I Like You Just the Way I Am: Stories About Me and Some Other People

I Like You Just the Way I Am: Stories About Me and Some Other People

Jenny Mollen

Language: English

Pages: 272

ISBN: 1250055830

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub


Hi, I'm Jenny Mollen, an actress and writer living in Los Angeles. I'm also a wife, married to someone more famous than me, which is especially annoying because all the free clothing he gets never come in a size small.

This is my book, an assortment of stories about not doing the right thing. Yes, it's about me. But it's also about women, who all come in two types: those that are totally batshit crazy, and those that are liars. It's a book about acting on impulses, plotting elaborate hoaxes, and refusing to acknowledge boundaries in any form. Like hiding in the trunk of a car to get a look at the girl who used to fuck my husband. Or pretending to have a seizure on a red-eye to New York in order to explain why my dog is balls-deep in a bag of Pirates' Booty burrowed in the lap of a sleeping child.

Life is too short for bullshit. I'm 33 and my tits drop half an inch a year. Someday very soon, ladies, you and I are going to be whatever fetish comes after "cougar," unable to wear shirts without sleeves, and full of cell phone cancer. It is our obligation to be honest with ourselves about who we really are and what we really want. Which more often than not is someone else's email password.

So let's embrace it. I Like You Just the Way I Am is a book about taking the high road―as long as it intersects with the train tracks my ex-boyfriend is tied to.

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Movie Database comments made it increasingly obvious that Baz was watching my every move. For fun one day, I tried to imagine myself through Baz’s eyes. Having never met me, she could only guess what I was like through press photos and MySpace. The two-dimensional me was so much cooler than the real me. She didn’t bite her toenails or eat food out of the trash. She was flawless and bronzed, with no boob stretch marks or butt zits. Grooming my online image to suit Baz’s liking became a full-time

Simone. I spent the rest of the day staring at myself in the mirror. Jason could sense something was off between us, but didn’t know what. I was carrying around such a heavy load of guilt that it was almost impossible to connect emotionally. Every time he’d ask if I was all right, I’d try to deflect it by saying something like: “I just can’t believe how partisan our political system has become,” or “I was just thinking about how I’d totally kill myself if my name were Irene,” or “How weird is it

formal; that time it felt like she needed to die.) Fishing mango hairs out of my teeth, I heard struggling on the other side of the fence, then vague whispers, followed by my mom’s hands popping out and pinching my ass. “Mom? What are you doing?” I asked her hands. I could hear Cody’s voice in reply. “We are digging you in!” she said, overly excited, confirming my suspicions that she was a total coke whore. “Jesus!” I whispered through the fence. “You guys are a disaster. Please, just leave

generous but really just looking for someone to drive his car back to the house for him. Jason couldn’t give a fuck about a Ferrari. The only thing any of us cared about was being in a vehicle with an engine that could transport our bodies to a place where giant buds of marijuana would be rolled up, set on fire, and placed delicately in our mouths. We would have driven a Fred Flintstone convertible that could only be operated by barefoot running if it meant getting stoned. The party was winding

was the Ferrari, so it fell on Jason and Larry to indulge him. I just stood there nodding until eventually, Larry’s true understanding of something my dad actually knew very little about put him to sleep. The four of us snuck upstairs to my high school bedroom and passed around the first joint ever to arrive on the premises. Kristen’s son slept soundly in the room next door, and on more than one occasion we were tempted to wake him and ask if he wanted a toke. We decided against it because we

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