Things That Piss Me Off (part like, a hundred)

When I'm reading a book (I have a lot of peeves regarding me and books) don't ask me what I'm reading. I don't have my book with me in the hopes that you'll comment on it. I have my book with me because I want to fucking read it. When you ask me what I'm reading, I have to either show you the cover, or actually tell you. The fact that I have to do either of those things infuriates me. Here are my reasons why:

If I show or tell you and then continue to read it, you will either say something like "oh I've never heard of it", "oh cool, is it any good?", "I don't know that author" or my least favorite question ever: "what's it about?" When you do this, I am left with no choice but to engage in conversation with you. This conversation will in no way be entertaining, intelligent, insightful, or enjoyable for me whatsoever. You have already presented me with more than enough facts for me to determine that you're a fucking idiot. When a person has something in front of them that can command their attention, and they are allowing it to, this generally means they do not want their attention diverted. By asking stupid questions, "what's it about?", you are diverting their attention. If that book was a person that I was in discussion with, and you waltzed up and just started asking me what we were talking about without politely interrupting and excusing yourself for doing so, both the individual I was speaking to and myself would consider you rude, impertinent, and impolite. Also, a douche.

Don't be a douche.

If I do answer your question and you are familiar with the book, there is no need for you to say anything else. Because, again, I am not looking to have a conversation with you. If you do feel the need to further comment, please always bear in mind that from that point on I am killing you in my head. Slowly. Every word you say is another drop of water on your forehead, another electric shock, another bamboo shoot under your nails. If you ever say the words "I approve" I immediately lose all respect for you as a human being, and my perception of your intelligence goes from wherever it may be at this point in our relationship straight down to zero. In fact, everything you've done to garner favor in my book, whether you're aware of it or not, vanishes. Just, fucking, vanishes. You must begin again. You must start slowly. (That, is a literary reference. It is paraphrased, so I have chosen not to use quotation marks.)

I will direct you to a previous paragraph, in fact the first paragraph, and to a sentence, the second sentence to be precise, and the end of that sentence, to be very precise: "in the hopes that you'll comment on it." I feel like I really need to drive this home. The fact that you approve of the book I am reading is literally worthless to me. You're opinion, of my taste in literature, has. No. Worth to me.

Here are my answers to your stupid fucking questions that I don't care to answer. Please commit them to memory so that in future, we will not have to have this completely pointless and useless waste of my goddamn time:

You: Oh I've never heard of it.
Me: (noncommittal grunt)

You: Oh cool, is it any good?
Me: (noncommittal grunt)

You: I don't know that author.
Me: (noncommittal grunt)

You: What's it about?
Me: (noncommittal grunt)

Do you see a pattern emerging?

If there is a book present, that book is always more important to me than you.


I'm a very angry person.

See how much more majestic this is than you? Remember that.  This is the Trinity College Library, motherfucker. And it is not fucking around.