A few weeks ago I was wandering through one of those Atlantic bookstores when I stumbled upon Are You There, Vodka? It's Me, Chelsea by Chelsea Handler. I don't usually go for celebrity memoirs (I read novels almost exclusively) but always enjoyed Chelsea's column in Cosmopolitan and decided to give it a try. For the most part, it turned out to be just the sort of irreverent, light fare for which I'd been searching, with the exception of a chapter entitled "Prison Break" in which Chelsea describes the night she spent in a women's penitentiary. (She got picked up for drunk driving at twenty-one and was then discovered to be on some wanted list for using her older sister's driver's license to get into bars. Chilling stuff.)
For me, one of the highlights (naturally) was when Chelsea reveals herself to be a Golden Girls fan on page 34:
"About an hour later the phone rang right in the middle of a brand-new episode of "The Golden Girls." My favorite character was Bea Arthur (Dorothy). I've always felt we had similar senses of humor, although I imaged myself having a better body when I hit seventy, not to mention highlights."
On the whole, the book is fun, raunchy, and sometimes a little disturbing. But it was a good ride, and I'll probably end up reading the two others she has out. For now I've dipped back into my chick lit comfort zone with some Sophie Kinsella. Well, to be more accurate some Madeline Wickham (that was Sophie's pen name before she hit it big with the Shopaholic series). More on that once I finish.