My new book How Not To Act Old
is on the New York Times Bestseller List, a real thrill especially since it’s my first time after 18 books.
But an even bigger thrill might be being the only writer in the Amazon Humor Top Ten
without a penis.
Not only have I been the only female over the past month among the leading humor books, but I’m the lone girl in a pack of bros – you know, those hard-drinking, free-swearing, babe-chasing young guys hoping there’s beer in hell along with a bunch of buxom Satanettes.
I hate being around these kinds of guys in real life, my only comfort being that as a woman over 50 I’ve become totally invisible to them. The most valuable thing they figure I might offer them is a plate of warm chocolate chip cookies, the most interesting thing about me my theoretical ability to bake
Bitch. Yeah, I know. That’s part of what I’m loving about this whole experience: Imagining all those guys with their loutish TV shows and misogynistic stand-up acts hating me because I’m an old lady. What’s she doing on our bestseller list?, I imagine them saying. Doesn’t she know that barf, boobs, and booze are the only things that are really funny?
Here’s my theory: All those other books dominate the humor list because they’re bought by middle-aged moms – by far the dominant bloc of book buyers -- desperately trying to entice their loser sons to read. And while Mom is looking for a book, any book, that might raise Brandon’s score of 480 on the Verbal SAT, she spies How Not To Act Old, the first book she’s seen that actually makes fun of the things she thinks are funny.
Female funny, but not granny jokes about varicose veins or chick lit jokes about bad dates. Jokes about when to get a bikini wax and how to get out of holding the baby and why you’re not allowed to tell man-bashing jokes anymore – and why I’m going to do it anyway.
What do you call the only woman on the Humor Top Ten Bestseller list? Pretty damn proud.