Bright Lights, Big Ass

Well that was terrible. Normally I'm not one to tell people how to tell their own stories but I have a feeling a large amount of this unpleasant book was actually fictional any ways, so here goes. From the way Lancaster talks about others' appearances to the way she talks about her husband (who actually seems pretty cool) she comes across as immature and blandly mean (she occasionally seems somewhat self-aware of her own shallow, vapid and narcissistic nature so I guess there's that). I know this book was written at a different time and that our humor at that time was in something of an unfortunate era but wow that was boring and that scene of her fangirling over Ann Coulter while describing a random person who supposedly accosted her about her choice of reading material as a monkey came across as so pathetically fake (well I guess conservatives wanting to be the victim so bad isn't new). I should have looked into who that person was before picking up this book.

I don't rate memoirs but yeah do yourself a favor and skip this one.