Me Like to Read: Review - Wuthering Heights

OK. This review will be soooo biased and soooo long because I luuuuuuurrrrrrvvvvv Wuthering Heights. I read it for the first time in college and I read it maybe every two years. Every time I come back to it, I get angry for six hundred some odd pages and then! Like lightning! I remember that bad people come to bad ends and all gets to be right in the world.

Let the review commence.

It's the story of Heathcliff, an orphan who is found and housed by the generous Mr. Earnshaw. Heathcliff is brought to Wuthering Heights - the Earnshaw home - and treated not as a servant but as one of the children. He is despised by the boy, Hindley, but adored by the daughter, Catherine. Years pass, Mr. Earnshaw dies, Hindley comes home to claim his inheritance including Wuthering Heights and all of the generosity shown to Heathcliff for so many years is stripped away.

Now a servant, Heathcliff struggles to accept that his best friend and lover (in old English terms) Catherine could so easily move on without him in her life. She quickly finds herself reformed and haughty and begins to treat Heathcliff with the same disdain that everyone else in life treats him. One night, while sitting at the table with her housekeeper Nelly, Catherine reflects on the wedding proposal she's received from the local boy, Edgar Linton. She knows that she doesn't love him and that Heathcliff despises him, but in only caring for her comfort she tells Nelly that she accepted the proposal. Heathcliff is sitting just a few feet away and upon hearing the news steals out into the night, leaving Wuthering Heights for good.

This is the part of the book where I inevitably say things like, "Grrr! I hate Catherine! She's a man ruin-er!!!"

Five years later, Heathcliff comes strolling through bringing with him an untold amount of wealth. Hindley has become a gambling alcoholic and is now ripe for the picking. Catherine is living the good life over at Thrushcross Grange - her home with Edgar. Heathcliff stops by and Catherine acts like a 14-year-old girl - totally silly and infatuated. Heathcliff refuses to live without her and they hide their affections from no one. Because she won't leave Edgar and Heathcliff has become a vindictive jerk, he asks her young sister-in-law, Isabella Linton, to marry him. This way, he's a part of the family and can be near Catherine by proxy.

What he didn't count on was Isabella having the good sense to figure out that he didn't really love her and Edgar forbidding Isabella - or anyone in her household - to come to Thrushcross Grange again. Betrayal makes people do and say funny things, doesn't it? Catherine goes stark raving mad. I say she's just a spoiled brat throwing a tantrum but everyone in the book believes that she has some sort of mental illness. Heathcliff plants himself outside her house day after day until he can convince Nelly to let him in to see Catherine. Upon his arrival, Catherine acts a damned fool and refuses to let him leave, even as Edgar ascends the stairs to check on her progress.

Heathcliff pushes her way for the last time and later that night her daughter (also named Catherine but hereby called Cathy) is born 2 months premature. Catherine dies in the process. Edgar prays for peace and Heathcliff prays to be haunted. They both get what they ask for. Isabella runs away from Wuthering Heights which is currently being run by Heathcliff although no one can figure out how he managed to finagle control from Hindley. Word gets out that she too has a child, a son that she names Linton - her maiden name.

Time passes and Isabella goes with it. Heathcliff claims his right to his son Linton and he puts the world's most diabolic plan in to motion all to get back at the man that had the audacity to love and marry his beloved Catherine. Young Cathy is forced to marry her first cousin, Linton, because both he and her father are deathly ill and Heathcliff has taken care to make sure that her father dies first ensuring that she inherits everything. Then when his son dies, he will own all of the Linton's property. Cathy inherited nothing from her mother except for her dark, piercing eyes and her fiery temper. As a woman in the late 1700s and early 1800s, she knows that she's at his mercy but refuses to cow tow to him.

She makes peace with her circumstance and spends her time disobeying Heathcliff while staying firmly out of his reach and helping Hareton - her other cousin - learn to read. It's when Heathcliff walks in on the two of them reading by the fire that he realizes that all his years of plotting and planning revenge still couldn't dampen the happiness of those who sought it. He starts to go crazy and his ever-present scowl is replaced by a permanent and even more menacing grin. For four days he refuses to eat or spend time with anyone around him. He also never writes a will.

When they see him next, he is found on the floor of Catherine's childhood room in Wuthering Heights grinning like the devil and pale as a ghost. All of Wuthering Heights is given back to it's rightful heir and true love blossoms for those who have cultivated it. Thrushcross Grange is abandoned. No one will go down there at night where Catherine is buried with her husband Edgar to her left and her beloved Heathcliff to her right. No one will go down there because - as legend tells it - you can still find Mr. Heathcliff walking among the moors... with a beautiful woman on his arm.

