Bossypants

Krissie raved about this book and was kind enough to let me borrow her copy.  After reading Atlas Shrugged, I needed something quick, light, and funny.  Tiny Fey delivered.  I laughed my way through the book and totally recommend it.  Plus, I just adore Tina Fey.  This book feels like she's sitting across from you telling you stories and making you love her all the more.  Which, hanging out with Tina Fey for an afternoon or so is kind of a dream I have.  Plus, I'd want her to play me in a movie about my life.  The movie might be boring, but I'm sure she could liven things up.

Here are a few reasons why I loved Bossypants:

But I think the first real change in women’s body image came when JLo turned it butt-style. That was the first time that having a large-scale situation in the back was part of mainstream American beauty. Girls wanted butts now. Men were free to admit that they had always enjoyed them. And then, what felt like moments later, boom—Beyoncé brought the leg meat. A back porch and thick muscular legs were now widely admired. And from that day forward, women embraced their diversity and realized that all shapes and sizes are beautiful. Ah ha ha. No. I’m totally messing with you. All Beyonce and JLo have done is add to the laundry list of attributes women must have to qualify as beautiful. Now every girl is expected to have Caucasian blue eyes, full Spanish lips, a classic button nose, hairless Asian skin with a California tan, a Jamaican dance hall ass, long Swedish legs, small Japanese feet, the abs of a lesbian gym owner, the hips of a nine-year-old boy, the arms of Michelle Obama, and doll tits. The person closest to actually achieving this look is Kim Kardashian, who, as we know, was made by Russian scientists to sabotage our athletes.





Whitney Houston’s cover of “I Will Always Love You” was constantly on my FM Walkman radio 
around that time. I think that made me cry because I associated it with absolutely no one.




I only hope that one day I can frighten my daughter this much. Right now, she's not scared of my husband or me at all. I think it's a problem. I was a freshman home from college the first time my dad said, "You're going out at ten p.m.? I don't think so," and I just laughed and said, "It's fine." I feel like my daughter will be doing that to me by age six.   How can I give her what Don Fey gave me? The gift of anxiety. The fear of getting in trouble. The knowledge that while you are loved, you are not above the law. The Worldwide Parental Anxiety System is failing if this many of us have made sex tapes.