Monday, September 6

"Bright Lights, Big Ass"

I picked up this little book at Borders over the weekend, and little did I know that the memoir by Jen Lancaster was going to be a page turner with laughs from cover to cover.
I think I see a lot of myself in her, and it makes me laugh, not at her, but with her.  She tells stories about her life with her husband Fletch and their pets and the stories never disappoint. 
An excerpt from Bright Lights, Big Ass in the form of an email exchange:

Subject: the king's on his throne (and all's wrong with the world)

The dream is over.
Our lives will never be the same.
I blame the dog.

You guys know in the ten years that we've been together Fletch and I have purposefully kept a bit of mystery in our relationship by attending to personal bathroom business behind closed doors.  And as much as I love him and desire to be privy to his innermost workings, I'd happily live the rest of my life unsure if he's a back-to-front or front-to-back kind of guy or employs the one-or-two-hand technique.  (Carol, stop calling me "repressed".  Think about it-Elvis never felt the same about Priscilla after seeing little Lisa Marie born.  Laugh at me all you want, but this is a boundary I won't willing cross.)

Anyway, I was sitting on the bed folding laundry, watching Fox News while Fletch used the mug off the master bedroom.  Maisy, having found herself alone for thirteen seconds and deeming this wholly unacceptable, charged up the stairs with such velocity that she couldn't stop herself when she reached the summit, thus exploding open the bathroom door located eight feet away, like a small, corn-chip scented cannonball.

And there he was, Fletcher in all his mystical glory, pants around his ankles, Star magazine in his hands, reading an article on Nick and Jessica while nature and all the fiber in our diets took its course.  Our eyes locked with the kind of paralyzed horror one their might have when bumping into another thief, finding themselves in the awkward, unfortunate position of having broken into the same house at the same time.

I was the first to react by shrieking and pulling the covers over my head while Maisy bounced back and forth between the bathroom and the bed, delighted to have united us all in the experience. 

When the screaming on both parts finally subsided, I stumbled across the room, eyes clamped shut and gently closed the door.  

We shall never speak of this again, he and I.  Yet the image will be burned into my retinas for eternity.

Hold me.

P.S. Am not a drama queen. Am traumatized.

I can't wait to pick up another of her books, I think I have found my new favorite author, well for right now at least.

No comments:

See what else Monkey Loo has to share

Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...