I Know I Am, But What Are You?

There are few books that make me shoot soda out of my nose. There are even fewer books that I will admit have made me do so. But Samantha Bee did it. And thank goodness the mishap happened in private and not in public.

Actually, I take that back. If you're going to read this book, do it in public. Be that person that laughs to yourself. Loudly. Hysterically. Do it on public transportation. Do it on a park bench. Make people stare. Dare them to give you an evil glare that says they think you're nuts. This one is worth it. They say laughing burns calories. Your critics can't say that. So there. The joke's on them.

Samantha Bee, Daily Show correspondent writes about it all. Nothing is off limits.
Be prepared for laughter, awkward situations, and vulgarity.

She writes about getting into trouble or at least trying our hardest to have that sexy edge that all the cool kids in the movies do.

She writes about her shriveled-up, frail old woman hands and the way they bring her peace in the realization that we do in fact all age.

She writes about those connections with our animals that seem endearing to us, but may just come across as creepy and weird to...well anyone, even us when we really stop and think about the voices we use to talk to them when no-one is actually around.

She writes about her parents' insanity. (Let's be honest. Not one of our parents our sane. They're all quirky. Mine and most of my friends' could easily be portrayed in a novel, movie, etc. as a character that gets loads of laughs. Just for being themselves.)

She even writes about an eery situation she finds herself in when a stranger makes a snap assumption that she is dating her own parent. Creepy, yes? Thank all the men going through mid-life crises dating women young enough to be their daughters for this one. You all deserve a slap on the wrist for the awkwardness that now commonly ensues when a young girl innocently goes out to dinner with her father.

And she goes on to touch that oh so taboo subject, "the birds and the bees" and the conversation that goes on between parent and child in the hope of preparing them (or scaring them) from every taking part in such an activity. Or sometimes the simple passing of a book on the subject to deter the entire thing.

I could go on. And on.

But, I think it would be in everyone's best interest to stop reading my review and pick up I Know I Am, But What Are You? at your local library, independent bookstore (Omaha Bookworm if you live in or near Omaha, NE), or here from amazon instead.