Jen Lancaster is one of my guilty pleasures. I wish the library had more books by her. I want to move to Chicago to become her new best friend. In fact, she practically IS me, except that she's a lot funnier and she tends to have a potty mouth when perturbed. In her latest memoir, she notices that she doesn't have much to talk about anymore at social engagements except reality TV shows. She decides to expand her cultural horizons (an effort she calls the "Jenaissance") by reading classic literature, attending artistic events like plays and opera, eating food from other cultures, and so on. (This is all much easier to do in Chicago than elsewhere in the country, of course.) In the meantime, she and her husband move to a new house, adopt some feral kittens, and have a normal day-to-day life--much funnier than mine.

Some of my favorite excerpts:

"A developer bought the property [next door:] and began to rehab it, displacing a colony of vermin. I imagine the rat packs standing on their haunches in the backyard, hurling rodent-sized rocks and bottles at the contractors, like tiny little Palestinians. I giggle every time I picture them wrapped up in tiny little kaffiyehs."

Upon eating a dish that was much spicier than she had anticipated: "Tears begin to pour out of my eyes. I'm trying desperately not to make a scene, but I'm sputtering and choking. I grab my water to attempt to quench the feeling that I had just French-kissed the devil."

Upon entering a Cuban restaurant: "The air's perfumed with the scent of grilled beef and caramelized onions, another excellent sign. The aroma reminds me of the time my mom wanted to make our old house smell nice for a real estate open house, so she cooked a bunch of peppers and onions right before people arrived. (In somewhat related news, the house took almost three years to sell.)"