I bought this book tonight when I was at the mall and just finished it. It was MUCH more entertaining then the Shopaholic series, but I like my trash along with my ficiton. I’ve read half a dozen books or so since I’ve back from Denver in March and have yet to finish Quicksilver by Neal Stephenson that Patrick lent me when I was leaving. He’s greatly upset by this, of course, as he feels that it’s one of best books in ages that he’s read. He made this big to do when he gave it and I almost feel guilty for getting chocolate on one of the pages one night.
Maybe not.
It’s not that I don’t LIKE the book, I do, it just doesn’t grab me by the horns and pull me in. I tried to explain this to Patrick and he kinda poo-pooed the whole thing like I was just being silly. I like Neal Stephenson’s humour, but it’s hard to cuddle up with a thousand page tome at night. Except if it’s Gone With The Wind. But I digress.
I told him I wasn’t reading as much as I should, which is true. Compared to last year when I kept track of the number of books I was reading per week, I was averaging about two. Now I’m barely lucky to get through one every few weeks. He said, “Oh, I know what you mean. I’m only putting away one book a week but it’s usually only 800-1000 pages.”
Show off.
I am supposed to fly to Denver on May 6 and stay through the weekend, but as I have no cash for the plane ticket, I had called him to tell him this a few days ago. Apparently Mommy-dearest (Okay, his mom IS nice) is having a family get together on June 13, the day after my birthday, and he’s flying in for that. I’m obviously invited to this as well. But the thing that gets me is that he says, “Oh no problem, I’ll wire you the money for the ticket.” Which would be fine, but, he hasn’t done it yet and I haven’t prodded him on it either. But the other thing that galls me is that he made no mention of doing anything for my birthday other than flying here to see Mumsy. But I begged and cajoled and pleaded for V-day, Easter and another weekend and he’s done nothing about planning to come out here.
Our phone conversations lately have been short, to the point and infrequent. I now find myself pausing if I want to call him as I drive (I really do need new cell phone buddies). Unintentionally, I started doing the whole “how long will it take for him to call me routine” and he usually calls around the same time everyday, ironically enough. Nevertheless, our conversations seem forced and to the point.
Anyone who has held decent length conversations with me knows that I can be sarcastic and witty, it’s part of my charm. But lately, when I talk to HIM, he turns it around so that I sound like a harpy, which I’m not. I had told him of my plans after my afternoon class tomorrow to take my Shakespeare book to the local coffee house by AQ and read my damn five chapters (3 of Hamlet, two of King Lear). I need a place where there is no computers, televisions or distractions. He starts talking about how he used to take a book to the bar with him and read while he drank. Then he starts talking about how he is going to have dinner, alone, at the restaurant where he had his little accident. I laugh and talk about how dangerous that is and he suddenly gets in into defense mode. I call him on it. “Why do you do this?” I implore. WHY? He immediately goes for the offensive and blames it on me. No, it’s not me. I’m like this with everyone. jesus christ, Suddenly (hah) his cell phone reception became “staicy” and he had to get off the phone.
He never called me back.
I”m not terribly surprised.
