Not quite as morally reprehensible as I WAS TOLD THERE'D BE CAKE, but close

I can't believe I spent $25 on a copy of Cheerful Money. Fuck all contemporary memoirs. Seriously, people. If you haven't escaped the Sudan by riding atop a lion, your wacky family who drinks a bit too much at gatherings is 100% not interesting or remarkable enough to substantiate a hardcover/trade paperback.