Bright Lights, Big Ass: A Self-Indulgent, Surly, Ex-Sorority Girl's Guide to Why It Often Sucks in the City, or Who Are These Idiots and Why Do They All Live Next Door to Me? by Jen Lancaster Page B
Authors: Jen Lancaster
Tags: Humor, Fiction, General, Humorous, Humorous fiction, Personal Memoirs, Biography & Autobiography, Biography, Essay/s, Authors; American, Women, City and Town Life, Form, 21st Century, Chicago (Ill.), Jeanne, Lancaster; Jen, Authors; American - 21st century, Chicago (Ill.) - Social life and customs
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from me, and…crisis averted.
I hate to admit the Monkey Woman rattled me, but it’s true. I’m bothered greatly when people question my intelligence. I pride myself on my cognitive skills, yet when I fail at simple tasks like taking public transportation, I often wonder if my pride’s based more on false bravado than actual merit.
Come to think of it, I do a lot of dumb stuff, like this morning when I tried to put on my pants without unzipping them first and Fletch had to get me unstuck. And then there’s the second-degree burns on my right hand from last week when I forgot that pan in the oven equals hot. Or like when I fake threw the ball to the dog, only I accidentally let it go and the damn thing flew straight into the window, which then smashed into a zillion tiny shards? 16
I sit on my plastic throne and stew. Maybe I’m not as clever as I like to tell myself? What if she’s right that I’m far dumber for having read Ann Coulter? I inspect my own charred paw and ruminate.
As my stop approaches, I stand and get ready to exit. Just as the brakes bring our mobile sardine can to a halt, I notice something different from my new vantage point. It’s but a tiny detail, yet it gives me a shiny new perspective on my rightful place in the universe. I lean in toward Monkey Woman.
“Pardon me,” I say.
Angry, dark eyes cut in my direction. “What?” she hisses.
Clutching my book to my breast so it looks like Ann’s standing next to me as my “second,” I whisper, “Your sweater’s on inside out.”
Then I gather my things and exit as Monkey Woman throws a banana at me.
Okay, the banana part’s not true, but how awesome would it have been if she had?
Anyway, it probably doesn’t matter; tomorrow I shall be reading Ann Coulter in a cab.
----
To: angie_at_home, carol_at_home, wendy_at_home, jen_at_work
From: [email protected]
Subject: happy belated 4th of july
In response to Carol’s query of our respective holiday weekends…
Setting: The driveway of my parents’ house. My sister-in-law and niece are in one car and I am in another.
Me: Where am I meeting you guys for lunch?
Mom: Well, I was thinking—why don’t we go to that little Italian place by the mall?
(a beat)
(another beat while I process what my mother has just said)
(because, really, she can’t possibly…)
Me: Do…do…do you mean the Olive Garden ?
And…that pretty much sums up the past three days at my parents’ house.
Please tell me your holidays were better than this.
Lie if you must.
Jen
----
----
To: angie_at_home, carol_at_home, wendy_at_home, jen_at_work
From: [email protected]
Subject: adventures in gastroenterology
Good morning,
Yet another scene from my oh-so-glamorous life.
Setting: Check-in desk for GI lab work at Northwestern Memorial Hospital. An adoring Yuppie wife with perfectly coiffed hair has her elbow linked with that of her adoring Yuppie husband. They appear to have walked right out of an Eddie Bauer ad. Fletch and I are in line behind them. I am holding part of my shirt out in front of me, trying to determine the origin of the grease stain. Bacon? Salad dressing? Not sure.
Yuppie Wife: (to Nurse, hands clasped in earnest concern) I know an endoscopy is a routine procedure, but I’d really like to be in the recovery room to hold his hand while he comes out of the anesthesia. Can I be there? Would that be all right? Please?
Nurse: I think it would be okay.
Yuppie Wife: Thanks so much.
Nurse: (to Fletch) You’re also here for an endoscopy—would you like your wife to join you in the recovery room?
Me: Pfft. I’m heading to the oatmeal bar at Au Bon Pain.
Good luck and see you in an hour.
