Let's Pretend This Never Happened
Jenny Lawson
Language: English
Pages: 384
ISBN: 0425261018
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
From the New York Times bestselling author of Furiously Happy...
When Jenny Lawson was little, all she ever wanted was to fit in. That dream was cut short by her fantastically unbalanced father and a morbidly eccentric childhood. It did, however, open up an opportunity for Lawson to find the humor in the strange shame-spiral that is her life, and we are all the better for it.
In the irreverent Let’s Pretend This Never Happened, Lawson’s long-suffering husband and sweet daughter help her uncover the surprising discovery that the most terribly human moments—the ones we want to pretend never happened—are the very same moments that make us the people we are today. For every intellectual misfit who thought they were the only ones to think the things that Lawson dares to say out loud, this is a poignant and hysterical look at the dark, disturbing, yet wonderful moments of our lives.
Includes a new chapter!
Readers Guide Inside
both “waving” and “pants.” As in, he waved to me occasionally, and (on those occasions when he waved) he was occasionally wearing pants. But he seemed to do it with less of a lurid “Look-at-my-penis” motivation, and more of a sad “I’m-simply-too-unstable-to-know-how-pants-work-today” sort of way. A friendly but bleary-eyed couple on the other side of us seemed to be doing a booming business cooking and selling cupcakes. Except replace “cupcakes” with “meth.” “Cupcakes” sounds nicer, though.
for myself. After a few months in Houston I came to realize that there wasn’t much difference between the two places, except for the change in traffic and the lowered incidences of my parents showing up unannounced with dead animals in the back of the car. But surprisingly, I found myself homesick for both of these things. Victor tried to convince me that it was a whole new adventure filled with sushi and museums and culture and intimidating coffeehouses, and (much as I had done with Wall) I
suspicious, because I’m a pretty light sleeper. But I couldn’t even see myself with a hand mirror, and so then I just wondered whether he was fucking with me so that I’d leave him alone. And if he wasn’t just fucking with me, then what the hell did he draw? Probably a gun, or a cougar, or something stupid. And also, that doesn’t even make sense about tearing being better than cutting, because if that’s true then why don’t they tear people open when they pull out their gallbladder or remove their
Eight p.m. I was supposed to be downstairs eating barbecue, but I was on the verge of an anxiety attack, so I bowed out, and everyone was very sweet and understanding. That’s the great thing about hanging out with bloggers. They already know that you’re broken, and most of them are, too, so they just nod and make you go take Xanax and go to bed. They’re very supportive. Also they probably wanted me to leave so they could talk about me. Laura dropped off a plate of barbecue and some water, and
all of Victor’s calls go through to my voice mail, and then my intestines exploded. I mean, they didn’t literally explode, but it totally felt that way. And at first I was all, “Okay, pain is good, feel the burn,” but then I realized that this was not like yoga and that I had, in fact, made a horrible, horrible mistake. I’m not going to get graphic, but it basically felt like my legs melted and an elephant crawled inside my stomach and was clawing his way out. And the elephant had claws,