So, I’m reading along, loving this cool, new YA book, when out of nowhere–nowhere, I tell you!–my pet peeve sneaks into a paragraph.
Before I know it, the vexing monstrosity has taken over the entire chapter and I’ve no choice but to throw the offending book across the room.
I hate that.
We all have them, I suppose. Pet peeves. It’s like that moment in the theatre when you stand up, dust the popcorn off your thighs, and stomp out. I tell you, if I could have stomped out on this book, I would have. I may have even blown a raspberry at the disappointment.
It’s that thing, you know, that THING–ARGH!–that drives you so nuts you’d rather pluck your eyebrows than read another page.
You read, right? Then you must have a thing.
What is it?
What drives you crazy?