#bookwormish

[bookworming-101]

@doctorfusionbebop: Some 17 y. o. chick named Dee Guerrera was just sent to Alcatraz 2.0 for killing her stepsister. So, how long do you think she'll last? @morrisdavis72195: I hope she meets justice! She'll get what's coming to her! BWAHAHA! @EltonJohnForevzz: Me? I think Dee's innocent. And I hope she can survive. WELCOME TO THE NEAR FUTURE, where good and honest citizens can enjoy watching the executions of society's most infamous convicted felons, streaming live on The Postman app from the suburbanized prison island Alcatraz 2.0. When seventeen-year-old Dee Guerrera wakes up in a haze, lying on the ground of a dimly lit warehouse, she realizes she's about to be the next victim of the app. Knowing hardened criminals are getting a taste of their own medicine in this place is one thing, but Dee refuses to roll over and die for a heinous crime she didn't commit. Can Dee and her newly formed posse, the Death Row Breakfast Club, prove she's innocent before she ends up wrongfully murdered for the world to see? Or will The Postman's cast of executioners kill them off one by one?

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I think this post might be short. I was disappointed with this book. I really was. The blurb set up such an interesting storyline that when I opened the door I felt lied to. Of course, this doesn’t mean that the blurb is entirely misleading or false advertising, but the concept that I assumed -which is the keyword here, guys-  I would get a face full of, was barely a chapter. Barely a page.

I did not feel connected to any of the characters. Neither the stepsister or the narrator (who I really thought acted younger then her intended age). I did not enjoy the small little village where everything took place as it felt not entirely thought out/ flat. I thought the writing was okay, not something I would write home about, but decent enough to finish out the book. 

I think the issue with the novel itself, where now I am debating if I want to pretend its a “one-off” and not part of a series, is that there was an expectation of more. There’s a thousand different ways of which this storyline, this idea, this environment could have been great. And, yet, it just collapsed upon the idea of what *could* be.

Ultimately, I closed the book feeling disappointed and leaving with a sense of un-fulfillment. And, that is something, you guys probably know and understand, if worst then finishing a book sometimes. 

[sit-beside-me]

And What Can I Get Started for You, Mr. Holmes?

“Hi, guys! Welcome to Starbucks! What can I get started for you?”

The same line. Over. And over. And over again. The barista – her name was Lisa, short for Elisabeth, which was her middle, not her first, name, not that that would ever matter in the lives of her customers – was getting tired of saying it. Too little for too long of a time. Not that, mind, she didn't enjoy her job. Coffee was fun to make, it when a customer was willing, it was great to engage in conversation. Unfortunately, more often than not, customers could really care less about the face behind the till. They just wanted their coffee, and the only time they even bothered to interact was when their coffee didn't come out perfect. Which didn't happen often, not when Lisa worked, at any rate. “Hi. Can I get a regular sized caramel match... motch... That one.” Lisa sighed. “A grande macchiato?” “Yeah. You baristas have such weird names for things. It'd be a lot easier if you just said a medium caramel latte.” “Of course, sir.” Never mind that a latte and macchiato were two completely different things. Never mind at all. “And whatever my girlfriend wants.” Lisa sighed again as she pushed her glasses back up onto the more comfortable spot on her nose, but smiled at the unsurprisingly vacant looking blonde at his side nonetheless as the idiot of a woman opened her mouth. “Can I have a hot, skinny, no whip, light double chocolatey chip frappuccino?” “Sorry, our fraps are only cold, blended drinks.” Not like it doesn't say that on the menu or anything.

“But I've gotten it hot before!” the blonde whined.

“No, ma'am, I'm sure you didn't. Maybe you got a skinny mocha?” Her brow furrowed as she tried to remember. “Maybe... Does it have chocolate chips in it?” “No, but the chips would melt anyways, so we can't use them in hot drinks.”

“Oh.” Dear God, could she not just PICK something? There was already a line forming behind her stupid as-- Lisa's thoughts died as her eyes landed on the two men that just came up behind the jock and the sorority girl. One short, a little stocky, but in the way her father had been just after he came home from Iraq – finally able to eat and relax as he pleased. She found herself wondering if he had just gotten back from active duty as well. Dirty blonde. Mid-to-late thirties, she'd wager, erring on the side of caution because she knew a tour in the Middle East added lines to a face sooner than they should appear. Of course, she knew, there were other reasons for life to add stress to a person, but so much of his demeanour read “military,” and being able to pick that out of a crowd was something she, as a military brat, could be proud of. “Babe.” the sorority girl said to her boyfriend, bringing Lisa back to them as customers, forcing her to look away before she could even contemplate the second man. “What was it that you got?” “A caramel macchiato, sweet.” “And what does that have in it?” Lisa almost wanted to kill herself with an overdose of the vanilla syrup that was in that drink, or to clog her airways with the caramel topping as she tried not to kill the girl for her stupidity. “Hmm, well.” she said after she listened to her boyfriend. “I think I'll just get this apple juice, actually.” She handed Lisa the bottle, who rang it up and promptly smiled at the boy. “That'll be $7.87.” she said quickly, feeling as though she couldn't get them out of there fast enough. Or, at least, out of her hair. Her coworker could make the drinks fast enough and rid the store of their presence. She knew, yes, yes, that she was in customer service and she had to deal with customers, but damn did she hate it sometimes. “Hi there.” she found herself saying to the two men as they approached the till. “What can I get started for you?” “Sarcasm?” the tall, dark haired man asked, though to his friend, not to her. His accent, she noted, was English. “No, Sherlock.” “Ah, then frustration at the previous customers. They were rather dull, weren't they?” he shrugged. “He's only with her for the sex.” He added, leaning in to share it with Lisa. “Sherlock, that's really uncalled for.” “I am merely sharing something that might lessen the edge in her voice, John. It's creating tension behind her eyes, and already she's stressed. Two jobs, and three – no, four classes, it seems – are leaving her with very little sleep, and not much time to take care of herself other than studying and basic hygienic needs. She's stressed about something more so than usual – the twitch of her right eye, hardly visible under the frames of her glasses – is a dead giveaway, but is also making her sight more blurry than usual. I'd say a paper or a very big test is on her mind, which is definitely adding to her agitation, making her snap at any customers that are unworthy of her time in her opinion.” John sighed. “I'll take a latte, please? Grande.” Lisa plugged it into the register, definitely unnerved by the other man, but waited for his order, too. CLAIRE, IT'S YOUR TURN. :) 

[sit-beside-me]

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This song is so epic. I mean, the bit of electric guitar, and the tense strings, and held notes.... beautiful. Makes my homework seem like a dire adventure, or something... 

[whereyoustopthestory]

I love that you're watching Doctor Who now. Your commentary is hysterical. :) I hope you enjoy it! I know I do!

Ahaha, thank you! I'm glad someone enjoyed my ramblings :)

And so many people have been telling me I need to watch it that I figured it would be a quality show. I feel like I've got a LOT of catching up to do, though...