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As a mother of four and honorary mother to half of the neighborhood kids, humor is key to both my sanity and my survival. I love to laugh and make others laugh. While most of my work has been nonfiction humor and the occasional short story, my favorite reads tend to lean on the side of thrillers and anything I'm interested in learning to do - tightrope walking, snipe hunting, synchronized channel-changing.
Find humor in every day and, for crying out loud, laugh til it hurts!
on July 30, 2011 :
So bad I wasn't even able to finish it. Not the least bit funny to me. A very poor attempt at being Erma Bombeck.
(reviewed the day of purchase)
on March 10, 2011 :
I have read some excellent books downloaded from Smashword. This is not one of them.
(reviewed 13 days after purchase)
on March 05, 2011 :
Confessions of a Southern-Fried Yankee is hilarious! being a New Englander, I can relate to so much she says. The parts she writes about being ADHD was too funny because I see myself in her stories.
I recommend this story to anyone who has a sense of humor, and to those who need to lighten up :)
(reviewed 8 days after purchase)
on Feb. 17, 2011 :
I'm biased because I know the author personally and because I wrote the introduction to the book. But I know the author because I became a devoted fan of her writing. It's not just that she's hysterically funny, but that her writing is clear and sharp. Her sentences snap, crackle and pop - no, wait, that's her breakfast. She knows how to set up her laughs for maximum effect. In a previous life, she was probably a stand-up coomedienne, and I know first-hand that it is not a good idea to heckle her.
Bottom line: Read this book. You need the laughs. It's as simple as that. You'll be glad you did.
(reviewed 22 days after purchase)
on Jan. 29, 2011 :
I read Confessions of a Southern-Fried Yankee with a hyper-critical eye, because, as an SFY myself, I was curious to see if the batter into which J.C. Dante was dipped before the frying was any tastier than mine.
Alas, it was. While I continue to struggle, after nearly 40 years following my transplant from Iowa to Virginia, to separate my oils from my awls and my you's from my y'alls, it is clear, unless Dante had a Dixie-grown interpreter assist her with this book, that she'd be a perfect choice as a vernacular coach should I ever endeavor to try a Southern voice myself.
On the other hand I must agree with Richard Brown's caveat in his highly critical forward to Confessions that a certain madness is also vividly evident in Dante's work - a subtle, dangerous mania easily the envy of a Lewis Grizzard or a Faulknerian Snopes, that I'd be courting lunacy myself were I to risk even a literary courtship with the likes of her.
Brown mentions a possible interest by Homeland Security in Dante and her stories. I would urge any federal agents so inclined to back off before they get too close and fall victim to Dante's visions of a hell so filled with raucous laughter even a stolid bureaucrat would risk provoking a raised eyebrow during his next job performance review.
Armed with these forewarnings, I nonetheless leaped into Confessions with a fatalistic curiosity. Here I am, still alive, yet nonetheless a changed man, lighter in spirit but laughably unstable. I shall probably never risk clearing airport security again. Besides, why fly on a machine when I can read Confessions and fly in my head?
(reviewed the day of purchase)