I like comedy. I like Wes Anderson and "30 Rock," and I like to think that I have a decent sense of humor for someone from Ohio. Don't judge me based on the fact that my parents love Larry the Cable Guy and other humiliating things, a trait which I am praying is not genetic. Sometimes, I think that I take my sense of humor too personally. When I go out with a group of friends to see a movie, I am worried about how they perceive me based on when I laugh and which jokes I laugh at. I want to show that I really get a joke, you know? I get that joke wa-a-ay more than you ever could hope to because I'm wittier and smarter than you.
Basically, I am highstrung and paranoid until I eventually calm down and go with it.
That brings me to I Know I Am, But What Are You?. This is an autobiography from Samantha Bee, Most Senior Correspondent on "The Daily Show." It's broken up into several essays. I love that in my autobiographies.
At first, I didn't think the book was particularly funny. I was worried that there was something wrong with me. What if I no longer have a sense of humor? Don't get me wrong, I enjoyed the tales of Bee's childhood. I came close to laughing out loud, but never quite reached an audible chuckle, giggle, or guffaw.
As I read, though, the book got better and better. By the time I reached the chapter where Bee's cat tried to get it on with her head, I was cringing and laughing at the same time. There was quite a lot of cringing involved, as well as a lot more laughing. I really don't have a problem with any of the essays, all of which are at least mildly amusing, several of which are downright hilarious.
I Know I Am But What Are You? explores everything from the awkwardness of May-December romances, which result in couples thinking that your mother is your lesbian lover, to Bee's ability to attract strange penises. I love reading about people's lives. Yet, they are often boring. Anyone who can put a funny spin on working at a frame store is a hero in my book.
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