Me Like To Read - Review: 'Til Somebody Loves You

'Til Somebody Loves You by Dee DeTarsio was a complete waste of my time. I don't care what any of these people say.

This is the story of Mary Beth, a copy editor for a marketing firm, and her obsession with Dean Dineno (say that three times fast!), the star salesman. Now, the novel is categorized as a Romantic Comedy and that is made painfully obvious through the events that occur. However, I feel like the author could have should have put more effort into building her characters.

Mary Beth is supposed to be a small town, Midwestern girl that's thrust into the fast life of the big city. But anyone who's ever been to Chicago knows that it ain't New York and she could have found her footing just fine. Her best friend who tells it like it is only shows up twice and not to tell it like it is but to mock Mary Beth. And Mr. Dineno a.k.a. Prince Charming is someone that we know nothing about because Mary Beth knows nothing about him. Except he always greets her when he sees her and she's only ever managed to say, "Ham". Oh! and he's dating the boss.

Mary Beth finds that she's been made charter on a new fragrance being pushed by an unnamed rock star. The fragrance will be called "Rapunzel" and she somehow, by the grace of God, has to make it work. After getting stuck in a myriad of hair related slogans she decides to read the ingredients and discovers that "Ph-ux" is a new, top-secret pheromone that supposedly makes Rapunzel different from everything else on the market. Yeah. Ph-ux. Because Ms. DeTarsio is super creative.

Alone in the office - or so she thinks - Mary Beth dabs on some Rapunzel cranks up the Dean Martin tunes these are the details that make me groan and starts to dance carelessly. It's actually a really cute scene. This is how Dino finds her and he is so smitten that he whisks her away - shoeless - to a cab. That they take. To her house. Where they engage in an "orgiastic hootenanny". Until she wakes up alone and he acts like she slipped him a roofie.

She's convinced that the Rapunzel is what changed her life. She gives herself no credit and sinks into even deeper despair when Dino acts like a chode. Her boss takes the Rapunzel and she comes in with the same swagger that Mary Beth carried for so many days before. The three of them (Mary Beth, Dino, and his girlfriend the boss) get stuck in an elevator on page 116. The shenanigans that ensue had me laughing out loud for the first time and our damsel in distress reaches deep down to become the hero.

All in all, the book was free so I guess I got what I paid for.

The Long Awaited Sister Day!!

All day Saturday, I puttered around my apartment straightening things here and there. Unpacking that dreaded 10% of moving boxes that inevitably stays packed until you're 36 months into your new residence and quite possibly ready to move again. But I did get two more unpacked and I finally got all of my Christmas decor up into the attic. Groomed the dog and washed my hair.

Basically, I did everything I could think of to bring down the anxiety. Saturday was the most important day of my month. It was Sister Day.

SIIIIIIISTER DAAAAAAYYYY!!!!

If you don't have a sister, then I'm sorry but you don't get it. And if you and your sister are just "meh" about each other, then I'm sorry to you too because you don't get it either. But if you and your sister rock hard core and have shared rooms, apartments, secrets, crushes (but never boyfriends), drunken celebrations, and public shame then you totally understand the importance of sister day.

Sister Day is the one day (or night) where we get to act like we're in high school and go to dinner, see a movie, drink some wine, have a spa day, and just be sisters. Not wives or girlfriends, not mothers or daughters; just sisters. And it had been six months since we'd had a sister day (our last attempt was squashed) so I was super excited. Actually, we were both super excited. Which is probably why neither one of us made any plans.

Once Nat got off work, she breezed over to my house and said, "What are we going to do tonight?" and I just stared at her blankly because it did not even cross my mind that we would need to have plans. We settled on going to one of the bars that's in our local mall. The place was packed! Especially for it to only be 8:30p. I mean, yeah, it's Saturday, but it's 8:30p! The young people shouldn't even be dressed yet and the old people shouldn't be out! But alas, they were out in droves. We checked in and the gorgeous hostess told us there was a 45-minute wait for a table but the high tops in the bar were first come, first serve. We put our names in just in case, she wished us luck and we marched forward in our fantastic 4" heels (mine multi-colored, round-toe glitter and hers camel, peep-toe ankle boots).

