Tuesday, March 20, 2018

on the road again.

i'm going on tour, again. this time, to support the re-release of my first book, meaty. i cannot wait to lug my computer from state to state pretending i'm gonna get some work done and pack a bunch of back-breaking hardcover books that i'm definitely gonna bail on in favor of whatever john cena film is available on the plane. that's right i'm abandoning my many cats and inside pants to travel across the country with a knot of anxiety in my stomach as i anticipate stammering over words i actually wrote as people record my foibles on their phones and then tag me in the uploads so i can relive the humiliation ad infinitum. also it's a rough time for me to be away from home, as i just got caught up on the voice and i'm still trying to wrap my head around what the fuck the deal is with here and now plus billions is coming back this weekend! does the best western milwaukee offer showtime as part of their basic package!? 

one of the things you should understand, as you scroll through this list and feel your blood boiling with rage as you realize that where you live isn't anywhere close to where i'm going, is that i don't make this schedule. no one calls me and says "hey sam, tell me in which direction to point the magic carpet!" i get an email with a list of dates and places and times and then i email back "okay looks good" without really registering what it says while wondering who i know that will buy me a beer in [your city here]. if the shit were up to me my tour would be 1 evanston, illinois and 2 the flying j truck stop between where i live and evanston, illinois. flying across the country to get flop sweat all over a bunch of people who will inevitably be disappointed that they've chosen to leave the house after 6pm on a weeknight is a petrifying idea, and figuring out how many unflattering cat sweaters to try and sneak past the TSA is even worse.

okay so here's the list. i'm pretty sure it's accurate. generally, they all start in the 7-730p range, except omaha which i noted below. some of these things are ticketed. some of these things are not. none of these things is my responsibility! don't text me! i have a list of the places i'm staying written on the back of a napkin that i stuck in my wallet and a bunch of printed-out emails of all my flights that have changed a dozen times, i don't know shit about the parking options at a bookstore in the middle of minneapolis! DO YOUR GOOGLES.

tuesday april 3
brookline booksmith
brookline, MA

friday april 6
books are magic
in conversation with abbi jacobson
brooklyn, NY

tuesday april 10
politics & prose
washington DC

wednesday april 11
town hall
in conversation with lindy west
seattle, WA

friday april 13
powell's burnside
portland, OR

monday april 16
the booksmith
san francisco, CA

tuesday april 17
book soup
los angeles, CA

wednesday april 25
bookbug/this is a bookstore
kalamazoo, MI

thursday may 3
women and children first (wilson abbey)
chicago, IL

tuesday may 8
moon palace
minneapolis, MN

wednesday may 9
brooklyn park library
minneapolis, MN

thursday may 10
boswell book company
milwaukee, WI

friday may 11
city opera house
traverse city, MI

saturday may 19
the bookworm 1pm start time!!
in conversation with rainbow rowell
omaha, NE

if you already bought meaty, first of all? i don't believe you! but, just in case you have and need to be convinced to get the update, allow me to enumerate the reasons you should buy this new version:
1 there's a hedgehog on it. i'm not sure how scowling baby animals became my brand but i'm into it. i apologize in advance to those of you whose small children try to select it for their bedtime story based on the cover alone.
2 it's full of CAPS CAPS CAPS and the word "motherfucker" is in it approximately 4000 times. i recorded the audiobook a month ago and i should get a fucking prize for surviving that humbling experience. my editor wanted to keep the book as close to its original form as possible. so i wrote some new stuff and added it to the mix but i didn't get to erase everything that now sounds stupid to my wizened 38-year-old ears. i flinched through the entire thing like "wow i can't believe i wrote that i don't even talk like that anymore."
3 bitch it's like the cost of a fancy latte come on now. far be it from me to count your money for you but listen there's a reason i only make paperbacks. hardcover books cost, what, thirty bucks? YEAH RIGHT, HOE. i mean i'll buy that shit but i'm definitely gonna resent you the whole time! but you don't even have to waste your hate energy on me because it's cheap, it tucks into a handbag, and it's only 280+ pages so it's not that huge of a commitment. and even those are mostly recipes and tons of curse words strung together. it'll fly by!

if i'm coming to your town and you happen to be free and don't mind keeping your pants on for an extra hour after you get done with work come check me out. please don't make me read about buttholes to an empty room. i promise that i am very charming and polite; i won't even break your balls after you make the 137th iteration of the "we're actually meeting in real life!!11!1!!!" joke of the evening.
ps, i've stopped wearing deodorant. see you soon!

Thursday, March 15, 2018

swipe left!

my okcupid screen name was fartthrob. i can't remember exactly what i wrote in my ~extremely earnest~ profile, but i know that it was probably full of awkward attempts at humor while also apologizing in advance to anyone who dared to meet me in real life. my shit had paragraphs, okay? i was really trying to distill the best parts of myself into an appealing internet soundbite that was impressive yet also sincere. i never pledged allegiance to obscure bands i couldn't quote off the top of my head, never pretended to be really into coffee or sushi or anything that could be disproven within five minutes of making my acquaintance. there's always some wiseguy who'll show up at the restaurant like "oh hey aren't you really into albino caviar?" and then you gotta smile and choke that slimy shit down or admit that you're a lying asshole. i can't deal with that kind of pressure. honestly my headline should have been: LIKES MCDONALDS, ON MEDS.

