I'd thought I'd forgotten that painful period of my life, but here comes Tina to remind me. It has all come flooding back. I'm going to have to go into therapy to forget this all over again:
The book makes me squirm a lot less when we get to the part about her professional life as a comedy writer. I am not going to give any of it away, though, since I don't want to steal any of her punch lines. All I will say, besides the fact that it is
Warning for the faint of heart: Fey occasionally uses the sort of language I employ while trying to install a kitchen sink. Also, some of her opinions may rankle you. But you know what? They're her opinions; she's entitled to them.
Before I leave this impromptu book review I am going to give away one teensy part, since I woke up thinking about this bit when she is talking about getting a celebrity photo shoot done. Besides the free coffee bar, the fancy location that is nicer, more glamorous, and swishier than "[wherever it was] you had your wedding," and the people fussing over your hair and face in a manner that is more soothing than eating anything with green chiles and lots of cheese, there is this:
"While this is going on, someone gives you a manicure and a pedicure. At really fancy shoots, a celebrity fecalist will study your bowel movements and adjust your humours."
My own humours have been out of sorts all week, though I'm not sure why. All I know is that I've been feeling wretchedly grumpy and blue, and try as I might, I couldn't seem to shake it. Yesterday, though, one of my classes and I worked on a little service project out at Lubbock Lake Landmark. We were clearing kochia, a non-native and very invasive plant, from an arroyo bank in preparation for re-seeding it with native grasses and wildflowers:
It was hot, dirty, and windy work, and so afterwards, we went to Holly Hop Ice Cream Shoppe to settle the dust:
Though I wouldn't have called any part of it as glamorous as a photo shoot, I think there must have been a celebrity fecalist around somewhere during all this, because when I woke up this morning, I found that my humours had been fully adjusted.
*And yes, this is irony. Or self-delusion. Take your pick.