Mother. Wife. Sister. Human. Warrior. Falcon. Yardstick. Turban. Cabbage.

If you call Twitter "The Twitter" unironically, you probably have no idea who Rob Delaney is.* If you tweet, or have loved ones who do, you have probably read, retweeted, faved, hugged, molested, laser cut, or put into escrow one of his hilarious tweets.**

He was in especially fine form during the 2012 elections, when he tormented Mitt Romney incessantly. Glory days! That's when I started following him, and he's proven to be a delicious creamy middle between the depressing low of real-life news twitter accounts (I've never been more informed or horrified) and the uncomfortable yet oddly hilarious highs of super absurd weird twitter. He's funny, and weird, don't get me wrong - but he also feels like a real person you could have over for dinner without fearing for your life/sanity.

If I like something I generally like more of that same thing (I currently have a 3.5lb bag of sour patch kids in my kitchen), so, surprise, I loved the book. It's basically a memoir, and Delaney has had some epic misadventures. Almost dying via acts of youthful stupidity is a common theme, and provides a nice counter-point to the more serious but no less compelling stories about his struggles with mental illness and his alcoholism.

Also,  I can honestly say I have never before laughed out loud at a story involving a drowned baby. So, there's that.

4 unflattering green speedos out of 5.

*And if you call it "The Twitter" ironically, you are the worst. 

**I've told my mom these are all things you can do to tweets. Sometimes I like to confuse her. "Honey, how do I hug one of your tweets?" I'm a bad person, she is lovely. 

Just Kids

If this book had a smell, it would be beer, piss, sweat, charcoal dust, and that musty thrift-store clothing odor. I’m sure certain people would also add “pretension” to that list, but I never got that vibe from Patti Smith’s memoir of her time spent in late 60s/70s NYC with Robert Mapplethorpe.  Sure, if Paris Hilton wrote “The artist seeks contact with his intuitive sense of the gods, but in order to create his work, he cannot stay in this seductive and incorporeal realm,” I’d be rolling my eyes with the best of them and looking forward to the inevitable reading by James Lipton on Conan. But pretension can’t exist if you have the chops to back it up, and I’d make the argument that Patti Smith, the Godmother of Punk, has got some fierce chops.

Besides, the memoir is really a love letter to Mapplethorpe and to the gritty New York City I can barely imagine. Hustling on 42^nd street, rooming with junkies at the Hotel Allerton, shoplifting raw steaks...it all has a seedy glamour* when seen through the lens of Smith & Mapplethorpe’s complicated relationship. Sometimes lovers, always friends, and often muses for each other, they navigated the city and its art scene together. The intimacy, warmth, and affection that comes through in Smith’s writing is powerful enough – take away Warhol, Hendrix, Max’s Kansas City, Joni Mitchell, CBGB’s; even the protagonists' eventual fame & fortune, and it’s still a worthwhile read. Actually, it would have been more interesting if both of them had grown up, moved to suburbia, become tax attorneys, and gotten together occasionally to reminisce about their wild youth over a glass of Pinot. Oh well - sometimes people grow up to be rock stars.

4 androgynous haircuts out of 5.

*A seedy glamour I am happy to appreciate from afar: I hate having dirty feet & I’m terrified of bedbugs, so I’m fairly content with the sanitized version of NYC that exists today.  

As I Am

I had never heard of Patricia Neal before I picked up her autobiography after reading about it on The Hairpin, but now that I've read her life story I can say that, definitively, Patricia Neal was the Jennifer Lawrence of her time.

Any by that I mean that reading this book made me want to travel back to the 1930s, invent the internet, start Buzzfeed, and churn out posts like "The 25 Best Patricia Neal quotes of 1958", "The 16 Most Epic Faces Patricia Neal made on Oscar Night", "Examples of Patricia Neal being Funny and Cute," and, most importantly "Patricia Neal tells Ryan Seacrest She's 'Starving' on the Red Carpet" (Because he is really an immortal vampire and the world needs to KNOW).

Ahem.