Ha!
Jen
P.S. The doctor determined that Fletch is completely fine.
P.P.S. And I had grits!
P.P.P.S. What? I brought him back a muffin.
----
The Only Thing We Have to Fear Is Rachael Ray
A lthough plagued by a number of irrational fears, I have a few that are legitimate. I’ve been in a
I hate to admit the Monkey Woman rattled me, but it’s true. I’m bothered greatly when people question my intelligence. I pride myself on my cognitive skills, yet when I fail at simple tasks like taking public transportation, I often wonder if my pride’s based more on false bravado than actual merit.
Come to think of it, I do a lot of dumb stuff, like this morning when I tried to put on my pants without unzipping them first and Fletch had to get me unstuck. And then there’s the second-degree burns on my right hand from last week when I forgot that pan in the oven equals hot. Or like when I fake threw the ball to the dog, only I accidentally let it go and the damn thing flew straight into the window, which then smashed into a zillion tiny shards? 16
I sit on my plastic throne and stew. Maybe I’m not as clever as I like to tell myself? What if she’s right that I’m far dumber for having read Ann Coulter? I inspect my own charred paw and ruminate.
As my stop approaches, I stand and get ready to exit. Just as the brakes bring our mobile sardine can to a halt, I notice something different from my new vantage point. It’s but a tiny detail, yet it gives me a shiny new perspective on my rightful place in the universe. I lean in toward Monkey Woman.
“Pardon me,” I say.
Angry, dark eyes cut in my direction. “What?” she hisses.
Clutching my book to my breast so it looks like Ann’s standing next to me as my “second,” I whisper, “Your sweater’s on inside out.”
Then I gather my things and exit as Monkey Woman throws a banana at me.
Okay, the banana part’s not true, but how awesome would it have been if she had?
Anyway, it probably doesn’t matter; tomorrow I shall be reading Ann Coulter in a cab.
----
To: angie_at_home, carol_at_home, wendy_at_home, jen_at_work
From: [email protected]
Subject: happy belated 4th of july
In response to Carol’s query of our respective holiday weekends…
Setting: The driveway of my parents’ house. My sister-in-law and niece are in one car and I am in another.
Me: Where am I meeting you guys for lunch?
Mom: Well, I was thinking—why don’t we go to that little Italian place by the mall?
(a beat)
(another beat while I process what my mother has just said)
(because, really, she can’t possibly…)
Me: Do…do…do you mean the Olive Garden ?
And…that pretty much sums up the past three days at my parents’ house.
Please tell me your holidays were better than this.
Lie if you must.
Jen
----
----
To: angie_at_home, carol_at_home, wendy_at_home, jen_at_work
From: [email protected]
Subject: adventures in gastroenterology
Good morning,
Yet another scene from my oh-so-glamorous life.
Setting: Check-in desk for GI lab work at Northwestern Memorial Hospital. An adoring Yuppie wife with perfectly coiffed hair has her elbow linked with that of her adoring Yuppie husband. They appear to have walked right out of an Eddie Bauer ad. Fletch and I are in line behind them. I am holding part of my shirt out in front of me, trying to determine the origin of the grease stain. Bacon? Salad dressing? Not sure.
Yuppie Wife: (to Nurse, hands clasped in earnest concern) I know an endoscopy is a routine procedure, but I’d really like to be in the recovery room to hold his hand while he comes out of the anesthesia. Can I be there? Would that be all right? Please?
Nurse: I think it would be okay.
Yuppie Wife: Thanks so much.
Nurse: (to Fletch) You’re also here for an endoscopy—would you like your wife to join you in the recovery room?
Me: Pfft. I’m heading to the oatmeal bar at Au Bon Pain.
Good luck and see you in an hour.
Ha!
Jen
P.S. The doctor determined that Fletch is completely fine.
P.P.S. And I had grits!
P.P.P.S. What? I brought him back a muffin.
----
The Only Thing We Have to Fear Is Rachael Ray
A lthough plagued by a number of irrational fears, I have a few that are legitimate. I’ve been in a
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