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I just made some hot dogs for myself and then realized I had no ketchup left. *headdesk* One thing I reaaally miss from my old house was the fantastic hot dog stand three blocks away, which had the best hot dogs I've had in my life, MMMM. In all, I prefer Mexican-style hot dogs - I've had them in the US, and found them boring and plain-tasting. The weirdest hot dog I've had was in Paris, which had dijon mustard and had a baguette instead of a bun. That was awesome.
And I'm not sure why I'm talking about hot dogs, except I really have to work on my assignment for social service and on homework and I really, really don't want to. Boo.
Anyway. I finished reading Diablo Guardián by Xavier Velazco yesterday, which is about fifteen-year-old Violetta, who runs away to New York with 100 thousand dollars she stole from her parents, who in turn stole it from the Red Cross. It's really well written, and really thrilling, though there's not a single decent human being in the novel. Thing is, I hadn't read such an utterly Mexican book in forever, which is weird, considering half of the book is set in New York and the main character uses phrases in English all the time - mostly, it's just that most top-notch Mexican writers stay away from colloquialisms, and Velazco doesn't, he uses them right and left, until there's sentences that go something like 'pinche vieja coatlicue, ni que me fuera a ver tan chingadamente miau como ella, ni madres.' lol. Dunno. It's weird, but oddly fitting.
Oh! And I read Superman: Red Son the other day, and it was rather fantastic. It's a retelling of Superman's history, only with a crucial difference: instead of crashing into Smallville, he lands in the Ukraine, in the 30s. It is pretty awesome, hee. I don't get Mark Millar. He sometimes goes and writes brilliant stuff, like this and The Ultimates and Ultimate X-Men, and then he writes infuriating stuff like Civil War and THEN there's his uncensonred stuff, like Wanted, which was crap and then some. So yeah, I don't get him at all. o_O
And I'm not sure why I'm talking about hot dogs, except I really have to work on my assignment for social service and on homework and I really, really don't want to. Boo.
Anyway. I finished reading Diablo Guardián by Xavier Velazco yesterday, which is about fifteen-year-old Violetta, who runs away to New York with 100 thousand dollars she stole from her parents, who in turn stole it from the Red Cross. It's really well written, and really thrilling, though there's not a single decent human being in the novel. Thing is, I hadn't read such an utterly Mexican book in forever, which is weird, considering half of the book is set in New York and the main character uses phrases in English all the time - mostly, it's just that most top-notch Mexican writers stay away from colloquialisms, and Velazco doesn't, he uses them right and left, until there's sentences that go something like 'pinche vieja coatlicue, ni que me fuera a ver tan chingadamente miau como ella, ni madres.' lol. Dunno. It's weird, but oddly fitting.
Oh! And I read Superman: Red Son the other day, and it was rather fantastic. It's a retelling of Superman's history, only with a crucial difference: instead of crashing into Smallville, he lands in the Ukraine, in the 30s. It is pretty awesome, hee. I don't get Mark Millar. He sometimes goes and writes brilliant stuff, like this and The Ultimates and Ultimate X-Men, and then he writes infuriating stuff like Civil War and THEN there's his uncensonred stuff, like Wanted, which was crap and then some. So yeah, I don't get him at all. o_O
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