Every Comedian Needs to Write a Book

I am in the middle of a phase. Not a strange fashion phase where I only wear clothing made of mink (death to all minks! [Totally joking, PETA, don't send your assassins for me]) or a depressive, Gothic phase (that already happened). It is a literary phase, in fact, that initiated when I decided to listen to Amy Poehler's book Yes Please on CD in the car. Her book was amazing, and essentially changed my life. She shows her vulnerability in this lovely chronicle of her life, admits to mistakes she has made, relishes in the joys she has experienced (motherhood, her career, etc.), and shares emotions that we all feel constantly (celebrities feel insecure too?! WHAT!?), all while making the reader/listener laugh out loud throughout (unless the reader/listener has no sense of humor whatsoever). After the final words on the final CD sifted through the speakers, lingered for a moment in my mind and disappeared, I suddenly felt motivated to read another comedian biography.

Thankfully, there are many. So, this phase may endure for quite some time, making my brief Gothic phase seem like a mere blip on the radar of life (also, can someone tell me if Gothic is capitalized??). My next choice was actually my first choice, but they were out of it at Barnes And Noble (it should be Barnes N' Noble, in my opinion, it's a bit catchier. Whatever, they will probably go out of business soon. Not like I'm hoping for that). So I apologize to Amy Poehler- her book was my second choice after Tina Fey's Bossypants, only because everyone in my life ranted and raved about its unparalleled excellence on the hilarity scale.

I have to say, however, before moving on to the Bossypants reading experience, that I am so freaking happy that I read Yes Please because it re-motivated me to watch Parks and Recreation, the hilarious show in which Amy Poehler is the main character, from season 1 to 7 and I loved every second of my binge watching experience.

Anyways, I have to admit that reading Bossypants was an immensely enjoyable experience, I laughed so hard that it I attempted to read it while drinking the beverage would have shot through my nose (if that actually happens). To be honest though I wish I had gotten it on CD. Not that I am lazy, but I imagine hearing her actually read the words would have been fantastic, as it was in Amy Poehler's book.

Upon closing the back cover I once again felt that void that could only be filled by a book written by a comedian. Since I was watching Parks and Rec, I decided to check out Aziz Ansari's new book titled Modern Romance. I was taken aback at first noticing that it was not simply a comedian recalling life experiences or making observations about life but a research piece on how the dating world has changed so drastically over the recent years. I was irritated at first thinking that it would be like reading a dry research essay- I bought a comedian's book so I could LAUGH, damn it! But to my pleasant surprise, it was a gut buster as well as extremely informative. I closed the back cover literally minutes ago and loved every page. Another life changer.

What's next? Nick Offerman's book, of course!

WTF, George R.R. Martin?!

Two precursors to the main content of this blog, my thoughts on the series finale of Game of Thrones: one, MAJOR SPOILER ALERT. I know how touchy fans can get over spoilers so if you're one of those people, read no further. Second, if you know nothing about Game of Thrones (you know nothin' Jon Snow!) like that parenthesized reference, for example, this post will make less sense to you than listening to an alphabet recited backwards in a foreign language. So, if you aren't familiar, you should probably spend the time it would take to read this blog doing something else. Literally, anything else. Can't think of anything? Some suggestions: clean the floor under your fridge, or organize its contents and chuck the expired stuff. Can't think of the last time you did those things? Yeah, that's what I thought. Get crackin', or that ten-year-old salad dressing growing mold in the back of your fridge will make someone sick.

Okay, you've been warned. Spoilers start below this line.

So, Jon Snow is dead. Jon. Snow. Come ON, George R.R. Martin! Man, that guy doesn't just break our hearts like your first significant other in your teenage years (trust me all you adolescents reading this, that's just the beginning), he really reaches in there slowly and gruesomely removes your heart through your chest and then does a Mexican hat dance around it while laughing maniacally. That is one of his major skills as a storyteller. It's quite vicious actually; he makes us love his characters as if they were real, and then he rips them our of our lives in the most horrific ways imaginable. Thankfully, I knew from the get go about the upcoming demise of so many beloved Starks in The Red Wedding episode. No one's death shocked me after that, but for some naive reason, I figured our beloved Jon was immune. He was too good, too pure, too wonderful, too compassionate and far too sexy to ever die! George Martin wouldn't be THAT evil, would he?! Oh yes, it seems, he would. I guess he likes to make people cry. Watching his death was sadder than watching those depressing, homeless pet videos featuring Sarah McLaughlin.

