With book-club requirements and checked-out, fine-threatening library books behind me for now, I am finally reading my uncle's book, The Joy of Y'at Catholicism, published by Pelican Press and available here or here.

I know it sounds trite to say, but I had no idea of his writing talent! I mean, the birthday cards and thank-you notes he sends are always witty and more erudite than most, but this prose flows like warm molasses over a corn muffin.

As the fates would have it, the very day after I begin reading, his Amazon.com sales rank zoomed up 84%. And Nielsen's BookScan listed it as the number-one best seller among all books sold in the New Orleans area last week.

I'm neither Catholic nor a New Orleans denizen (nor am I overly "churchy"), and I find the book to be educational while always keeping an amusing tone. It's basically a look into the inherent uniqueness of the Big Easy, including but not limited to how expressions of the Catholic faith seep into everyday secular life, even among NOLA residents who practice other faiths.

Obviously, the family is all very proud of our uncle/father/husband/brother. And hopefully the saints of the city feel the same.

FictionPlane/The Police: As I noted, shitty-ass opening act fronted by Sting Jr. Everyone applauded fervently every time a song was over, for the sheer fact that it was OVER. When the Police triumvirate hit the stage, it was pretty exciting. It was only the 3 of them the entire time - no backup singers, no backup musicians. Which meant some things we're used to from studio albums fell by the wayside (e.g. "That's my soul up there ...") but I appreciate their integrity. Stewart Copeland and Andy Summers are far better musicians than they get credit for, though Copeland needs a serious haircut. They sang my favorite, "Synchronicity II," but my favorite performances of the evening were "King of Pain" and "Wrapped Around Your Finger." I will turn your face to alabaster ... when you find your servant is your master ... who writes lyrics like that anymore? Definitely not Hinder. They all looked like they were truly having a great time, as well, all of 'em. Did a very moving "Every Breath You Take" second-to-last then came out for a final encore of "Next to You," which seems oddly misguided, but who am I to judge.

Lifehouse/Goo Goo Dolls: Down at the Arch grounds with, I kid you not, 200,000 other people. But we finagled our way between the Arch steps and the stage, in a mosh pit of sorts mere feet from the stage. I saw Lifehouse in the fall of 2001, when they were fresh from their "Hanging By a Moment" high and were just pups - like 19, 20 years old. They were good then, good now. Strong set of 7-8 songs. Great view. As we waited for the Goo Goo Dolls, the pit in which we were standing grew much bigger and infinitely more annoying. Smelly teens up in our grill, dummies with mustard-laced corn dogs trying to scurry past. After 5 GGD songs, we bailed out. They did practically the same set as when I saw them last summer, with the welcome addition of "Long Way Down." Seems like they keyed down a song or two - wonder if Rzeznik was under the weather. Speaking of weather, though, it was perfect. Fireworks followed the show.

Styx/Def Leppard: All I can say is that the 4 of us went for Def Leppard and left as Styx fans. Who knew arena rock was so powerfully entertaining (I should have known). "Lorelei" was great, "Come Sail Away" was sublime, "Blue Collar Man" was kick-ass. Tommy Shaw's pipes are still incredible. All of the guys were totally still in the 80s, with feathered hair and leather pants and bolo ties. It was really endearing in a way. Then ... getting the Lepp out. The musicianship was fine, and Rick Allen never stopped smiling. But Joe Elliott's voice is not what it used to be, assuming it was ever capable live. Brother shrieks and struggles. Additionally, the set list was missing the Adrenalize, much to my disappointment. But it was still a tremendous time.

Chuck Klosterman: It's hard to see your idols fall. 3 years ago, when I went to a Klosterman signing, he was super personable and charming and I was surprised at how much better he looked in real life compared to his jacket photo. This time around, while his two hours' of commentary were funny and smart (disturbed only by a terribly dense emcee), he just seemed as though he couldn't be bothered during the signing portion. He was friendly enough, I guess, and sort of answered my questions, but he signed with just his name, for example (last time he addressed my book with the opening strains of "Beth" by Kiss). Plus? He looks like he's spent the last 3 years sleeping under various bridges. The guy is odd looking, for sure, but the unkempt hair, shaggy beard, and musty odor certainly don't help matters. Then again, grooming is so unhip, yo!

Police concert .... Lifehouse concert ... Goo Goo Dolls concert ... Def Leppard/STYX! concert ... Chuck Klosterman reading and signing ... so much to share, so little time.

