Bossypants

Amused by the hilarious blurb I picked this quick read. It was funny indeed, but I guess someone who knows American pop culture better might find this book even more amusing. The way Tina Fey had dedicated almost a chapter and a half for "30 Rocks" and had only mentioned "Mean Girls" once or twice makes me wonder how the respect, admiration and success earned by one for their work changes their life forever for better or for worse.
On the better side: Of course! the respect, admiration and success.
On the worse side: A self-inflicted undue amount of pressure and expectation for future endeavours which somehow seems to push aside the natural knack that might have earned the respect, admiration and success in the first place.

To me, the best part of the book was not about her career in SNL or the funny lines scattered throughout the book but the one chapter titled "The Mother's Prayer for its daughter" which is almost like poetry. It made me laugh, cry and feel overwhelmed all at the same time.
An entertaining read never the less!

I listened to this audiobook while travelling and enjoyed every minute of it. Tina Fey is very smart, very funny, and very clever. The book is a mix of serious and funny, all very on-target and filled with laughs. There are brilliant quotes all through, my favorite was:
"It stinks, like axe body spray on a brick of blue cheese."

The best part of getting this as an audio book is that Tina Fey herself reads it, and has clearly taken the effort to change the text slightly as appropriate (for example, referring to the book as an audio book, telling the reader to listen to the next chapter instead of read it). Little touches that don't affect the content but which I always find jarring in an audio book if they are not done, and simply read the written words exactly. Because it's an audio book she was also able to include the actual recordings of her Sarah Palin skits, rather than just transcribing them as must have been done in the print version, which made them so much better.

I did find the book was told from an unashamedly feminist perspective, and the way she says some things almost sounds as if she's not even expecting many men to read it and that her true audience is women. I don't know if that turned out to be true or not. It doesn't detract from the book at all, it just surprised me. And it would be a shame if it's true, because I think anybody should enjoy this book regardless of gender. It's a great look into the life and thoughts of a woman that I admire even more after listening to this book. Highly recommended!

This book is more a collection of pointers than a memoir; I feel it's for feminists, women who are into comedy, people who want to get somewhere in life despite of obstacles and youth, women not taking shit from men and for feminists at large and...it's fun.

Fey writes of her growing up in a small town, being a nerd, growing up, snogging boys and dreaming of becoming more than her parents wanted her to be. And there are some really good extended one-liners thrown in, e.g.:

I was taken to an examining room where a big butch nurse practitioner came in and asked me if I was pregnant. “No way!” Was I sexually active? “Nope!” Had I ever been molested? “Well,” I said, trying to make a joke, “Oprah says the only answers to that question are ‘Yes’ and ‘I don’t remember.’ ” I laughed. We were having fun. The nurse looked at me, concerned/annoyed.

Conversely, he would tell us things like “If you see two black kids riding around on one bike, put your bike in the garage.” This wasn’t racism; it was experience. Those kids were coming from West Philly to steal bikes.

This is what I tell young women who ask me for career advice. People are going to try to trick you. To make you feel that you are in competition with one another. “You’re up for a promotion. If they go with a woman, it’ll be between you and Barbara.” Don’t be fooled. You’re not in competition with other women. You’re in competition with everyone. Also, I encourage them to always wear a bra. Even if you don’t think you need it, just… you know what? You’re never going to regret it. My dream for the future is that sketch comedy shows become a gender-blind meritocracy of whoever is really the funniest. You might see four women and two men. You might see five men and a YouTube video of a kitten sneezing. Once we know we’re really open to all the options, we can proceed with Whatever’s the Funniest… which will probably involve farts.

Whitney Houston’s cover of “I Will Always Love You” was constantly on my FM Walkman radio around that time. I think that made me cry because I associated it with absolutely no one.

We premiered on Wednesday, October 11, 2006, at 8:00 P.M. and we were an instant hit—like figs for dessert or bringing your guitar out at a party. We were New Coke! We were not a hit. But we barreled ahead knowing that we’d at least come out of this with DVDs to show our friends. The story ideas came fast and furious in the beginning. “What if Tracy went off his medication and started hallucinating a little blue dude everywhere?” Sure. “What if Jenna was in a movie called The Rural Juror and no one could understand her when she said the title?” Fine. “What if we do a story about Liz being called a cunt?” Why wouldn’t we? That had happened to me plenty! You know that saying “Dance as if no one is watching”? Well, that’s what we were doing.

A few months after our [with Palin herself] friendly chat about kids (and my condescending remarks about New York), Mrs. Palin told conservative filmmaker John Ziegler that Katie Couric and I had exploited and profited by her family. But I know better than to respond to attacks in the media. Although if I were to respond, I would probably just say, “Nice reality show.”

One of my greatest regrets, other than being the Zodiac Killer never learning to tango, is that I don’t always have time to answer the wonderful correspondence I receive.

