Low Budget Superhero

Julie Powell is annoying. I know, I know, I'm jealous. I should really give myself some more time to get over my jealousy before I write about her first book, Jule & Julia, now a major motion blah blah blah blah blah.

This chick is living the dream. Her stupid blog got her a book deal, and now a fucking movie. I would normally applaud a fellow diarist's success. But Julie Powell writes that she had never even heard of a blog when she started to cook from Mastering The Art of French Cooking and write about the prior night's cooking every morning. It wasn't even her idea, but that of her husband. "Of course I didn't know what a blog was. It was August of 2002. Nobody knew about blogs..."

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Dear Sarah Vowell,

Girlfriend, I love your work. I really do. You won me over years ago, probably beginning with your 1998 Trail of Tears story on "This American Life" telling about how you and your sister retraced the Cherokee path to Oklahoma. Your distinctive voice and dry, sharp humor highlights my NPR listening. I've oft wished we could just hang out and dish. Maybe invite Janeane Garofalo, start an Alt-Whatever club, invent a new low-calorie cocktail over impassioned discussions of modern Feminist ideas, Crocs and Marcia Brady while trading playlists of indie bands. I feel like we can hang, dude. So of course I really wanted to love your most recent book, The Wordy Shipmates.

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Dear Evan Handler,

I finished your latest book, Memoir Redux (Hey I Didn't Die!). I jest! I am of course referring to It's Only Temporary: The Good News and Bad News of Being Alive. I must say it's a compelling read. Inspired by your charming appearance on Craig Ferguson last summer, I ordered two copies online even before the commercial break. One for me, one for a dear friend of mine who is a lot like you.

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