. And then do the Truffle Shuffle.

Speaking of ships, we also had a Dramatic Rescue at Sea. (I, too, am shocked that I got into the water in the first place, but the ocean was so calm and clear and blue that I told myself I would see the man-eating sharks coming, and...kick them. A sound, logical approach if ever there was one.) All four of us boarded a catamaran at the hotel, and...well, I will summarize our plight in two pie graphs:

Naturally, there was a bit of a disconnect, and we got stranded out in the water, thus necessitating the Dramatic Rescue at Sea. Which, yes, was simply another catamaran, piloted (steered?) by an employee of the hotel with actual experience, who was maybe/definitely cursing our collective idiocy, but I stand by my description.

All in all, it was an amazing trip; no one got sunburned or shark-eaten, J and I had a great time with each other, and with our friends.

 

 It honestly felt odd at first to be...well,  selfish, and to spend time completely relaxed; not waking up at 5:45, thinking about my office, planning dinners, or performing my in-demand Backyardigans bedtime song. The biggest issues I faced on St. Lucia involved this tiny lizard, and keeping one step ahead of his wily ass, and what to drink with dinner.

But my work was still there when I got back, our kids were truly fine without us, and the trip left me incredibly relaxed, happy, and all recharged. Even when faced with a barfing toddler not five hours after we returned. And hey, there's something to be said for that.

Birthday Girls, Pedicure Strategies, and My Ugly Thumb (UPDATED)

1. J and I leave for a brief trip to St. Lucia on Thursday. Do you know what I've done in preparation for said trip?  Gotten a pedicure. Because although my list -- my GLORIOUS list! -- of stuff to do before we go is a thing of beauty, truly, I haven't had time to pack, or properly organize myself. And I know, call the wahmbulance, but I am petrified about forgetting something, so instead of facing that problem head-on, I...got the pedicure. Rational!

2.  The pedicure was this color.

I'm usually SUPER dull with my polish choices (buff pink, or dark red), but I was all "I NEED A VACATION COLOR," which is precisely the type of ridiculous thing I mutter to myself while actively avoiding packing. It's kind of coral-y, which makes it (in my mind, anyway) a vacation color, AND is my homage to the late Rue McClanahan. I'm pouring out a Geritol for you, my homie!

3. I was pretty sure my pedicure lady was talking about me to the adjacent pedicure lady, which, you know, par for the course, and all that. However! PRO TIP: I have determined that googling how to say "I understand you" in Korean ("ah deh suh yo"), and very quietly muttering it to yourself will aid you in ascertaining whether or not your pedicure lady is in fact talking about you. The giveaway is the stricken look. (Assuming, of course, that she is Korean.) (Note: she was.) (What the hell was she saying about me?) Thank you, Google!

4. I have a recipe for EASY, quick sesame noodles up at Aiming Low today. They are life-changing! Be advised however...

5...That to get to it, you'll have to endure photos of my "ugly ass thumb." (Thank you, commenter Bob Ross!)

6. It's Lo's birthday next Sunday; because of our trip, we held her party this weekend with our families. I WILL spare you yet another unending family post; however, I do need you to see this here cake...

...and the birthday girl in her crown:

Aw.

UPDATE: A bunch of people have asked about the nail polish shade; it's OPI On Collins Avenue!

My Karaoke Secret: EMOTIVE HANDS.

My brother (Goose) has instructed me to share this. I'm not entirely certain you want to watch it, but if you enjoy shaky/blurry Blair Witch Project-style camerawork, bad karaoke duets, emotive hand gestures, and the idea of laughing at people (namely me), then I say go for it:



TURN THE HELL AROUND ALREADY, BRIGHT EYES.

Talk to Me, Goose. (Picture-Laden! RUN WHILE YOU CAAAAAN!)

Yesterday, I had the rare treat of going on a mini-road trip with my little brother.

He is little in only the technical sense. (See?)

My husband is in Vegas for the week (THE. WEEK.) for work. I adore my brother, and we don't get to spend enough time together, likely because he is off doing Fun 21-Year-Old Boy Things, like jetting off to Vancouver for no reason, buying aggressively skinny pants, and hanging out with a large number of cool-looking people, while I am...perfecting my cold sesame noodle recipe. Oh! And organizing my bookshelves. I also truly miss my road trips of yore (YES I SAID YORE. I AM BRINGING IT BACK), and so since we had our cousin's wedding in Albany yesterday, we combined the good things -- Reese's peanut butter cup-style! -- and drove there together.

"My alias will b Goose!" he just texted me. Okay, you're Goose. Weirdo.

ANYway. You guys, Goose and I had so much fun. It warms my heart to realize that I genuinely enjoy my brother's company, even though he poses like this on a pretty consistent basis (Note: most pictures stolen from my uncle):

After all, Goose drove there and back, unquestioningly played a rousing game of Aging Hippie, or Actually Thinks He is a Wizard with me at the rest stop, and together, we snickered at the Super Inappropriate Incense. (And we continue to laugh about this now. A full day later.):

The wedding itself was beautiful, and obviously, I cried, because that is what I do at weddings. Other things I do at weddings include slipping on dance floors, and completely unintentionally almost matching my SIL's dress. Look, here I am doing both at the same time! (While beautiful, she is making an odd face here, so I lightly edited the shot for her. I don't even know if you can tell, for that is how good I am. Please inquire via email for my rates:)

We also got to hang out with a bunch of cousins that we adore...

(My other brother --who, I guess, we must now call Iceman? -- is on the right.)

...And, uh, I got to -- along with my cousin -- perform an ill-advised rendition of "Total Eclipse of the Heart" during the (BRILLIANT) karaoke portion of the reception. (Can you see the flop sweat? For LO, IT WAS ABUNDANT.)

There is a short and horrifying video of this, by the way, but I fear this ode to family has run long.

So, to sum up:

I love my baby brother (ALSO YOU, ICEMAN, BUT I SEE YOU MORE OFTEN THAN GOOSE YOU ARE BOTH VERY SPECIAL MY GOD).

I can't sing.

I  have a great extended family.

My brother probably thinks I am a terrible driver, as evidenced by his refusal to let me drive, in what I initially perceived as kindness, but I now suspect was fear.

And finally, there are Red Bull machines at rest stops (who knew?! I want one for my bedroom.):

And how was your weekend?

Elsewhere...

1. I am going on vacation! Help.

2. My patented* solution for how to grow out your bangs without going Shining-style crazy.

*Lies!

Four

One...



Two...



Three...



Four.




Happy Birthday, kiddo!