Jon Snow after a bunch of assholes stabbed him in the gut. R.I.P., I love you.

 George R.R. Martin also makes us put up with the scummiest, most twisted villains imaginable for far, too long (Ramsay Bolton, anyone?!). At least Joffrey got it.

The other skill at which Mr. Martin excels is making us pity those we never thought pitiable. If you told me that I would EVER feel bad for Cersei I'd never have believed you until the season 5 finale. I mean, she CRIED and had to walk naked back to the castle while people called her a slut and other variations of that word while throwing food at her. Come ON, you can't not feel bad for her! Same goes for Theon Greyjoy, now Reek- sorry, but if someone gets tortured in that way, even if they are your worst enemy, you feel bad for them. 

Anyway, after all the emotional bullshit watching Game of Thrones has put me through, I've decided to throw in the towel and root for the White Walkers. I hope that their first victims are the High Sparrows and the members of the Night's Watch. That I'd like to see.

Rootin for you guys!

Fifty Shades of BLAH

The third installment in the Fifty Shades of Grey trilogy was one of the most terrible novels (as far as plot goes) that I have ever read in my life. I mean literally, it was painful to get through almost every page. I only forced myself through it because I had already read the first two and for some unknown reason I came to slightly care what happens to the characters. I just happened to be invested by that point.

Okay so I GUESS I should mention that the following contains spoilers about what happens in the third book of the Fifty Shades trilogy, but honestly, there is not much to give away. If you have a slight amount of common sense you can infer what happens after reading the first page of the first book. But, whatever, if you really want to hold on to the minimal suspense accompanying not knowing what happens in the third book, stop reading now.

The series went from a steamy novel about an innocent 21-year-old driven mad by the sexy charms of an older man interested in BDSM to a story about a rich married couple with nothing but a bunch of white people problems to desperately attempt to inject conflict into the story. Where should we buy our third mansion? Should we have three spoiled kids or just two? Is a Mercedes fancy enough or do we need to go with a Lamborghini?

Those days are gone...

I was annoyed with the protagonist, Ana, from page one of book one, but in book three she becomes somehow more unbearable still. For example, she goes on and on about how she never eats and thus is super thin, and how Christian (sexy man) gets mad at her for never eating. Is this really the kind of character with whom girls should be sympathizing? I think not. There are enough young women with eating disorders at this point. She also complains whenever Christian gives her an expensive present, but then instantly gets over it. Like, in one scene he buys her a brand new R8, whatever the hell that is, I am not a car person, and she gets all pouty about it for a grand total of about one second and then

shrugs her shoulders and decides she may as well get used to being richer than Bill Gates.

This raises another question: how exactly did Christian come in possession of such vast amounts of capitol? He is not a trust fund baby exactly, and he is vaguely described in the beginning of the series as a CEO of a company. Could the author be any more vague? Christian Grey is supposed to be 27 and filthy rich. Not buying it. I guess I shouldn't have expected much in the way of plot for an erotic novel series. I admit I didn't know was to expect.

So basically, Ana started out as a somewhat strong and independent female character and morphs into a woman who get married to the first guy she dates and then becomes filthy rich and does whatever he says. Okay, being dominated in the bedroom is one thing, but having him tell her what to do elsewhere is not cool if she is allegedly a strong female lead. Perhaps one of the most irritating moments was when she wanted to keep her maiden name at work and is “determined” to do so no matter what Christian says and then instantly caves when he asks her to change it. Real strong, Ana, real strong.

There is also a point where her father is in the hospital, and she still goes back to have sex with Christian right after visiting him. That is messed up on so many levels. I mean, come on, they do the nasty basically every time they lay eyes on each other, I’m pretty sure one night off is not going to do anyone any harm. On that same note, the libidos of both characters are just unbelievable. Like, once you have been with someone for a certain amount of time, I don't care how sexy he or she is, your desire levels inevitably dip at least a little bit.

Perhaps my issue was just having far too high of expectations for an erotic novel. That is just simply not how I get my kicks. I prefer a little bit of a plot. I mean no offense whatsoever to the author of the trilogy, even though I just spent a good deal of time bashing her novel. Props to her for creating a worldwide phenomenon. She is probably so stinking rich at this point that any form of criticism, especially from a little nobody teacher in Japan, doesn't even slightly bother her. I hope that is the case, and that she doesn't send out assassins to “take care of me” on her behalf.

