Thursday, March 10, 2011

Why am I explaining myself?

Today at the health club, the woman dressing beside me saw the book I was dropped beside my gym bag and said, "Well, that's weird. That's a weird book."

"I think it's funny," said I.

"Lots of black women aren't bitter, you know."

"That's not what it's about. It's a pun based on that phrase ...."

"What does that have to do black women?"

"Nothing! That's what I'm trying to explain to you."

Why am I naked, explaining my literature choices to a woman whose name I don't even know? Why does she care what I'm reading? And besides, if she bothered to read the cover before interrogating me, she would see that it says:

Bitter is the New Black
Confessions of a Condescending, Egomaniacal, Self-Centered Smartass, Or, Why You Should Never Carry A Prada Bag to the Unemployment Office

Today's encounter just reinforces my long-held theory that the most annoying people in North America reconnoiter at my local Bally's.

1 comment:

  1. That's why you need a Nook. No one can ever tell what you're reading.

    :-)

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