Why do people keep giving me weird looks when I read The Princess Diaries on the train? It's not like I'm reading the script of The Vagina Monologues or something, which WOULD raise eyebrows with titles such as The Little Coochie Snorcher That Could (which is about...never mind. That part ends with the line "If it was rape, it was good rape", so go Wiki it or something).

It's slightly feminist, but Vic agrees it's a good read. I mean, you have a blonde princess who is in the Gifted and Talented class but constantly fails geometry, a smart best friend who looks like a pug and a sensitive writer in love with the princess. What more could anyone expect?

Besides, it's a total no-brainer, which is good. Nobody needs to read cheem monologues on oil prices (which have dropped, yay) or How The Current Economic Crisis Is Going To Affect The World. (Because we already know. No jobs, sir, no jobs.) In times like these, all we need is a good chick lit book to destress.

Which brings me to the point of actcheem-ness. If there's one type of person I can't stand (besides people who can't and won't spell properly), it's people who can spell but like to act cheem by inserting all kinds of Big Words into their writing. I mean, if you honestly need to use a Big Word, it's fine. But using Big Words for the sake of sounding smart ("Hey, Mum! Look! A BIG WORD!...damn, now what's a panacea*?") Everytime I come across one of these writings I feel like crossing the whole thing out and writing "NOBODY GETS YOU" on it.


*Panacea = cure-all. No offense to people who have used the word in their writings, unless you happen to be one of those airheads who don't even know what it means AND still used it somewhere.
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Oh and my dad just had to scold me for something that was absolutely NOT my fault. I was happily typing away here after helping him get some heavy bags down from the top shelf in the storeroom. I wasn't even expecting any thanks from him seeing as his leg hurt, but he had to go all "Didn't you see how my leg hurt when carrying these bags? And now you won't even help me carry them back up?" in this cutting tone, when I could barely hear him calling my name because he hadn't enough sense to call me from somewhere nearer than the STOREROOM.

He should be so glad I only said "How was I supposed to know?", instead of "I've had enough of your temper now, because YOU HAVE BEEN MEAN TO EVERYONE FOR THE PAST FEW MONTHS and we've have just been tolerating you because your leg hurts. But everyone has a limit, y'know, and mine is just about up, RIGHT NOW."

But I held it in because he's finally getting treatment for the leg. Still, he doesn't get the hints we've been dropping him about his bad temper. And I'm not even kidding about the limit-to-my-patience thing.