Okay, so we read all of those super deep, life changing, transformational books. Everybody loves a good self-help book amirite? No? Okay, fine. We hate to love them, then. Or we love some psycho killer page turner like Gone Girl. While I also love these, about a 2 years ago I reached a point where I was so burnt out on the deep, hard books that required brain power. It got to where all I wanted to do was watch Jimmy Fallon and interviews on YouTube of Mindy Kaling. Ask my friends. They remember this time well. I think I made them watch every Mindy interview that was on YouTube at one point… Which, now that I think of it, I haven’t looked those up in awhile. *mental note to do that later*
So I started dabbling in a new genre of books – ones that made me laugh out loud. When I was alone. In a coffee shop. When I was supposed to be reading about the brain and all of its wonders. But there is plenty of time for serious. I needed a change.
So I compiled a list for you guys. These are the good ones! Get ready to laugh more. Life has enough serious. And the best part about the ones I’ve set aside? You can actually take a lot away from them. Especially Traveling Mercies, Carry On, Warrior, and For The Love. But Mindy and Tina are amazing, too, which I’m sure you aren’t unfamiliar with.
I’m just going to leave you with an excerpt or quote from each, that I’ve pulled from goodreads.com. Hopefully I get you hook, line, and sinker.
Cheers and happy reading!
“I don’t want to hear about the endless struggles to keep sex exciting, or the work it takes to plan a date night. I want to hear that you guys watch every episode of The Bachelorette together in secret shame, or that one got the other hooked on Breaking Bad and if either watches it without the other, they’re dead meat. I want to see you guys high-five each other like teammates on a recreational softball team you both do for fun.”
“If someone called me chubby, it would no longer be something that kept me up late at night. Being called fat is not like being called stupid or unfunny, which is the worst thing you could ever say to me. Do I envy Jennifer Hudson for being able to lose all that weight and look smokin’ hot? Of course, yes. Do I sometimes look at Gisele Bundchen and wonder how awesome life would be if I never had to wear Spanx? Duh, of course. That’s kind of the point of Gisele Bundchen. And maybe I will, once or twice, for a very short period of time. But on the list of things I want to do in my lifetime, that’s not near the top. I mean, it’s not near the bottom either. I’d say it’s right above “Learn to drive a vespa,” but several notches below “film a chase scene for a movie.”
“When reentering society and risking rejection, the library is a good place to start. They have low expectations. I love the library. Also church. Both have to take you in.”
“That’s the thing about parenting: anxious if you do, anxious if you don’t.”
(These don’t give it justice, but I promise it’s amazing. I’ve lent this book to at least 7 people, who have ALSO loved it. It’s one of those books you read aloud to someone else. And you don’t give them an option to listen. They just have to. (They’re never sad afterwards.)
“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.”
“Most photographers have some kind of verbal patter going on when they shoot: “Great. Turn to me. Big smile. Less shark eyes. Have fun with it. Not like that.” Some photographers are compulsively effusive. “Beautiful. Amazing. Gorgeous! Ugh, so gorgeous!” they yell at shutter speed. If you are anything less than insane, you will realize this is not sincere. It’s hard to take because it’s more positive feedback than you’ve received in your entire life thrown at you in fifteen seconds. It would be like going jogging while someone rode next to you in a slow-moving car, yelling, “Yes! You are Carl Lewis! You’re breaking a world record right now. Amazing! You are fast. You’re going very fast, yes!”
“Thank you, 4:00 p.m., for being the time of day that thoroughly confuses me: post-homework and pre-dinner. I am already exhausted and fairly irritable. The children are losing their ever-loving minds, and husband is still tucked away in his sane office with all mental faculties intact and won’t answer my SOS texts to hurry and come home or their blood is on your hands. Do I make a coffee? Or pour a glass of wine? Yours, Witching-Hour Survivor.”
“Thank you, Caillou, for having a nonphonetic title so my son cannot look you up on Netflix.”
“It’s funny: I always imagined when I was a kid that adults had some kind of inner toolbox full of shiny tools: the saw of discernment, the hammer of wisdom, the sandpaper of patience. But then when I grew up I found that life handed you these rusty bent old tools – friendships, prayer, conscience, honesty – and said ‘do the best you can with these, they will have to do’. And mostly, against all odds, they do.”
“It’s so awful, attacking your child. It’s the worse thing I know, to shout loudly at this 50 lb. being with his huge trusting brown eyes. It’s like bitch-slapping E.T.”
“I smiled back at her. I thought such awful thoughts that I cannot even say them out loud because they would make Jesus want to drink gin straight out of the cat dish.”