Hump Day Nerdgasm (a fairly regular thing)

Today we talk about a tumblr that's only tentatively related to books . . . and then I give you GIFs. (Not GIFTS. I'M NOT MADE OF MONEY.)

I don't usually tumble, but I've gotten hooked on #realtalk from your editor. This little piece of sunshine is run (written?) by Ann Friedman, executive editor of GOOD magazine . . . which is based in Los Angeles, coincidentally (hire me, please, Ann Friedman?).

Maybe it's my rose-colored journalism memories, or maybe it's the parts I can still relate to because they apply to the kind of editing I do now, but I always feel exponentially kick-assier after I scroll through. It's become a crucial part of my daily prework routine.

1. Coffee
2. Self-affirmation exercises
3. Limbering
4. More coffee
5. "#realtalk from your editor"-ing
6. Kicking ass

Some tidbits.

WHEN SOMEONE SAYS TABLETS 

WILL SAVE JOURNALISM

WHEN SOMEONE CALLS 

A BLOG POST A "BLOG"

WHEN A WRITER TELLS ME

SHE THINKS EDITORS ARE MEAN

I am now prepared for the ass-kicking portion of my day. SALLY FORTH!

Happy Birthday! (P.S. Canada can't keep you.)

UNLEASH THE CONFETTI!

FROST THE TINY CAKES!

PUT ON YOUR BIRTHDAY SUITS!

Because Alice is 27 today!

Now . . . we dance.

Hump Day Nerdgasm (apparently, a semiregular thing)

We've all seen fan art for grown-up Calvin and Hobbes, yes? There's a LOT a lot floating around the interwebs. Some of it is sad. Some of it is funny. All of it makes you want to hug your favorite stuffed animal.

But I have a favorite. A dear friend who always makes sure I experience no shortage of GIFs sent these to me a while ago, and I can't believe I've never shared them here . . . here in my sharing place where I share things.

Without further ado, I present to you . . . Calvin and Hobbes, secret agents.

And their arch nemeses . . . Christopher Robin and Winnie the Pooh.

I always feared his honey problem would lead him to a life of crime.

This Hump Day Nerdgasm has been brought to you by kizer180. Visit the artist's deviantART page for more brilliant deviations.

Arthur Conan Doyle would have been really, really old today.

I almost let Arthur Conan Doyle's 153rd birthday pass by unacknowledged (on this blog). THAT, my dear friends, would have been a travesty. And I will tell you why . . . in GIFs.

Arthur is responsible for creating two of the most loved characters in all of literature. End of story. Yay for books and all that jazz. But let's focus on what's TRULY important here. Without this dapper Scottish gentleman . . .

Can you spot the creative genius? Hint: He keeps it on his face.

. . . we wouldn't have this:

Sherlock for kids.

. . . or this:

Sherlock NOT for kids.

More important, there would be none of this:

Watson: making real-life best friends look bad since 1887. 

And I SHUDDER to imagine a world without this:

Words. I no longer remember how to use them.

So thank you, Arthur, for bringing Watson and Sherlock into our lives and establishing them permanently in pop culture. And, most of all, thank you ever so for making this possible:

You probably don't want credit for this. WELL TOO BAD.

Happy birthday, you old coot.

Hump Day Nerdgasm (not actually a regular thing)

I've just seen something that made my nerdy little heart skip a beat, and it happens to be Wednesday (I actually thought it was Tuesday until 5 seconds ago when I asked the nearest person what day it is). This probably won't be a regular occurrence, because I can't be expected to get this excited on a weekly basis. We have to take these things as they come.

Anyway, LOOK AT THIS FLOWCHART. Oh, I know . . . flowcharts are for squares. But this one has rectangles (HA!). I apologize for that. Behold, How a Book Is Born.

This is accurate . . . I'm assuming. Except the part about the copy editor quitting in horror, because I've never given up on a book. I've CONTINUED EDITING in horror, but I've never QUIT in horror. I am a professional.

