The Betwetter, and other things

Dear Internet,

I am about to go where I've not gone before: reviewing a book. It's been a few months since I've actually sat down to read anything besides The New Yorker (which apparently we don't get anymore or someone in our building is stealing) and books about finance. (I like to say Fih-nance, because it makes me feel elitist.) In any event, on a regular rendezvous to Border's on Sunday, I actually bought a book. Two in fact. One is a serious book by Cormac McCarthy, and the other is The Bedwetter: Stories of Courage, Redemption, and Pee by Sarah Silverman.

Even though I'm a really big fan of stand up comedy, I never really got into Sarah Silverman. I actually had no real opinion of her, except of course thinking that I'm Fucking Matt Damon was the best thing, well maybe not as good as Dick in a Box. The best thing is actually this, after the fact:



Getting back to my original point. I was wandering around Border's in search of something that would give me brain nutrients, when The Bedwetter made me stop in my tracks. The book has gotten reasonably good reviews all around, so I figured I might as well get a copy. And I did, at 30% off. Hardcover no less. And I never buy hardcover.

Anyhow. It's actually quite good. And funny. Funnier maybe than her stand up. Especially all the stuff about dicks. There are even pictures and drawings of dicks. And an Afterword by God.

In general I have nothing relevant to say other than that I like it and it made me laugh when I was sort of bored and sad.

On a completely different note, I keep getting mustard in my nails. It's actually pretty gross, and scary since now it's moved out of happening in my drunk life and is happening in my sober life.

Shelly.

This is a crappy post.