I Like You, Amy Sedaris

If it wasn't enough that I already doodle in my diary, "Dear Diary, Someday I'm gonna meet Amy Sedaris and we will be BEST FRIENDS. We'll make matching aprons with squirrels on them, take our pet rabbits for an easter-egg hunt around the dirt-brown sofa, and crawl into the bottle together," now the jimmy-covered tramp has gone and written a fabulous new book, "I Like You: Hospitality Under the Influence." Since I am illiterate, I skipped straight to the audio CD version. I got it at the store.

The four-disc set is read by hers truly and offers such helpful hints as how to decorate for deaf children, discourage having guests pee in your bed, and how to recycle half-eaten cheese balls. Basically, it covers everything you need to know about being the hostess with the mostest rump roastest. Barring that, you will at least learn that you should never interrogate widows at the wake, two year olds do well with gifts of old lightbulbs, and googly eyes are an excellent way to send Ms. Sedaris off in style: by which she means, bury her wearing them instead of her real eyes.

There were, however, a few things missing from this tarty little packet of shiny roundy things that made all sorts of sounds that I experienced as words. One, where she purchases her plastic baked turkeys. Two, if her agent calls her in for cable access commercials for funeral homes. And three, if the box the CDs came in is edible. Hope so. Ran out of whipped cream and sprinkles...isn't imitation the highest form of flattery, or in this case, hospitality?