I Don't Feel in Need of a Cold Shower...

Fifty Shades of Grey is an erotic novel. It says so right on the back cover, warning potential readers of the "mature content" within. Yes, I admit, it goes into extreme depth graphically describing sex scenes between the two main characters, Ana Steele and Christian Grey. Yet, at one point, I wanted to scream "enough, already!" I just wanted them to do something normal, like go out to dinner or see a movie. Even the most extreme nymphomaniacs don't spend 24/7 tangled up in the sheets or doing it in the tub. After 10 straight pages or so dragging on and on describing sexual encounter following sexual encounter, I must admit I am ready for a change.

Even the most graphic, well-written descriptions of sex (which these aren't), can drag on way, way too long. In my opinion, anyways...

The things that get Ana Steele "turned on" confuse me a bit as well. There is a scene where she talks about how bad she wants to use his toothbrush because it would be like having his mouth in hers or something equally gross. Sorry, but in what universe is using someone else's toothbrush sexy? Maybe she has a secret fantasy of doing it in a dentist's chair, too. And in reference to her point about "having his mouth inside hers," weren't their seemingly endless make-out session the night prior enough to satiate this desire? 

About every other sentence (okay, slight exaggeration, it's more like once or twice every page), Ana "bites her lower lip" which "drives Christian crazy" and makes him want to jump her bones on the spot. After the first few mentions of her weird lip-biting habit, I got really frustrated reading about it. But it just NEVER, EVER ENDS! I want to reach into the book and rip the phrases about her lip biting right off the page. Anyone who has read it knows to what I refer. 

Also, I am really unsure about the actor they chose to play Christian. He is supposed to be a hunky, super-ripped, chiseled sex god. I mean, the guy they chose is certainly attractive, but not quite to that degree, in my opinion. I would have been way happier with JT. Look at this smoldering gaze. 

These are just my opinions after reading the first half or so. I may throw in the towel and quit before the end, but I feel like since I made this much effort, I better just be a trooper and follow through. I mean, I did spend a whole three dollars on it at a used book store... that is QUITE the investment... 

Penis...description...overload...

No Fault in These Stars

Generally, avid book lovers hate their film counterparts, or at least feel the movie did not do the book justice and properly demonstrate the genius of the author. I am normally one of those people, always counting on a film version of a book to let me down. Just one somewhat recent example is Anna Karenina, which essentially did nothing for me after reading Tolstoy's incredible work. However, there are certain exceptions to the rule. Previously, this included the Lord of the Rings films and some of the Harry Potter films. After viewing The Fault in Our Stars, I can add it as an exception as well.

The amount I enjoyed the film version of John Green's recent literary success astonished me. When merely seeing the actors chosen to portray teenagers Hazel and Augustus, I was immensely skeptical about whether or not they were the right choices. However, it took just a few moments to realize how misplaced this skepticism was. I've always thought Shalene Woodley was an immense talent, especially considering her age. I mean, she isn't Dakota Fanning young or anything, but she hasn't been around that long and has already taken the film industry by storm. 

At first glimpse of the young man they chose to play Augustus, all I could think was "you've got to be kidding me." I mean seriously, he did not match up to what my mind's eye created whatsoever when first reading his description. Actually, the Augustus in the book ticked me off with his pretentious, I-know-more-than-you-do attitude. Hazel rubbed me the wrong way initially in the first pages and then I came around. I never liked the literary Augustus, however. In the movie, he charmed me within minutes. Something about Ansel Elgort's adorable crooked smile, endearing eyes and soothing voice made me adore him instantly. Aside from Morgan Freeman as Nelson Mandela, no actor or actress was ever cast more perfectly for a role than Laura Dern for Mrs. Lancaster, Hazel's mom. I loved the character in the book- Green really brought her to life with his words. Mrs. Lancaster is the loving, dedicated, sometimes in-your-face "cool" mom that every girl wants. Dern's expressive smile is enough to make me want to melt. She was perfect.

Okay, quick summary: Hazel is a teenage girl with terminal cancer put at bay by an invented anti-cancer drug. One day she goes to a cancer support group at the insisting of her mother and meets sexy cancer survivor Augustus Waters. They fall in love, obviously, and their relationship takes them on a passionate and sad journey together. I won't spoil the ending. You can try to guess, go for it.

