Let's Pretend This Never Happened
I live in a shitty apartment in Queens where I pay my rent in cash on the low and get cat-called on the daily.
(Things you succumb to in order to afford brunch and getting your fortune told on a Sunday night at a speakeasy poetry reading because you’ve had too much absinthe and the guy in the corner with a turban intrigued you).
I’m at a weird place in my life, but I’ve got nothin on Jenny Lawson. J-Law, not to be confused with the OG J-law who kills it in American Hustle, is a sassy 41-year old blogger. Her eccentricity launched her to fame circa 2006 and her New York Times bestselling “mostly true” memoir—Let’s Pretend This Never Happened—increased her celeb status in 2012. See http://thebloggess.com for big laughs. But don't start visiting her blog more than mine cause that's f***ed up.
This book is a witty recollection of her simultaneously most ridiculous and most defining life moments, from childhood until now. Her writing centers around the following themes: growing up in a home that was loving but completely chaotic, tormenting her husband Victor who somehow half-tolerates her, comedically coping with an endless list of debilitating ailments (OCD, depression, anxiety, and rheumatoid arthritis to name a few), and mothering her adorable daughter who is the miraculous product of many miscarriages.
She has a darker, more tumultuous history than most, but she infuses her life with laughter, acknowledging that the times she should theoretically want to pretend never happened have shaped her into the mischievously talented woman she is today.
There is not much plot to divulge, so instead, here are some chapter names to get your imagination going:
Draw Me a F****** Dog,
And That’s Why Neil Patrick Harris Would Be the Most Successful Mass Murderer Ever
Thanks for the Zombies, Jesus
It Wasn’t Even My Crack
And Then I Snuck a Dead Cuban Alligator on an Airplane
She also has a hilarious chapter about a time in high school where she tripped acid and came to the divine conclusion that “Smurfs were actually peaceful bisexual communists”, which is totally true (Lawson, 79).
Being inside her book is like being inside her head—she says what she wants to say, unfiltered. As if being a funny woman isn’t enough to make me fall head over heels, she is from the Lone Star State. Texas forever bb.
All in all, this is really fun to read. I mean, she’s able to use the phrase “work-related porn clip” in her memoir because she worked a freelance gig as a porn reviewer when she originally quit her HR job to become a writer (Lawson, 266). I recommend pairing the book with a glass (or five) of cheap red wine. And throw in a block of cheese while you’re at it. She cusses a lot in it, which is obviously not okay in my opinion because I’m a lady, but I’m willing to look past that shit.
My only real complaint is an odd one—it’s a little too animal heavy. Her dad operated a self-owned taxidermy business, which contributed to several unusual stories involving wild animals, both alive and dead. It’s a lighthearted, laugh-worthy read with a good message about embracing your individuality, but to put it on par with the brilliance of a five-flamer seems wrong, so I give it 4 out of 5 flames.
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