In a series of wonderful essays, Evan Handler gives himself up to us - warts and all. To our amusement and bemusement we share in his emotional growth as he struggles to mature. I not only laughed along with him but felt that I too had grown a little along the way. Who could ask for more?

We are all shitty little snowflakes dancing in the universe.

This is how sad my life is: I got a scar from scratching my chicken pox too much. That's my big scar story. I really have no major scars.

If I wanted to be bored by 6,000 pages of unreadable dreck, I'd read War and Peace four times.

These ballot initiatives remind us that America is the land where people are free to dream whatever they want, so long as that dream doesn't make Midwesterners feel icky!

My problem has always been with authority, and I'm sure if anybody understands that, it's people in uniform.

When you're done [with writing a book], people tell you "Well, gee, I'm not interested." "Great, I'm glad I sat down and wrote this!"