i’m not gonna lie, coming off of the high i had from completing the hunger games trilogy made choosing my next literary adventure quite the arduous task. i honestly felt sorry for the next book to grace my jean-covered lap while snugly seated in the aisle seat on southwest’s boeing 747 (because let’s be honest, planes are the only places i manage to get any reading done; second maybe to starbuck’s and the occasional trip to the pool) headed to anywhere, USA. because those were some shaq-sized shoes to fill. but when a girlfriend had mentioned that her sister had recently met a blogger-turned-memoir-writer at her book-signing and that, upon further investigation of said memoir, the writing style may be thoroughly enjoyed by yours truly, i figured her endorsement was as good as any for my next lead. so off i went to barnes and noble (i know, who goes to bookstores anymore?) to find my copy of let’s pretend this never happened (and if you’re an avid reader of this blog, first of all, thank you, i really really appreciate you and secondly, i know i’ve talked about this book a lot lately, so sorry for sounding like a broken record, but then again, when do i not sound like a busted vinyl?).
but before taking the plunge in its purchase, i took a moment in the entry way of the store to read over the introduction; a taste test of sorts before i committed to the full entree. and what i literarily “consumed” in those handful of minutes only served to solidify my decision to take that collection of stories home with me that evening. for it was fast apparent that jenny lawson, the bloggess herself, and i were cut from the same cloth.
no, i most certainly do not use as many expletives (if any at all, please, this is a PG playground) nor do my childhood memories come even remotely close to hers(her father is a taxodermist, just use your imagination), but one thing we can agree upon is the over-usage of the humble extended parenthetical.
grammatical dimples, if you will. the portion of page where you can become your own personal peanut gallery. and if y’all know me, you know that i love me a good peanut gallery (i would probably like them more if they were peanut butter galleries, but you know, i’ll take what i can get). i think what i love most about extended parentheticals are their ability to house additional facts, comments and/or witty banter without the judgement or watchful eye of the text lying beyond the confines of their half-mooned shape. because within their dimpled confines, words are safe to be as non-sensical, frivolous, and terribly ridden with inside joke innuendo as they desire to be.
truth be told i’m only about a third of the way through the book, but seeing as my next flight is HEY NEXT WEEKEND (do you hear that miss m? you’re getting MARRIED in a week), there’s a very great chance i may be back with a few more thoughts on my extended parenthetical partner-in-crime.
and in case you don’t believe me on that whole “she’s really really funny” thing, may i suggest some light reading? (jenny’s site is being really moody, so here’s a link one of my friendie’s blogs who actually was the first to enlighten me on just how dang hilarious the bloggess really is) (also said friendie’s blog is great because SHE is great so you should read it, too).
see there i go again with the parentheses.
(you’re welcome).
