Let's Pretend This Never Happened: A Mostly True Memoir

by Jenny Lawson

But really, what else are you going to talk about in line at the liquor store? Childhood trauma seems like the natural choice, since it’s the reason why most of us are in line there to begin with.

poop rope.

Unless they’re gay. Then they have gun armoires.

That’s why whenever people try to tell me how their “insane father” would sometimes fall asleep on the toilet, or occasionally catch the house on fire, I put my finger to their lips and whisper, “Hush, little rabbit. Let me give you perspective.” And then I tell them this story:

Texas is a state that had once outlawed sodomy and fellatio, but is totally cool with men giving themselves golden showers in the name of deer hunting.

“Promise me you’ll never ask me if it’s ‘that time of the month’ in the middle of a totally rational argument when what you really need to do is just apologize and stop being such an asshole.”

Have you ever been homesick for someplace that doesn’t actually exist anymore? Someplace that exists only in your mind?”

Was it worse to be homesick for a time that was once home, but now lived only in your own mind…or to be homesick for a place that never really existed at all?

basically this entire paragraph is what it’s like in my head all the time.

Not nearly as extreme but but I can understand (to a muuch milder version of course).

looked at most girls as judgy, cruel, fickle, and likely to borrow your Cabbage Patch doll and never give it back. Victor always pushed me to find girlfriends, but I’d convinced myself that girls are like small bears: cute to look at, but far too dangerous to have lunch with.

Because you are defined not by life’s imperfect moments, but by your reaction to them. Because there is joy in embracing—rather than running screaming from—the utter absurdity of life.

“no one should call me ‘mommy’ unless they had personally crawled out of my birth canal and lady garden.”