Basically, what I am trying to say is that after reading her life story you will imagine that you and Patricia Neal could have been BFFS. You would have laughed over dinner about the time she booked her first play and bought a new bra with cut-out nipples to celebrate (?!), and then had to promptly strip down to her underwear for a costume fitting. You would have brought over a bottle of wine to help her drink away the pain of her forbidden love affair with Gary Cooper. You would have contemplated an intervention behind her back with her other good friends when she decided to marry Roald Dahl (who was actually a *huge* asshole - this book may ruin Charlie & the Chocolate Factory/The BFG/Matilda for you...but it's worth it).

In between the Hollywood gossip and ill-fated romances there are some crazy sad personal tragedies, some moving redemptions and victories, and enough unflinching honesty to make you almost feel intrusive for eating it all up with a spoon and asking for seconds.

P.Neal, I am now your #1 fan, and I mean it: when I googled you and found out you died 3 years ago, I was bummed. RIP.

5 surprisingly saucy 1950s brassieres out of 5!

Game Change

Reading this book is worth it for the moisturizing effects of the John Edwards chapters alone - the grease oozing off of the pages has made my skin smoother and my hair more lustrous (but not so bouncy that anyone would accuse me of a $400 salon visit).

There was enough drama, back-stabbing, and general bitchery in the 2008 elections to make an episode of the Real Housewives look like Romper Room. The highs were dizzyingly high (Obama's speech at the Democratic National Convention!) and the lows were mind-blowingly low ("I can see Alaska from my hooooouse!"). This book is the treasure at the end of the rainbow made of Hilary Clinton's pantsuits. Bring on November 2012 - this book already showed us Obama's faults & failings in the run up to the elections, so I really can't wait for the inside scoop on Mittens Romney - not to mention Herman "There's A Lot of Women I Didn't Sexually Harass" Cain, Michele "Crazy Eyes" Bachmann, Rick "Brokeback Style" Perry , Newt "Child Janitor" Gingrich, and Rick "Santorum" Santorum. OH GOD WRITE GAME CHANGE: 2012 IMMEDIATELY PLEASE.

4 "you betcha's" out of 5.

Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me?

The cover says it all - pink but not cloying, an awkward facial expression, and a title expressing FOMO. This taps into the slightly nerdy, slightly superficial, completely anxious 20-something female experience like nothing else!

Mindy Kaling got her big break by writing and performing in a play based on the idea that Matt Damon & Ben Affleck were trying to adapt The Catcher in the Rye into a movie when the screenplay for Good Will Hunting fell out of the sky into their laps. What's not to love? I have seen the play and it's great, and not unlike reading this book: full of pop culture references, short enough to not get bored with, and perfect to drop into casual conversations to seem smart but not pretentious.

The fact is that by reading this I learned that taking prenatal vitamins will make my hair thick and lustrous, and that's worth the price of a hardcover right there.

4 fad dieting books with titles like "Fat Brain, Fat Body: How Thinking is Sabotaging Your Skinny Soul" out of 5.

Stories I Only Tell My Friends

This man is not aging! Lowe, what is your secret? You did not reveal it in your autobiography, that's for sure. You did; however, include many stories that followed the celebrity conceal and reveal pattern: "and that boy grew up to be...Robert Downey Jr./Sarah Jessica Parker/Bill Clinton/Justin Bieber/Lady Gaga."

He kind of skimmed over the whole underage video sex thing but I'm sure we'll learn more about that when Kitty Kelley tackles The Brat Pack (Dear Lord, please make that book happen. Thanks, Jane). He did finally explain why he named his son Johnowen: he wanted John, his wife wanted Owen - by gum it's so simple!

Rob Lowe, I enjoyed your book. I look forward to your follow-up, which will surely detail your time on Parks & Recreation (is Adam Scott amazing? Of course he is, why am I even questioning it) and finally reveal what gives you that eternal youthful glow. It's stem cells, isn't it? I bet it's stem cells.

3.5 wild nights at Hard Rock Cafe with Emilio out of 5.