My eagle eye spotted a lonely high top and snapped it up without mercy. Nat couldn't believe our luck! God was smiling on Sister Day! Our server came through and brought us menus. Before our first drink order could arrive, a gorgeous silhouette caught my eye. I double-blinked and asked Nat, "Is that The Volunteer?" She spun around so quickly that I thought she would lose balance and go tumbling from her chair. The way her eyes darted around the room told me that I better be right about this one. She couldn't take the suspense any longer and kept asking, "Where? Where?!?". I pointed with words and then she saw it too. The broad shoulders. The strong jaw. The ruffled blonde hair.

There he stood. Ten feet away oblivious to the world watching some game on the bar's big screen. I was all "Let's go!" while she was like "We can't go". So I said, "I will leave you here!" and she said something that I nodded to but didn't verbally agree to so it's like she never said it at all.

Me: *tap, tap on shoulder*
The Volunteer: *spins around*
Me: The Volunteer?
TV: *face full of surprise* Oh my God! *chuckle* Hey!
Me: *beaming uncontrollably*
TV: Hold on... it's been a really long time... *snap, snap* J-Bird!
Me: Yes! Ohmigawd! I was looking and I was thinking it was you... *airy, flirty laugh* Well, Nat is here!
TV: Yeah? How is she?
Me: She's engaged!!!
TV: No way! I guess I need to come congratulate her!
See how gracious he is? *swoon* I heart this man in a way that words cannot express.
Me: Nat, look!
Nat: Ohmigawd! She said it was you!
TV: So, you're engaged?!?
Nat: *evil glare at me* Yeah? Well, the weddings not on but the engagement isn't off, so... *tinkly laugh*
TV: Ah. So I still have a chance then? *winning smile*
Me: *evil glare at Nat* *sends telepathic message "I will stab you"
Nat: *send telepathic message back "Bring it, Bitch!"

More witty banter and flirty conversation happens before he decides that he should stop being rude to his guy friends and make his way back over to the bar. Nat looks at me all evil-y,

Nat: I told you not to mention the engagement!
Me: What? When?
Nat: I said, 'Icks-nay on the engagement'. I even did this *make throat cutting sign*
Me: *Kanye shrug* I didn't hear you.
Nat: You nodded!
Me: Whatevs. 'The weddings not on but...' *mocks her Tinkerbell laugh*
Nat: Don't hate.
Me: Oh, I'm hatin'.

Nat and I laughed and regaled at how silly the two of us were acting. We ordered food that was only good by bar standards and drank $9.00 drinks that caused us to have minor heart palpitations when we got the check because Really!! the average cocktail in this region is $7.00. $7.50 on a Saturday. On the way out, we went to say goodbye to The Volunteer who noticed that I had a Blow Pop.

He was all, "What's going on with that Blow Pop in your mouth?" and I was like "It came in my Naughty School Girl drink *terribly seductive face and naughty lips*" and he's like "Hmmm... *evily grin and sexy eyes*" and I say "We could cut out the middle man" and Nat jumps in like "Give me a hug before we go!" and I want to stab her again. We find out he's not on Facebook I know right! because he's a new school fool It's a Snoop Dogg reference and we exchange numbers and part ways for probably another two years or at least until I buy a house in his neighborhood. I'm not yet above stalking him and his fine self.

We finished up at a small pub by my apartment that had a great jukebox selection and boasted few patrons on a Friday night which officially qualifies it as my new favorite place, especially after seeing The Volunteer who got me all hot and bothered. Nat and I sat and talked about all the other guys who have crossed out path and either made their marks as friends or lovers. Then we both accepted that from this point on, anyone we ended up with would be settling. In a good way. 8^)

Sister Day was an absolute success and was only made better on Sunday when we both woke up hungover the drinks didn't seem that strong going down but remembering everything that happened. If you follow us on Facebook then you know excatly how amped we were and how silly and giddy we can get over boys. But isn't that the best thing about having a sister. She's the one person you can be 100% yourself around 100% of the time.

Happy Sister Week, Everyone! Hope you get your Sister Day in soon. Next one: March 13th!

I Spy With My Little Eye The Best Dinner of My Life

Now that you know The Sag and The Volunteer, I can regale you with my weekend recap! This is only part one. *the crowd goes wi-yald!* If you haven't read those stories, then please go! now! read! because you'll realize just how awesome they are and that I have a knack for finding amazing men.

