No good Keister off my property, before I pump your guts full of lead.
Ah, the holidays. I think everyone has that movie that just means the holidays for them. For some, it's A Christmas Story. For others, A Charlie Brown Christmas, or It's a Wonderful Life. But for me, it's Home Alone. I love that the guy in Angels with Filthy Souls is named "Snakes". I love it. I've taken to calling my husband "Snakes." He'll say something like, "What do you want to do today?" and I'll reply, "I'll tell you what I'm gonna do, Snakes. I'm gonna give you to the count of ten to get your ugly, yellow, no good Keister out the door with that garbage bag, before I pump your guts full of lead."
I don't know how to spell, "Keister."
Speaking of Holidays, it's not the flipping holidays yet. The malls are now playing Christmas songs. Too soon. Don't make me start a ragtag band of militant turkeys, hellbent on defending Thanksgiving's territory. Someone should make an app. Turkeys vs. Elves. And the Turkeys should win, until Black Friday.
In book related holiday news, there are just about half a billion books I want to read, and want to buy for myself. But isn't there some kind of rule where you're not supposed to buy yourself presents when Christmas is around the corner? Or people will call you "hard to buy for" and say things like, "What do I get you? Everything you want you just get for yourself. You butt hole."
But I want Maggie Stiefvater's THE SCORPIO RACES. And a collection of short stories from one of my professors, LAST FLING by Sue Gee. And I'm getting itchy for the last remaining unread Milan Kundera. Don't even get me started on how badly I want to just give in, buy a baby-sling, and carry around George RR Martin's massively oversized A DANCE WITH DRAGONS.
For those of you looking for a Halloween hangover, try Victoria Schwab's THE NEAR WITCH. I'm finding it a beautiful, witchy, force of nature kind of book. I'm flying through it too fast, and for some reason, it makes me want to watch the Halloween episode of Little House, where everybody thinks Nels murdered Mrs. Oleson. Also, it makes me want freshly baked bread. Mmm. Seriously though, it's good.
This was supposed to be a post about Stephen King movies. Gad. Tangent, much?