Wednesday, August 5, 2009
Kaylie Jones didn’t have your average childhood — as the daughter of famed World War II author James Jones (From Here to Eternity), she grew up in 1960s Paris surrounded by such glittering literati, and family friends, as William Styron, James Baldwin, Willie Morris and Norman Mailer. But not everything was so glamorous, as she so eloquently describes in her new memoir, Lies My Mother Never Told Me (available 8/25).
James Jones died when Kaylie was just 16, leaving her devastated and ill-equipped to fulfill her father’s deathbed wish that she help her mother stop drinking. Although the term “alcoholic” was never uttered in the Jones household (in spite of the all-night booze-soaked parties), Kaylie struggled with her genetic birthright: a love of literature and alcohol.
The book contains juicy celebrity anecdotes (oh, Frank Sinatra!), but its poignancy comes from the journey of a talented woman wrestling not just with her own demons, but with those of her parents, and discovering a strength she once thought unattainable.
Buy it here:
Imagine it. You're on an airplane, or at a fast-food restaurant or an outdoor festival. You have to pee... bad. There's one toilet or porta-potty. Someone is in it. You wait. And wait. And wait. Oh god, someone's dropping a bomb in there. But you have no choice. You gotta go. Finally they come out, and it's...
Jim's from Chicago, so you know he probably downed 4 brats and 13 Old Styles earlier in the day, and now he's just dropped them off at the pool, just for you. Enjoy.
Maggie's a vegan, and if you think vegans don't have foul dumps because they don't do meat or dairy or whateverthefuck else they don't eat (so I can), just think about what foods cause the nastiest farts. Right. Cabbage. Broccoli. Beans. Starches. Corn. Nuts. Corn and nuts.
Please. Don't you know that every time Sasquatch drops a load on that gay cruise ship of hers, its speed immediately drops by 2.4 knots and it lists discernibly to starboard. Then I bet she comes out, triumphant, and, because she fancies herself a comedian, exclaims, "Hoo, I just lost 4 pounds!"
Frat boy. Beer. Nachos. Cigs. Oysters. Tequila shots. Hot wings. You and I both know that VV can destroy any bathroom of any size, so whether it's a porta-let or the 40-seater at Mandalay Bay casino where he's pinching his megaloaf, you'll be peeing with one hand on your pecker and the other holding your nose so no blood gets on your shirt.
She's Canadian. Their shit smells funny, a nose-offending blend of maple syrup and Moosehead. Then you got Alanis in there, probably tokin' up and taking her sweet time while she pens another shitty tune. Isn't it ironic.. that you stink.
I pity the fool.
Tiny little actress, but don't be fooled by her diminutive size. Ever smelled a Chihuahua turd? A dense little torpedo whose size belies its destructive powers. That's Linda in a buttshell.. I mean, nutshell.
Ever smelled a Klingon dump? Me neither, although I had the opportunity a few years ago at the Inman Park Festival in Atlanta. I went to a porta-potty that was occupied, so I waited.. and waited.. and waited.. fffuck, this is NOT GOOD... and finally, out steps a Klingon. I kid you not. No way in hell I was going in there, so I peed in the bushes.
The Courteous Chihuahua sent this ad, and I liked it so much that I made Flat-D our Product Of The Day in the sidebar. Apparently this thing is marketed to seniors, who fart more than other people. Yay, something else to look forward to in our golden years.
Before you purchase one, however, be warned: it might not work. My mother-in-law is in town, so I asked her to test out Flat-D for me. An hour later, she brought me this, looking much like the woman in the photo above.
So let the buyer beware, as your mileage may vary.