Quotes from Tina Fey’s “Bossypants

Some quotes as collated during my stint of reading Tina Fey’s “Bossypants“; my review of said book is found here:

I was taken to an examining room where a big butch nurse practitioner came in and asked me if I was pregnant. “No way!“ Was I sexually active? “Nope!“ Had I ever been molested? “Well,“ I said, trying to make a joke, “Oprah says the only answers to that question are “˜Yes’ and “˜I don’t remember.’ “ I laughed. We were having fun. The nurse looked at me, concerned/annoyed.

At any given moment on planet Earth, a woman is buying a product to correct one of the following “deficiencies“:

  • big pores
  • oily T-zone
  • cankles
  • fivehead
  • lunch lady arms
  • nipples too big
  • nipples too small
  • breasts too big
  • breasts too small
  • one breast bigger than the other
  • one breast smaller than the other (How are those two different things? I don’t know.)
  • nasal labial folds
  • “no arch in my eyebrows!“
  • FUPA (a delightfully crude acronym for a protruding lower belly)
  • muffin top
  • spider veins
  • saddlebags
  • crotch biscuits (that’s what I call the wobbly triangles on one’s inner thighs)
  • thin lashes
  • bony knees
  • low hairline
  • calves too big
  • “no calves!“
  • “green undertones in my skin“
  • and my personal favorite, “bad nail beds“
  • I guess I should also state that Karen and Sharon never hit on me in the slightest and it was never weird between any of us. Gay people don’t actually try to convert people. That’s Jehovah’s Witnesses you’re thinking of.

    Conversely, he would tell us things like “If you see two black kids riding around on one bike, put your bike in the garage.“ This wasn’t racism; it was experience. Those kids were coming from West Philly to steal bikes.

    As I crawled into my bottom bunk, I thought about how I had climbed Old Rag. I thought about Gretchen, the girl who could only accommodate half a piece of gum. “I hope you marry her,“ I imagined saying to HRW, “and I hope she turns out to have a cavernous vagina.“

    Whitney Houston’s cover of “I Will Always Love You“ was constantly on my FM Walkman radio around that time. I think that made me cry because I associated it with absolutely no one.

    This is what I tell young women who ask me for career advice. People are going to try to trick you. To make you feel that you are in competition with one another. “You’re up for a promotion. If they go with a woman, it’ll be between you and Barbara.“ Don’t be fooled. You’re not in competition with other women. You’re in competition with everyone. Also, I encourage them to always wear a bra. Even if you don’t think you need it, just“¦ you know what? You’re never going to regret it. My dream for the future is that sketch comedy shows become a gender-blind meritocracy of whoever is really the funniest. You might see four women and two men. You might see five men and a YouTube video of a kitten sneezing. Once we know we’re really open to all the options, we can proceed with Whatever’s the Funniest“¦ which will probably involve farts.

    There are fun activities hosted by our cruise director, who calls himself “Dan Dan the Party Man.“ He has recently replaced the previous cruise director, “Pete Pete the Party Meat,“ who replaced “Guy Guy the Funtimes Person,“ who had recently died of autoerotic asphyxiation. No, that part’s not true! That’s a joke-lie. I’m not going to lie to you in this story because I want you to know that the rest of it is true.

    We stop at our cabin along the way so that I can change into sneakers. I have a strong urge to lie down and pretend this is not happening“”like the old couple in Titanic. That’s how I want to go, ice-cold water rising around our spooning bodies and me somehow successfully willing my body to nap.

    Why could I never remember? That feeling of “I’m pretty sure this next step is wrong, but I’m just gonna do it anyway“ is part of the same set of instincts that makes me such a great cook.

    I think God designed our mouths to die first to help us slowly transition to the grave. But I am a big believer in “Intelligent Design,“ and by that I mean I love IKEA!

    “The show doesn’t go on because it’s ready; it goes on because it’s 11:30.“

    I had definitely never heard of anyone peeing in a cup and leaving it in their own office on a bookshelf to evaporate and be absorbed back into their body through the pores on their face.

