10:09 a.m. - 2006-05-02
Last night I rounded out my current reading marathon with the completion of one book and immediately went 300 pages into a new one. Yes. I know I read fluff. I'm totally not ashamed of that. So all of you Sylvia Plath reading quasi-intellectuals just get off my case. I don't feel the need to read an impressive title unless it entertains me. If I learn something while doing it... well that's just gravy.
(hmmm. Maybe the defensive backlash does indicate a deeper concern regarding my recent literary purchases. Naaaah. Give me my porn wrapped in a nice pink bow.)
Also, that whole suggestion of "Read something that will look good if you die in the middle of it" that I have recieved from no less than 15 different email friends?! That's the most ridiculous, snotty-ass thing I've ever heard. I have literally had that email pass through my inbox 6 times in the past week. I know this is well meaning advice, but whoever wrote it is fucking retarded. Read what you love. Just turn off the television and open a book. It's good for you.
I do however seem to be developing thighs that can crack walnuts. Yes, that is my fitness goal for the year. By Christmas I want to be able to amuse friends and family at Yuletide gatherings by cracking nuts with body parts. (that was sarcasm, intelligent people. recognize)
Obviously I'm in full bitch mode today. The 'taper down' on the nicotine thing is slowly affecting my ability to pretend to be nice. I'm totally okay with this. Really nice people are ususally uninteresting.
Credits: This has been a paid advertisement for your local book stores/libraries.