What the Hell is wrong with me? (The second in an ongoing series...?)

There it was on the bookshelf, calling out to me....

Let's take a little look into the way I think, shall we? There are so many books out there that one ought to read, that one must develop skills of discrimination. Jane Stanton Hitchcock is where that discrimination goes out the window for me. Her books are the kind that you stay up all night...well 2 hours, to finish, laughing maniacally out loud along the way. Forget your bodice rippers, your Danielle Steeles, this is what you'll find me reading in the Airport! I am absolutely drawn to Ms. Hitchcock's tales of murder amongst the East Coast élite.

And while I will never understand what the fuss is about vacactioning in the Hamptons, death in the Hamptons is another matter. Maybe that's why I spent all last night into the wee hours watching the Dominick Dunne's Power, Privilege and Justice marathon on Court TV instead of the local fireworks displays.

Oddly enough, I didn't really have the stomach for Maneater by Brian Grazer's wife (although not a murder mystery, it deals with the West Coast "society"....I know that's not the right word, but what else would you call it?), maybe because I lived it, I don't need to read a book about it. Maybe I don't like it because it's the only book Paris Hilton ever read.