    In case you ever find yourself at a magazine cover shoot (and you might, because Snooki and I have, so anything can happen!), let me tell you what to expect.

    There are different types of fancy photographers. Some are big, fun personalities like Mario Testino, who once told me, “Lift your chin, darling, you are not eighteen.“ I enjoyed his honesty. Also, I’m pretty sure he says that to models who are nineteen.

    I’m a firm believer in our constitutional right to wear shoes, and I believe more people should take advantage of it. I never go barefoot during a photo shoot. Even if they say your feet are “out of frame,“ don’t believe them. I know what you’re thinking and no, I don’t have horrible messed-up feet. Maybe my feet are so amazing that I want to shelter them so they can live a normal life. I don’t want them to be the Suri Cruise of feet. Did you ever think about that?

    A lot of women are outraged by the use of Photoshop in magazine photos. I say a lot of women because I have yet to meet one man who could give a fat turd about the topic. Not even a gay man. I feel about Photoshop the way some people feel about abortion. It is appalling and a tragic reflection on the moral decay of our society“¦ unless I need it, in which case, everybody be cool. Do I think Photoshop is being used excessively? Yes. I saw Madonna’s Louis Vuitton ad and honestly, at first glance, I thought it was Gwen Stefani’s baby. Do I worry about overly retouched photos giving women unrealistic expectations and body image issues? I do. I think that we will soon see a rise in anorexia in women over seventy. Because only people over seventy are fooled by Photoshop. Only your great-aunt forwards you an image of Sarah Palin holding a rifle and wearing an American-flag bikini and thinks it’s real. Only your uncle Vic sends a photo of Barack Obama wearing a hammer and sickle T-shirt and has to have it explained to him that somebody faked that with the computer. People have learned how to spot it.

    I don’t see a future in which we’re all anorexic and suicidal. I do see a future in which we all retouch the bejeezus out of our own pictures at home. Family Christmas cards will just be eyes and nostrils in a snowman border. At least with Photoshop you don’t really have to alter your body. It’s better than all these disgusting injectibles and implants. Isn’t it better to have a computer do it to your picture than to have a doctor do it to your face? I have thus far refused to get any Botox or plastic surgery. (Although I do wear a clear elastic chin strap that I hook around my ears and pin under my day wig.) I can’t be expected to lead the charge on everything. Let me have my Photoshop. For today is about dreams!

    One of my greatest regrets, other than being the Zodiac Killer never learning to tango, is that I don’t always have time to answer the wonderful correspondence I receive.

    P.S. Great use of double question marks, by the way. It makes you seem young.

    I’ve had sebaceous implants (small balls of Restylane placed in random locations to give the appearance of youthful neck acne).

    In September, my daughter was born. (For the record: epidural, vaginal delivery, did not poop on the table.)

    I’m a firm believer in our constitutional right to wear shoes, and I believe more people should take advantage of it. I never go barefoot during a photo shoot. Even if they say your feet are “out of frame,“ don’t believe them. I know what you’re thinking and no, I don’t have horrible messed-up feet. Maybe my feet are so amazing that I want to shelter them so they can live a normal life. I don’t want them to be the Suri Cruise of feet. Did you ever think about that?

    Tina Fey learning you to never be Tom Cruise’s daughter (when feet are involved).

    MVP episode: 115, “Hardball.“ MVP joke: Tracy Jordan on food. KENNETH Hello there, Mr. Jordan! Mr. Slattery, Mr. Oppenheim. I’ve picked up your lunch from Sylvia’s. Extra cornbread, because I know you like it. TRACY Like it? I love it! I love that cornbread so much I want to take it out behind the middle school and get it pregnant!

    We premiered on Wednesday, October 11, 2006, at 8:00 P.M. and we were an instant hit“”like figs for dessert or bringing your guitar out at a party. We were New Coke! We were not a hit. But we barreled ahead knowing that we’d at least come out of this with DVDs to show our friends. The story ideas came fast and furious in the beginning. “What if Tracy went off his medication and started hallucinating a little blue dude everywhere?“ Sure. “What if Jenna was in a movie called The Rural Juror and no one could understand her when she said the title?“ Fine. “What if we do a story about Liz being called a cunt?“ Why wouldn’t we? That had happened to me plenty! You know that saying “Dance as if no one is watching“? Well, that’s what we were doing.

