Pride and Prejudice

Upon recommendation from friends and a burning desire to remain frolicking with my parasol in the (early) 19th century English countryside, I am throwing my distaste for Wuthering Heights to the wind and reading Pride and Prejudice. I started this morning on the train, and am bored beyond all senses. Bunch of women standing around yammering about getting married, all under a blizzard of overwritten haughtiness. I would actually rather read a book from the father's point of view, presumably titled I Wish These Bitches Would Shut the Fuck Up for Two Seconds.

I'll give it one more try on the way home, but I have a feeling by 125th Street I'll be scurrying back to Garfield Eats Lasagna, Picks at His Big Fat Hairy Cat Balls.