Lies That Chelsea Handler Told Me Part 15

You get the idea. The party was a traveling circus full of carny-style freaks. You people wonder why I'm a little aloof and antisocial? Take a look at yourselves, you sickos. I'm not like you.

Mom had a new boyfriend at the time. I'll call him Salami, because his neck was so big it reminded me of a giant tube of salami. Anyway, Salami was some kind of "animal trainer," and I think he felt he needed to drive that point home by using me as his "animal trainee" all day. I tried telling him, "Look, you aren't the Dog Whisperer, and I'm not a wild lion from South Africa. So let's just try to have a normal relations.h.i.+p here and avoid each other."

Much to my dismay, Salami kept picking me up and walking around the party with me in his arms. It was humiliating. I'm not a lapdog. I'm a big dog, and big dogs don't get carried around in people's arms like that. To make matters worse, he carried me into the pool and started wading around the water with me still in his arms. Look, I'm a grown dog. If I want to go swimming, I'll do what normal dogs do and just jackknife off the diving board.

As I was wading around the pool with Salami, I noticed Jax barking at a bush. He is such a summer b.u.mmer. I can't believe Mom surrounded me with all these weirdos. If I had a cell phone, I would call my Chunk counterpart, Chocolate Chunk Sylvan, to come pick me up and drive me to the Jersey sh.o.r.e or somewhere else tropical. He has a nice big car, and he always drives Mom around when she's on tour.

Salami was done with our little synchronized swimming routine. n.o.body seemed very impressed. He lifted me out of the pool and my wet body felt so naked without all my fur. So I ran inside to find my mom and complain about our new living situation.

That house is like a giant maze. I felt like a rat trying to find Cheese Whiz. I don't think I've even seen every room in the place yet. I cruised through one of the guest rooms and then into the bathroom. Oh s.h.i.+t, I didn't want to see that.

"Might want to knock," said some guy.

I had accidentally walked in on Geof, who was changing into a bathing suit.

"I don't have thumbs," I told him. "Makes it hard to knock." And I darted off.

Geof books all the shows for Mom's tour. I've got a few problems with this guy. First of all, he spells his name wrong. Second, he has more hair on his body than I do. Watching him apply sunscreen is like watching someone rub Ranch Dressing into a brown s.h.a.g carpet. Doesn't that thick coat of body hair block the sun enough? And finally, since he's constantly taking Mom on the road, I barely get to see her anymore. In my opinion he overbooks her. I'm worried she's going to develop comedic fatigue stress syndrome disorder. I don't know if that's a real disease, but it sounds pretty serious. Mom's on tour a lot now. That's good for Geof, but it's bad for me. I really don't care about anybody's wellbeing other than mine and my mom's. Remember, people, the only person who's ever going to have your best interest in your life is yourself and your dog, if you have one. Unless your dog doesn't like you.

I pa.s.sed through the kitchen, where Uncle Roy was cooking food for everyone. I think he likes cooking. I just don't think he likes cooking for all these thankless a-holes. Roy's head looks like a Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade balloon, and his body is like those ropes holding the balloon to the ground. He never gives me table sc.r.a.ps. He's pretty much good for nothing.

Some dumb kid was munching out of a giant bowl of candy that Mom leaves out for them. It's like every generation of crazy is partying here today. These kids remind me of Children of the Corn Children of the Corn, but today they're "Children of the Candy Corn" because they're stuffing fistfuls of it into their little saccharine-soaked bodies. I just hope they don't find any of the marijuana candy that's floating around here. On second thought, that would be really funny. I hope they find a lot of that marijuana candy that's floating around here. That'll teach them.

I pa.s.sed by Chuy. He's the only person I really see eye to eye with. I stay out of his way; he stays out of mine. We have a common understanding. That's probably because we've both served time in the pound at one point in our lives.

Finally, after endless searching through this carnival un-funhouse I found my mom.

She was in the bedroom getting changed. Most people think it's so cool that she changes in front of me. First of all, she's my mom. And second of all, if you want to see her b.r.e.a.s.t.s all you have to do is get a job on her show. Everybody there gets to see those things at one point or another.

I figured this was my moment. It was my last chance to plead my case and to inject some sort of normalcy into her brain, so I said, "Mom, this situation is terrible. My summer is ruined. People think I'm an a.s.shole and I don't even care, because all your friends and your brother, they're all freaks, and we can do better than them. It would be so much nicer with just you and me. So, what do you say? Take my paw, take my whole life, too. Let's get out of here, girl."

Of course, she couldn't understand a word I was saying because to her it all sounded like "pant pant pant pant pant pant pant." Someone should invent a device to translate dogs' thoughts. They'd make a killing.

So, Mom was like, "Oh hey, Chunk. Amy got you this really stupid cowboy hat and..." I was like, "Oh no you don't, girl," but it was too late. Mom strapped this ridiculous-looking spring break cowboy hat to my head and, against my will, sent me back out to the party. No surprise that everyone had a good hearty laugh at my expense.

