I’ve had this on my shelf for a really long time. I’d say it’s been about 5 years but I can’t actually remember when I bought it. When I got it, I had every intention of reading it quite quickly because I liked Amy Poehler. Spoiler alert, I didn’t. I think it’s because I struggle with non-fiction so much. I’m especially sceptical of memoir style books. They can be so hit and miss. Something that the writers believes is a hilarious anecdote might actually just be an in-joke that most readers won’t appreciate. So, this could very easily have remained unopened on my shelf for the rest of time. Well, until I decided to take part in my own version of the Spell the Month in Book Titles challenge. When I tailored my January TBR to spell out the name of the month, I knew that I’d need a book starting with “Y”. Looks like the time had finally come.
I didn’t get a chance to watch a new cinema release this week so I turned to Netflix. I’ve not really been keeping up with Netflix original films of late. I watched Rebel Wilson’s Isn’t It Romantic one boring bank holiday weekend. It was almost as dire as I’d expected but I guess it wasn’t all bad. Not as funny as it thought it was but the overall message wasn’t as dire as it seemed. But it still wasn’t enough to suggest that Netflix had turned itself around in terms of original comedy films. We’ve discussed my feelings about this in the past but, as I’m never against talking about it, I’ll remind you of them. Netflix comedy films suck. They are never original or clever. It’s just basic stories mixed with big-name stars to draw people in. To be fair, it’s a fantastic strategy in terms of getting viewers but it doesn’t make for critically acclaimed features. But, with the announcement that Amy Poehler’s directorial debut was coming to Netflix, surely things were about to change? I mean Poehler reuniting with plenty of SNL alumni in a female-based comedy about middle age? It sounded like it could be perfect.