Meaty by Samantha Irby: I am excited because I am thirty years old and I don't have a man in my life

I was scanning through NetGalley and saw a copy of Samantha Irby's earlier collection, Meaty available. And since I enjoyed We Are Never Meeting in Real Life so damn much I thought I'd see if I could get a copy of this. And a copy was granted, in exchange for an honest review.

I can't decide which of two books I like better. It's hard to say since really they're both similar. They're both collections of essays about her and her life. They're hilarious and vulgar and a times touching (did I tear up while reading one about her mother? MAYBE. Was it followed up not long after with an essay about diarrhea? MAAAYBE) 

She has essays about dating ("How to Get Your Disgusting Meat Carcass Ready for Some New, Hot Sex"), medical issues ("The Many Varieties of Hospital Broth"), family ("My Mother, My Daughter"), money ("I Should Have a Car with Power Windows By Now"), pop culture ("Elena Tyler: AKA Why I Can't Be Mad at Lena Dunham"). What I'm saying is Irby has range.  

And she's relatable. I mean, look at the way she talks about her Crohn's Disease

And I know a lot of things suck, and so many people are going through so many terrible things, but to me, in this goddamned moment, nothing is worse than this gross-ass shit disease. Yes, there are worse things, but since those things are not currently happening to me, this bullshit is the worst thing that has ever happened to anyone in the history of ever.

This is how I feel about any bad thing that happens to me, regardless of how serious. It's times like this you realize how truly connected we all are.

This book is hilarious. Thinking about it, I may like it better than WANMIRL. Maybe. It's close. But they're both pretty great and if you like funny ladies, give them a try.

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Irby, Samantha. Meaty. Vintage, 2013. NetGalley