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    <name><![CDATA[Abby]]></name>
    <location><![CDATA[Lehi, UT]]></location>        
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  <id type="integer">3044093</id>
  <isbn>1416961496</isbn>
  <isbn13>9781416961499</isbn13>
  <ratings_count type="integer">172</ratings_count>
  <text_reviews_count type="integer">72</text_reviews_count>
  <title>Freakin' Fabulous: How to Dress, Speak, Act, Eat, Sleep, Entertain, Decorate, and Generally Be Better Than Everyone Else</title>
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  <id type="integer">39636</id>
  <name>Clinton Kelly</name>
  <ratings_count type="integer">332</ratings_count>
  <text_reviews_count type="integer">110</text_reviews_count>
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    <rating>3</rating>
  <votes>0</votes>
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  <read_at>Sun Apr 05 00:00:00 -0700 2009</read_at>
  <date_added>Sun Oct 26 17:45:02 -0700 2008</date_added>
  <date_updated>Sun Apr 05 16:47:09 -0700 2009</date_updated>
  <read_count></read_count>
    <body><![CDATA[I finished this book last night in my closet at 2:30 AM. I went in there to get down on all fours and stick my butt in the air, the only way I could force this soon to be born baby (with the power of gravity) off of a giant nerve ending in my crotch. This book would lie open by itself on my floor. I also drank a big bottle of water (I know, dumb!) while reading it, and had to get up like 7 times to pee before Benjamin came and woke me up this morning at 7:30. My husband stayed in bed until about nine. And he actually asked me, &quot;Did you sleep good last night?&quot; Ahhhh! How can he ask a 9 month pregnant woman how she slept? How can he be so unaware of my pain and suffering? I just told him I hadn't slept well, but I did finish my Freakin' Fabulous book, and the white socks he wore with his dark suit to Priesthood Session of General Conference were not considered fabulous. <br/><br/>This book was all right, I enjoyed it. I liked his chapter about bad grammar the best (&quot;How to Speak&quot;) and vowed to stop saying/typing &quot;anyways&quot; instead of &quot;anyway&quot; since it's not actually a word. I'll probably accidentally type it in the next paragraph, though.<br/><br/>I probably can't use most of his advice. For example, I probably won't ever hire a bartender for my cocktail parties. 1. I don't drink, and 2. The biggest party I threw in the last year was my 2 year old's birthday party. And no one even brought me a bottle of wine for a gift, the losers.<br/><br/>I can see how fancy people may think that I am uncultured, what with not knowing the different types of eating styles (American or Continental - depending on which hand you put the fork in to bite the food, and how to lay the utensils down when you're done) or not tailoring every (any) item of clothing I own. I think I look just fine in my favorite pair of jeans from Walmart, but apparently that wouldn't fly in the circles of fabulousness the author circulates in. <br/><br/>Good thing I know I am freaking awesome, (even if not fabulous), huh?!]]></body>
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