I Am Legend, or How Sexism Survived the Vampire Apocalypse

This is one of those many times when I wouldn't recommend seeing the movie before reading the book, because the movie was quite a lot better I thought. Although, they're not really comparable because they diverge drastically plot-wise. So let's not even compare them then. I take it all back.

Robert Neville is the last human left. He's pretty sure. During the day, he goes out for supplies, replaces the damaged planks over his windows, hangs fresh garlic around the outside of the house . . . and stakes his neighbors through the heart while they sleep.

A sickness has swept through the population, turning everyone, one by one, into vampires. So every evening, Neville locks himself inside his house, pours himself a whiskey and soda, and turns up the classical music to drown out the sounds of the bloodthirsty crowd assembling outside his door. 

I had to remind myself a couple of times that this story was written in 1954. Because . . . well, let me just share with you what I scribbled in my notebook after reading the first 20 pages.

"What I know so far about Robert Neville: He is a man. He can use tools. He doesn't like to clean. He is controlling his sexual urges with difficulty. He is a man."

I picture a slightly disheveled Jon Hamm. Oh . . . you want an actual picture? WELL I WON'T GIVE YOU ONE. (Just kidding.)

The last rakishly handsome chauvinist on earth.

But the book does get a little better, despite Neville's stereotypical macho-man characteristics and the general subjugation of women lady vampires. We get some back story on Neville. We find out that he's just an ordinary guy, not equipped with any special knowledge to make him particularly suited for surviving the near extinction of the human race. In fact, he's often infuriatingly dense.

"Something had killed the vampire; something brutally effective. The heart had not been touched, no garlic had been present, and yet . . .
It came, seemingly, without effort. Of course---the daylight!
A bolt of self-accusation struck him. To know for five months that they remained indoors by day and never once to make the connection! He closed his eyes, appalled by his own stupidity." (p. 38)

Nosferatu is also appalled by your stupidity.

Coping with isolation is the dominant theme for most of the story. And then it kind of morphs into a powerful commentary on "otherness" . . . and how the ruling majority can become the ruled minority practically overnight.

So what have we learned? Always read the book before the movie. And, yep, I think that's pretty much it.

The children are our future? A concept that distresses me slightly less now.

It's me! I'm alive! I've been recovering from Massive Editing Project Syndrome, but full recovery is pending completion of said massive editing project. My recreational reading has taken a hit in the process, and that means I really haven't had much of bookish relevance to tell you about.

But Sunday, the husband and I and some friends volunteered at a book fair. We were manning the elementary/young adult books . . . which is to say, we were shoving our favorite books into children's bags when they weren't looking.

Did you know that when you let kids loose in a room full of books and tell them they can each pick 10, ACTUAL magic happens?

I confess, my expectations were low. The L.A. County public school system is not known for fostering a love of reading. In fact, kids don't generally start taking English classes until well into high school. Add to that the fact that the majority of these kids speak Spanish at home and all the books available at the event were printed in English. But none of that seemed to matter at all.

Some highlights:

• The chubby little boy who discreetly tucked two High School Musical chapter books into his bag, after his older sister passed them over with a scoff.

• The 5-year-old boy who crawled under the table and grinned mischievously at me while shoving a book about snakes and lizards into his bag, AFTER his mom told him three times that he couldn't have it.

• The little girl who lit up when I added Misty of Chincoteague to her small, horse-themed stack (and then taught her how to pronounce it).

• The girl I bullied into taking two books from the Redwall series. THERE IS A BADGER DRESSED AS A MONK. WHAT ELSE DO YOU NEED TO KNOW, LITTLE GIRL?

• Husband nonchalantly sliding a choose-your-own-adventure book into his back pocket. (Don't worry. He was allowed.)

• Not a single Twilight book in sight.

And look at Camden holding this book I bought him before he was born!

I'M ON A ROLL!