Memoirs - Ugh

I just came across this funny thing that I wrote a year ago:

I am so sick of hearing about memoirs. The worst to me are the ones about motherhood. Maybe if/when I am a mother, I will be more interested in them, but at that point if I do have the time to read I most certainly won’t want to read about someone else’s adventures in calamity.

For example (and these are not too far of a stretch from what is actually available on bookshelves):

My year as an over-educated, under-experienced occasional vegetarian who tries not to smoke too much and who feels a twinge of guilt every time I put something in the trash

My year of yoga every day regardless of the great inconvenience to my girlfriend who had to drive me because of my DUI

Adventures in motherhood: the story of a woman who decided to procreate with her husband after they bought a house, a Volvo, and a dog

My year of following the Old Testament literally [2011 note: I think a few of these sorts of memoirs have actually come out since I wrote this last year.]

A year of Macy’s instead of Nordstrom