Bossypants by Tina Fey

Since this blog is new and all, I don't think I've professed my love for Tina Fey here. It doesn't seem to have an end, really. She made fun of natural childbirth in a SNL skit this last week, and I still love her. If you are at all a fan of hers, you will enjoy Bossypants. Just don't make the same mistake as me. I saw it at Target and decided to splurge. I paid $17 for it. I started reading it, and then my sister and I started planning a spontaneous road trip. And I heard on NPR how good the audio book was, since she reads it and all. I was so mad at myself for buying the book! I decided I had to have the audio to listen to while I was driving, so I joined Audible so I could get it for $8. People, I haven't paid over $20 for a book in years. It was worth every penny. The only thing I don't like is the cover. It fits, because she has accomplished so much in the "man's world" of comedy and television writing, but it weirds me out all the same. If you like Tina Fey, you should give this book (or audio book, preferably) a try. The audio from her Sarah Palin skits are included, and it was just as funny to listen to now in 2011 as it was in 2008.

Here is one of my favorite parts. You may have seen it before. It made the rounds on some blogs yesterday for Mother's Day. This is her prayer for her daughter.

First, Lord: No tattoos. May neither Chinese symbol for truth nor Winnie-the-Pooh holding the FSU logo stain her tender haunches.

May she be Beautiful but not Damaged, for it’s the Damage that draws the creepy soccer coach’s eye, not the Beauty.

When the Crystal Meth is offered, May she remember the parents who cut her grapes in half And stick with Beer.

Guide her, protect her

When crossing the street, stepping onto boats, swimming in the ocean, swimming in pools, walking near pools, standing on the subway platform, crossing 86th Street, stepping off of boats, using mall restrooms, getting on and off escalators, driving on country roads while arguing, leaning on large windows, walking in parking lots, riding Ferris wheels, roller-coasters, log flumes, or anything called “Hell Drop,” “Tower of Torture,” or “The Death Spiral Rock ‘N Zero G Roll featuring Aerosmith,” and standing on any kind of balcony ever, anywhere, at any age.

Lead her away from Acting but not all the way to Finance. Something where she can make her own hours but still feel intellectually fulfilled and get outside sometimes And not have to wear high heels.

What would that be, Lord? Architecture? Midwifery? Golf course design? I’m asking You, because if I knew, I’d be doing it, Youdammit.

May she play the Drums to the fiery rhythm of her Own Heart with the sinewy strength of her Own Arms, so she need Not Lie With Drummers.

Grant her a Rough Patch from twelve to seventeen. Let her draw horses and be interested in Barbies for much too long, For childhood is short – a Tiger Flower blooming Magenta for one day – And adulthood is long and dry-humping in cars will wait.

O Lord, break the Internet forever, That she may be spared the misspelled invective of her peers And the online marketing campaign for Rape Hostel V: Girls Just Wanna Get Stabbed.

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.