well, well. i guess it serves me right for digging into my mom's christmas presents before she got a chance to read them.
Who Moved My Blackberry? by Lucy Kellaway
What promised to be a delightful mix of Bridget Jones' Diary and The Office was most definitely not. while i don't always enjoy British humor, i do understand most of it, but i didn't understand this. maybe that is because it wasn't funny (to me). people cheating on their wives and backstabbing and being uber-self centered just aren't my thing. but my cousin apparently enjoyed it because he gifted it to my mom for christmas. luckily for her, i previewed. because no one gave me books for christmas! can you believe that? combined my parents amassed 12 books over the holiday season, but moi? nothing. so i resort to pilfering their gifts for a day or two and look what happens. it is books like these that make me fear for whatever relationship i may have in the future- how am i to know whether or not my husband will end up like such a twit as this martin lukes character who makes everybody wait on him hand and food and then blames it on others when he is caught red-handed. i truly hated this character throughout the entire novel, which was unfortunate because it was told from his blackberry out-box. very unfortunate indeed.
I'd like to comment on my amusement at the use of words like "pilfered" and "twit" after reading a british author. I do it too.
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