A part-time buffoon and ersatz scholar specializing in BS, pedantry, schmaltz and cultural coprophagia.
Before I heard Samuel L. Jackson read this post-modern self-help book in his deep, authoritative, GOD-like voice, I had: restless leg syndrome, sleep apnoea, delayed sleep phase syndrome, parasomnias, night terrors, nocturia, caffeine induced insomnia and somniphobia. After listening to this self-help book, I turned over, told my leg to "chill out motherf--ker" and went the f--k to sleep.
Just all of Rachel's awkward moments, from being offered nothing but lesbian roles, to accidentally ending up on a date with a gay guy.
The email from her baby's uncle-to-be. I was crying on the subway.
I was pretty amused by all the metaphysical stuff. For example, when she went to see a channeler who becomes Kendra, the vaguely Indian-sounding spirit guide.
Yes, it was very engaging.
I have to admit, I was initially more interested in the show biz/SNL part, which is really only the first, say, 15% of the book. But it was so entertaining and such a sweet story that I got sucked into the rest of it.