Hillary’s Narcissistic Book Review: Midnight Library, A Really Big Lunch, and Chin Music.

I’m currently reading two books at the same time because I’m a fucking intellectual. The first is Midnight Library by Matt Haig. Technically, I am listening to it as an audiobook, and I listen at 1.2x speed so the narrator sounds somewhat panicked at all times. As a self-proclaimed author, I can understand that probably someone like Haig does not want his readers to get through the book as fast as possible, like it is a chore. It probably took him at least a year of devotion to a desk, sculpting this thought-provoking book out of nothing, and I devour it in a series of fast paced walks in the woods.

Midnight Library is a novel about a woman who gets the chance to retry other versions of her life by examining her regrets and asking What if? The concept is sort of like the show Quantum Leap, which I used to watch on reruns after school. I am sure the intended audience for Quantum Leap was 13 years old girls who watch while shoving tater tots into their mouth. The main character in Midnight Library doesn’t work to set things right in history, she mostly just notices how things are often still wrong in her different lives, just in different ways.

In my own life, I have thought about what if I stayed at Appalachian State and got a degree in anthropology? In that life, maybe I would think it is acceptable to wear shirts with pockets and would be happily married to a very handsome woman. What if I had stayed in Austin? While I was there in the late 1990s, Mathew McConaughey was still single, high, and partying naked. I definitely would have played his bongos. Or anyone else’s.

Although, it is difficult to have regrets when I look at my life now. I am 46 and single with no real prospects, and I teach introductory English courses to unprepared college students who are reluctantly being fed into the capitalist machine. But in this life, I have a dog. Oh, and two children who are now teenagers and live like cave dwellers, only clawing their way out of their rooms to forage for food.

I am also reading, in actual print, A Really Big Lunch by Jim Harrison, which I am savoring in tiny bites because it makes me laugh, and I want to bask in his world of eating and travelling, just wandering around the woods and swimming out into the middle of harbors. Of course, Harrison’s main thread is about how he has all of this extra money from his writing career as an American poet, essayist, and prolific novelist—his novellas Legends of the Fall probably being the biggest meal ticket. I am still waiting for an offer for movie rights from my body of work. Maybe someone will want to make an epic from my essay about buying a dildo, and it will soon be streaming on Hulu and PornHub.

Harrison’s eponymous essay is about a 37-course lunch in Burgundy, France. Harrison notes that although the lunch was 37 courses and lasted 11 hours, they only served 13 different wines. I related to this leisurely lunch, thinking of my own life where I recently spent a Saturday dining on a two-course lunch in Jacksonville, Florida. I was also served one Bloody Mary, two White Claws, and then my check.

This past year, like many privileged white people, I have been reading a lot of theory (aka actual history) about racism in America. These books work well on fast speed in audio format because it makes sense for the narrator to seem frenzied as he or she tells about the oppression and murder of Black people in America since it is still happening, and fuck, we have got to get through narrating to this white lady who listens while working out her hamstrings, so that we can find some people who can actually make a difference. Harrison’s book is a definite departure—I don’t think there are any Black people in the book at all.

Big Lunch was recommended to me by an old friend, my former boss, and my one and only publishing client. His book, Chin Music, which is insightful and hilarious, sold almost a dozen copies, and he had to incur all the expenses, including me. I do not actually know how to market a book, and I don’t even do the formatting and design. Basically, the service I provide to my clients is I read the book and then make important suggestions, like maybe you should add a table of contents.

What I do not know how to do, which looking back is perhaps the most important part of the process, is to get people to buy the book. I do not know how people like Harrison get noticed initially. Maybe he just knew the right people and filled a void because we needed more books by white male authors in the 1970s. For the rest of us, it often feels like those moments in a dream when you are trying to scream and it seems impossible to make even the slightest noise. 

Harrison decided to write his first novel after falling off a cliff during a bird hunt, so I have considered that process. I am picturing a coyote and roadrunner type scenario—it is the only bird hunting on cliffs I am familiar with—I have several cans of paint and some sticks of TNT. We will see what happens. Also, if anyone reading this is looking for a publisher, I am totally available.

Chin Music available on Amazon. You should buy it.

Crapshoot: The Game of Parenting

Most days, I feel completely unqualified in my position as a parent. I am like a legacy student, getting this job mainly because my parents gave birth to me, and I wanted to follow in their tremendous footsteps. When I was pregnant with my first child, I read the book What to Expect When You are Expecting, or at least I definitely received it as a gift and placed it on my nightstand. However, after moving onto more complex stages of human development, like middle school, I realized there was probably nothing in that book explaining what to expect about a twelve-year-old—your baby is now 97 pounds and knows more words than you do.

When I was pregnant and sober, people told me all about what it is like to have a newborn—things like how to get them to sleep through the night and what is the best breast pump, or if I want to be a worthless piece of shit who clearly does not love her children, then let me tell you about the best baby formula. I bought a rocking chair to put in our bedroom and a bottle drying rack for next to the kitchen sink. Then after all that preparation, it turned out that my babies were only newborns for like a few months.

I do know for sure that not one single parent warned me about the importance of chargers and charger cords in parenting. There is not a chapter in What to Expect about this – once your baby can speak, he will expect you to know where all the chargers are, even if you are sleeping, and he can clearly see your eyes are closed, he will ask you anyway, “Mom do you have a charger?” As my service to new parents, I can tell you what to expect when your child unplugs your phone because, “Well, you were at 87%”. You can expect that you will never see that charger again.  