Politics and prostitution have to be the only jobs where inexperience is considered a virtue. In what other profession would you brag about not knowing stuff? “I’m not one of those fancy Harvard heart surgeons. I’m just an unlicensed plumber with a dream and I’d like to cut your chest open.” The crowd cheers.

And when she one day turns on me and calls me a Bitch in front of Hollister, Give me the strength, Lord, to yank her directly into a cab in front of her friends, For I will not have that Shit. I will not have it.

And should she choose to be a Mother one day, be my eyes, Lord, That I may see her, lying on a blanket on the floor at 4:50 A.M., all-at-once exhausted, bored, and in love with the little creature whose poop is leaking up its back.

“My mother did this for me once,” she will realize as she cleans feces off her baby’s neck. “My mother did this for me.” And the delayed gratitude will wash over her as it does each generation and she will make a Mental Note to call me. And she will forget. But I’ll know, because I peeped it with Your God eyes. Amen

This book is more a collection of pointers than a memoir; I feel it's for feminists, women who are into comedy, people who want to get somewhere in life despite of obstacles and youth, women not taking shit from men and for feminists at large and...it's fun.

Fey writes of her growing up in a small town, being a nerd, growing up, snogging boys and dreaming of becoming more than her parents wanted her to be. And there are some really good extended one-liners thrown in, e.g.:

I was taken to an examining room where a big butch nurse practitioner came in and asked me if I was pregnant. “No way!” Was I sexually active? “Nope!” Had I ever been molested? “Well,” I said, trying to make a joke, “Oprah says the only answers to that question are ‘Yes’ and ‘I don’t remember.’ ” I laughed. We were having fun. The nurse looked at me, concerned/annoyed.

Conversely, he would tell us things like “If you see two black kids riding around on one bike, put your bike in the garage.” This wasn’t racism; it was experience. Those kids were coming from West Philly to steal bikes.

This is what I tell young women who ask me for career advice. People are going to try to trick you. To make you feel that you are in competition with one another. “You’re up for a promotion. If they go with a woman, it’ll be between you and Barbara.” Don’t be fooled. You’re not in competition with other women. You’re in competition with everyone. Also, I encourage them to always wear a bra. Even if you don’t think you need it, just… you know what? You’re never going to regret it. My dream for the future is that sketch comedy shows become a gender-blind meritocracy of whoever is really the funniest. You might see four women and two men. You might see five men and a YouTube video of a kitten sneezing. Once we know we’re really open to all the options, we can proceed with Whatever’s the Funniest… which will probably involve farts.

Whitney Houston’s cover of “I Will Always Love You” was constantly on my FM Walkman radio around that time. I think that made me cry because I associated it with absolutely no one.

We premiered on Wednesday, October 11, 2006, at 8:00 P.M. and we were an instant hit—like figs for dessert or bringing your guitar out at a party. We were New Coke! We were not a hit. But we barreled ahead knowing that we’d at least come out of this with DVDs to show our friends. The story ideas came fast and furious in the beginning. “What if Tracy went off his medication and started hallucinating a little blue dude everywhere?” Sure. “What if Jenna was in a movie called The Rural Juror and no one could understand her when she said the title?” Fine. “What if we do a story about Liz being called a cunt?” Why wouldn’t we? That had happened to me plenty! You know that saying “Dance as if no one is watching”? Well, that’s what we were doing.

A few months after our with Palin herself friendly chat about kids (and my condescending remarks about New York), Mrs. Palin told conservative filmmaker John Ziegler that Katie Couric and I had exploited and profited by her family. But I know better than to respond to attacks in the media. Although if I were to respond, I would probably just say, “Nice reality show.”

One of my greatest regrets, other than being the Zodiac Killer never learning to tango, is that I don’t always have time to answer the wonderful correspondence I receive.

Politics and prostitution have to be the only jobs where inexperience is considered a virtue. In what other profession would you brag about not knowing stuff? “I’m not one of those fancy Harvard heart surgeons. I’m just an unlicensed plumber with a dream and I’d like to cut your chest open.” The crowd cheers.

And when she one day turns on me and calls me a Bitch in front of Hollister, Give me the strength, Lord, to yank her directly into a cab in front of her friends, For I will not have that Shit. I will not have it.

And should she choose to be a Mother one day, be my eyes, Lord, That I may see her, lying on a blanket on the floor at 4:50 A.M., all-at-once exhausted, bored, and in love with the little creature whose poop is leaking up its back.

“My mother did this for me once,” she will realize as she cleans feces off her baby’s neck. “My mother did this for me.” And the delayed gratitude will wash over her as it does each generation and she will make a Mental Note to call me. And she will forget. But I’ll know, because I peeped it with Your God eyes. Amen