Are You There, God? Thank You For Chelsea

Okay, so I just finished "Are You There, Vodka? It's Me, Chelsea." I have never, and I do mean never, laughed out loud so hard, or so often, while reading a book. I am now a serious fan and cannot wait to get my hands on her "My Horizontal Life."

Come on, how can I not be madly in love with a woman who writes...

I got an upsetting letter from the mother of a midget, who wrote that she had watched and interview of mine on television and, "as the mother of a little person, was deeply offended" by my comments regarding little people; above all, the fact that I referred to them as "nuggets."

What this woman doesn't understand is that I am not the enemy. Next to fat babies, midgets are my favorite things to hold. I love them so much, and I want to help them do adult things like drive cars, Jet-ski, and lip-sync. I'm in awe of their little limbs, their large craniums, and their medicine-ball like asses. I love the little baby steps they take while shifting their weight from side to side, and the fact that when you knock one over accidentally, he flails like a turtle on its back that can't get up right away.

Let me make one thing clear: I do not have a midget fetish - I like to think of it as more of a healthy obsession. And because I adore them so much, I want to raise midget awareness and prevent their further exploitation by others. I am deeply offended by midget pornography and by people who hire midget strippers for bachelor parties. That type of behavior really crosses the line in my book. What I'm truly interested in is dressing them in evening wear, more along the lines of the attire Miss Piggy used to wear on "The Muppet Show," or the little man from Monopoly. I'm talking about tuxedos, sequined ball gowns, and fedoras.

AND...

Kimmy's best features were her head and triceps. She wasn't as fat as I would have liked, but she was extremely muscular, which made her shape very aerodynamic. I immediately started fantasizing about pinning a cape to her back and tossing her off the roof of my apartment building.

She just goes on and on and on and on... Seriously, thank God for Chelsea Handler.