Since The Sag and I missed our annual birthday dinner (because I was broke and melancholy), he invited me out last Friday. I was already super excited! He picked me up like always (he's such a gentleman) and when I answered the door he said, "You're not wearing a dress?". I was floored. Normally, when we go to dinner out it's just your run-of-the-mill sit-down restaurant but that night he was dressed in dark denim, a chocolate brown and celadon green striped button-down shirt, and a sport coat. I had on my fat jeans, black snow boots, a black t-shirt and a pull-over fleece. What the hell, right?!?

So, I run to my room (a good ten feet) and start changing with a fury. I couldn't wear my black and white dress because I would have frozen my butt off. My favorite polka-dot dress was mysteriously MIA and I didn't want to wear the orange dress again. So I dug out my black wrap dress that he'd never seen me in, threw it on, thanked the gods that I'd shaved my legs that morning, put on some tights and my knee-high boots* and emerged a Goddess.

We walk to the car and he opens my door he is such a gentleman!, once he's in, he tells me how nice I look and that I'm in for a real surprise. Twenty minutes later he's navigating Downtown and I'm super antsy and beeeeegging to be let in on the surprise because I just can't stand it in any longer when I recognize the street we're on and squee with delight at the sight of my favorite Spanish restaurant. That's when I say, "Ohmigod! Ohmigod! Ohmigod! Ohmigod! Are we going to my Favorite Spanish Restaurant! Are we?!? Ohmigod!" He laughs and nods yes and I whip out my phone to text CBS111, "The Sag has brought me to my favorite Spanish restaurant! I'd have his baby right now if he asked.". That is a direct quote. No lie. Ask her.

We go in, sit down, and I'm suuuuuper excited. He already knows what I want but still lets me order for myself. We talk about stuff that means nothing at all and he tells me that his relationship with The Chick Who Shall Not Be Named is completely over now. Dinner comes and he says, "I wanted to talk to you about something". Me: mouth open. Fork: mid air. Food: untouched. I'm seriously beginning to wonder what this dinner is gonna cost me.



Mmmm... paella.


Because I know that I said thirty minutes ago that I would have his baby but seriously I'm not trying to have his baby. And the last time he looked at me that intently was when he was prepared to put all his dreams on the shelf for The Chick. I know that he wants to get married. I know that he wants children. We've talked openly about our desires for family. He spent Valentine's Day 2009 on my couch beside me watching SNL! I can tell you his future first born son's name!

But we never said we'd do this together and I just feel like if I put this meal in my mouth I'll be obligating my uterus for future use. All I can muster the courage to say is, "OK". He cracks his neck, his fingers, and his wrists. He shifts uncomfortably in his chair. He puts both forearms on the table and says, "I've started selling Advocare". Finally I can breathe! "And I'm coming to you because I know you've been doing this kind of stuff for years". I squint. He continues, "It's not a pyramid scheme, I swear! And I'm not asking you to join. I just want you to try it and if you like it tell your friends". I tilt my head to the right. He goes on, "It's just that you know so many more people than I do. You know like 300... no 500 people, right? You could really help me out if you like, end up liking it".

I finally I say, "Is that why you brought me here? To my favorite Spanish restaurant?". He looks at me sheepishly, "Yes".

Me: "OK".
The Sag: "Really?"
Me: "Yeah".

And then I ate. It was sooooo good. And if all I've got to do is buy some vitamins and meal replacement shakes, I'm all game. So check out Advocare products. Especially if you have fitness goals this year. My first order will be here on Friday and I'll try to remember to let you know if I'm seeing any positive changes.

*The Sag is a sucker for a woman in knee-high boots. *gives wink to every woman out there that's inboxing me for his number*

The Only Thing Better Than You Is Me

My best guy friend in the whole world is a Sag.

That's us on the left. I can't even talk about the kid with the shirt stains!

It's both a blessing and a curse. I love him so deeply because all of my good qualities reflect right back at me. And I could slap the shit out of him at any moment because he always follows up the right thing to say with something completely ridiculous and outlandish.

Example: "J-Bird, I don't know why you don't have a boyfriend. I mean, you're so pretty, you can lose the weight!".

Do you see it? The place where he should have stopped. I see it. He's the Santino of my life. And I've stopped glazing over every time he goes too far because I realize that even though he said exactly what he meant, he didn't mean it the way I heard it. In the example above, when I asked him for clarification he said, "Just thank God you're not ugly! We can't fix that. Like if you were hit in the face? Nothing we could do".

