Mary Roach is a fantastic author, covering some of the most basic non-fiction subjects in an informative, funny and intelligent way. So I’m happy to read anything that comes my way that she’s written, even if it does come with the words “Reader’s Digest” attached.
It turns out she’s been writing a column for Reader’s Digest and they make quite the enjoyable read (heck, even I write the occasional review column for a paper that publishes this crap). They’re gentle and engender an almost constant desire to laugh loudly and longly*.
There are three kinds of people in this world: 1) People who make lists, 2) People who don’t make lists, and 3) People who carve tiny Nativity scenes out of pecan hulls.
Even the most pointless and short columns have at least one smart and funny moment.
I called the Help woman back, demanding to know how to get rid of the blank stations. She asked if I’d looked in my User’s Guide. I didn’t like where this was heading. If I wanted to read and exercise comprehension skills, I wouldn’t be watching television.
While not having the depth of Bonk or Stiff, My Planet is a highly enjoyable read, one that would be perfect for a lazy Sunday or a quiet holiday.
So Ed and I were eating a lot of vegetables. Vegetables on pasta, vegetables on rice. This was extremely healthy, until you go to the part where Ed and I are found in the kitchen at 10pm, feeding on Froot Loops and tubes of cookie dough.
*Not a word but required for alliteration purposes.