Anna Lefler

Preschooled is a funny, light and sardonic debut novel from Anna Lefler.

Thrilled when her daughter gains a place at the exclusive Garden of Happiness preschool in Santa Monica, Justine is eager to impress the center's demanding owner, Margaret, but is thrown when she runs into the man who once shattered her heart.

Margaret expects nothing less than slavish obedience from the parents who pay handsomely for privilege of a preschool education at The Garden of Happiness. Margaret is always in control, but when her soon-to-be-ex-husband betrays her by threatening to take away everything she has built, her tantrum will rival any recalcitrant toddler's.

Ruben's wife has gone back to work so he can work on developing a television script while looking after their twins, but he's struggling until he finds inspiration among the committee mothers of the Garden of Happiness.

As the narrative alternates between Lefler's three main protagonists it gently mocks the absurdities of preschool admission competition and privileged pretension, while also lightheartedly addressing more universal issues such as parenting, marriage strife and work/life balance.

Preschooled is a quick and entertaining read that doesn't take itself too seriously, and won't expect you to either.… (meer)

There are two things that I never miss an opportunity to tell my husband.

1. He's damn lucky.
2. He's damn lucky that I am not a high-maintenance girl.

Now, high-maintenance isn't among the "450 words no woman can live without" that are included in Anna Lefler's The CHICK-tionary (although it probably should be), but that's not the point. The point is that before reading this, I never realized how lacking I am in the girly-girl department. (Girly-girl is included in The CHICK-tionary. Although I think I just used it in the wrong context.)

Because I will never be mistaken for being an -ista anything or a Goddess or a Diva, I am apparently missing out on, like, HALF THE WORLD.

That would be the half of the world that runs on all things female. The half of the world that knows about such crucial matters like "fill" and "acrylic nails" and "mani-pedi's." (My first and last mani-pedi was for my sister-in-law's wedding in 1999, before the mani-pedi was actually called such).

Quite possibly, you own an "it bag," maybe one made of something called "shagreen" (which connotates for me a bad 70s rug that resembles a forest) whereas I'm a little perturbed that my one and only purse might need to be replaced after only a year. A Bag Hag I am most certainly not.

And I know I am woefully lacking in the Black Shoe department. I might have ... um, three pairs? OK, maybe four, but no more than that.

You see? You see what I mean about not being high-maintenance? I am a dream wife, I tell you. I don't do ANY of this fashion or shopping or upkeep shit, and I don't know why I don't. (Well, yeah, I have a theory, but that's a whole 'nother story, one that's generally told after a few cocktails or ... six.) You will not see me getting Botox for the purpose of eradicating my future Marionette Lines or Parentheses.

But regardless of whether one plays in this particular playground, it is helpful to know the lexicon of the game. In fact, it's downright necessary. And that's where my new wingwoman Anna Lefler comes in, with her new book The CHICK-tionary. ("Wingwoman: the female version of the wingman, your wingwoman has got your back and all of your other sides as well. Mutual and deeply committed, the wingwoman relationship is most observable in large-scale social situations such as clubbing that require complex reconnaissance and secure transmission of sensitive information." pg. 219)

As my wingwoman, Anna's given me (and admit it, maybe you?) a primer on all matters pertaining to hair and nails and fashion. It's all here in The CHICK-tionary, right at my unmanicured fingertips. There are also quite a few terms related to the machinations of relationships and the goings-on in and near the Hoo-Ha - everything from waxing techniques to the instruments used at the Gynie.

Lest you all think I'm some sort of a Hot Mess when it comes to these things, I did recognize quite a considerable number of terms included in The CHICK-tionary. For example, Anna has the whole male-relationship/Flirtationship spectrum covered, defining everything from Friends with Benefits to the Himbo to the George Glass (who is not to be confused with the Kryptonite Guy), while clarifying the all-important difference between the Office Spouse and the Internet Spouse.

The CHICK-tionary, as one might expect, is a light and fun and humorous read. It's "fresh," in a good way. (In the way that Anna defines it on pg. 74). This is a book to give your BFF or your Biffle for her Bachelorette Party, or for her Unwedding, or just when she is feeling more Wifed than MILFed.

This is probably not the book to have on the nightstand in the guest room when your conservative in-laws come to visit. (Or, if you do, make it an unhighlighted version.)

Anna knows the world of the chicks. (As well as those who are "chic," according to my Betty, who claims that Ms. Lefler's people have the wrong variation of Chick in the title. "A Chick is a baby chicken," my all-knowing Betty states, adamantly. "A Chic [pronounced chick in her vernacular] is someone who walks around in bikinis all the time. That book, because it is pink and LOOKS like it is for people who walk around in bikinis all the time, should be called The Chic-tionary.")

Good Lord, I think my 10 year old has a better handle on this girl stuff than I do.

Still, regardless of whether you are a Chick or a Chic - or someone who is a hot mess when it comes to understanding Chicks and Chics - don't despair.

Anna Lefler can be your Wingwoman too.
… (meer)

Anna Lefler, stand-up comedian and writer at Life Just Keeps Getting Weirder, has a fresh, intelligent sense of humor that shines in The Chicktionary. Meant as a reference book to the sometimes mystifying and always evolving language of women, Lefler’s satirical book is a barrel of laughs.

From bandeau (“From the French word meaning ‘there’s no way that’s staying up’) to clitoris (“the original ‘Like’ button”), Lefler’s book is amusing and informative, though it occasionally verges on TMI (speculum: kind of like “a really mean platypus” beak).

Much of the humor seems directed at women, such as her description of maxi pads (“Some pads even come wrapped in sassy colors to match your sassy uterus”) and her instructions on diagnosing your face shape (“Stand in front of a mirror, view your face, and ask yourself this question: ‘What shape is that?’”) But even Jack found several of the entries funny, reading aloud the entry for bangs.

The one aspect of the book that I didn’t like was its rigid structure. It adheres to the structure of a dictionary, which makes it fun to flip through but not something you’d want to, say, read all the way through in almost one sitting. (Ahem.) Despite that qualm, I’m going to start reading more from Ms. Lefler, starting with her blog.

The book raises a few questions that it can’t answer, such as whether men really call their penises “Mr. Shock-and-Aw-Yeah!” But overall, The Chicktionary is the perfect gift this holiday season for the frenemy who has everything–especially a good sense of humor.

For a full review, visit my book review blog, Melody & Words: http://melodyandwords.com/2011/11/25/the-chicktionary-by-anna-lefler/.… (meer)