I was looking forward to this book like a person looks forward to things they look forward to. And there were parts of it that totally piqued my interest and made me “LOL” in the literal sense (and then explain myself to whoever was in the room). But for the most part this book was only mildly entertaining. I know! Sacrilegious.
The vague premise of the book is Miss Tina Fey teaching you how to rear your child to grow up like her: a confident, witty, feminist geek who doesn’t march to the beat of her own drummer only because she decided to play the triangle instead. And let’s be honest with ourselves: who wouldn’t want to be Tina right now? She writes great shows and movies, gets to star in said great shows and movies, has a great family, supportive parents, and counts Amy Poehler as one of her friends. Sign me up!
But the way she goes about teaching you is kind of an organized mess of anecdotes that show how Tina or someone she loves/admires responds to a given life experience. Which, okay, I guess you are the sum of your actions. But hearing about her honeymoon cruise debacle, how she discovered she liked white guys, and her inability to decide whether or not to have another kid is stuff that is interesting only to close friends. And although I’d like to consider myself and the great T.Fey besties, my lack of interest in such anecdotes proves that I’m not.
On the night of her 30th birthday, Rachel allows herself to sleep with the man she has desired all throughout law school. And it was great. Dexter Thatcher is great, the sex was great, and she feels great. That is until she wakes the following morning with a slight hangover and her absolute best friend’s fiancé in her bed. That’s right, folks. Dex is none other than Darcy’s long time boyfriend and recent fiancé. In fact, Rachel was the one who introduced the two. Bitch, right?
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