Let's Pretend This Never Happened

Let's Pretend This Never Happened: A Mostly True Memoir, by Jenny Lawson (The Bloggess)

You need to avoid this book if:

--You are easily offended by foul language.
--You are an ardent animal lover.
--You are a literalist. (Did it bother you that Dan Brown took liberties with history in The DaVinci Code?)
--You take things or life too seriously.

Jenny Lawson, otherwise know as The Bloggess, has written a hilarious memoir about what it's like to:

• Grow up in the wilds of Texas, with a father who is a taxidermist
• Be so poor she wore bread sack shoes (still trying to picture those)
• Become completely accustomed to running into the interior of a deer carcass, acquiring pet raccoons, having a just-killed squirrel turned into a puppet named Stanley, and having your dad throw a baby bobcat at your prospective husband on his first visit
• Be spoiled rotten by her grandma
• Feel socially awkward and like an outcast throughout school
• Be loved intensely by her parents and have a happy, although extremely crazy, childhood
• Try to rescue her just-died dog from swarming vultures
• Lock her husband out of the car while he battles a supposedly dead but very alive rattlesnake--and then get mad at him!
• Battle an anxiety disorder
• Try to convince her husband to pee around the house to keep out the snakes
• Set her oven on fire at least twice
• Keep her beloved dead dog from being devoured by hungry, aggressive vultures
• Buy a huge metal chicken because she's so annoyed with her husband who didn't want her to buy more towels
• Be diagnosed with rheumatoid arthritis and struggle with treatment
• Suffer from three miscarriages before carrying a baby to term
• Have silly, nonsensical fights with her husband via post-it notes

As Lawson describes herself in her author bio, "Author Jenny Larson relaxes at home. Her husband glares off camera and asks whether that's his toothbrush. Her husband should probably get his priorities straight. And go get her a margarita. Even if it's three a.m. Seriously, Victor, go get me a margarita. Also, the people who published this book probably shouldn't have let the author write her own biography. Poor planning on their part, I'd say."

If she's to be believed (which is questionable), she and Victor treat each other horribly, frequently with foul language. But I don't really believe much of that. After telling many a wild story, she confesses that only one tiny piece of the story is true. I tried this exaggeration-of-the-truth tactic recently myself, and it's not easy! It seems to come fairly easily to Lawson, though. She's a master!

The writing style is very casual (ADD-like, really), with frequent parenthetical phrases, postscripts, and notes from "the editor." She talks about her vagina fairly frequently and has a sentimental yearning for tacky taxidermy such as dead Cuban baby alligators and mice in Shakespeare outfits (see cover). She also has a tendency to tell wild, inappropriate stories at dinner parties, especially those involving her husband's employer or colleagues.

I really enjoyed this book, but it's not for everyone! Check out her blog if you're curious. If it makes you laugh, you'll like the book.