I’ve never been a big fan of Carrie Fisher. I suppose it’s because I am not a teenage boy circa 1977 (I do love a gold bikini, though–who doesn’t??). However, I felt compelled to check out her book Wishful Drinking when at the library the other day. Those braided hair buns! That martini glass! And actually, it was a really fascinating and self-deprecating account of Fisher’s life, her crazy childhood in the shadows of her famous parents, her own rise to stardom, and her struggle with depression and addiction. It’s also a slim paperback with pretty pictures and some dirty jokes sprinkled throughout, helping me get through the book in almost one fell swoop.

One of my favorite passages was about a friend who purportedly knew W. back in the day. It’s crazy to me now to think how much that old prez used to dominate my conversations, my blood pressure, etc.:

The fact of the matter is, Greg was a lot of fun–especially for a Republican, and he had great stories. I mean, this is a guy who shared an office with Bush. But a long time ago. When Dubya was just George Sr.’s son. So they shared this little office and Greg once told me, “You know what Bush has as one of his many gifts? He can fart on command (in keeping with his jolly-college-good-old-frat-boy persona.”) And Greg said that what Bush used to do–when Greg would be expecting people for a meeting–W. would come in and fart in the midst of it. LIke someone in a cloud of marijuana smoke. And then the people Greg was meeting would come in and, of course, they would find Greg surrounded by this awful smell.

It’s not dissimilar to what President Bush has done to the country. 

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