I have to share this . . .

So my gal pal Brandie has this awesome thing she does where she walks around our Accounting department dropping off her favorite reads at our desks like a sophisticated St. Nick with high heeled boots and fabulous hair. We are all so grateful for this because most of us

a.) don't have the time or motivation to browse for books in the library or bookstores

b.) browse for books and find ourselves lost in the Biography section debating picking up the latest book on our Commander in Chief because we don't know how to distinguish crap fiction from good fiction

and/or

c.) have given up on reading books because we ignorantly think by reading Facebook posts and OK magazines we are meeting our bookish obligation necessary to feel like we aren't turning our back on literature.

Enter Bright Lights, Big Ass

Here are a few of my favorite excerpts:

(When explaining a trip to visit the gynecologist) "I pray to get hit by a bus as I turn down St. Clair Street, figuring the doctor could check out my girl parts while I was under sedation to fix my broken leg, but no such luck. I arrive at the office not only intact but early, damn it. As I climb the wide marble steps to the front door, I'm overwhelmed by the desire to run. However, my inner adult forces me to press on and take the elevator to the eighth floor, likely because my inner adult fears running slightly more than pants-dropping."

"The walls leading to the exam room are covered with beastly graphic charts of internal workings. Squeamish as I am, the idea of all those pipes and tubes and fluids makes me weak in the knees. I prefer to think of myself as having a thick peanut-butter center. Or possibly creamy caramel."

"With much trepidation, I take off my sweater and bra and begin to struggle into the miniature paper gown. Because of my rampant modesty, I'm trying in vain to keep everything covered. While I wrestle with the tiny plastic belt-tie, I burst out of the left side of the robe, thus exposing my long, flat, completely non-gravity-resistant breast to the wall of Your Cervix and You brochures. Gah!
So, I do what any good little prude would do in this situation . . . I grab a stapler from the doctor's desk and attempt to put the side back together in a panicked frenzy. While I twist around to work on fixing the left shoulder, I burst out of the right side of the robe. In my haste to cover my naked parts, I then staple the right side of the robe all crooked. I glance at myself in the mirror and see that what I'm wearing no longer resembles anything like a robe."

"After inspecting my handiwork, I inadvertently bend over laughing, thus causing the one untorn part of the robe to explode. And in trying to fix it, I accidentally staple the back of the robe to my khakis. I'm hunkered over in my paper strait-jacket, struggling to remove staples from my pants, when my gynecologist enters.

The doctor then excuses herself while she tries to stop crying.

She apologizes for giggling and says this sort of thing happens all of the time. Yeah. Of course it does. Ten bucks says six months from now an entire table of conference-going, Chardonnay-swelling, lobster -tail-eating OB/GYN's will be laughing at me when she recounts this scene."

This book is just the escape I need from reality. I find myself laughing through it and it's put me in such a good mood. I highly recommend it if anyone needs a little pick-me-up.