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‘Human beings fear the unknown. So, whatever's freaking you out, grab it by the balls and say hello. Then it ain't the unknown anymore and it ain't scary. Or I guess it could be a sh*tload scarier’ Sam Halpern Soon after Sh*t My Dad Says began to take off, comic writer Justin Halpern decided to take the plunge and propose to his then girlfriend. But before doing so, he asked his dad's advice, which was very, very simple (and surprisingly clean): 'Just take a day to think about it.' This book is the story of that trip down memory lane, a toe-curlingly honest pilgrim’s progress of teenage relationships, sex and love by one of the funniest writers at work today. Sh*t people say about Justin Halpern: ‘Ridiculously hilarious’ Chelsea Handler ‘Shoot-beer-out-your-nose funny’ Maxim ‘Funny, silly, honest, lively and fresh’ Sunday Times
'At 28 years old, I found myself living at home, with my 73-year-old father. As a child, my father never minced words, and when I screwed up, he had a way of cutting right through the bullshit and pointing out exactly why I was being an idiot. When I moved back in I was still, for the most part, an idiot. But this time, I was smart enough to write down all the things he said to me…' Meet Justin Halpern and his dad. Almost one million people follow Mr Halpern’s philosophical musings every day on Twitter, and in this book, his son weaves a brilliantly funny, touching coming-of-age memoir around the best of his sayings. What emerges is a chaotic, hilarious, true portrait of a father and son relationship from a major new comic voice. As Justin says at one point, his dad is ‘like Socrates, but angrier, and with worse hair’; and this is the sort of shit he says… ‘You know, sometimes it’s nice having you around. But now ain’t one of those times. Now gimmie the remote, we’re not watching this bullshit.’ ‘Happy Birthday, I didn’t get you a present… Oh, mom got you one? Well, that’s from me then, too – unless it’s shitty.’ ‘Your brother brought his baby over this morning. He told me it could stand. It couldn’t stand for shit. Just sat there. Big let down.’ ‘The worst thing you can be is a liar . . . Okay, fine, yes, the worst thing you can be is a Nazi, but THEN, number two is liar. Nazi 1, Liar 2.’ ‘Why the f**k would I want to live to 100? I’m 73 and shit’s starting to get boring. By the way, there’s no money left when I go, just fyi.’
From the #1 New York Times bestseller author of Sh*t My Dad Says, Justin Halpern, comes a laugh-out-loud funny and deeply touching collection of personal stories about relationships with the opposite sex, from a first kiss to getting engaged and all the awkward moments in between. With Sh*t My Dad Says, Halpern brought his brand of talented comedic writing to the world. Now, with this equally poignant, hilarious, and provocative memoir, he establishes himself as one of popular writing’s great humorists among the likes of David Sedaris, Sarah Vowell, and David Rakoff. Fans of biting, honor-infused memoirs such as Me Talk Pretty One Day and Assassination Vacation will find Halpern’s I Suck at Girls an unforgettable journey into the best and worst moments of one man’s adventures in romance.
A family story for the twenty-first century, based on the phenomenally popular Texts from Bennett Tumblr blog, this epistolary novel chronicles the year that Bennett and the rest of his freeloading family moved into his cousin Mac's household. Hardworking Kansas City rapper Mac Lethal has a problem, and its name is Bennett. His wannabe gangsta cousin is seventeen, uses drugs and foul language, claims to be 13 percent black, and swears he speaks "da female language." (Strangely that last one sort of seems true.) But as different as they are, when Bennett and his mom lose their home, Mac’s got their backs. They’re family after all. Sure, it takes patience to live with the eternally smoked-out Bennett and the pill-popped Aunt Lily, but he can handle it. You know who can’t? Mac’s very pretty, very WASPy, very uptight girlfriend. So as his once-peaceful household gets completely crazy, Mac learns that wanna-be-Crips are thicker than water, that his little cousin—flawed, irreverent, and basically a Saturday morning cartoon gone horribly wrong—has become his mentor, and that he really has no idea what’s up with girls.
Nic Sheff was drunk for the first time at age eleven. In the years that followed, he would regularly smoke pot, do cocaine and Ecstasy, and develop addictions to crystal meth and heroin. Even so, he felt like he would always be able to quit and put his life together whenever he needed to. It took a violent relapse one summer in California to convince him otherwise. In a voice that is raw and honest, Nic spares no detail in telling us the compelling, heartbreaking, and true story of his relapse and the road to recovery. As we watch Nic plunge the mental and physical depths of drug addiction, he paints a picture for us of a person at odds with his past, with his family, with his substances, and with himself. It's a harrowing portrait -- but not one without hope.
From one of the most ferociously brilliant and distinctive young voices in literary nonfiction: a debut shot through with violence, comedy, and feverish intensity that takes us on an odyssey into an American netherworld, exposing a raw personal journey along the way. Locked in battle with both his adult appetites and his most private childhood demons, Kent Russell hungers for immersive experience and revelation, and his essays take us to society’s ragged edges, the junctures between savagery and civilization. He pitches a tent at an annual four-day music festival in Illinois, among the misunderstood, thick-as-thieves fans who self-identify as Juggalos. He treks to the end of the continent to visit a legendary hockey enforcer, the granddaddy of all tough guys, to see how he’s preparing for his last foe: obsolescence. He spends a long weekend getting drunk with a self-immunizer who is willing to prove he has conditioned his body to withstand the bites of the most venomous snakes. He insinuates himself with a modern-day Robinson Crusoe on a tiny atoll off the coast of Australia. He explores the Amish obsession with baseball, and his own obsession with horror, blood, and guts. And in the piercing interstitial meditations between these essays, Russell introduces us to his own raging and inimitable forebears. I Am Sorry to Think I Have Raised a Timid Son, blistering and deeply personal, records Russell’s quest to understand, through his journalistic subjects, his own appetites and urges, his persistent alienation, and, above all, his knotty, volatile, vital relationship with his father. In a narrative that can be read as both a magnificent act of literary mythmaking and a howl of filial despair, Russell gives us a haunting and unforgettable portrait of an America—and a paradigm of American malehood—we have never before seen.
“A perfectly executed psychological thriller” (The Guardian) from the internationally bestselling author of The Wrong Mother and The Other Woman’s House Television producer Fliss Benson is surprised to discover that her superstar boss, Laurie Nattrass, is stepping down from his post. She’s even more surprised that he asks her to take over his documentary about crib-death mothers wrongly accused of murder. Thanks to Laurie’s advocacy, three women are now free, while the doctor who testified against them is under investigation for misconduct. Then one of the mothers is found dead. In her pocket is a card with sixteen numbers on it, arranged in four rows of four- exactly like the anonymous card Fliss has just received in the mail. The fifth book in Sophie Hannah’s beloved Zailer and Waterhouse series, The Cradle in the Grave combines the puzzle of a Golden Age mystery with a masterful tale of psychological suspense that Tana French and Laura Lippman fans will love.

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