• Complain

Paul Feig - Superstud: Or How I Became a 24-Year-Old Virgin

Here you can read online Paul Feig - Superstud: Or How I Became a 24-Year-Old Virgin full text of the book (entire story) in english for free. Download pdf and epub, get meaning, cover and reviews about this ebook. year: 2005, publisher: Crown, genre: Science fiction. Description of the work, (preface) as well as reviews are available. Best literature library LitArk.com created for fans of good reading and offers a wide selection of genres:

Romance novel Science fiction Adventure Detective Science History Home and family Prose Art Politics Computer Non-fiction Religion Business Children Humor

Choose a favorite category and find really read worthwhile books. Enjoy immersion in the world of imagination, feel the emotions of the characters or learn something new for yourself, make an fascinating discovery.

No cover
  • Book:
    Superstud: Or How I Became a 24-Year-Old Virgin
  • Author:
  • Publisher:
    Crown
  • Genre:
  • Year:
    2005
  • Rating:
    5 / 5
  • Favourites:
    Add to favourites
  • Your mark:
    • 100
    • 1
    • 2
    • 3
    • 4
    • 5

Superstud: Or How I Became a 24-Year-Old Virgin: summary, description and annotation

We offer to read an annotation, description, summary or preface (depends on what the author of the book "Superstud: Or How I Became a 24-Year-Old Virgin" wrote himself). If you haven't found the necessary information about the book — write in the comments, we will try to find it.

Lost in love and dont know much? Paul Feig knew even less...
Like any other red-blooded, straight young man, Paul Feig spent much of his teenage years trying to solve the mystery of women. Unlike most red-blooded, straight teenage boys, however, Paul Feig was sadly at a considerable disadvantage. He was tall and gangly. He had a love for musical theater. And, perhaps the death knell for his burgeoning sex life, Paul was a tap dance student. (And we have the pictures to prove itsee the front cover.)
Infused with the same witty and infectiously readable style of his first book, Kick Me, Superstud chronicles the trials and tribulations of Feigs young dating life with all the same excruciating detail as an on-air gastric bypassand you just wont be able to tear yourself away. Feigs series of shudder-to-think but oddly familiar (come onweve all been dumped by someone we didnt even like that much) anecdotes include: his first date, at an REO Speedwagon concert with the most endowed girl in school, who leaves him sitting next to a puddle of puke; his first breakup, accomplished by moving across the country; his mortifying date with his secretly bigoted girlfriend; his discovery of a new self-love technique that almost lands him in the hospital; and his less-than-idealistic first time, which he nevertheless elevates to biblical proportions.
In Superstud, Paul Feig tells all in a hilarious but true testament to geekdom, love, and growing up.

Paul Feig: author's other books


Who wrote Superstud: Or How I Became a 24-Year-Old Virgin? Find out the surname, the name of the author of the book and a list of all author's works by series.

Superstud: Or How I Became a 24-Year-Old Virgin — read online for free the complete book (whole text) full work

Below is the text of the book, divided by pages. System saving the place of the last page read, allows you to conveniently read the book "Superstud: Or How I Became a 24-Year-Old Virgin" online for free, without having to search again every time where you left off. Put a bookmark, and you can go to the page where you finished reading at any time.

Light

Font size:

Reset

Interval:

Bookmark:

Make
Contents Book One I II III IV V VI VII VIII IX X Book Two - photo 1
Contents Book One I II III IV V VI VII VIII IX X Book Two - photo 2
Contents

Book One:

I.

II.

III.

IV.

V.

VI.

VII.

VIII.

IX.

X.

Book Two:

Book Three:

Book Four:

Book Five:

I was going to dedicate this book to my wife, Laurie.
But she didnt want me to.

I thought about dedicating it to my mom and dad,
but theyve both passed away
and theres enough embarrassing stuff in here that
Im pretty sure they wouldnt want me to anyway.

Since my wife didnt want the dedication,
then I cant really dedicate it to my in-laws.
And I cant imagine that any of the relatives on my side
of the family would want their names in here.

Its just way too weird to dedicate this to any of my friends,
especially when you see what some of the subject matter is.

Id dedicate it to the famous people whove inspired me in my career,
but their estates would probably sue me.

And so I would like to dedicate this to Heather MacArthur,
whose name I picked at random out of the phone book
I dont know who you are but you sound like an interesting person.

