A few more reviews...

for the Sherm.

From Quill and Quire:
"Think Harriet the Spy meets Sam Spade, with a good dose of Wayne’s World thrown in. Funny, honest, self-effacing, the Mack is the charmingly irresistible heart that beats behind Juby’s funny and immensely readable Getting the Girl. …

Juby’s take on Sherman and the teen male perspective rings true. She handles her main character deftly, crafting his voice and actions into heroic proportions. From Mack’s embarrassment over his bartending, burlesque-dancing mom to his ongoing commentary about his raging hormones and his various turn-ons and fetishes, his deadpan style is hilarious, resulting in equally hilarious stunts and escapades.”


From School Library Journal:
"As if appealing to both genders and espousing integrity weren’t enough, the story is often funny, with an endearing main character. Getting the Girl is a pursuit worth undertaking."

Thanks also to Rachel at A Fair Substitute for Heaven for her lovely review!

P.S. One more thing. I've recorded some information about my name on Teaching Books.net. If you were wondering how I got a name like Juby and what it means, you can now find out. Also, the site has name guides from all kinds of wonderful writers. It's fun. Check it out if you get a chance.

P.P.S. My black eye is gone, but I think my brow bone is broken. Just FYI. My pity quotient was low today, so I thought I'd add that.

An Application

Re: Your call for puppies Nov. 4, 2008

Dear Obama Family,

I am writing to express my interest in becoming the first puppy. As the Secret Service will probably point out during the vetting process, I am not technically a puppy, but rather a mature dog of ten years. It's my opinion that people's obsession with puppies is a sign of immaturity. You may not be aware of it, but there are few things more annoying than a puppy. The only thing worse is kids (I mean other than your charming girls, obviously).

Before I get off track, let me tell you a little bit about myself. I am a brown and white prick-eared dog of medium height and weight. Like yourself, President Obama, I work hard to maintain my fitness level. I swim, run and bury bones. When I dig them up after they've rotted nicely, I often have dirt on my nose which looks extra cute. I'm not bragging on myself, only telling you what others have said.

I am notably smart and only afraid of loud noises and cats. Even then, I'm only afraid of cats that look at me. I'm hell on the ones who run away. Excuse my language.

My early years were less than idyllic. There was no abuse, but there was precious little luxury. My people, Susan and James, raised me in a small apartment in Marpole, which is in Vancouver, BC, Canada. Marpole is no one's idea of a classy neighborhood. Later, I was moved to Nanaimo, which is on Vancouver Island. Nanaimo is fine, but I've always felt destined for greater things. I have this thing I do when I'm looking for treats. I sit very proudly, puff out my chest and point my muzzle (which is sometimes cutely covered with dirt) to the sky. James refers to this my "Proud American" look, due to how noble I appear and always makes Susan come downstairs to look at me. I think you will agree that this alone makes me a candidate for First Dog.

I will be sad to leave Susan and James. James is fun and Susan is nice, but James has to wear a face mask around me (which is embarrassing to my dignity) and Susan paces a lot and sometimes curses, which makes it hard for me to sleep and I'm ready for a change.

If you are unsure whether I am the right dog for the job, please have someone in your transitional staff Photoshop the following pictures onto the White House lawn. Ask anyone. I was born to roll around on that piece of grass.

Oh, and please note that if we do venture down this road together, I'd appreciate it if the girls didn't have too many friends over. Like I said, I'm not really a kid dog.

Sincerely,

Frank Juby-Waring, soon to be Obama.

On this historic day...

for the American people, I will do my part by casting my Canadian ballot for Obama. Of course, I have nowhere to put it, so I've decided to just pop it in the nearest Canada Post box and hope for the best.

When I finish work, I will be buying a large movie popcorn (it's a special occasion, okay?) and sitting in front of the TV to watch the results come in. If necessary, I'll walk down the hill to mail another ballot to states that seem to need some help. No one could say that I'm not an active citizen of North America. I even voted in the Canadian election, making me one of a select few persons who did so.

Happy Election Day!


First Barack votes...


Then me...