Me at the f.u.c.king party. Me at the f.u.c.king party.

I mean, all those whack jobs, and they were laughing at me me? I couldn't believe it. Jax was still barking at a bush. The camera guys were getting drunker and more stoned. Roy was teaching my b.i.t.c.h, Ryan, how to dive into the pool. Chris Franjola was. .h.i.tting on some girl young enough to be his granddaughter. And the topless security guard was still beating himself at badminton. Salami came over and lifted me up in his arms again.

"Ugh, will this ever stop?!" My head was starting to spin; the world was like a dreidel. I was hyperventilating, which, again, just looked like I was panting. I was ready to pa.s.s out. But then everything stopped, and my jaw dropped.

I caught my reflection in the pool and saw myself as the world saw me-as just another member of this motley crew. I realized that I had turned into one of them. I looked like a wet mutt/stupid lion/gay cowboy on spring break/half-Asian dog. I don't know if I'd always been such a misfit, or if I'd caught it, like the flu. All I knew was at that moment I truly was one of them.

Mom had said that she was going to get me out of that mess. And she had. But she'd brought me into a bigger mess. I guess her lie was that she never told me this was where I belonged. I belonged there because I was a mess, too. I'd always thought I was better than or different from all these people, but I guess I'm not. I'm like the pitcher on their dumba.s.s softball team. I feel like such a dumb-dumb now for not seeing it all along.

You have to realize that if my mom picks on you, it's because she likes you. If she lies to you, it's because she loves you. All it means is that you're one of the lucky messes in her pack. And as I was looking around at all the oddb.a.l.l.s and outcasts having a blast at her Fourth of July pool party, I realized that she hadn't rescued just me.

She'd rescued all of us.

I love you, too, Chunk. You're a real a.s.shole, and I respect that. I'd also like to apologize for the bevy of men you've had to share our bed with. I have tried to be more selective in my thirties, but not every day is a home run. I do promise never to let another man pick you up and force you to swim in our pool. Thank you for your patience, and thank you for not being a racist during that one brief period. I love you, too, Chunk. You're a real a.s.shole, and I respect that. I'd also like to apologize for the bevy of men you've had to share our bed with. I have tried to be more selective in my thirties, but not every day is a home run. I do promise never to let another man pick you up and force you to swim in our pool. Thank you for your patience, and thank you for not being a racist during that one brief period.-Chelsea

This is Michael Broussard, my book "agent," with his dog Dino (f.u.c.king mess), feeding alcohol to Chunk. As if I needed more proof, this made it clear that Chunk is my offspring. This is Michael Broussard, my book "agent," with his dog Dino (f.u.c.king mess), feeding alcohol to Chunk. As if I needed more proof, this made it clear that Chunk is my offspring.

Acknowledgments.

Sarah Colonna, Sue Murphy, and Jeff Wild were also contributors to this book. They helped the people who have never taken part in a creative writing course or learned how to spell.

Me and Sue Murphy in the Bahamas. Me and Sue Murphy in the Bahamas.

Me and Sarah in Cabo. Me and Sarah in Cabo.

Me and Jiffy at a Dodgers game in 2010. Me and Jiffy at a Dodgers game in 2010.

A special thank you to my Borderline Amazing partner, Tom Brunelle, aka the man "behind" the scenes.

Me and Tom. Me and Tom.

Table of Contents Front Cover Image Welcome

Dedication.

Introduction.

1. 1. Zookeeper: Zookeeper: Johnny Kansas2. Pap Smears and Punctuation Marks: Pap Smears and Punctuation Marks: Stephanie Stehling3. How to Make a Marriage Work: How to Make a Marriage Work: Heather McDonald4. A Brother's Testimony: A Brother's Testimony: Roy Handler5. My Name Is Brad Wollack and I Am Unattractive: My Name Is Brad Wollack and I Am Unattractive: Brad Wollack6. Dial Tone, a Chelsea Specialty: Dial Tone, a Chelsea Specialty: Amber Mazzola7. Go Lakers: Go Lakers: Josh Wolf8. Sisterly Love: Sisterly Love: Shoshonna Handler9. Eva Is My Name, Comedy Is My Game: Eva Is My Name, Comedy Is My Game: Eva Magdalenski10. Lies and Other Things I Wish Were Lies: Lies and Other Things I Wish Were Lies: Amy Meyer11. p.u.b.escent and Adolescent Mendacity, 19851991: p.u.b.escent and Adolescent Mendacity, 19851991: Glen Handler12. Standards and Practices Standards and Practices13. Raise the Woof: Raise the Woof: Chunk

Acknowledgments.

Other Books Starring Chelsea Handler Copyright

OTHER BOOKS STARRING.

CHELSEA HANDLER.

Chelsea Chelsea Bang Bang