I got this one in a Book Sale sale (haha). I was there because resolved to read more books this 2010. This was the second one. The first was a Half-Blood Prince ebook, hah! Anyway, this book was tucked away behind rows of other old books. The bright yellow color attracted me from behind them all. I dug for it and the title cover lured me into actually buying it.

Raised in Manhattan by her sex-therapist mother, Wendy Spero has always sought excitement in “microthrills,” the small, strange highs that give her life meaning. In this hilarious memoir, Spero riffs on her offbeat eighties childhood, her job selling knives door to door, her obsession with stuffed animals, her addiction to eating candy in bed, and finally learning how to drive… Mark marks the debut of a fresh, new nonfiction voice, and one that won’t soon be forgotten.
- Taken from the back cover of the book

Reading this book is like… not reading. It’s like having a conversation with a friend who conveniently has a movie projector with her so that you can see how it happens in your mind. And though she’s relaying the extremities of her weird weird life, somehow, I could relate to Spero. All comes off natural and witty. I could easily sympathize with her “small, strange, highs” because I know I got a few of my own.

I just noticed that for every chapter, Spero writes her memoirs in full circle, meaning that she ends it in relation to the beginning. I just wished that she did that for the whole of the book, just so that the ending didn’t just hang like that. Well, it’s prolly her style.

Nevertheless, overall, what I’m trying to say is that I like it. I enjoyed it. This book is actually the last thing I hold in my hands before dozing off. I couldn’t go a day without reading it, only because it became a ritual. And now that I finished it, I can’t help but feel bitin. I miss Spero and want more of her weird stories.