I finished Wolves in Chic Clothing and The Journal of Mortifying Moments. I know they count towards the final number of books I’ve read this year, but it’s like reading air, there’s almost no substance although they do keep you going. They’re both terrifyingly predictable, but at least the JMM had some cute segments about the main character, Kerry’s, most embarrassing moments—and believe you me, I could relate.
Ahem, I once asked my grade school almost-boyfriend if he liked reading Agatha Christie (because he was really a fifty year-old housewife?), tripped and/or dropped something whenever I saw him or he walked by (including a total face/nose plant over a chained driveway on the way home as I tried to act cool), and this coming from a ballet dancer, and then convinced myself that he liked this girl Kathryn who totally tried to steal him from me and then he moved away thinking I was a total freak.
Oh boy, did I just say all that out loud?
Jason Hughes, if you’re out there, I did like you when we were in Grade 8, and I was kind of a freak, but you can’t blame me, I was “creative.” Heh.