    For years the networks have tried to re-create the success of Friends by making pilot after pilot about beautiful twenty-somethings living together in New York. Beautiful twenty-somethings living in Los Angeles. Beautiful twenty-somethings investigating sexy child murders in Miami. This template never works, because executives refuse to realize that Friends was the exception, not the rule. The stars of beloved shows like Cheers, Frasier, Seinfeld, Newhart, and The Dick Van Dyke Show had normal human faces. And that’s what some of the people on our show have.

    When you watched Sanford and Son, you didn’t want to have sex with everybody you saw, just Grady. I’ve never understood why every character being “hot“ was necessary for enjoying a TV show. It’s the same reason I don’t get Hooters. Why do we need to enjoy chicken wings and boobies at the same time? Yes, they are a natural and beautiful part of the human experience. And so are boobies. But why at the same time? Going to the bathroom is part of life, but we wouldn’t go to a restaurant that had toilets for seats“¦ or would we? Excuse me while I call my business manager. He said it’s a “nonstarter.“ They already have that in Japan.

    Politics and prostitution have to be the only jobs where inexperience is considered a virtue. In what other profession would you brag about not knowing stuff? “I’m not one of those fancy Harvard heart surgeons. I’m just an unlicensed plumber with a dream and I’d like to cut your chest open.“ The crowd cheers.

    One of my five hundred nicknames for my daughter is Midge, which is short for Midget, because she was a very small baby. She was born a week early and a little underweight at five pounds seven ounces. My obstetrician suggested the next day at her bedside visit that perhaps I hadn’t rested enough during my pregnancy and that was why she was so small. “What a cunt,“ I thought to myself in what was either a flash of postpartum hormones or an accurate assessment of my doctor’s personality.

    A few months after our friendly chat about kids (and my condescending remarks about New York), Mrs. Palin told conservative filmmaker John Ziegler that Katie Couric and I had exploited and profited by her family. But I know better than to respond to attacks in the media. Although if I were to respond, I would probably just say, “Nice reality show.“

    I cannot emphasize to you how well this went“¦ because I don’t know how to do “double underline“ on my computer.

    The topic of working moms is a tap-dance recital in a minefield. It is less dangerous to draw a cartoon of Allah French-kissing Uncle Sam“”which let me make it very clear I HAVE NOT DONE“”than it is to speak honestly about this topic.

    And when she one day turns on me and calls me a Bitch in front of Hollister, Give me the strength, Lord, to yank her directly into a cab in front of her friends, For I will not have that Shit. I will not have it. And should she choose to be a Mother one day, be my eyes, Lord, That I may see her, lying on a blanket on the floor at 4:50 A.M., all-at-once exhausted, bored, and in love with the little creature whose poop is leaking up its back. “My mother did this for me once,“ she will realize as she cleans feces off her baby’s neck. “My mother did this for me.“ And the delayed gratitude will wash over her as it does each generation and she will make a Mental Note to call me. And she will forget. But I’ll know, because I peeped it with Your God eyes. Amen

    I need to take my pants off as soon as I get home. I didn’t used to have to do that. But now I do.

    My parents raised me that you never ask people about their reproductive plans. “You don’t know their situation,“ my mom would say. I considered it such an impolite question that for years I didn’t even ask myself. Thirty-five turned into forty faster than McDonald’s food turns into cold nonfood.

    Little kids’ birthdays in my neighborhood were simple affairs. Hot dogs, Hawaiian Punch, pin the tail on the donkey, followed by cake and light vomiting. (Wieners, punch, and spinning into barfing would later be referred to as “the Paris Hilton.“)

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    One Response to “Quotes from Tina Fey’s “Bossypants“”

    1. crystalintexas Says:

      Thank you for posting these since I was too lazy to go back and find them in the text myself…I think I snorted out loud while reading this book under my desk at work.

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