Basically, if you like melancholy teen romance stories similar to The Perks of Being a Wallflower, you will love The Fault in Our Stars. Actually, though, it is more than melancholy- it is downright depressing, as you realize from their first meeting that the love between Hazel and Augustus is doomed. Their story definitely makes you realize how much we take our health for granted. There are a lot of really powerful quotes in the movie/book as well.

Somehow, I kept my tears at bay while reading the book but was unable to do so during the film. Bring tissues.

Not Blown Away by "Stars"

After closing the back cover of The Fault in Our Stars, the newly released paperback edition advertising that it was now a MAJOR motion picture and therefore plastered with photos from the soon-to-be-released film, I entered into a serious ponder session. For so many months, I passed bookshelves featuring The Fault in Our Stars by John Green where it was labeled a "staff favorite" or somewhere among the top ten best selling works of literature at the moment. I also noticed it in the rooms of friends and homes of acquaintances, peeking out from underneath a pile of other half-read or untouched novels or shoved onto a bulging bookshelf. Yet none of this constant contact with its lovely blue cover filled with seemingly endless quotes of praise intrigued me enough to buy, borrow, or download it.

Things changed when I arrived at the airport in Denver, void of any literature to entertain me for the plane ride, weekend, and return trip. I feel such a wave of desperation wash over me when I am book-less. Such a strong tidal wave that I would likely drop twice what any book is worth just to fill the void. Of course, airport bookstores thrive and prey on individuals just like me. I realize that the cost to download The Fault in Our Stars would be a mere fraction of that which I paid at the bookstore. However, I am an old soul. I like Frank Sinatra, and not only at Christmas. I like gin and tonics. I love the gritty feel of a real newspaper with ink that rubs off between my fingers. I love, and will always love, the feel of a physical book, the bookmark clearly displaying my progress, the bulkiness of the bound pages in my bag, and the ability to leave it behind at bookshops and coffee shops for others to read.

Now, the problem with praising a book so vastly is that the bar of expectation is automatically raised impossibly high for the next reader. Such was the case when I began to absorb word after word in the start of the novel. I expected a game changer. While, in my humble opinion, it could not be labeled as such, it was a pleasant enough read. To me, it seemed strikingly similar in tone to The Perks of Being a Wallflower (which they also made into a movie, I might add). The Fault in Our Stars follows the fleeting romance between terminal cancer patient Hazel and a boy she meets in support group, Augustus. We know from the get-go that this story will not end well. Perhaps it was this premonition that made not a single tear trickle down my cheek once I finished it. The fact that I didn't blubber like a teenage girl watching The Notebook for the first time actually disappointed me. It is a book about kids with cancer going through pains and tribulations that no one should ever face, and yet despite feeling sad, the words never quite moved me to tears. Perhaps it is because it took me awhile to come around to liking the characters. Initially, I felt they were pretentious and difficult to sympathize with, but around halfway through they completely converted me. Maybe Hazel's strength is what made crying feel like a useless act. She has to carry around a portable oxygen tank so her lungs can "suck less at being lungs" (as she puts it). She has to face her loving parents every day knowing that soon she will have a devastating impact on their lives by disappearing from them. Her list of acquaintances is full of individuals that will not last through the week. Yes, she is a strong character.

You know I actually hate when books put photos from the movie on the cover or, in the case, filling a few pages in the middle. It made it impossible for my own imagination to create characters based on their literary descriptions. At the mention of Hazel's mom, my mind's eye saw Laura Dern (regardless of my disappointment of having my mental character concoction ability stripped from me, I do concede that she is perfect for the role). At the mention of Hazel, I can only visualize Shailene Woodley (the chick from The Descendants). I won't post their pictures here in case you have never seen them before and don't want to tarnish your mind's ability to form its own images of Hazel and her mother.

I did enjoy The Fault in Our Stars. It would be a lie to say otherwise seeing as how I finished it in two days. However, I just don't think it's QUITE worth all of the hype it is receiving. It definitely has a plot scattered with memorable characters and quotes, like that time is "a slut that screws us all" and some listed below in the image. Just read it but don't expect your mind to be blown, opinions changed forever, and horizons broadened beyond comprehension.

