I'm sitting here in my bedroom on a Friday night, contemplating taking a shower and traipsing around in my pretty fluffy sage robe -- a holiday gift from the head of my department at work. I just got home from having a delicious meal at Baby Blues in Venice (CA, that is...not Italy...if only), and now all I can think about is how I can feel my thighs inflating. It's not a happy feeling. I want to go for a walk, but with a windchill, it's only 40-some-odd degrees outside. I could go to the gym, but my gym is in West Hollywood and I am in Silver Lake and mrah mrah mrah yes I would like some cheese with my whine. (And so the thigh-expansion continues...)
But anyway, I'm reading a lot of chick lit these days. I got it in my head that 2007 was going to be my most literate year ever. I was going to read a whole lotta books, and I was going to start with the classics. I managed to find a list of the "50 Greatest Novels of All Time," compiled by The New York Times. And what's classier than The New York Times? Come on! At the top was Ulysses by James Joyce. I spent $17 on it at the Borders in Century City. After my first bus-and-book session, my brain hurt. Reading is supposed to be FUNdamental -- or at least that's what all those cheesy-yet-endearing posters in my school libraries always said. Headaches? Not fun.
So chick lit it is. I adored Emily Giffin's Something Borrowed and Something Blue. I just finished reading -- and loving -- a script based on a book called Milkrun. I'm now reading Pamela Ribon's Why Moms Are Weird. Oddly enough, even though I loved the movie, I'm not a huge fan of The Devil Wears Prada. The main character really irritated me in the first chapter with all of her whining. I just kept thinking that the girl should just put on her big girl panties and deal with it. (And I say this as someone who spent her first nine months in L.A. working for Satan-with-a-Speculum.)
But anyway, I had a point. Maybe the reason I'm liking these books is because I see something I can relate to. I've never really felt like your "typical" 27-year-old, but now I do. I finally have friends I can call to have dinner or catch a movie with. I have a fantastic assistant job at a fantastic television network. I spend way too much time analyzing the most minute details to determine if the guy I like actually likes me back. I can watch Pride and Prejudice infinite times in a loop and still get all weepy at the end. And one of my favorite things in the whole world is spending time with my best friend. That, and eating Ben and Jerry's...
I am a cliche. And as much as the Silver Lake girl in me wants to rebel, I am a-okay with that.
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