Me Talk Pretty One Saturday

So, I have to apologize for the lack of post last night. For my most avid readers (I’m talking to you, Russia), I’m sure that really crunked up your night.

I’ve come to the realization that (for PR’s sake), I need to pretend I have better things to do on Friday nights. In the spirit of never taking responsibility for anything, I’ll blame my husband for last night’s disaster. He welcomed me home with a chocolate cupcake from a local bakery and his adorable smile. What was I supposed to do?

Saturdays it is!

David Sedaris is a really hilarious guy. I heard him for the first time on John Stewart. He was talking about a book and it piqued my interest. It’s true love when your husband lets you rummage around the grungiest, hippiest, dustiest-smelling bookstores; especially on your honeymoon. I think it was store #3 when I finally saw Me Talk Pretty One Day on a shelf.

That was my first mistake. I did a little research after reading, and prior to its publication, David read this on the radio. Ugh. It’s not that I didn’t like the book… I just felt like it might have been better heard than read.

That being said, there were moments of sincerity that I really got into. “The Youth in Asia” almost made me cry. I remember once having this exact thought:

“With us grown and out the of the house, my sisters and I reasonably expected our parents’ lives to stand still. Their assignment was to stagnate and live in the past. We were supposed to be the center of their lives, but instead, they had constructed a new family.”

Not but a month after moving out of the house, my parents adopted a toy poodle. Like me, she also has curly brown hair, asthma, hip problems and is similarly needy and disobedient. I was replaced before I even took the bed sheets off my bed! Actually, I was replaced before I stopped coming home every weekend to sleep in those bed sheets.

Here's a picture for adorable reference:

 

I found myself gravitating towards the more serious stories. If the there were more concrete and introspective stories about struggling with homophobia and dealing with the cultural issues of France, I’d be satisfied. Needless to say, that meant that the chapter “Big Boy” (the story about a trip to the bathroom) just sounded like a way too long poop joke.

I guess this means I’m taking a really unpopular stance: it’s not my favorite and I probably wouldn’t read it again. But, if any of you have an audio copy- lay it on me.