Oh, Jen Lancaster. You crazy, ex-sorority girl with a penchant for pearls and unending narcissism. How I love thee.

However, I may not be the best person to review Ms. Lancaster's fourth memoir. Not because I'm not a fan - HUGE fan, even joined the fan club via Facebook - but because there are days I have to ask myself if I AM Jen Lancaster.

I was introduced to her books by an email from my friend Liz (yup, same one - mom to Wes) last summer. She first asked me if I had read any books by Jen Lancaster, and when I didn't reply, she sent this:

"Also you never answered my question about Jen Lancaster. Have you read her books? It is really important that you answer. If the answer is no I am sending them to you when I am done. You have to read them because I think they are written by you. Is your pen name Jen Lancaster?"

Concerned I may have a writing doppleganger, I set off to buy these books as soon as possible. Even my attempt to pick up her material was Jen Lancaster-esque (although I didn't know it at the time).

With gas prices soaring over $5/gallon at this time, I maximized my errands and swing by the book store prior to my yearly eye doctor appointment. I grabbed all three of her books - "Bitter is the New Black," "Bright Lights, Big Ass," and the newly published "Such a Pretty Fat." With some extra time on my hands, I decided to grab a quick lunch at one of our favorite microbreweries that just so happened to be very close to my doctor's office. I'd only been there on Friday and Saturday nights, and the place was always packed with annoying Summerlin teenagers and their oblivious, shiny-SUV driving parents. I hated the place on principle, but secretly loved the food. With only a few cars in the parking lot, it seemed like a best case scenario: a quiet Thursday lunch minus the texting brats, high school drama and completely uninvolved parents.

Not wanting to take up an entire table myself, I slid quietly into the bar area and ordered my favorite salad. The bartender asked if I wanted anything to drink; hmm, good question. It was my day off, it was a lovely summer day in Vegas, and I was not pregnant (oh, those were the days...) Spur of the moment, I pointed to my favorite microbrew and settled in with 'Bitter.'

Forty-five minutes, one turkey salad, and two Brewhouse Blondes later, I couldn't contain my giggles. Jen Lancaster was really funny! The book was excellent and she did sound a little like me. She was overdramatic, let any level of power go to her head, and took loving care of her delicate blond highlights. This woman could be my sister. I was able to finally put the book down, collect my belongings (begrudgingly) and head to my appointment. 

It didn't hit me until I was in front of the puff-of-air test that my head was slightly spinning. I was starting to feel as little...tipsy. My only job at hand was TO FOCUS and I had done the one thing that preventing me from doing that.

What the hell was I thinking -drinking before a doctor's appointment? I tried to focus on the "lens one? lens two?" test by blinking furiously and asking for copious amounts of water.  I prayed no one could smell my breath. Considering the circumstances, I looked ripe for an intervention.

I think I passed all of the tests (and managed to score some free saline solution), but I definitely finding a new eye doctor this year.

So, onto 'Pretty in Plaid." Ms. Lancaster kicks it old school by reliving childhood memories based on specific items of clothing apparel. You watch as she goes from an over-aggressive Girl Scout to an awkward seventh-grader who was bullied to a size-5 Jordache-wearing high school junior whose hair was as big as her ego. She recounts pivotal moments of her development through fashion, ultimately leading up to the pride-comes-before-the-fall person we meet in 'Bitter is the New Black."

The book starts slowly. Reading about her Girl Scout exploits made me fear she may be several pages away from going all James Frey on us. (careful! Careful!) She regains her commanding voice during the high school, but the best part is by far - by far - her description of sorority rush.

This is where I fear my critical edge fails me. Jen is from the Midwest, lived in Indiana, went to a college in Indiana, loves cats, was in a sorority, and also eventually wound up as Rush Chairman. Go ahead and replace 'Jen' with 'Kim' in that sentence. And those are just demographics.  (just to avoid confusion: I went to undergrad in Illinois and graduate school in Indiana).

Her over-the-top bossiness, hyper-competitiveness, and need to have things perfect made me blush; during my time as Rush chair, I literally lived and breathed Rush. Hell, even before Rush, I took my sorority vows seriously. My feelings about other sororities rivaled that of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict.  During Rush, however, it reached new levels.  I spent hours pouring over Rush flow-charts and planning the perfect parties. I yelled at members who failed to look enthusiastic during Rush practice. I snapped when strawberries were not set at 4:00 on the lip of champagne glasses.  My parents worried that all of my involvement was interfering with my school work, but I was quick to soothe them with 'I'm learning about the real-world application of leadership skills!' Funny how nothing in the field of psychology has ever required me to paint a banner or sing while clapping.

And you know what? I'm glad I did it. The hard work paid off. (kudos to my co-Rush, Liz, as well before she sends me an email asking why I didn't mention her).  We were rewarded with the best pledge class on campus that year. Even now, much to my husband's chagrin, I will occasionally refer to that part of my life as 'The Golden Years of Alpha Gamma Delta' and extol the power and progressiveness of the Cooper Administration. Suck on that, Kappas.

Ahem...back to Jen. After college, we read as she buys her first business suit and ultimately, her first 'status' hand bag.  Her Vegas vacation literally had me rolling off of all twelve of my body pillows and gasping for air. I read parts out loud to my husband, who also cracked up (and he's a pretty tough critic). I don't want to ruin anything for you, but the phrase, "When did I eat corn?" will get stuck in your head, making you smirk/giggle at the most inappropriate times.

My only criticism for Ms. Lancaster?  The epilogue scared me a little. Jen is starting to dance on that 'Look, I'm normal but I'm famous!' edge, and I'd hate for her to fall into the pit of celebrity-dom. Her greatest quality is her likableness and ability to relate to her reader. I, obviously, over-identify. However, you can tell she is proud of her writing and most recent status on The New York Times' Best Seller list...a huge accomplishment no doubt, but we, as readers, don't want to hear about it. I think the hardest thing about being famous/talented is constantly having to downplay the fame and talent, lest you become incredibly unlikable. (also see: "Gosselin, Kate" and "Boyle, Susan.") So Jen...love ya, but hold it in. Call your mom and brag. Don't put it in the epilogue.

Overall: great summer read. Definitely worthy of some pool time and a fruity drink.

Grade: A-.