Me Talk Pretty One Day by David Sedaris

One Book That Made You Laugh

Anyone who has read David Sedaris has a "Where Was I When I Read Me Talk Pretty Someday and Laughed Out Loud Making a Fool of Myself" story. I was in a Vietnamese restaurant in Oakland eating a bowl of pho by myself.

That winter, I ate at the same restaurant and ordered the same bowl of noodles every Monday evening. I was singing with a chamber choir that rehearsed in Oakland, so rather than go home for dinner, I grabbed dinner on the way from work. Every Monday: me, my bowl of pho, and a book.

It was in that Vietnamese restaurant that I read my favorite essay in the entire book, “I’ll Eat What He’s Wearing.” Just the opening paragraphs had me guffawing out loud. My eyes teared up, and it had nothing to do with the hot sauce. The husband and wife who owned the restaurant and by this point would wave me to any table I wanted and would say, “long time no see,” if I missed a week, looked at me askance with worry.

We’re in Paris, eating dinner in a nice restaurant, and my father is telling a story. “So,” he says. “I found this brown something-or-other in my suitcase, and I started chewing on it, thinking that maybe it was part of a cookie.”

“Had you packed any cookies?” my friend Maja asks.

My father considers this an irrelevant question and brushes it off, saying, “Not that I know of, but that’s not the point.”

“So you found this thing in your suitcase, and your first instinct was to put it in your mouth?”

“Well, yes,” he says. “Sure I did. But the thing is…”

He continues the story, but aside from my sisters and me, his audience is snagged on what would strike any sane adult as a considerable stumbling block.

I have heard that Me Talk Pretty One Day is Sedaris’ funniest book. I believe it. Almost every essay is laugh-out-loud hilarious. I think David Sedaris has mastered the art of self-deprecating humor. (“A year after my graduation from the School of the Art Institute of Chicago, a terrible mistake was made and I was offered a position teaching a writing workshop.”) He turns every detail describing his life and his family, every mundane event, into a three-act comic opera. Or a three-ring circus.

I knew that it was queer to sing in front of someone, but greater than my discomfort was the hope that he might recognize what I thought of as my great talent, the one musical trick I was able to pull off. I started in on an a cappella version of the latest Oscar Mayer commercial, hoping he might join in once the spirit moved him. It looked bad, I knew, but in order to sustain the proper mood, I needed to disregard his company and sing the way I did at home alone in my bedroom, my eyes shut tight and my hands dangling like pointless, empty gloves.

I sang that my bologna had a first name.

I added that my bologna had a second name.

And concluded: Oh, I love to eat it every day

And if you ask me why, I’ll say

Thaaaat Os-carrr May-errr has a way, with B-Oooo-L-Oooo-G-N-A

I reached the end of my tune thinking he might take this as an opportunity to applaud or maybe even apologize for underestimating me. Mild amusement would have been an acceptable response. But instead, he held up his hands, as if to stop an advancing car. “Hey, guy,” he said. “You can hold it right there. I’m not into that scene.”

Me Talk Pretty One Day by David Sedaris

tags: books book reviews funny stories Vietnamese pho David Sedaris