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She likes white people who shop at farmer’s markets and eat the free samples at Whole Foods.
And now she’s sharing more of her wit and wisdom in collection of essays in her debut book Meaty.
Funny lady Samantha Irby of the blog Bitches Gotta Eat and author of Meaty is back with another brilliant book We Are Never Meeting in Real Life.
Among this collection of essays Irby writes about her musings on love and sex.
Irby betrays no detail in describing that horrific day and its aftermath that altered both their lives completely.
And in the essay “Skillet” explains her relationship with a mostly absent alcoholic father (who suffered from both alcoholism and post-traumatic stress disorder) through a dirty skillet Irby accidentally washed in soapy water. If you are uptight, not comfortable with graphic descriptions of sex and shit or just lack a sense of humor, you probably won’t like Meaty.
In “Forest Whitaker’s Neck,” Irby gives a full description of her naked body from the top of her head to the tips of her toes.
And from the graphic description of her private parts I am now more familiar with Irby’s vagina than I am with my own.Irby also writes about finding true love in a way that both surprises her and delights her.In We Are Never Meeting in Real Life Irby also offers her application to The Bachelorette, her trip to Nashville and needing a new job. in Bloggers, Blogging, Blogs, Book Reviews, Books, Culture, Death, Diversity, Essays, Family, Feminism, Food, Friendship, Health and Wellness, Humor, Meaty, Memoirs, Money, Non-Fiction, On-Line Dating, Parenthood, Politics, Public Schools, Rants, Relationships, Restaurants, Romance, Samantha Irby, Sex, Teenagers, Television, Uncategorized, Workplace and Careers ≈ 2 Comments If Samantha Irby didn’t exist we’d have to invent her. Irby is a Chicago-based writer and performer who writes a blog called “Bitches Gotta Eat.” She’s hosted Chicago’s “Sunday Night Sex Show” and performed at various shows throughout the Windy City.She’s also not shy about talking about her less than ideal childhood where she grew up poor and black in an upper middle class mostly white Chicago suburb with two parents who died when she was very young. She doesn’t own a house, is behind on her electric bill, owns a busted laptop and her fridge shows off her lack of grocery shopping skills.In the opening essay “At 30” Irby takes assessment of herself at this milestone birthday and like a lot of people, finds herself lacking. She claims she needs to work out and work on her unfinished novel. She also desires some half-naked hot dudes, a decent parking space in her Rogers Park neighborhood and for people to declare her “the funniest person they know.” Well, if Irby keeps expressing herself she just might get the last one.“Nell in a Hand Basket” would make great “must-see TV.” And speaking of black women on TV, Irby doesn’t take Lena Dunham to task for not having a whole lot of black folks on her HBO show “Girls” in the essay “Elena Tyler.