There are things over which an author has no control. This is never more easily understood then when you are the author. Lately, there’s been at least one dust-up over something the author of a very popular series could not really be expected to change. Because, the “not in control” thing. But I guess some people think we’re just kidding.
(But she looks comfy, tho.)
And so anyway, the point of all this is who knows what will be, but IF I were to see an audio rendition of The Last Life of Avrilis (guess where that links to… guess!), I have but one request. That the narrator be one of the following:
To be fair, I think everything should be narrated by one or both of them. No. Not both. We would not survive it.
While, on deeper meditation, it seems strange to have a grown man narrate a novel with a young female protagonist written by a woman… I don’t know how to finish that sentence. Have you heard them speak?! Was your soul not awakened?! (Apparently I have no convictions and stand for nothing. Because I think this could still work.)
But on the off chance that either selection would be off-putting, I will also benevolently accept another superstar narrator, in the form of Meagan Good.
It’s a crazy world we live in, I tell you. Just not this crazy. This – I assure you with no reasonable way of doing so – is not real. I realize it’s being reported by the BBC, but I’m fairly certain it’s supposed to read: The Onion. And if you’re holding it in, do feel free to laugh. That’s how this type of thing works. You do something like this on purpose and you forfeit your right to sympathy. The best part is that when I first read it, I didn’t even mentally recognize the thing about their being midgets. I did however recognize that they were Cambodian. Don’t be mad. But I kinda assumed small stature. And then, I got to the midget part. And I doubled over in laughter.
In more serious news, I’m very impressed by Cisco TelePresence. And all the good it’s doing. I’d like whatever video feed will let me talk to that guy from the commercial. It’s funny because I did notice how his hair was most definitely arranged farther forward than it likely grows on its own. So basically he’s slightly older than me but has the hairline of Nicolas Cage. But it’s ginger. And curly. And he talks with the same clenched/half-shut mouth charm as Ryan Philippe and Brad Pitt and…hold on lemme prepare myself to say his name… Djimon Hounsou. Or as I like to call him… DA-JIGGY-MON! Ohhhhhh, Da-jiggy-mon… I’m not even going to post a picture….because I can’t find one without Kimora Lee in it. The most unfabulous wanna-be icon “designer”. You know what I think – immediately, it’s like knee-jerk – when I see a grown woman wearing one of those shirts with that cat on it? I think… tacky. Tacky or trifling. Let’s just say, it’s not haute couture. It’s like a new emblem for those corner clothing shops that has all the windows covered with posters of the labels they carry. Which you know means the labels of which they’re selling obvious rip-offs. I’m not sure how best to describe this, but clothing shouldn’t be a thin scrap of material with the edge folded over and stitched into place.
What the heck were we talking about? Oh, that’s right. The hilarity of Gary Coleman and his retarded bride. I’m not even going to talk about the physical pain I felt listening to her “talk” to Steve Harvey on Tyra Banks. And when a comedian refuses to make very obvious observations about how you completely missed the point of what he said … you know you ride the short bus. Don’t search for it on youtube. Because you’ll find it. Only people who can honestly watch those American Idol pre-season shows without covering their ears and banging their head into walls ( a la Gary Coleman) or closing their eyes and screaming in order to drown out the horror emitting from the television… those people could probably stand it. But I make no guarantees.