Jen Lancaster is a spoiled, racist, elitist, immature, bratty, Republican leaning, foul mouthed narcissistic arsehole, who is completely in love with herself. Worse, she thinks a) everyone else is too and b) if they're not, something is clearly wrong with them. That said, she is funny as hell.
But she? Writes like this. Even though? She complains when someone else does. So she? Apparently believes that she is allowed to do things that others are not. And that? Kind of proves my point about how much she thinks of herself. Also? That? Really pisses me off.1
She. Also. Does. A. Lot. Of. This. That. Makes. Me. Angry. Not. Funny. After. The. First. Ten. Times.
Like others in reviews of this book have written, she clearly believes herself to be far superior in intelligence and wit than the rest of us lesser humans. She is not a nice woman, but she admits that and makes no apologies for it. Cool. I can work with that.
Also like others have said, usually in stories like this (it's accounts of her life experiences, going from a six figure, elitist lifestyle to nearly a pauper in the blink of an eye when both she and her husband2 lose their jobs in the dot com crash of 2001) the people realize the errors of their ways through hard life experiences and become better people for it. Jen? Not so much. She is still all of those things above, only now she is a popular published author. God? Help us all.
1. And another thing? She? Loves footnotes. 9 times out of 10, the contents of the footnotes could be part of the actual paragraph, and you would not need to read this book like you are at an upside down tennis match. Text, footnote, text, footnote, text, footnote, up, down, up, down, up, down. Damn.
2. Her husband? Fletcher? Deserves a Ghandi Peace medal for having to deal with her ass every day. Poor, long suffering man...