I have admittedly done a poor job of updating my reading list, so here's a roundup of what I read this month.  I will admit that I took a slight detour and read/am reading a few books that even I would deem "trashy".

I actually read those in backwards order, her first book is the latter, My Horizontal Life.  Both books are a mere collection of funny and sometimes outrageous stories from this woman's life.  I would liken these books to Tucker Max's I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell though Max is a more outlandish and at times much more in depth that you need to know.  I'd rate Max's book as NC-17 and Handler's as R if we're abiding by movie ratings.

• Are You There, Vodka? It's Me, Chelsea by Chelsea Handler
  
• My Horizontal Life: A Collection of One-Night Stands by Chelsea Handler

• The Year of Living Biblically: One Man's Humble Quest to Follow the Bible as Literally as Possible by A. J. Jacobs

As I write this, I have a beard that makes me resemble Moses. Or Abe Lincoln. Or Ted Kaczynski. I’ve been called all three.

It’s not a well-manicured, socially-acceptable beard. It’s an untamed mass that creeps up toward my eyeballs and drapes below my neckline.

I’ve never allowed my facial hair to grow before, and it’s been an odd and enlightening experience. I’ve been inducted into a secret fraternity of bearded guys – we nod at each other as we pass on the street, giving a knowing quarter-smile. Strangers have come up to me and petted my beard, like it’s a Labrador Retriever puppy or a pregnant woman’s stomach.

I’ve suffered for my beard. It’s been caught in jacket zippers and been tugged on by my surprisingly strong two-year-old son. I’ve spent a lot of time answering questions at airport security.

I’ve been asked if I’m named Smith and sell cough drops with my brother. ZZ Top is mentioned at least three times a week. Passersby have shouted “Yo, Gandalf.” Someone called me Steven Seagal, which I found curious, since he doesn’t have a beard.

I’ve battled itch and heat. I’ve spent a week’s salary on balms, powders, ointments and conditioners. My beard has been a temporary home to cappuccino foam and lentil soup. And it’s upset people. Thus far, two little girls have burst into tears and one boy has hidden behind his mother.

But I mean no harm. The facial hair is simply the most noticeable physical manifestation of a spiritual journey I began a year ago.

• I attempted to read One Flew over the Cuckoo's Nest by Ken Kesey but just couldn't get into it.  Maybe I'll try again at some other point in time.

• Then there is Hiroshima by John Hersey which I am nearly through.  It's a fantastic, yet horribly depressing novel about five people who survived the bombing of Hiroshima and their journey through the panic when the bomb went off, their struggle to stay alive and out of the way of the fires and flooding, as well as their lives after the bomb and their battle with radiation sickness and other side effects from the atomic bomb.  I get some very weird looks from people when I read this book as it's my current "subway/commuting book".

• My current "bedtime book" is  The Game: Penetrating the Secret Society of Pickup Artists by Neil Strauss.  It's an amusing read that I picked up on a recommendation from a friend.