January 24, 2009

Julia Child might save my life

My mom came into my room at around 8am (I know, how is it possible that I could be awake that early, right? It's jet lag or something - I've been asleep at 11, awake at 8 every day this week. But you know what? It's kind of awesome being able to be awake before 1/2 of the household for a change.) this morning to find out what kinds of shenanigans I was getting into. She literally popped her head in, looked around suspiciously as though she were trying to sniff out the sex deviant who was surely hiding in my room, narrowed her eyes, and said, "Hey! ...why are you laughing?" At first I just stared. Had I really been laughing? Then I held up my book.

As though just seeing the cover could somehow magically relate to her the utter hilarity that is Julie Powell. I can't remember the last time I laughed this hard while I was reading... in all likelihood it was while reading a Meg Cabot book, because (let's just be honest) they're funny as hell. But even then, it's been a few months at least. But even taking into account "Queen of Babble", "Julie & Julia" is one of the funniest books I've ever read. Yes, it's a book about cooking... but... it's SO much more than that. The woman just appeals to me - she writes about the turmoil of being a Democrat during the year after 9/11 (and having to work in a government agency), food, cooking, her crazy-ass friends, FOOD, her funny husband, living in the ghettos of NY, Julia Child, hating work, being freaked out by homeless people, and food. And how good food tastes. And how many sticks of butter she'd like to eat on a daily basis.
See? And if there was any doubt about her awesomeness, my thoughts were put to rest when she compared one of her friends to Rosalind Russell's character from His Girl Friday. I don't need any more of a description than that - I know exactly what she's trying to say. Yes, I'm only - what? - a third of the way through? But thus far the jig has yet to be up, and I'm still laughing my way through every chapter.

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