Now, I laugh when he gets word vomit because it's hella funny. Plus, I'm one of three people that gets his jokes. I know when he's sad and make sure to say just enough to nudge him out of his funk. I mean, he's a Sag so I know he'll come out eventually but it always helps to know you've got support in your latest excursion.

He's also my travel buddy. We hit a rough patch when he went to Mykonos 5 months early and without me. I jumped so far up his ass he tasted my toe jam for a week! But then I realized that he'd just gotten the bug and he had the funds and most importantly, I probably would've done the same thing to him. It's not like Greece is going anywhere, right? So we had lunch and I paid and he knew I was sorry and I knew he was sorry and we went right back to the way things were.

That's the other thing. He totally gets my need for space. He's never hurt (for long) when I don't want to do something or go somewhere. He knows when to keep his mouth shut about my boys. And he's never yelled at me for chasing away his girls. Probably because he knows, deep down, that if she were meant to stay I wouldn't be able to scare her away so easily.

And I'm pretty sure that ALL OF THAT is why Nat thinks we'd be so perfect for each other. She's been pressing me for years to get with The Sag. And by "pressing", I mean that once a year, usually around our birthdays (because I'm 4 days older than him) she'll say, "So what are you and The Sag doing to celebrate?". I'll tell her our plans and she gets this shit-eating grin on her face that exudes the confidence that this will be the year that her big sis gets her mind right and marries the man that's just like her so she can be the cool Aunt already. But she's always wrong.

The love I have for The Sag is completely platonic. We met in a call center during the time in my life when I worked two jobs and went to school part time. He sat a whole two rows over, by himself, everyday, because he was the last from the mid-shift to leave. So for two hours after I'd get to work, he'd be in a row all alone staring out the window. And he's too fine for that. I held a mini-summit with my row and we decided to invite him over but I had to be the one to do it. It went like this:

Me: "Hey."
The Sag: "Hey."
Me: "D in my row wants to know if you date black women."
The Sag: "What?"
Me: "She thinks you're cute and if you promise not to make this awkward you can sit with us instead of by yourself for two hours every night."
The Sag: "But only because she thinks I'm cute?"
Me: "Well, it's not like we know you! You could have a horrible personality!"
The Sag: ...
Me: "Are you coming or not?"
The Sag: "Yeah. Just let me take this call."
Me: "Cool."
The Sag: "Hey?"
Me: "Yeah?"
The Sag: "I don't like D, I like L"
Me: "Whuh? Ew! You don't want her! She's hott and all but her boyfriend's a douche and she's gonna marry him anyway because he's rich. I already know you're better than that."
The Sag: "Damn."
Me: "You still coming over?"
The Sag: "Yeah." *kanye shrug* "Why not?"

See? It's a beautiful story. I will say that they year we turned 23, Nat had gotten all in my head and tequila was all in my blood stream so I thought maybe, juuuust maybe, The Sag and I could make this work. I was drunk, he was drunk, and my room was clean so I said "Let's do this!". And then he responded, "Do what?". And I was all drunk sexy and he took his shirt off and I was like "You have a fur coat! Bahahahahahhaa!". Which by the way, did you know that men with body hair are totally self-concious about it?

Anyway, he admitted that he was a virgin, I buckled under that kind of pressure, and we fell asleep laying the wrong way across my bed, over the covers, with him rubbing my back while I dry heaved. No one should start a romantic relationship on that kind of romance so we just let it be. We've never actually talked about that night and I think it's better that way. There's no underlying tensionn from it because we didn't make what would have been a major mistake.

We get to love each other in our own way and it's working for us. At least until he asked me to dinner, took me to my favorite restaurant, and said he wanted to talk...

The Story of The Volunteer AKA The Hottest Neighbor EVER!

image found here

I had a life long before I took to coming on here and telling you all my business. And that life included living like a nomad and moving at all hours of the morning. Which is how I met The Volunteer. He's 6'3", 210, blonde, blue-eyed, fun, outgoing, optimistic, gentlemanly, and all sex. This man oozes sex and he knows it but he doesn't abuse so it only makes you wanna give him your sex. Does that make sense? Yeah, it makes sense.

Nat and I were moving into an apartment together that was going to be much closer to where I was working at the time. It was 1 in the morning on Friday, May 30, 2008. All the big stuff would be moved in by the boys on Saturday and - as is my nature - I was too cheap to rent a U-Haul for more than one day and fill it with more than one tank of gas, so we were driving the mom van and my car getting as many boxes and clothes over there as we could.

