google-site-verification: google935433b691795853.html KRISTY BERRIDGE: 2013-07-14

Wednesday, 17 July 2013

Football Mania

I may be unpopular for saying this, but I freaking hate football. And when I say football, I don't mean soccer (that game actually involves some skill).


So it's footy season in Australia, and this thuggish game of kick the egg-shaped ball around the paddock in teeny tiny shorts has overcome the nation. In lounge rooms everywhere televisions are boasting AFL and NRL in wide screen and high definition. Teenage boys are slapping their mates on the asses and girls are swearing like troopers. Families are gathered to fist the coffee table in support and the die-hards are wearing nothing but striped t-shirts and stubbies (otherwise known as the teeny-tiny shorts).
Meanwhile, people like me try to commandeer the remote or simply turn the television off. But what do you do on State of Origin night when the entire neighbourhood is screaming 'go you stupid, f@cking idiot, kick the ball!' in super high volume? Do you play ABBA? Do you slam windows and doors closed in the hopes they get the message?
I suppose you could pull a Julie Andrews and belt out 'The Sound of Music' from your balcony or driveway, tap on the front door with a loaded shotgun and then cock it when their over-cheery face greets you with surprise.
No. You simply suck it up, cringe through every outburst and then write a scathing post about it.
Football blows.
*knock knock*
I suspect that's someone at the door now, coming to offer rebuttal.
Have a good one, even if it's the football,

Kristy :)

Book Review: The Den by Jennifer Abrahams

The Den by Jennifer Abrahams is a novel of succinct wording, best described as short sentences loaded with abrupt instruction and no discernable flow. I expected to be drawn into this vampiric story based on supposed actual events, when in actuality, I was a little let down by the short and sharp prose with little descriptive content.
Following Skyla Jane Judge, a restless college student and then waitress, we see her initial journey into the world of the supernatural upon a reading with a psychic. Warned of dangerous men, nefarious ghosts, and a past life that could literally come back to bite her, and we are suddenly in New York City.
Enter Alex, a mysterious stranger that Skyla believes harmless and a possible romantic dalliance, and before we know it, having only just met, they are planning a road trip to New Orleans.
At this point I’m shaking my head thinking, ‘you’re going to be strangled and dumped on the side of the road by this psycho’. Naturally, after one week of knowing each other, it’s like fate has stepped in and Skyla is exactly where she needs to be – in the middle of the French Quarter, surrounded by a strange den of ... others.
If all this didn’t happen a little fast for you, Skyla is soon chanting around candle light with her new friends, drinking blood, and denying her role in it. Pressed for affection from one of the would-be vampires, and then reminded of a centuries past tie from another, and Skyla’s soon running again.
What I liked about this novel is the possibilities and the rather odd vampiric/witch ties to this strange assortment of individuals. I enjoyed reading about their hunt, and was curious upon Skyla’s initial Tarot reading. Unfortunately, with an over-paced plot with limited explanation and then quicker resolve sliding to indifference, and I was left with a million question marks without clear parameters as to where the plot would head in the hands of a flighty, inconsistent protagonist.
Two out of five fangs – not terrible, but not stirring, either.

Synopsis:
Is it possible to run away from yourself? No. Skyla Jane Judge should know.
Fresh on the heels of a breakup and college graduation, Skyla Jane Judge feels an inexplicable urge to accompany an attractive stranger on a road trip from New York to New Orleans. Maybe it has something to do with what a psychic has told her about a past life. Maybe some old friends stuck between lives are waiting for her there.
Whatever the case, she gives in to the lure of Louisiana’s voodoo country and doesn’t look back. Longing for change, she uncovers a “den” beneath the haunted cobblestone streets of the French Quarter and, in the company of vampires, begins to discover her true self.
Skyla embarks on a journey to self-awareness that ultimately uncovers a secret ceremonial path to love and eternal enlightenment. Though change is what she wanted, is she ready for the irrevocable change her “new” friends offer her?

Sunday, 14 July 2013

Cleaning? Over-damn-rated

It's been a slow few weeks on the blog. A few personal issues have popped up along the way and broken my ability to write a decent post, let alone read a book or slap up a review. So apologies for my lackluster attentiveness to the written word and my casual ramblings of bullsh@#t.
I'm starting to get back into the swing of things, though, organising my paperwork, re-shuffling priorities, saving orphans and ... cleaning my car.
Apparently this is something you need to do regularly. Who knew?
On the stern advice of my father, I have spent at least twelve hours getting my four year old Mazda 3 up to scratch. Things were living in the carpets, the windows wouldn't go down because of the grit in the rubber seals, and I have so many paint chips on the bonnet that it looks like a pimply teenager's face.
Needless to say I have hoovered, washed, scrubbed, polished and ruined my God damn fingernails in an effort to make my car look brand new again. With success now a story I'm blogging about, I have to wonder when my laziness will once again reign supreme and my poor little Mazda will inherit take away rubbish, muddy mats, and a drunken bum living in the backseat.
My blue bucket of steel is the second home I can't live without, now possibly cleaner than than a hospital ward. So will I nurse it to continuing health, or will it fall victim to those little bastards who write 'wash me' on the dusty paintwork?
Time will tell.
Meanwhile, I'll be enjoying the shiny new polish, clean upholstery and ridiculously loud music pumping through my sound system. Yes, I'm that girl singing with reckless abandon at the traffic lights.
Have a good one,

Kristy :)