Hermaphrodite Literature

My last post gave off the impression (to me, at least) that the recommendation that I read Middlesex was a head-scratcher. That is not the case. Novels penned by Jeffrey Eugenides are worth reading simply because he is such an all-around talented writer. When combined, his words, as those of good writers do, reach into the innermost part of their readers and violently yank out emotions. Equipped with literary prowess, when Eugenides decides that he wants his reader to feel something, they FEEL it, and are powerless to stop the catharsis.

His personification of a fire engulfing a town in flames stuck in my mind superglue style. "...the fire dodges him and races up into the house. From there it sweeps across an Oriental rug, marches out to the  back porch, leaps nimbly up onto a laundry line, and tightrope-walks across to the house behind. It climbs in the window and pauses, as if shocked by its good fortune: because everything in the house it just made to burn..." (Eugenides, 56).

Before reading this passage, I thought that the only fire capable of marching, leaping, tightrope-walking and climbing was Calcifer from one of my favorite movies, Howl's Moving Castle.

My favorite personified fire

So...Middlesex is about a hermaphrodite. The story of his/her life, told by Cal (formerly Callie), begins two generations before him with the history of his grandparents' journey from Greece to Detroit. He tells the sequence of events from the first person omniscient (for those of you who dozed off in high school language arts, that means that Cal is the narrator and knows everything, even events he was not present to witness). This may not sound like a unique element of the plot, but he does so in an interesting way. At points, Cal observes the relationships of his family from his perspective as an egg inside his mother's ovary. How clever is that?

So, what is the story? How did Cal, formerly Callie, end up this way? Well, that IS the story, and I don't want to spoil hours of fun reading for all of you, so I will keep my summary as just the tip of the iceberg. Simply put, there is more scandal and drama in Cal's parent's and grandparent's relationships than there is in the Kardashian family. Cal pairs the chronicling his own family's immigration and formation in Detroit with the corresponding events in Greece and the United States, which gives the novel a historic element.

There are scenes in Middlesex that are uncomfortable to read. As I mentioned in my previous post, I personally did not find reading about a hermaphrodite right before bed to be particularly conducive to a good night's sleep. It is dense and demanding, but if those two alliterative adjectives don't frighten you, feel free to take this novel head on. It is undeniably quality writing, but not what to read if you are looking for quick and light writing. 

OMG, You NEED To Read That Book!

Over the past couple of weeks, there were two books vying for my undying attention, and I found a way to coddle both of their over-inflated literary egos. The first book is what I refer to as an obligation book: the boasting of its cover that it won a Pulitzer Prize and is part of the Oprah book club along with and my friend's constant, almost nagging recommendation of it make me feel that it is a necessary read. However, whenever a book is labeled as such in my mind, I instantly find that reading it becomes just another task on my to do list, and whether it is enjoyable or not, it becomes a chore.

I can still see some of you scratching your heads, befuddled and wondering what on God's green earth I am going on about, thinking "that crazy Marisa! There's no section titled 'Obligation Literature' at MY local Barnes & Noble!". First of all, you are wrong- that section just goes by a different name- "Required Reading by High Schools" or, "Book Club Reading" (although the second one is arguably a self-imposed requirement, since book club members join of their own accord, unless it is some kind of book club cult). Even the "Our Staff Recommends..." section somehow seems more obligatory than merely suggestive. Like a challenge almost; bet you can't read all the books we read!

There are two subcategories of obligation books: friend/relative-imposed obligation books and society-imposed obligation books (indicated in one way by the Oprah book club sticker). The first is rather dreaded and exactly what happened to me with my most recent read, Middlesex. Wow, it just took me two entire paragraphs to get to the name of book one of the two vying for my attention. I can't even imagine how much longer you will be sitting here waiting for me to mention the second.

You CAN'T ignore that "winner of the Pulitzer Prize" sticker!

I got myself into the obligation completely- I recognize my culpability. One day, while enjoying coffee with my friend, I mentioned how much I enjoyed reading The Marriage Plot by Jeffery Eugenides. My friend perked up (more than she already had from the caffeine) and said "ooh! You need to read his other book, Middlesex!" There it was: that dreaded "you need to read..." comment. I figuratively rolled my eyes, thinking, "please stop adding books to my reading list" but saying with mock enthusiasm "yeah, totally!"

