On one hand I loved Bridget Jones (the book). On the other hand, “chick lit” really does frickin’ annoy me. Every time I walk into Books Etc. these days there’s a table out front full of pastel-colored paperbacks with “funky” cover fonts and “punny” titles. Whatever. You know, I come across enough angsty, twenty-something women moaning about their weight, love lives, and cats on the Internet as it is. There’s no way I’d actually want to read it in a book. Literature my ass.

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