Hello my wonderful ladies! I am so very sorry for my very long hiatus I had to take from blogging. I do have side projects like work and graduate school…minor details. So, first off my apologies for an annoying disappearing act. I missed you!

My friend Caitlin is wonderful. She is a book whore, like me, and recently over lunch she suggested I pick up Sloane Crosley’s new book “I Was Told There’d Be Cake.” I had heard about it, living in the publishing bubble that I do, and figured I’d give it a whirl. After lunch it landed on my desk via inter-office mail with a little green post it.

“This book is hilarious. The bridesmaids are on page 141. Enjoy.”

Good friends are hard to find.

So I started reading page 141… yes at my desk, while I was at work, and seriously almost peed my pants after reading just the first sentence.

Caitlin is right. This book is hilarious and for the love of David and Amy Sedaris and all things holy GO BUY IT.

“I Was Told There’d Be Cake” is a collection of essays from Sloane Crossley, who according to her bio, has written for various publications including Playboy, Salon, the New York Times and the Village Voice. I also heard a dirty little rumor that she’s a publicist at a publishing house in New York. That may or may not be true, and is definitely irrelevant, but I digress. Her writing is FANTASTIC and seriously makes me want to kick myself for not thinking of writing it first.

Here’s a sneak peak of what you’re missing.

by Sloane Crossley

Book Cover
“There was a steady stream of electronic vibration against my desk. I watched the cell phone seizure with the unregistered display of a 617 area code. Boston? I thought, Who the hell is calling me from Boston?

‘Hi Sloane! It’s Francine,” she chirped.

I responded with the same degree of skepticism I use for people with clipboards who emply familiarity as a means to get me to sign petitions.

‘Sloane, it’s Francine.’

My mental Rolodex began to spin. Bingo. Francine Davis, Class of ’96, Latin Club President, Video yearbook, pot yes, liquor no. Wait a minute. High School? Was I beknownst to myself, one of those girls that peaked in high school and stayed friends 4evR as the backs of our yearbooks devreed we would? Sixteen-year-old me would have been flattered by this notion of female solidarity. Twenty-six-year old me was freaked out.

‘Hey there.’ I cleared my throat. ‘ How are you?’
‘I’m engaged!’
Incidentally, this is an unacceptable answer to that question.
‘Oh that’s great. Wow, it’s been so-‘
‘And,’ she continued, ‘I want you to be in my wedding.”

I was stunned. I pulled the phone away and looked quizzically at the hole-punched speaker. Aside from the blood obligation to be my sister’s maid of honor, it had never occurred to me that I would get asked to be in anyone’s wedding. I thought we had reached an understanding, the institution of marriage and I. Weddings are like the triathlon of female friendship: the Shower, the Bachelorette Party and the Main Event. It’s the Iron Woman and most people never make it through. They fall off their bikes or choke on ocean water. I figured if I valued my life, I’d stay away from weddings and they’d stay away from me.”

This is really not even close to the hilarity she brings in this book, but it’s a taste.

Sloane Crossley says it is ” her belief that people who speak of high school with a sugary fondness are bluffing away early-onset Alzheimer’s.”

But, for the purpose of this post, I admit I am totally one of those “nostalgic sugary sweet fondness of memories past” people and I know there are a good handful of people who wrote in my yearbook reading this today, but I promise I won’t ask you to be in my wedding unless you’re blood related.

It’s not all about weddings. It’s about life as a twenty-six-year-old, and really, just incredibly funny.  It will bring a smile into any very cynical day.

This is her first, and I can only hope there’s more to come. Enjoy!