Unfortunately, hers was not the only "you NEED to read..." comment pertaining to Middlesex. I can often shrug off such comments if there is only one. However, when I brought up my recent read in my acupuncture appointment, my acupuncturist recited the exact same words! "You NEED to read his other book..." I eyed her suspiciously after she said that, wondering if she and my coffee-drinking friend were in cahoots and plotting to ensnare me in the pages of an overly-engrossing novel. Whether they were or it was purely coincidental, ensnared I was. If you haven't read Middlesex, first of all OMG you HAVE to read it (ha! Gotchya! Have fun obligation reading for the next few weeks!). It is about a hermaphrodite and his/her  upbringing and life challenges. This made for dense and disturbing reading material that messed with my mind on a number of levels. The sequence of events triggered by once I finished the first page ended up reflecting those from the kid's book If You Give A Mouse A Cookie. If you give Marisa a book about a hermaphrodite, she will look up "hermaphrodite" online from sheer curiosity. If she looks up "hermaphrodite" online, she will see disturbing images of genitals. If she sees disturbing images of genitals, she will not be able to fall asleep as they will come to the forefront of her mind right as she is trying to settle down. Okay, maybe not the best sequence of events for a kids book.

Here is where book two of the two books vying for my attention comes in: remember how, in a previous post, I said that Mindy Kaling's book tucked me in better than a Swiss au pere (I think Swiss was what I went with, I'm too lazy to check)? Well, it just so happens that so does B.J. Novak's (also an actor/writer from The Office) new collection of hilarious short stories. So, my method became: read Middlesex for as long as possible until I became mentally troubled, then read one or two short stories to lull myself to sleep. This worked like a charm!

Well, I would go into my reviews of the two books, but this post has already morphed into a tome, and I want to give you eyes a brains a reading break. Peace. 

Let's Go Skinny Dipping

Most authors must work hard to secure a spot on my list of beloved writers by showcasing their talents in at least two or three fantastic pieces of profound and captivating literature. Or, they can circumvent these criteria by writing something hilarious that quickly sets me of on a laughing fit so extreme that those around me would confuse it with a seizure, potentially leading to an unnecessary 9-1-1 call (and we know how the dispatchers LOVE those). Upon their arrival, I would be forced to awkwardly explain my inability to contain my reactions to good comedy writing. Okay, enough of that over the top scenario...

As I mentioned in a previous post, this looks more like an erotic adult novel. Don't be fooled. 

Using some kind of writing wizardry, Carl Hiaasen managed to bypass both criteria with his novel Skinny Dip. Yes, it is funny, but not the aforementioned, fit-inducing hilarity. It falls into the category of smart humor that makes you laugh like a buffoon in your mind while emitting only a reasonable, quiet chuckle. Sometimes the mere ridiculous nature of the plot is enough to make a smile spread across the reader's face.

Carl Hiaasen just emanates "funny guy"- I wouldn't mind hanging out with him!

Personally, I lack the patience to sit through seemingly endless introductions spanning multiple chapters while eagerly awaiting the start of the action. That is quite simply a waste of my oh-so-precious time. So when the first page of Hiaasen's novel transported me to the middle of the ocean where a woman was struggling to surface after being pushed off a cruise ship by her husband, my literary hunger was satiated. The rest of the novel chronicles Joey Perrone's (the woman pushed overboard) rescue by island-dweller Mick Stranahan and their subsequent plan to mess with her womanizing, scum-bag of a husband Chaz until he goes bat-sh** crazy. Chaz's personality is almost unbelievably atrocious at times. One shining example is his attempts to apologize to his mistress that he shot in the leg after she finds out about how he killed his wife. He begs and pleads like a helpless child, saying "Come on baby, I was crazy in the head!"


Hiaasen's talent in writing shines through most notably in the characters his words create. One such example is the bodyguard of his protagonist's slimy husband, a large, hairy, ape-like, alligator-eating fentanyl addict nicknamed Tool. Tool has done some bad things in life including stealing fentanyl from cancer patients. One such patient, Maureen, assists him during the course of the novel and convinces him to change his ways. One reason Hiaasen is such a successful character writer is that he incorporates their thoughts and unique speaking styles into his novel. It is exceptionally easy to imagine exactly how Tool speaks in lines of dialogue like in the following passage: "Tool gestured at the wooden cross. 'Least he was a 'husband, father, son, brother'- I ain't none a those things, Red. I got no wife and no family...one lousy cousin, he's up at Starke for robbin' a (expletive removed) laundry-mat." Laundry-mat!? That is genius!