Must do a proper update this weekend.

Sufficient to say, Joe Elliott is strugglin', mosh pits are not meant for my passive ass, 'Come Sail Away' is my favorite song ever, and I misrepresent myself as a low-IQ'd Spin groupie who doesn't know shit about shit.

It is 9:30 and I've already been working for 4 hours. Does this mean I can sign out at 1:30? Doubtful.

Have been off LJ a bit because of various distractions. Including Facebook. Also, I have nothing to say. Except the following ...

Seeing the Police tonight!! Crappy seats, I am sure. Don't care, though.

Read Summer at Tiffany. Reminded me of the worst elements of my maternal grandmother's usually-very-good writing. Breathless Pollyanna schoolgirl triteness. Ah, well. I think I need to digest a few classics this summer that somehow eluded me in high school/college. First up is Wuthering Heights now that I know "Total Eclipse of the Heart" is inspired by it. What? What if I was Heathcliff, it's no myth.

After 24+ years, Dad is done with university administration, as of last Friday! He returns to full-time teaching in the English and Higher-Ed departments in January, after a WELL-deserved sabbatical this fall.

Are Peace Frogs coming back? I'm frightened. Next up will be the return of Co-Ed Naked tee-shirts.

And most importantly, my dear friend ELOP, mother of the triplets, has been in the hospital for nearly 3 weeks with symptoms that are rare but ultimately cureable. Had to put her job on hold, hasn't been able to see her beautiful daughters since she was admitted (she's in the ICU). Any kind thoughts her way would be appreciated. Local folks, watch this space for news of a trivia and/or karaoke fund raiser to help the family.

That's the news and I am outta here.

This weekend, I finished my latest book-club assignment, Teen Dreams: Reading Teen Film and Television from 'Heathers' to 'Veronica Mars.' Sprite recommended it, based on the title and the brief Amazon.com description. While the author, Roz Kaveney, had some interesting things to say, she also fancies herself quite the intellectual. Some of the arguments she claims as gospel:

Logan and Weevil on Veronica Mars?: Totally gay for each other!
Buffy and Faith?: Totally gay for each other!
Josh and Sugar Daddy on Popular? Totally gay for each other!
Clare and Allison in The Breakfast Club?: Totally gay for each other!
Torrence and Missy in Bring it On?: Totally gay for each other!
Heather Chandler and Veronica in Heathers?: Totally gay for each other!
Jim (Jason Biggs) in American Pie?: Autistic!
Winona Ryder: Has never been in a successful movie since Heathers! (Angelina Jolie might beg to differ)
Jake Ryan in Sixteen Candles?: Totally played by Justin Henry, not Michael Schoeffling (that's her fact-checker's fault, but still.)
The word "anarchistic?": Suitable to be used in every paragraph or so!

Needless to say, she liked to find thinly, (or thickly), veiled evidence of homoeroticism. But when she finds it every damned place, I tended not to believe her. I sort of want to drop her a line and tell her she's an asshole. Especially because of the Schoeffling thing.

Haven't done one of these in a while. One of my New Year's Resolutions was to read 30 books, and right now I'm in the middle of book 18, putting me well ahead of schedule. Which is good since many of my other planned resolves have hit the fan. Some notables of late:

( read on ... )

By the way, my icons have ceased to be relevant. Except for when they are.

Finished book number 10 yesterday afternoon, More Tales of the City, Armistead Maupin. It's the second in the six-part City series that I've read this year. They are really fun, quick reads with an element of surprise and mystery, which I like.

So I'm ahead of schedule. At this pace I'll read 40 books, which I'm good with. I'm no onto On Beauty, by Zadie Smith of White Teeth fame. It's for my book club, and also ranked number one in EW's best-of-2005 fiction list. It is interesting so far. Although I'm a little irritated by Smith's author profile, which is about two sentences long but manages in that space to mention that she was born in 1975. It's as though she is deliberately showing off how young she is. I remain impressed by S.E. Hinton, who wrote The Outsiders at 16. Ha! Take that, Zadie.

We're sitting here watching basketball, of course. Well, I'm halfway watching, halfway reading Book Number 9 of the year (Ian McEwan's Saturday) and I just caught the new Papa John's campaign for their 17-meat pizza or whatever. Now, pizza meat (sausage, pepperoni, etc.) is about the one food item I'm not crazy about, but that's beside the point. They use the Go-Gos "We've Got the Beat" as the jingle, but change it, predictably, to "We've Got the Meat." This is of course annoying and what not, but I have to wonder what Jane Wiedlin, baby-voiced guitarist for the Go-Gos and animal-rights activist for two-plus decades, feels about it. Probably not too good.

