I've never been a fan of Tina Fey. I've also never hated her either. I'm simply ambivalent about her. She's neither pretty nor painfully ugly. She's like tap water — some people like it, and some say it just tastes weird.

But both my boyfriend (he's cute) and best friend (an avid reader of Sophie Kinsella fluff) suggested I read Bossypants, her memoir. I like the term "memoir" better than (auto)biography. Firstly, memoir is French, automatically lending it a dash of fancy and I'm fancy. Secondly, biography is one of those educational compound words where both components of it mean something in ancient Greek. And lastly, it sounds so clinical and should be used only to describe military histories of great generals or the indecipherable lives of scientists.

But, I digress (Someone shut that crying baby up in seat 18C!!) While I was skeptical about reading Bossypants, I'd had good experiences with those piss-in-your-pants Chelsea Handler storybooks and after reading Joan Didion's latest depressor Blue Nights and a novel about the siege of Masada, I was desperate for lighter fare. So I settled into my torture chamber/airplane seat and popped open my copy, sans book cover because I idiosyncratically remove the jackets from any hardcover I read. The dedication made me laugh, auguring a good literary future for me.

A witty storyteller, Fey sparkles with tales of embarrassing, unspoken mother-daughter talks about becoming a woman. Jeanne Fey takes a nine year old Tina to JCPenney to buy her her first bra. Much to her embarrassment and our delight, Mrs. Fey slapped on a bra over Tina's clothes. Death by humiliation (or laughter for me). Jeanne Fey also gives Tina a "my first period" kit to help her navigate the undiscovered territory of a ten year old girl's little lady parts. I can relate to this. Not because I have ten year old little lady parts, but because my dad never gave my brother and I the "birds and the bees" talk. Also, my mother used to make my sister hide her Always maxi pads with wings when she was on the rag so my brother and I wouldn't see what was going on.

Of course, these gut-busting stories of puberty logically lead into the awkward misadventures of high school, full of heartbreaking tales of unrequited crushes on half-closeted gay boys, strict curfews, underage drinking and in Tina's case no sexy time, nor anything that remotely approximates human contact. Onward she moves into trying to get laid, her struggles as a college graduate and her catastrophic (literally) honeymoon. Blah blah blah. Big break, SNL audition, Amy Poehler, comedy.

And then, a chapter titled "Amazing, Gorgeous, Not Like That", describing the inner workings of a fashion photo shoot. I've worked in fashion for the last ten years, selling women overpriced clothes, handbags, shoes and other accessories they do not need, many couldn't afford and probably never wore anyway. So reading a droll tell all by a woman who is ESL in style and fashion was an all-out piss fest. In the world of the photo shoot, all the clothes is sized for prepubescent bodies. Asian assistants are charged with zipping you into size 5T garments. Make up artists and hairdressers do everything to show you the beauty regime you've followed religiously for the last 20 years has been a hideous train wreck. And no matter how cool you believe your iPod library to be, once you put it on shuffle, you WILL be humiliated when "Hold On" by Wilson Phillips
plays.

More stuff I don't care about: TV, SNL, Sarah Palin, the Emmy award winning series 30 Rock, Oprah (no one's memoir is complete without her), motherhood.

Ok, rewind. I do care about motherhood, especially because when Fey discusses motherhood, her career is healthily linked to it. Fey peppers in some funny soft-core feminist rants colored by some self-deprecating doubt. "The Mother's Prayer for Its Daughter" covers everything a mother could wish to spare her child from, poking fun at regrettable tattoo choices, over-protective-ness, career paths and calling your mother a bitch for not letting you buy a Hollister baby tee. Her anecdotes about parenting resonate with me because Kathy, my best friend since 2000, is deep in the throes of nursery decorating as she will soon be a mom herself. Her journey has been surreal for her, and for me by BFF association. In the highly unlikely, highly unfortunate event that something terrible should happen to the parents, as her godfather I would sorta be entrusted with taking care of baby Maya. You know like that Katherine Heigl movie. But we'll leave that to Hollywood. In reality, I will babysit, get thrown up on, clean poopies, buy her cute gaybie things, face nights of inconsolable crying (mine and Maya's) and love her til it hurts. More than that, Fey's comic parental doubt and Maya's impending arrival push me to evaluate the possibility of a future as a father(Yikes! That, dear reader, is a whole 'nother post waiting to happen).

Re-focus.
Fey reveals herself as a real person, separate from any TV or movie alter ego. She's a dedicated workaholic, a devoted mother and wife, a sparkling writer. Though I've watched exactly two episodes of 30 Rock and I've never seen Tina Fey's Sarah Palin impersonations on SNL, Bossypants definitely proved that she's one funny bitch. Will I YouTube Fey as Palin or buy epis of 30 Rock on iTunes because of this? No. But maybe one of you will pick up Bossypants and wet your panties.