I loved this book so much that I actually BOUGHT another one by Hiaasen: Sick Puppy. I already love it based on the title and cover. Yes, I judge books by their covers. Stay tuned for that review in a few weeks (it is in a queue of about six books).

Best Impulse Buy Yet

I spent 11 dollars on a book. With the technology available allowing today's reader to simply download the book for a fraction of a fraction of that cost or to buy the physical thing online for a fraction of the cost as well, that 11 dollars qualifies as an impulse buy. Therefore, I expected a lot from this reading experience- if I didn't start laughing embarrassingly loud on the first page, I would have stormed back into Target demanding a refund (and I certainly wouldn't want to burn any bridges with my beloved Target).

Honestly, I was just looking for a good time when purchasing this book, much like the sleazy, portly balding man at a bar desperately attempting to pick up chicks and eventually giving up and calling a cheap hooker. But then, at least in this analogy, he comes to realize that the hooker has a heart of gold and gives better advice than Dr. Phil (bad example- his advice is crap) and Dear Abby's love child (Dr. Abby?). Sorry this comparison is a bit abstract- in it, I am the creepy balding man perusing the book shelves looking for a serious read and caving in and picking up the Mindy Kaling book as a last resort just for fun. Yet, as I flipped through the pages, some turned out to be chalk full of fantastic, life-altering advice. Listed below, in no particular order, are the most prevalent pieces of advice that stuck with me like Gorilla glue (superglue's even more intense cousin).

1) Don't complain about stress- her words of shining wisdom: "I do not think stress is a legitimate topic of conversation, in public anyway. No one ever wants to hear how stressed out anyone else is, because most of the time everyone is stressed out. No one is going to say, "Wow, Mindy, you really have it especially bad. I have heard some stories of stress, but this just takes the cake." (Kaling, 75). Wow, I have not annotated anything like that since high school. See, your lessons stuck with me even if your name didn't, Mrs. High School English teacher! Let me begin by saying I love her use of italics to portray irony. Perfect. Immediately after reading this, I started thinking twice about when complaining.

2) Be comfortable in your body- Mindy shares anecdote after anecdote about her size. Though hardly notable when not under the scrutiny of society's magnifying glass, Kaling is a size 8 and was a chubby child, putting her at the mercy of bullies. Her complete comfort and confidence regarding her size are truly inspiring and make her a rare beacon of hope as a role model for girls today. She begins the book with explaining why she could never be thin, one of the reasons being she would lack the insulation to keep warm. That was one of my first laugh-out-loud moments in the book.

Mindy loves her size and is freaking gorgeous and confident

3) Date men, not boys- had I been drinking something while reading this section, it would have erupted out my nostrils (nice image, I know). Mostly because I know the difference first hand between dating the immature vs. the mature man, and Mindy captures the hilarity in it so perfectly. As Mindy accurately points out, "Men know what they want. Men make concrete plans. Men own alarm clocks. Men sleep on a mattress that isn't on the floor. Men tip generously. Men buy new shampoo instead of adding water to a nearly empty bottle of shampoo. Men go to the dentist..." (Kaling, 177). Okay, you get the point. All spot-on observations, Mindy!

Reading this book before bedtime tucked me in better than a Swiss au pere just shipped in from the old country. I greedily and eagerly gobbled up page after page before turning in and fell asleep content and dreaming of stories from Mindy's childhood and early days as a writer for The Office. The book I read prior more closely emulated a frightening, Russian butch woman. The thrilling contents of its page chronicling the events in a murder mystery were not exactly conducive of a good night's sleep. Thankfully, that all changed when my dear Mindy's words cradled me in their literary arms.

