I hate reading. It’s not so much that I hate words, per se, as much as I hate reading them. Especially those really small words that they crowd on tiny pages. I mean, I get the whole "saving trees" thing, but come on...I also really don’t appreciate books that have over 100 pages. Like, seriously, Harry Potter…Twilight…dictionaries, you need to stop.
I don’t know what it is; I just don't like doing it. I mean, I try. I go to the library and take out those books, the ones I’m supposed to be reading. Shakespeare. O'Henry. Blah. Blah. Blah. But I take one look at the first page and want to die. So then I do what any sane person would do. I stop. And read Wayside School Is Getting Stranger instead.
Okay, okay, I’m totally exaggerating. I read. All the time. I mean, I read Glamour. Gossip girl. Jodi Picoult novels- totally fun since all end in a death or an illness, which is nice. But at the end of the day, I guess I read a lot more than I give myself credit for. Who says Gossip Girl isn't literature? And that Louis Sacher isn't the greatest literary giant of our time?
So here goes, my muses include and are limited to...Carrie Bradshaw- ingenious, Joel Stein- hilarious, Louis Sachar- dangerously amusing and, uh… the woman who wrote the Sweet Valley High series.