Book #40 of 2011: Bossypants by Tina Fey.
A friend of mine read this earlier in the year, while I was too immersed in Harry Potters and various library books to read something I'd actually purchased, and he seemed disappointed that it didn't delve deeper into Tina Fey's life and real, true self.
I think I was too amused by it and too busy seeing myself (or just wanting to) in what was there to be disappointed in anything that wasn't.
The book contained probably the only thing Colin Quinn has ever said that made me laugh--on Tina Fey's father, Don Fey--"Your father doesn't fucking play games. You would never come home with a shamrock tattoo in that house."
Granted, Tina prolly wouldn't have opted for a shamrock, since she's Greek and German, but still well-played, Colin.
It's kind of a bummer that they really intended 30 Rock to be a big commercial hit and it isn't, but they have a bunch of Emmy's to console themselves with and it's going strong into the year of Alec Baldwin's supposed retirement. PLEASE DON'T RETIRE, ALEC!
Ahem, so, yeah, Tina Fey is pretty awesome and this was funnier than the other comedy/comedy-memoir things I've read this year (and, yes, there have been a few--Demetri Martin, Michael Showalter, Judah Friedlander, Patton Oswalt...).
In short [TOO LATE!], I'm not sorry at all that I purchased it instead of borrowing it. And if she writes anything else, I'll probably get that, too.
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