The Idiot Girls' Action-Adventure Club: True Tales from a Magnificent and Clumsy Life
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NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLER
“I’ve changed a bit since high school. Back then I said no to using and selling drugs. I washed on a normal basis and still had good credit.”
Introducing Laurie Notaro, the leader of the Idiot Girls’ Action-Adventure Club. Every day she fearlessly rises from bed to defeat the evil machinations of dolts, dimwits, and creepy boyfriends—and that’s before she even puts on a bra.
For the past ten years, Notaro has been entertaining Phoenix newspaper readers with her wildly amusing autobiographical exploits and unique life experiences. She writes about a world of hourly-wage jobs that require absolutely no skills, a mother who hands down judgments more forcefully than anyone seated on the Supreme Court, horrific high school reunions, and hangovers that leave her surprised that she woke up in the first place.
The misadventures of Laurie and her fellow Idiot Girls (“too cool to be in the Smart Group”) unfold in a world that everyone will recognize but no one has ever described so hilariously. She delivers the goods: life as we all know it.
have to be more active.” I guess that doing a load of laundry, making your bed, pulling weeds in 114-degree weather, vacuuming the entire house six times, and pounding chicken breasts into paper-thin cutlets every day isn’t considered a “regular, active routine.” My nana keeps a house cleaner than a Gap store and has the endurance of a short, compact athlete. You could easily perform a triple bypass on her kitchen counter using her pizza cutter and salad tongs without the slightest risk of
buff little man with the tiny arms of a T. Rex was pumping away on the E-Z Glider, spouting off on how easy it was to operate. “Just get on and go!” he proclaimed as his legs swung back and forth, and his petite squirrel arms pulled the handles in opposite directions. “Let’s get to know one another! Tell me something about yourself! Tell me why you want to enhance your life with the E-Z Glider!” Dear God, I thought as chills ran up and down my spine. Why do I have a feeling that the E-Z Glider
of your high school friends being jealous because you scare the hell out of every man you date with your foul mouth and violent physical outbursts, guaranteeing yourself a lonelier existence than both the Brontë sisters combined? Is that the song you mean?” I hated Jeff right then because he had a point. In the years since I had graduated, my finest accomplishment had consisted of collecting enough Marlboro Miles to send away for a three-bedroom double-wide Marlboro mobile home, complete with
picked up Sara’s wineglass and downed it. Her sister, on the other hand, was tapping Barkley on the shoulder like a woodpecker until he turned around. She presented him with the napkins and pen. He smiled politely, yet tiredly, and began scrawling on the dirty linens. At the table, however, the second sister had disappeared, and I hoped it was to the bathroom, where a lot of cold water on her face would have done her a world of good. The snotty twins had long ago vanished after exchanging phone
bulb to accompany the tiny bread delights. I realized it was a silly move once the waiter left, and I was face-to-face with the two surviving rolls on the white plate. “There’s not enough bread for the garlic,” Jamie said with wide, panicked eyes. “There is NOT ENOUGH!” “Don’t fear,” I said as I waved at a busboy and got his attention. “More bread, please!” BING! Another white plate appeared on the table, and this time, it was a proverbial MOUNTAIN of rolls. Rolls lining the dish. Rolls piled