I don't like to brag, but I hate memoirs.
This is the first one I've read of my own volition, let alone of a celebrity's, and thank God I have good taste because I loved it.
Silverman spares you lots of details and just jumps to the horrible and funny parts; which are the only parts strangers actually care about anyway. Instead of writing about sex or drug addiction like everyone else she decided to write a good book that relays her actual experience of life.
And like the first 50 pages are about her wetting the bed.