A Marriage is a Plot with Many Twists

Little Zs swirled around my own bored head as I attempted to verbally describe the plot of The Marriage Plot to an inquirer asking what the book I was reading was about. There's really no getting around it- the synopsis makes the Jeffery Eugenides novel sound like a total snore-inducer. Maybe it will be less so in blog format. Here goes:

Madeline, a 22-year-old Brown University student is about to don her cap and gown and graduate with a degree in English. Initially, she planned to move in with her boyfriend, Leonard, after graduation while applying to grad school. Yet they recently broke up leaving Madeline without plans and heartbroken. On graduation day, she happens to run into a university friend, Mitchell, who we later discover is and always has been madly in love with her. He is about to head off to India, seemingly missing his chance with his true love. Madeline also learns on graduation day that Leonard, who she believes is her one true love, was committed to the psych ward. SPOILER ALERT she skips graduation to go see him where he confesses he wants to get back together, so they do. The plot switches viewpoints between Madeline, Mitchell and Leonard, who it turns out is a manic-depressive. The story follows their intertwined lives and their changing relationships after departing the Ivy League.

Man, I can feel my brain cells dying of boredom and my fingers melting into the keyboard just from writing this. Hopefully your cells are hanging in there and I can not be held accountable for making my readers brain dead.

If the plot were easier to summarize and sounded more enticing, it would be far easier to give well-deserved kudos to this novel. Something about the most basic desire to know who Madeline ends up with, Leonard or Mitchell, and following along with Mitchell and Leonard through their prospective struggles make it a well-worthwhile read and page-turner. Eugenides truly makes his readers feel for his characters- I pity Madeline for loving and desperately trying to help a manic-depressive, yet also pity Leonard for being one and admire him for attempting to overcome it. I felt myself rooting for Mitchell during his journey abroad and quest for religion. He never ceased to love Madeline.

There are comical parts, some raunchy sex scenes (definitely not for kids) and beautiful scenic descriptions all sprinkled amongst truly engaging prose. A good, page-turning book here!

Books Straight out of the Dryer

If literature could be compared to the some kind of fluff, Something Borrowed is the kind of fluff you pick off your clothes after removing them from the dryer. Or the kind of fluffy fur on Pomeranians. You look at it, touch it, feel and relish the fuzziness, and then instantly forget it. But what better way to hack down and murder stress demons than by spreading apart the covers of Something Borrowed and allowing the juicy plot line of a love triangle where a girl is sleeping with her best friend's fiancee ooze out over the pages you are trying to hide behind The Wall Street Journal since you are reading in public. Wow that sentence's length far exceeded what is appropriate.

At a certain point in any reader's life, they are bound to get sick of serious Russian novels (don't worry, I'm not doing any Tolstoy bashing here) and classic literature forced upon them in high school, as those genres are much less apt to mercilessly remove stress, often doing just the opposite. Of course, classic literature comprises an immensely important place in society in my oh-so-humble opinion, but novels like Something Borrowed are, though perhaps to a lesser degree, vital.

I remember well the day I watched Something Borrowed, the film based on the book, in case you couldn't use your keen sense of reasoning to figure that one out. It seems every time I am on a transcontinental flight lasting the lifetime of certain insects, cosmic forces come together to plot against me by making all of my inflight movie options the one-star crap that should have gone straight to DVD if it didn't already. Yes, I am insinuating that the film version of Something Borrowed is not a high-quality film about to skyrocket to the top of any critic's must-see list. It falls neatly into the same category of entertaining but forgettable. Yes, that is officially a category. Back to the point, I ended up watching Something Borrowed en route from Spain to Denver. I figured I'd at least improve my language skills while the melted cheddar-cheesy plot rotted my brain by changing the language to Spanish.

For those of you who haven't seen the movie or read the book, here's a brief synopsis: Rachel and Darcy, best friends from their early youth, find their friendship jeopardized when Rachel sleeps with Darcy's fiancee, Dex. And then, OMG, Rachel and Dex actually fall in LOVE! Oh woe is me. Should she continue to be Darcy's right hand woman or follow her heart? Oh the dilemmas... sounds like an episode of Maury Povich. Who doesn't love a good love triangle? Or love rhombus in this case (they are much more interesting than love squares), since one of Dexter's friends is hot for Rachel. Woah, plot twist!!

Total besties!!!!

Totally in love!?

Or....are they??

People who should read this book are shameless women looking for a stress-free, quick, entertaining and comical read and who aren't afraid to attract a couple of looks from strangers questioning their IQ. Seriously, I wish I could have snapped a photo of the way people's faces scrunched up in disapproval when I showed them what I was reading. In all frankness, I can't think of a single man who would enjoy reading Something Borrowed, but I've been wrong before. And yes, I admit shamelessly that I will be reading the sequel. I bet you can guess the title... Something Blue. Seriously.

You're reading WHAT??