“Once in a generation a woman comes along who changes everything. TINA FEY is not that woman, but she met that woman once and acted weird around her.” – Tina Fey, Bossypants (back cover)
If we met, and 1,000 other relevant good things happened, Tina Fey and I would be best friends. At least, the kind of friends where I call her my best friend, and she returns every third phone call.
I like to think we have a few key things in common.
She has 30 Rock, enjoyed by a few oddballs, ignored by the masses. I, see this blog, my dating life. She makes people laugh. People laugh at me. She gets stress-induced canker sores. I, “its not what you think it’s induced by stress, i.e., I’ll have them every important day of my life ever” cold… you get it. We both feel awkward. All the time. The fundamentals of every friendship: Humor, bad skin and general awk. Besties.
I started Bossypants yesterday afternoon. It’s the silly, deeply self-deprecating, brutally honest yet light-hearted thoughts of a humble, hard-working celebrity. The book is, in the most literal sense, laugh-out-loud funny. My sister can confirm that, as she was privy to seeing me in a fit of giggles at the kitchen counter over (what she couldn’t see) the book and (what she could see) a brick-sized piece of chocolate cake.
Just as John Mayer’s Say is the most repetitive song to hit the airwaves since Shari Lewis sewed together Lambchop (a conversation my family has had not once, but three times this week, “just say it already, dammit”), Bossytown is a book about anything and everything, for anyone and everyone. Except maybe you. What do I know, I’m no professional.
But it’s all great.
Oh, and because I’m a nobody, I doubt I have permission to type up excerpts. My favorite part is the last/first paragraph on pages 152-153.