Karen and I have been good buddies for a long time. Back in the pre-legalization days, when there was still a thriving underground stoner subculture, Karen lived in LA and I lived here in Tempe and any time either of us were in each other’s town, we’d hit each other up for some good local ganja. I’ve hung out and gotten high with Karen countless times, so when I heard she’d written a book, I of course had to read it.
And while this genre of book isn’t my typical fare, it was surprisingly entertaining! Each chapter in the book represents a squeamish and awkward date, told in Karen’s hilarious prose, and I found myself getting red-faced on behalf of some of the self-absorbed douchebags she lambastes throughout. It is all pretty funny and embarrassing.
I don’t know if she did it intentionally or not, but for the first seven chapters/bad dates, Karen is primarily a wine drinker, and I found myself thinking “Is she actually going to write this whole book without admitting she’s a pothead!?” It also wasn’t lost on me that perhaps these dates all went so bad because she wasn’t high…?
But that notion is dismissed by Chapter 8, which was about a guy who shipped weed surreptitiously by canning it and making it look like soup. And from thence on, the Karen in the book was the Karen Knighton I have known all my life, merrily hitting her bong while her amateur dates are puking their guts after doing the same.