Let’s talk trash, shall we?
I’ve always been a little bit (or a lot bit) in love with John Waters, a man whom anyone would be proud to call Filth Elder. His witty, funny, and completely shitty films inspire me to be as trashy, stupid, and perfect as I can be. Sooooo I gave in this week and popped into the bookstore to buy Carsick, which was on sale! Actually, it was a really good day for the Queer Lit sale section, so I wound up walking away with a little bundle.
I’ve enjoyed the experience of Carsick thus far. I’ve enjoyed putting my John Waters bookmark (which I embroidered from a pattern shamelessly stolen off of Pinterest. To whomever came up with it first, you the man.).
I’ve enjoyed reading it whilst subway preachers railed against fornication (I believe I had just reached the point where he’s giving a hand job to a guy during a demolition derby). And I’ve enjoyed pairing it with “Getting Too Old for Trash,” a drink I invented by raiding someone else’s liquor cabinet! In the true spirit of hitching, of course.
Basically, it’s a cocktail with half a shot of Fireball (for a little kick, but not too much) and half a shot of Grey Goose vodka (because geese migrate and stuff…seemed appropriate).
The rest is ginger beer. Don’t overload it, or you can’t taste the booze. The goal is to say you’re drinking while still keeping your head. Kind of like hitching with money.
I fully believe that John Waters helped to shape my love for all things stupid. Carsick combines all of his humor with great, short tales from I-70, a twisted version of Kerouac’s On the Road (less misogyny, more penises). And I therefore read his book with all the respect it deserves.
I love you, John Waters.