I’ve read many books recently. None of which are The Da Vinci Code. I have no desire to read it, as it’s far too common to like it. It is the Westlife of the book world. I my books like I like my women: those that haven’t had half the world population’s head buried in it (think about it, think about it, there we go). Instead of buying the Da Vinci Code (note to those of you half way through it: The Grail is Hidden in the Louvre*), I bought an infinitely better book, even though I haven’t read it.
Now, it seems like my sort of book – semi-geeky and a true story (seriously, any book about blogging I automatically buy) but alas, I’ve already ruined it.
I have a habit of spoiling things for myself. Most of the books I’ve read, I’ve known the jist of it before hand: Jarhead, saw the movie; Dave Gorman’s Googlewhack Adventure, I saw the stage show before hand**. Even things on the TV – such as TNA Pay Per Views – I read them on the internet before watching them. Why, I have no idea. I just do.
I made the promise that I wouldn’t do it with this book. I went into this blind. Some people – horror of horrors – say it’s chick lit. It can’t be, it’s written by a bloke! We cannot write sensitive writing and not get laid for it. It’s not in our nature. So when it arrived this morning, I had a quick flick through it.
And my eyes caught the last page.
So. What happens in this book? I don’t want to tell you, wouldn’t want to spoil it.
Update: Turns out it’s one of those books that has the begins at the end, and explains how said person gets to the end. Huzzah!
In other news: We’ve got 8 teams in our Fantasy Football league, are you? Go on, it’s fun, and you may win prizes! You probably won’t, but you may! Join by reading this post.
* Curteosy of Scaryduck
** Which I’m kind of glad I did, as the stage show would of been rubbish if I didn’t read the book first.