Annoying

I've been reading a book called C'est la Vie this week, and it's annoying me. It's a memoir of a woman who moves to Paris after her husband dies. For some reason, I find her completely irritating. She has moved to France, yet she doesn't seem to make an effort to speak French. She complains if she goes to a party where no one will speak English. She disdains American expat clubs, which I think can be very beneficial to expats, because she would only meet other Americans that way. (although she seems to read FUSAC with some sort of odd passion.) She admits her French is bad, but she doesn't take classes or have a tutor. She doesn't seem to do anything besides shop, eat in fancy restos, and sleep with her married boyfriend. She complains a lot about the price of linen. And name drops expensive brands all the time. And tells the story of flying back to Paris from the States over the luggage limit. By 17 bags. (!) Yet she tells her son they are "broke."

And there are some mistakes with the French they have written in the book... at one point, she asks her dog "tu parle francais?" It should be parles, with an "s". Simple error, but it's enough to make me, the girl with the worst written French in the history of written French, cringe.

Yet I continue to read. Sort of like watching a car accident or a house burn to the ground, I can't turn away until I finish the book. Please, let there be no sequels. I may be compelled to read that as well, and I really don't want to.

Also? I made socks.