Most of my parental experience comes from the fact that I have already been every age they have been, so there are some events that I expected, like head lice. I grew up with a thick head of unbrushed hair and was sent home several times after the ladies came to my classroom and went through everyone’s hair with chopsticks. If they found lice, they asked you to get up right then in front of everyone and go to the office. This was the original walk of shame, and I am pretty sure this is why we invented HIPAA. Looking back, I am surprised my mother let me into her car when she was forced to come pick me up, and I would like to take a moment of silence to honor those women who worked at elementary schools and had to touch every child’s hair looking for bugs.

One ailment I was not expecting to expect is pinworms. My child had pinworms in fourth grade. If you do not want to have children, then after reading this you can expect that you will be too disgusted to fuck anyone as your Plan A. For those of you not familiar, pinworms are, medically speaking, tiny worms in your butthole. They are very contagious—the eggs getting on a kid’s hands and spreading through schools. The symptoms of pin worms are to expect your child to wake you up in the middle of the night to tell you his butt itches, “really, really bad.” You can also expect to get your very own set of pinworms.

Luckily, there is an over the counter treatment that actually works, so after only a couple short days of severe itching and living with the fact that there were tiny worms in your butt, you can expect a full recovery. I am assuming that this remedy is over the counter because at one point in history an important man in the pharmaceutical industry was afflicted with pinworms and was like, let’s just make this OTC, and then he checked out with his pinworm meds and a bunch of other random shit to make it seem less noticeable. I will just take this medicine that I hope you have never heard of, this wine in a box, these 35 phone chargers, a can of Vienna sausages, and let’s add this King Size Snickers bar.

With each stage of a child’s development, from pooping in the bathtub, to learning to lock all the doors in your house, to the stage where they wear the same hoodie every day for two years, what parents can expect is that they will be tired. When they are newborns they sleep most of the day like old cats and they cannot even speak, so you can expect to look back fondly on that precious time when your daughter had never slammed a door in your face and then yelled, “Nobody even likes you!” and your son had never said, “You are dressed just like my band teacher”.

I think of my own mother sometimes and what to expect when your baby is 45—your baby now weighs in on all of your issues, is a single mother who cannot find any of her chargers or a good boyfriend, but she currently does not have lice or pinworms. You can expect 45 to be a great year for your baby and for her babies who are now in 7th and 9th grade, which is about two years past the stage of parenting when she first wished she could go back to having a newborn and a toddler because that was much easier than living with two middle schoolers.

A Newborn in its natural habitat. This one now has facial hair.

Love at First Sight

I was recently introduced to the never-ending entertainment that is reading the personals on Craigslist. I thought Craigslist was just where you went if you wanted to sell your motorcycle and then murder the potential buyers, I did not know about the personals. First, I love how the site recognizes that people of all sexual orientations and gender identifications can be total perverts. I also love how urgent and ordinary the ads seem, “Hosting blow and go until 3 p.m. No recip required.” There is a certain level of confidence with an ad like that, which I admire. It is similar to the “limit one per customer” marketing strategy. The deal is so good he has to set limits. The one closeted congressman that shows up can’t handle a blow and go at 3:15. That would be anarchy. Also at 3 p.m. the host has to leave to start his shift at Pizza Hut.

Craigslist personals do not even try to masquerade as commitment-bound. They are not Match.com where at least there is some curtain of mutual interest. Like you he is also into the outdoors. Like you he is also a non-smoker. Like you he is also into aerobics. Craigslist does not pretend to find subscribers deep emotional or spiritual compatibility like eHarmony. Like you he also denies the existence of dinosaurs. Like you he also thinks erections are shameful. Like you he also secretly masturbates to Joel Osteen Ministries videos. No, Craigslist is more about a 49-year-old man seeking a woman age 18-29 (negotiable!) with a small to medium sized chest for a long term relationship.  Like you he also thinks Cancun is romantic. Like you he also ends every text with a random series of adorable emojis. Unlike you he is not allowed within 500 feet of any place children congregate.

The most entertaining Craigslist personals are the missed connections. These are posted by the type of people who will romantically sprint through security checkpoints in a frantic race to stop their true love at the boarding gate where they will then, unfortunately, be arrested for terrorism. “I talked to the older man you were with today at Harbor Freight. I couldn’t keep my eyes off of you. I hope to hear from you, I was the guy with the full beard!” Like you he was buying a tarp, some duct tape, and a saw. I wonder how many missed connection posts ever actually connect. What are the odds that the girl is deranged enough to regularly check the missed connections on Craigslist? What are the odds that the older man was not her boyfriend? (Ladies, when was the last time you were in Harbor Freight with someone who you were not sleeping with?) Maybe the older man was her kidnapper and her smile was a plea for help. She is not going to respond to your missed connection because she is a sex slave now. You were her only chance.

The more realistic missed connections are by people who say they hope the person they are describing will message them or “any others for that matter.” If a man can find a connection with “the woman he saw at the liquor store looking sick in her Bud Light pajama pants”, then he can probably connect with anyone. Like you he is also into ironic loungewear. The missed connections walk that fine line between love at first sight and heat seeking missiles. They are like the unmanned drones of dating, maybe there is a potential target in mind, but more likely the goal is to get anything in the path of destruction to go down.

This essay was published in the June 2014 issue of The Funny Times.

bench shot