I have officially finished Pretty in Plaid…and started it again.  Because I’m a giant geek like that.  The book arrived yesterday and I did my best to not rip open the package and start reading, which is what I wanted to do.  Instead I carefully set aside the cardboard Amazon shipping package and went to the store because I? Was out of Pepsi and Doritos and, as we all know, Pepsi and Doritos are required munchables for a really fun reading experience.  And when I got home I kind of had to do some work, which killed me because my book!  The book that was guaranteed to make me laugh myself into a coughing fit!  The book I’d been waiting for for, like, a year!  It was waiting for me! Arrrggggh!

But I did the work.  And I am kind of proud of my growned-upness that I put off instant gratification in the name of getting stuff done.  Look at me, I’m maturing! (Kind of)

Finally, finally, I picked up my book at four thirtyish.  And I read.  And read. And read.  And then we went to the drive through at Wendy’s because we were starving.  And then I read.  And read.  And slept.  And woke up and read.

And finished the book.

Pretty in Plaid is just as awesome as everything else Jen Lancaster has written.  I am not sure if it knocks out Bright Lights Big Ass as my favorite, but it’s a pretty sweet read.  There were parts that made me laugh myself into stomach knots–parts that when I read them out loud to Will he laughed so hard he might have cried.  Or something else that’s manly and involves the tear ducts being activated.  He still refuses to go see her in person in a few weeks when she does a booksigning at Powells but maybe he’ll come around for the next book.  And I have a while to work on him.

So today I finished Pretty in Plaid and flipped it back to the very beginning to start it all over again.  But not before seeing another favorite blogger, Ms. Kristabella mentioned in the Acknowledgements section (which was all kinds of cool.  Blogging is such a weird medium–I’ve never met her but when I read her name I was all “eee! Someone I read is being acknowledged by someone else I read!”).

I’m afraid that I’m being kind of a bad friend because, while I have started Lyndsay’s book, I haven’t yet finished it (though I plan to devour it this weekend).  With all of the stress of the sucky-client-stravaganza last week and the feeling like poo over the weekend, I really need to laugh this week and the new Jen Lancaster is just the ticket.

But enough fan geeking out.  I’m sure I’ll do plenty more of that in a week and a half after her booksigning.

Speaking of which, Will keeps telling me that I “NEED” to meet her and wait in line to have my book signed when she comes to Powell’s in a week and a half.  But I? I’m okay with the sitting in the audience and geeking out and listening to her talk and then quickly fleeing the scene.  Jen writes about the time she meets Augusten Burroughs near the end of the book and that? Is nothing compared to what I fear I will become if I wait in that line. Seriously. I like to think I’m all cool and stuff but really? I’m just as slobbering as everyone else.  Possibly more so.

Okay, off to read.  Or watch tv and crochet (I haven’t yet given up on the idea of an esty shop, but wanting to keep everything I make is kind of getting in the way of getting the thing started).