Are You There, Vodka? It's Me, Chelsea
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
When Chelsea Handler needs to get a few things off her chest, she appeals to a higher power—vodka. Seems reasonable, when considering that she discovered her boyfriend was having an affair with a Peekapoo and she had to pretend to be honeymooning with her father in order to upgrade to first class. Welcome to Chelsea’s world—a place where absurdity reigns supreme and a quick wit is the best line of defense..
In this highly entertaining, deliciously skewed collection, Chelsea mines her past for stories about her family, relationships, and career that are at once singular and ridiculous. Whether she’s convincing her third-grade class that she has been chosen to play Goldie Hawn’s daughter in the sequel to Private Benjamin, deciding to be more egalitarian by dating a redhead, or looking out for a foulmouthed, rum-swilling little person who looks just like her...only smaller, Chelsea has a knack for getting herself into the most outrageous situations.
Are You There, Vodka? It’s Me, Chelsea showcases the candor and irresistible turns of phrase that have made her one of the freshest voices in comedy today...
name is Lucille. We’ve already kissed on the mouth.” “Oh my God,” Lydia exclaimed looking back at me. “Were you raped?” “Face raped,” I proclaimed as I got in the passenger seat of Lydia’s car. I wanted to get home as soon as possible and weigh myself. I went to court about three months later, when I was given my sentence: five hundred hours of community service, a fine of twenty-five hundred dollars, and three months of DUI school. My favorite of the three was DUI school. The instructor was
“Yo, yo, yo,” I said as he picked up the phone. “I have some bad news.” “What?” “I’m dog-sitting for some friends of mine you’ve never met, and probably never will. They have a house in Brentwood and I have to sleep there for the next three nights.” “Why are you doing that?” he asked. “Because I’m an asshole.” “Well, why do you have to sleep there?” “Because their little Peekapoo can’t be left alone at night or he cries.” “What’s a Peekapoo?” he asked. “Like a Chihuahua, but worse.” “I
headed straight out the back door, around the front of the restaurant, got in my car, and drove home. The next morning around 9 a.m. I was checking my e-mail when Lydia walked through the door looking haggard. “Thanks a lot for leaving last night, asshole. I had to sleep over at Aubrey’s house with that girl Six. Aubrey ended up crying all night long and telling us it wasn’t even her birthday. And then she tried to get us all to take a bath together.” “What?” “Yeah, Ivory and Jen were so
girls was on the roof of my car, and the fat one had somehow managed to airlift herself to my side of the car and had a lock of my hair in her hands. Hair-pulling is a very painful experience, especially when your head is already pounding from an alarmingly volatile sugar misfire. Shakira was pulling me out of the car by my hair when I decided the only way to release myself would be with a left upper-cut. Disappointingly, the fist I had formed landed directly in the center of my own forehead.
pleasure was another story. I looked over at their table and saw they were busy paying attention to their other two children, still oblivious to what was going on. “Excuse me!” Mama Latifa yelled over to their table. “Can you come and get your fucking kid?” The parents looked up, but didn’t speak English. My father yelled something in Spanish that finally got their attention. “This kid is like a wild dog. Did you ever see the movie Cujo?” he asked us as the mother came running over to our