Book 13 was Time Cat by Lloyd Alexander.
I picked it up one day when I was late and just needed whatever to take to school and read. It turned out to be a childrens' book, and it was okay. I like the cover, it was quite spiffy (but nobody seems to have uploaded a picture of our version to the Internet for me to steal. Granted, I didn't look too hard).
Book 14 was Bridget Jones's Diary, by Helen Fielding.
I was surprised I finished this– I'd started it about twice before and stopped after about 20 pages for reasons unclear. This time, though, I thought it was great. Marvelous. Lovely. Particularly because Bridget spends a good deal of her time feeling lonely, dejected and bingeing. I can identify.
Anyway, what is it with British chick lit always pairing off the protagonist with one of the country's richest bachelors? In Shopaholic, Becky gets with Luke, who lives in a pile of cash; in The Gatecrasher, Fleur gets with what's-his-name, who has oodles and nothing to spend them on (!); and Bridget Jones is suddenly swept up by Mark Darcy, who not only has millions of pounds stashed away, but is also called DARCY! I mean, come on. I'd be happy if the dog licked me, forget a rich Mr. Darcy.
Actually, no, because I've seen the dog eat revolting lumps of slime from the garden. But my days have passed in sorry Singleton existence while everyone else is running around being social. I just sit there getting old and spinster-y. I mean, I'm not even interested in anyone. And the only guy who's shown any interest whatsoever is this totally boring guy. Oh, and also my weird ex who contacts me every few months to remind me he still thinks of me bla bla bla. But I'm not sure he counts. And also that girl from Biochem who may or may not be hitting on me but who I find intimidating either way.
Anyway, I'm not saying I'm much of a catch (even I know there's not that much to me) but surely I can do better than that?
Sorry, I've gotten side-tracked. The point of it was, I'm with Bridget all the way up to the last three pages, when who should show up but Mr. Darcy, the rich hottie. Jealousyyyy.
- . - . -
Ugh, tonight I was feeling desperately thirsty but we were out of drinking water. I found a bottle of mineral water and, after not having a sip of fizzy drink for months, guzzled about a pint of it in all of fifteen seconds. Big mistake, as within seconds I thought my stomach might burst and I'd be found dead the next morning on the kitchen floor amidst a pile of jumbled intestines. "Oh, yes," my mother would say, "I thought I heard a popping noise last night".
1 comment:
You are an excellent catch, but no one worthy of you has crossed your path yet.
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