The day that you cut all the green stuff off of the mozzarella in the fridge and use the rest for eggplant Parmesan because you don’t want to go to the store—go to the store. The mere flicker of the thought of it creates tsunamis of nausea that will haunt you for years and years and years to come.
And finally—
On second thought, do talk to the guy who looks like Gregg Allman at the party. Do talk to him. Do watch him bang his head against a fence, and do stand there while he drives away without you. Because of him, you will miss your macroeconomics exam, that’s true, but more important, you will tell this story to the nicest guy you know. He’s also the cutest boy you know. Well, he’s the one. I know you think he’s out of your league, and he is, but he doesn’t know that. And when you get married, and he says that he wants to wear a shalwar kameez, you should probably let him. ’Cause the window is gonna close on that pretty soon.
I’ll see you sooner than you think.
Awesomely,
Laurie
To Pam, Libby, and Jenny
A bottomless well of gratitude to Pamela Cannon and Libby Maguire for everything; to Beth Pearson, Amelia Zalcman, Joe Perez, and Betsy Wilson for their vital and valued contributions; to my family, especially my nephew Nick, who lets me embarrass him in public again and again; to my neighbors, for tolerating our inability to bring our trash and recycling bins back in on time; to my husband, for being the funniest guy I know; to my dog, Maeby, for being the cute little pig she is; and always, and entirely, to Jenny Bent.
Thank you Amy Silverman, Amy Segal, Claire Lawton, Cindy Dach, Lore Carillo, Laura Greenberg, Meg Halverson, Louise Bishop, David Dunton, Robrt Pela, Jeff Abbott, Colleen Steinberg, Bruce Tracy, Nina Graybill, Nancy Ragghianti, Angela Lindig, Michelle Jennings, Michelle Loyet, Chrissy Porter, Kim Veilleux, Teri Queen, and Jacob Barto, and my friends, early readers, and chorus.
But most of all, thank you to you, for reading this far. Writers without readers are just lonely people at keyboards. I can’t do what I do without you, and I truly, deeply, madly appreciate it. I mean it.
Xoxoxox,
Laurie
BY LAURIE NOTARO
Housebroken
The Potty Mouth at the Table
It Looked Different on the Model
Spooky Little Girl
The Idiot Girl and the Flaming Tantrum of Death
There’s a (Slight) Chance I Might Be Going to Hell
An Idiot Girl’s Christmas
We Thought You Would Be Prettier
I Love Everybody (and Other Atrocious Lies)
Autobiography of a Fat Bride
The Idiot Girl’s Action-Adventure Club
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
LAURIE NOTARO is the New York Times bestselling author of ten books, misses her Nana, and loves to read in bed. She lives in Eugene, Oregon, where she sees many women each day in dire need of foundations (the undergarments, not the charities, although they could probably use those, too). She has a husband (still) and a dog, Maeby, whom she has taught to play hide-and-seek.
idiotgirls.com
@laurienotaro
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Laurie Notaro, Housebroken
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