Chelsea Handler has no shame. If she did “Are You There, Vodka? It’s Me, Chelsea,” her book of autobiographical essays, would be quite boring. Lucky for us, Handler is not afraid of embarrassment and wants to the world to know every humiliating, outrageous and hysterical detail of her life so far.
A couple months before buying “Are You There, Vodka? It’s Me Chelsea,” I read the chapter titled “Big Red” while sitting in Barnes and Noble with a friend. In this chapter, which has become one of my favorites, Handler tells how in order to become more egalitarian, she needed to date a redhead, despite being repulsed by the hair color. I read to my friend passages that literally made me laugh out loud, which ended up being a good chunk of the chapter. I knew eventually this book would make its way to my collection, and I couldn’t wait to read the rest.
As in most books, this one has a dedication in the beginning. In this case, the dedication alone lets readers immediately know just how irreverent this book is. Handler’s dedication reads: “To my mother. I love you, chunky monkey.” If this is the way she refers to her mother, I knew she must be even more disrespectful to people and things she does not like, which is just fine with me.
The first two chapters take place when Handler is a child. At nine, she lies to her schoolmates that she is starring in a movie with Goldie Hawn, and at 12, passing for 15, she becomes a successful babysitter until she has to watch over a 14-year-old sugar addict. It is almost hard to believe that even as a child, Handler was so quick-witted, but if anyone was so smart so young, I suppose it could very well be her. This too-good-to-be-true factor continues throughout the book. Much of her book is so outrageous it seems almost far-fetched, like when she and a friend disrobe in a “dine in the dark” restaurant. In any case, I don’t really care if it’s true or not. Having watched her show “Chelsea Lately” more times than I can count, all the events seem more plausible and entirely within her personality. I believe most of what she writes to be truthful and it’s entertaining regardless.
Another favorite chapter of mine is “Prison Break,” where after being arrested for driving under the influence, Handler winds up in an L.A. prison for fraud. Turns out, Handler’s older sister filed a complaint after she found out Handler had been using her ID to get into clubs and bars. In prison she meets Lucille, a murderer whom Handler believes may be her prison soul mate. Being in prison is obviously terrible but Handler makes her experience a funny one.
Throughout the book, Handler often gets a bit sidetracked and starts talking about something completely irrelevant. But the off-topic comments seem deliberate and she doesn’t stay off course for long. Not to mention, these departures from the topics at hand are hilarious and therefore totally acceptable.
Handler’s sense of humor is so casual but crazy at the same time. While most of the time this is hilarious, it is not so much when she jokes about rape. In chapter eight, she says, “I’d rather be . raped by a hobbit than dog-sit for anyone.” Surely there are other ways she can convey how much she hates dog-sitting than comparing it to rape.
Fans of Handler’s show will love this book, probably more than the show. Where “Chelsea Lately” can be a bit hit or miss, “Are You There, Vodka? It’s Me, Chelsea” is more consistent. Those who have not seen her show might find her sense of humor shocking, so I’d recommend reading a chapter before buying the book.