During breakfast this morning, I was acquainted - rather rudely, to yet another form of social discrimination that I have unknowingly subjected myself to. As I choked and sputtered on my very pulpy orange juice, my friend told me that today, the population of the world has been divided into two very distinctive parts:
People who have read Harry Potter and people who don't.
My obvious lack of knowledge of what's new in the Hogwarts' mansion [or is it?] was met with thunderous laughter and a quick poll around the table showed a Harry Potter-reader to Harry Potter-stupid ratio of 5:1.
I couldn't believe it. It's not like I can help it that I'd rather spend my time reading Bazaar and watching my downloaded episodes of The Ellen Degeneres Show than attempting to get my magic wand to work. Who would have thought paying for an AX cap over a Harry Potter book could land me in social suicide?!
So as my friends continued their innane chatters about Potter, Malfoy and what's-his-face, I pushed my sunny-side up eggs around my plate and contemplated this jailcell predicament that I've unknowingly locked myself up into. I couldn't possibly read that book, it is not only twice the thickness of any book I have the time to read, it also has no photos or pretty pretty clothes and makeup. That's mad!
So I pushed my plate aside, took a gulp of my pulpy orange juice and fired 12 little words I knew would completely change the conversation to one I would be completely happy butting in to.
"America's Next Top Model's coming back tomorrow. Have you seen the winner?"