What is that weird looking book on the chair next to you at the pool? Definitely a woman's face, but definitely a man's arms. It's comedian and television star Tina Fey's new memoir, Bossypants, and Zachary Munson recently reviewed it:
Tina Fey is funny. Really funny. If you don’t think so—well, I hate to say it, but . . . you’re stupid. Don’t be mad. I know whereof I speak: I used to be stupid, too.
I spent years convinced that Fey wasn’t funny, that she presided, as head writer, over another one of the many not-so-great periods in Saturday Night Live’s history, and that her turn on Weekend Update was pretty unmemorable. I was reluctant to see Mean Girlsbecause of her involvement with it. I avoided 30 Rock for years, thinking—no—knowing that it wasn’t funny. It couldn’t be funny. Tina Fey created it and starred in it.
As I say, I was stupid. When I finally broke down and watched Mean Girls and 30 Rock, I had to admit: They were funny. As the writer of Mean Girls she somehow managed to make Lindsay Lohan seem like a sympathetic human being. And 30 Rock, since its debut, has been the most consistently funny and clever and weird show on television, so densely packed with jokes—great jokes—that repeated viewings are not only enjoyable but practically necessary to catch everything worth catching (which is nearly everything): Fey’s awkward, romantically inept character Liz Lemon, and her on-again/off-again boyfriend Dennis, the Beeper King of New York; NBC executive Jack Donaghy’s dumping of Condoleezza Rice by text message (“You + Me = :-(”); his mother’s church in Waltham, Massachusetts: Our Lady of Reluctant Integration; everything that Tracy Jordan says; the insane Dr. Leo Spaceman (pronounced spa-che-men) . . .
Read the rest here.