Spent about three hours in the world of I Am Charlotte Simmons last night, and can easily see, if given a relaxing weekend and a park bench or two, I could have finished it in two days like girl_about_town did. Despite horrifyingly bad reviews from EW and Stephen King and the Times Literary Supplement and God knows where else, I'm really enjoying it. As a man in his mid-70s, Wolfe does a decent job painting a picture of a prestigious yet tainted college campus, circa 2004.

And Charlotte reminds me, in a few tiny ways, of myself, age 17 and new to UVa. Granted, I cursed with the best of them and had previously had a boyfriend and such, but man, was I clueless innocent. Not understanding how or why people binge drank. Not understanding how or why my friend Rory was in our dorm mate Shadow's room for extended periods of time, presumably making out .. ."But they aren't boyfriend and girlfriend," I even said once, eliciting mighty guffaws from the other boys in Shadow's suite. Granted, I evolved, as I'm predicting Charlotte will, more tragically than I did, I'm guessing, and the drinking and drugs and sluttitude weren't nearly as prevalent or as awful as they appear to be at "DuPont."

Short story long, I'm enjoying it. Fun read. And I've even picked up eight or nine new vocabulary words in the process.

Meanwhile? I can't wait for American Idol to get ON with it already and move on the semi-finals, so I can begin my reviews. I watched Wednesday's show on the Ti-Faux Sunday night and finally understood what the eff blathering was talking about when she sent me a text message that said simply: "Yipes! Zachary?"

Books #1 and #2 are in the bag, keeping me on pace for 30 books. Hit the gym 3 times last week, keeping me on pace for that. And I've been putting the laundry away like a good girl.

Book #1: Freakonomics by Steven D. Levitt and Stephen J. Dubner. Recommended by hochopepa. Extremely interesting and well-written. Everyone should read this book, even if you care nothing about numbers or economics (I barely do).

Book #2: Tales of the City by Armistead Maupin for my book club. Written in 1976 and takes place in fabulous 1970s San Francisco. Kinda chick-litty, kinda like Lost, kinda reminiscent of And the Band Played On before stuff gets REALLY depressing. And a SUPER quick read. Fun.

Up next? I Am Charlotte Simmons, which I cannot BELIEVE girl_about_town whipped through in two fecking days. And Long Way Down, by Nick Hornby, for book club.

While Mr. Whirled and about 2/3rds of the nation's men might disagree with me, I hold the truth of this subject to be self-evident, but I'll also present some factors. Yes, I realize men and women much smarter than me have made the same arguments, but here I go:

1. In baseball, 99.9999 percent of the time, if a run is scored, or a home-run is hit, or a great catch is made, immediate celebration may follow. In football, one's joy at a successful pass or a touchdown is forever clouded by the fear that a challenge will be called.

2. Anything is possible in baseball. Bottom of the 9th, two out, down by 13 runs? There's the glimmer of hope that some wild-ass rally can ensue. In football, if you need multiple possessions and the clock has less than a minute on it, you're screwed, and everyone knows it, even the guy running the clock. Those celebrations by the "winning" team when there are still 20-30 seconds left in regulation? Totally would never happen in baseball.

3. That bloody clock. It starts, it stops, it stalls, commerical breaks are taken. There's no rhyme or reason, like there is in baseball ... three outs, you're done. Also ... halftime. Annoying!! And that's when there ISN'T a nip slip.

4. 162 games, baby!! That's more than 10 times the fun of 16! And post-season? Girl, please. Isn't there the idea in football that on "Any Given Sunday," any team can win? So the Superbowl itself could be a massive fluke every year ... give 'em a best-of-seven series to prove who is really superior!

5. So Taguchi.

Now, I like the basic idea of American football. I like its annoucement of fall, the Sunday afternoon tradition of some well-deserved couch time accompanied by some homemade chili and cheese dip, and I dig Jerry Maguire WAY more than The Natural. But when it comes to MY national pastime, it's definitely baseball and always will be. Okay, MY national pastime is karaoke, then dramatic television, then a New-Wave saturated iPod, THEN baseball, but baseball is definitely up there. :-)

In related news, I'm reading Three Nights in August, which I would recommend to anyone. Awesome.