two of my actual friends who live in totally different parts of the country have recently found themselves scrolling through tinder and/or okcupid, presumably looking for handsome and wildly successful strangers to save them from the doldrums of dating and transport them to their amazing new futures as women who use hashtags like #lovehim and #heputaringonit, and within the last few weeks both of these jerks texted me screenshots of profiles either featuring pictures of my book's cover or featuring quotes like "just started reading samantha irby's book" and LOLWAT. first of all, does that actually work?! living is a mistake! fuck i couldn't get fucking laid fucking being samantha irby so is my perimenopausal book that is 70% about shitting in the street really getting brian in new york city some unenthusiastic sex?!

first of all, i'm not humblebragging. i'm genuinely mystified! THAT BOOK IS ABOUT A HOUSECAT AND MY DEAD DAD WHAT THE FUCK. if i picked any of those essays and read it to you you'd put me in therapy, not offer to finger me! what have i been doing wrong?! i'm fucking salty. anyhow, gentlemen: thank you i guess. i (ahem, the multi-tentacled publishing conglomerate that allowed me to write at length about my asshole on a national stage) appreciate your sixteen dollars. writing a book is hard! i mean, not ~brain surgery~ hard? but harder than, say, crying alone in a dark room while listening to foreign fields, which is what i would much rather have spent a whole year doing rather than entertaining men with dogs as their profile picture with my pain. and i'm married to your mom's crafty sister, so it's not like i could run out and expose myself to a bunch of people's pheromones to celebrate my crowning achievement; the day my fucking book came out i had a sensible, nutritionally balanced meal at three in the afternoon and fell asleep with my clothes on and modern family reruns muted on the tv. i'm not a jealous person but i do hate a lot of things, and knowing that quoting me is more lucrative than actually being me? i hate that a lot!

so this is how your courtship gotta go if you use my stupid cat book to try to fuck people on the internet, because fuck you:

1 you gotta pay. no matter where you fall on the gender spectrum, if you pretend that you read what i write then you have to know that i want the inviter to foot the bill, not only because i have a deep and abiding respect for manners but also because nothing is more excruciating than that awkward moment the bill comes and everyone at the table does the herky-jerky wallet dance. and that bill can't be for a date that involves "chilling at my place" or "a coffee at that spot down the street from my job." i'm not so out of it and naive that i think you're on bumble to buy a stranger a five course meal but i also don't think you should get your salad tossed for the price of a latte.

2 you gotta have a sex playlist full of the saddest songs ever recorded. I DON'T BELIEVE IN ROMANTIC MUSIC. music is for weeping softly into a pilled sweater with holes in it that the cat barfed on that you haven't sufficiently cleaned, not for sex! but if you insist, let's bang to radiohead b-sides or some shit then lie next to each other and have nightmares. don't embarrass me by making me take my shirt off to whatever you think 
how long does sex take? thirteen minutes? anyway, here's five songs that have made me cry in the last seven days to dry hump to:
"after slice" ivory waves
"silver soul" beach house
"death of a star" james tillman
"la lune" king krule
"live well" palace
i would not ~make love~ to these songs, i would read a little life by candlelight to these songs, but you do you.

3 you gotta have a three towels minimum and two-ply toilet paper. i'm not even sure how often i have had to use a towel in someone else's house but i want the fucking option, okay? i just want to know that if i suddenly get a nosebleed or accidentally find that spongy spot buried deep within my vaginal wall that i've read about dozens of times in cosmo that unlocks my secret squirting powers that i won't have to mop up the wreckage with a bunch of ketchup-sticky burger king napkins. those are for when company comes over. ugh and they even manufacture one-ply toilet paper for home use is beyond me, but if you are a human person who can find people six blocks away to fuck on your handy pocket computer, you can reach on past that scott's megaroll (it balls up in your ass hairs, come on fam!) and grab that cushy charmin extra strong.

4 you gotta have a stack of books somewhere. i don't even feel like this is that much of a stretch if the bait you used to lure some unsuspecting catfish was a picture of my goddamn book. but maybe you borrowed it for instagram purposes, which i understand believe me, but i hope you at least skimmed the first couple of pages. even if you didn't, grab some books it looks like you might convincingly sit down to read, and display them in clear view from the bed. don't be like me that time this dude i was IN LOVE WITH asked what i thought of the stranger, a copy of which i had casually tossed on the coffee table he would have to walk past after learning of its existence a mere two weeks prior on his black planet profile. it was the "excuse me, what?" heard round the world. learn from my mistakes, children. leave out a book you read junior year.

5 you gotta have a tv. i know i'm showing every single one of my 137 years here but listen: i hate watching shit on the goddamn computer. i do it sometimes, because of airport layovers and writing procrastination, but i don't like it. i think this might be a holdover fear from my impoverished youth, but i'm terrified of falling asleep with my computer on the bed and shorting the fucking keyboard out because i drooled on it or whatever. and this shit cost over a thousand motherfucking dollars, which is more than i paid for an actual car once and yes i was too embarrassed to valet it and once parked it six blocks away from the club so no one i was eventually gonna hit on would see me getting out of that raggedy shit but that is beside the point. THESE MACHINES ARE EXPENSIVE. also, it's literally impossible for two people to comfortably watch a laptop and both enjoy the show don't @ me.

apparently amanda swiped right on the most recent self-proclaimed fan of my work, and i told her that if they hang she has to facetime me during the sex so i can tell him whether or not i'm a big fan of his, too.

if you're in the market for romance and need some bait, get my old book: here
and you can pre-order my new-ish book: here for after you guys break up!