Sometimes I Trip on How Happy We Could Be

It was a pretty solid read, Perkins has a very pleasant prose and she comes across as honest, vulnerable in her own way, intelligent and fun.

I had to smile when she said that white men's skin feels like Playdoh because while I wouldn't put it quite like that I know exactly what she means and that's actually something I find endearing.
This book isn't about pop culture in the way that a lot of recent/semi-recent collections of essays are, this one is way more personal and I think its treatment of pop culture comes across as more organic to how we experience pop culture when talking about it isn't our job.

There's a fair amount of talk about sex and descriptions of intimate moment, not a bad thing just something to be aware of (at least for some of us). There's also a little bit about religion and about the author's autistic brother and her relationship with him (it's not done in a woe is me I have an autistic in my life but Perkins does describe the period in time where she, as a child, prayed for her brother to be made normal, so again just something to be aware of).

Part essays collection and part memoir, no rating because I don't rate memoirs.