Anyway, I'm now giving you permission to go buy yourself what you really wanted and just didn't know it – Tina Fey’s Bossypants. I recently read it through in 24 hours almost straight. Yes, there was a lot of “Mommy, pay attention to me,” and “Mommy, where’s my dinner?” but I persevered and read and giggled and snarfled (my much less cute version of giggling) for a day straight.
I’ve always thought Tina Fey and I were long lost sisters – in that stalker-y way where one person adores another and the other has no idea of one’s existence – and now I know it’s true. Evidence: she refers to an inscrutable friend as “an enigma wrapped in bacon,” which is how I recently described my boys, (never mind that she wrote it in a book read by millions of people, and I did so in a column read by, well, you, the creative genius is clearly the same). Not only this, but she also confused the heck out of the French when a photo of her and Amy Poehler was mistakenly captioned in a French newspaper as Sarah Palin and Hilary Clinton, and as you of course remember, I shocked the French in the newspaper Liberation back in February with my opinions on the Tiger Mother controversy and my gender identity confusion. Bossypants is chatty autobiography, hilarious motherhood advice, and a bit of delicious show biz gossip. It’s smart, friendly and goofy and so, so funny. It’s the book I would write if I could figure out how to use my netbook. So if you like me, but you wish I were, you know, cooler – this is the book for you.