This is the second Chelsea Handler book I have read. There are only two, so I will have to read something more intellectually stimulating than stories about midgets, redheads, the horrors of aging parents next, but this, if possible is actually even funnier than the last one. I especially liked the chapter about when she dated a redhead. I myself am dating a redhead, but he refuses to admit to his handicap. It’s true that his hair has gotten to be a color closer to a sand color as he’s aged, but his beard and pubic hair are both still a little too red to be called ‘dirty blonde’ like he wishes they were. I remember having a conversation about how he is most definitely a redhead while getting drunk with my friends. After numerous attempts to deny his gingerness, I started yelling “Red. Your hair is red! I find them in my vagina!” while my friends laughed uncontrollably at him. I mean the guy has red pubes. That makes him a redhead.
Anyways, this memoir (I call it a memoir because I am assuming that the stories are at least partially true, and if you want to purchase either of her novels at your local Borders you would look for them in the memoir section) was much less depressing than the first ‘My Horizontal Life,’ which was upbeat about how silly and slutty her actions were at first, but ended with her feeling like she should put an end to her shenanigans and get married but doubting if anybody could ever take her seriously when she can’t even take herself seriously. I mean she is a comedian… She doesn’t need to be serious. She is paid not to be.
I was once again left with the impression that I could have written this if I were funnier, crazier, and more willing to share the stories that literally make me sick to think of. I have stories that are just as funny, embarrassing, and insane as hers, but I don’t feel like sharing them with the world. Chelsea Handler has balls. Also, every time I tell a story that is funny in my head it comes out sounding like total idiocy. I have taken to letting other people tell my stories for me because they do a better job with them and usually embellish just enough so as to make my craziness seem likable and fun rather than off-putting and offensive. But those things aside, I could totally have written this. At least that’s what I keep telling myself.
The bottom line is similar to that of her first novel/memoir. This is not a piece of literature nor is it intended to be. It is hilarious, interesting, a quick read and totally worthwhile. As long as you do not intend your brain to get any exercise while reading it most anybody will be able to enjoy this book. Unless you’re a prude, then you should probably just be a social recluse and not burden society with your lack of a sense of humor and ability to allow anything to be fun. Or you can join the Republican Party.
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