Sloane Crosley is ridiculous.

In a collection of essays titled “”I Was Told There’d Be Cake,”” Crosley expounds on her absurd life, which is really quite similar to the way we all grew up, except that Crosley has the fantastic ability to put it into words that makes life funny, not lame.

“”Bring-Your-Machete-to-Work Day,”” is a hilarious essay about Oregon Trail that comments on the masturbatory aspects of it – “”Here was something millions of preteens did, only you wouldn’t find out until much later in life.”” It’s everything you remember about Oregon Trail and then some stuff you forgot.

In quite a few stories, Crosley is sharing her life at anyone’s expense. From her first job out of college with a wicked boss to the time she was the maid of honor for a woman she hadn’t seen since high school (whose initials become, thrillingly, F.U.) Crosley bares it all.

Crosley is lazy and selfish and that’s all the more reason to love her. She volunteers just for the recognition, locks herself out of two different apartments in the same day, and has, as embarrassing as it is for her to admit, seven plastic ponies beneath her kitchen sink. Well, almost seven. One is a Pegasus.

Each story is entertaining and at times she tries to tie them in to some kind of meaning. She shares the six stages of action following a dessert party where you discover someone has crapped on your bathroom floor and she eventually learns in the end that it doesn’t really matter. She’s astute in pointing out that “”life starts out with everyone clapping when you take a poo and goes downhill from there”” and how, even once you’re grown up, you’re still hoping to someday “”turn out”” OK.