It was our third or fourth trip of the day and we were banging around as little as possible when he came outside. The night was bright and his gorgeous smile glowed in the light of the moon. He ran his long fingers through his blonde hair and welcomed us to our new place. Then he promptly inquired as to why we were moving all of our own things and where the hell our (apparently) good-for-nothing boyfriends were.

Nat and I were not amused. Not only was he drunk but he was still drinking. And for all the boyfriend bashing he did, he didn't lift one box. Not one. It was only after we had both vehicles emptied that he stood there sheepishly and proffered the now lukewarm beers he'd brought for us when he first emerged from his cave. In all the years I'd lived away from home, he was the first neighbor to ever reach out to me with any sort of gesture; I was smitten.

We sat in the mom van's hatch for at least an hour telling stories from our childhood. It turns out that we shared a military upbringing and while I'd spent so many years trying to put it behind me he seemed to revel in it. I saw every new location as another temporary prison sentence where he had used it to develop his skills of adaptation. Then he told us about his foray into college at the University of Tennessee and how weird it was for him to call someplace "home" for five solid years. He worked his way through school by working for a shipping company and when he left he was the youngest Operations Manager they'd ever seen. Which is how he ended up here - our neighbor - bunking with a friend from college for the last four months.

By Sunday we were great friends and our doors were always open to one another. Mornings were spent scaring the crap out of each other as we exited our apartments simultaneously. Evenings were spent in camping chairs on our 4' x 3' piece of grass with beers and good conversation. Weekends were always spent apart until it was time for the "Sunday Night Recap".

 I always thought The Volunteer was a good guy but I never realized how good until the first major thunderstorm of the season. There I stood, in my doorway, under the shelter of our awning, staring up into the night wearing nothing but a tank tops and panties. Then I hear a creak and low and behold if he doesn't usher out some petite blonde (who obviously didn't know her days were numbered) out to watch the same storm. For a moment, I was so stunned to see a master at work that I had forgotten all about the storm or my dreadful state of undress.

That was the first of our more intimate encounters. All summer I took to cutting his hair. I helped him pack for a trip to L.A. We dry-humped on the roof of his truck because he didn't have a parking pass and didn't want to get towed. He played my wingman when I was being backed into the proverbial corner by that night's guest of honor. Who waits until he gets back to your place to ask if you've ever slept with a white guy? He yelled my name and threw rocks at my window anytime he wanted to watch a movie. And we really did watch the movie. No quotation marks here. He woke me up after he'd partied too hard and asked if I had a soda can he could use as a bong. And he helped me break up with The Australian when I couldn't muster the courage on my own.

We had one big fight because I was a lot too drunk and he just shook his head, murmured an apology and let me win until I woke up feeling like leprechauns were using construction tools in my brain. He showed more grace that next morning than I've given my whole life and reminded me that forgiveness was never required between friends. And then, on September 17th, he told us he was moving out. In a week.

I remember being heartbroken. I knew I'd never find another neighbor like The Volunteer. Hell, I might not ever find another person like The Volunteer. People that open and men that strong don't walk by everyday. He's a special breed and that's why I was high as a kite when after two years and almost four months, I spotted him across the bar...

Me Like To Read - Review: There's Cake in My Future

Hooray for Chick Lit!

There's Cake in My Future by Kim Gruenenfelder is a story about Nicole (Nic) who has finally met the perfect man and is getting married. Even though she lives in California, she holds tight to the Southern tradition of the bridal shower "cake pull". The charm that's pulled will bring the recipient the magical assistance she needs to change her destiny.

She's rigged the cake so that she and her two best friends get exactly what they need from the universe. Melissa (Mel) will get the engagement ring because after six years with the same man she deserves to get married. Seema will get the chili pepper to give her the courage to spice things up with her best friend Scott and get out of the "friend zone". And for herself, Nic has planted the shovel, which denotes hard work, hoping that it will help her get re-employed after a round of layoffs.

But somehow the cake gets shifted and no one pulls the charm Nic has designated for them. When the other party guests' fortunes begin to come true, Nic, Mel and Seema get hyper vigilant (and super worried) about their own destinies. The best line in the whole book comes from Nic's new step daughter, "Suck it up, grow a pair, and let's go!".

It was fun watching the girls iron out the wrinkles of their lives and I felt like I was reading about me and my own friends. I encourage you to sit down with this easy read. Especially, if you just want to clear you mind and have a few laughs.