Happy St. George's Day!

What do you get on Shakespeare's birthday?  You get two blog posts in a single day!  It's like getting a round on the house, but without the soothing properties of alcohol that would make this blog, you know, quality reading.  Or quality anything.  Here's the deal--we've supported the idea of St. George's Day for years and couldn't pass up the opportunity to promote this tradition.  In Spain, on St. George's Day you're supposed to give a favorite book and a rose to a loved one.  That's beautiful.  So I suggested to Gianna that we write about the books we could/would/will exchange.  We're bookish soul mates, after all...except for Gianna's taste for "mommy porn" S&M.

Gianna:

Today is the day you give a book to someone you love. I wondered how I would narrow it down. I mean, I love so many people. I know...who am I kidding, no one comes close to the way I absolutely love Liz Sullivan. So much so that it leaves zero room for me to love anyone else. I’m not complaining, trust me (don’t leave me Liz!), it's just that it's an all-consuming, unconsummated love because of a certain cat named Zorro. I’m not jealous, really. It’s just that it’s an uneven relationship at best. Liz seems to dote on Zorro and Zorro seems to … well Liz recently got six stitches in her foot. I’m certainly not saying that Liz should give up on the relationship; really I’m not. She’s put a lot of years in, a lot of blood (literally), sweat (from picking him up – he’s huge) and tears (I mentioned the stitches right?), and you can’t just walk away from that.

Well, I have found the perfect book for their imperfect relationship ("dysfunctional relationship" is so ugly to say). What I am suggesting is learning how to have a relationship, how to “play” without anyone getting hurt. Liz Sullivan, I give you  Ira Alterman’s classic instruction manual.

Enjoy yourself. 

Liz:

All these years, Gianna has been trying to find me a mate, and all these years she's been looking at institutions of higher incarceration, at bus stops and stop signs (usually at the guys urinating)...she even once suggested I chase after the mentally ill man escorted by security out of an Astros game.  And really, I just love Gianna.  It's unrequited because she refuses to rub my feet.  Zorro, he rubs my feet.  Still, I wanted to find the perfect gift for Gianna that both expresses my feelings for her and the uncomfortable position in which I find myself.  Love Gianna, or love Zorro?  I must choose...and that's why I choose Sophie's Choice.

By the way, this is the book that Gianna suggested I pick for her:

What's wrong with Gianna?