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We're Never Meeting in Real Life by Samantha Irby

Dear Diary,
I was looking to prioritize a few things in my life. I soon came to the realization that in order to make time for them, I needed to stop investing time in other things.

Before, once my children were asleep, I would schedule posts to various social media accounts. I wasn't writing. I wasn't reading. My new camera has the ability to shoot video, which I wasn't editing. It made sense to me to deactivate a few of those platforms and delete the apps from my phone, in order to pursue the passion projects I had set aside.

This post focuses on my desire to read more.

It's a line item on my '101 in 1001' list.

If you look at my archives, you'll discover I've penned only ONE book review. This publishing celebrates the fact that I've finished another book.


Samantha Irby pens the popular blog, "Bitches Gotta Eat," to which I am a loyal reader so I was already familiar with her writing style.

She's hilarious.

And as the tracking number for my order brought her collection of essays closer to my doorstep, my building anticipation turned quickly to excitement.

In her book, Irby writes about much heavier topics than on her blog but injects the subject matter with such humor that I laughed out loud on numerous occasions. I found myself relating to her discussions of her autoimmune diseases, nodding in agreement when she refers to life as a "dumpster fire," and despite the book's title, I longed to meet her for coffee (or something stronger) to ask for her advice. Irby is relatable, speaking right to the heart of her struggles but still embracing the life that she has been given.

Make the most of it. Laugh at it.

My favorite chapter introduced me to her bitch of a cat, Helen Keller. Rescued as a kitten, Irby didn't expect her cat to survive and wrote that it was apparent the two hated each other. "You're going to die soon," she'd promise as the cat side-eyed her. The descriptions of Helen Keller reminded me so much of Sasha, our cat who died at age 3 from cancer and whose cremated remains became a white elephant gift after taking up an awkward residence in a bathroom.

(Oh did that surprise you? It's true. I promise we love our pets, we just harbor a disgusting amount of shock value when we don't know what to do with something, like an urn.)

Look, life isn't going to be fucking perfect. No person is either. But what matters most in any situation, is that you go to bed knowing you tried. You tried your best, and if you didn't, well ... you can always turn your failures into a laugh-until-you-cry memoir.

This post contains Amazon affiliate links. If you purchase a book through the link, I will receive a small percentage of commission. You are under no obligation to use these links, but if you do, I will use the money to reinvest in the blog.

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