Let's Pretend This Never Happened

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Lawson had family members read and vet the book before it was published, giving them the opportunity to give their opinions on the writing. My husband looked at me and said (in a very I’m so clever fashion) “Why because you got a book with a mouse on the cover?

I think this is the situation for a lot of real life friendships where you don’t see yourselves as friends at first but it suddenly hits you how much you’re going to miss them when you’re apart.If I’d had a camera I’d have got someone to take a picture of the moment that I married the Juanita Weasel pose with the Calculon ‘NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOooooooooOOOOOOOOOooooo! This time around two completely different genres, but both books I’ve been looking forward to… I’ve been meaning to read Let’s Pretend This Never Happened by Jenny Lawson for years now, as I loved her humor in Furiously Happy, but sadly this first memoir didn’t have that same spark for me.

It’s about the surprising discovery that the most terribly human moments—the ones we want to pretend never happened—are the very same moments that make us who we are today. I must tell you that you have become one of our office heros – and we’re all now clamoring for a chance to win a signed copy (we’re librarians and tend to geek out about stuff like that! If you try to make a shrimp boil, but the bag of spices bursts, and so you just toss it in along with whatever spices you can find in the pantry--you can make homemade pepper spray.

Way to go, Jenny, you just made me realize that I’m probably way more fucked up and weird than I already thought I was! In punchy chapters that cover a fairly uneventful life in the southern Republican regions, blogger Lawson achieves an exaggerated sarcasm that occasionally attains a belly laugh from the reader (“I grew up a poor black girl in New York. It did, however, open up an opportunity for Lawson to find the humor in the strange shame–spiral that is her life, and we are all the better for it. Black Rivet and Colebrook trench coats hug torsos in a European-inspired design that’s as timeless as a broken grandfather clock.

Author’s note: My editor informs me that this doesn’t count as a chapter, because nothing relevant happens in it. Childhood trauma seems like the natural choice, since it’s the reason why most of us are in line there to begin with. I have no idea what the hold up is, but I can only imagine that Nathan Fillion is allergic to either twine or to bringing smiles to the faces of strange women who really aren't asking for that much, Nathan.And now, I am supposed to be doing about fifteen other totally important things that needed to be done by yesterday, but no. Could you just send me a lock of your hair for me to craft into a creepyawesome bookmark for your book? My Barry Manilow fetish and penchant for screaming at Always commercials seems pretty normal, now, right? Or maybe longer because there could be a holiday somewhere in there or god forbid another national weather emergency.