Please contact the legal department at Three Rivers Press
if you have a problem with your appearance in this dedication.

Happy reading!

The Hapless Romantic

Ive always been a hopeless romantic.

If I had a dime for every time in the past that I have walked on the beach at night by myself, humming the theme from Against All Odds or that Chicago song After All That Weve Been Through (or whatever its called) or that Barry Manilow song Come into My Arms (or whatever that songs called) as I fantasized I was actually walking hand in hand with one of the myriad of girls I happened to be in love with at that moment, Id have at least enough dimes to get myself a good-sized sandwich, drink, and dessert. Ive driven more miles in my car at night with the radio blasting the love-gone-wrong songs of Elvis Costello or Bob Dylan or the Tangerine Dream soundtrack from Risky Business than most cross-country truckers log in during any given year. And Ive gotten misty in more Woody Allen relationship films (Annie Hall, Manhattan, and Hannah and Her Sisters, specifically) than, well, probably anybody.

Theres just always been something about trying to find those perfect moments in life, the ones where you feel loved and needed and fulfilled, that has driven me to do so many embarrassing things over the years. They never seemed embarrassing at the time but, once looked back upon, they cause me to cringe in the same way I cringe when I think about the time I wore a powder blue disco jumpsuit to high school with the mistaken impression that it would actually make me look cool.

It didnt.

But despite my lifetime membership as a semi-mature, card-carrying geek, and despite the misconception some people have of the nerds of this world being asexual creatures who care more about Japanese anime drawings of women than real living, breathing females, Ive actually spent a lot of time and energy looking for romance. And Ive misguidedly spent a lot of money trying to buy it, in the form of expensive dinners, impressive gifts, and good tickets to pricey events, all meant to kick-start the blossoming of Love from an otherwise unwilling prospective girlfriend. And because of all this, I can definitely confirm that the old saying is trueYou cant buy love.

Well, unless youre a millionaire. Then you probably can. Just not quality love.

You have to be a billionaire to buy that.

But I digress.

Ill never forget the moment when I realized how desperately I wanted true romance in my life. It happened on a Saturday night. I was about twelve and was in Kalamazoo, Michigan, for a guitar competition. My mother and I drove up and spent the weekend in the hotel where the judging was taking place, and I was having a great time. Even though I wasnt much of a guitarist, for some reason I had picked just the right piece to play on my classical guitar for that days competition, and the planets had aligned so that when I got up to perform in front of the judges, I was actually good, scoring an amazing 100 out of 100 points. I went from ranking as one of my guitar teachers biggest embarrassments to being his star pupil within a matter of minutes and was feeling no pain as I went into the evenings celebrations. The music association that ran the competition was putting on a dance for all the participants, and the whole thing seemed magical to me as soon as I walked in the door with my mother. The large hall was packed with young musicians of all ages, and the band performing was amazing, made up of professional players who were using the event to really show off what they could do on their instruments. I was standing and watching as they performed the Dan Fogelberg/Tim Weisberg song Tell Me to My Face, which was one of my favorites at the time, and the lead guitarist, who was also an older friend of mine from music school, was performing a truly amazing guitar solo.

There was something about the all-encompassing power and volume of the music and otherworldliness of the flashing lights and being surrounded by people who were talented and creative and not the kind of people who were mean to you or wanted to beat you up that all combined to make one of those magical moments that sometimes occur in lifewhere you feel transported out of your body, away from all your earthly cares; in which you see the world in a different light, as a collection of people and energy, and you suddenly love it all and want to experience it all. As I stood there watching and listening, my twelve-year-old brain taking in so many new emotions and stimuli and suddenly feeling so happy to be alive, I noticed a girl standing in front of me, with her back to me. She seemed to be about my age, maybe a year or two older, and was a few inches shorter than I was. I had the feeling that she was very pretty, but I couldnt tell since I was looking at the back of her head. But I remember staring at her hair. It was long and dark and hung down straight and simple as it magically reflected the lights from the stage. I stared at the perfectly straight center part in her hair, and then followed the silken-looking tresses as they spilled onto her shoulders and hung down her back. She was thin and delicate and was wearing a simple shirt and jeans. And because she was swaying lightly to the music, the ends of her hair were floating back and forth gently, brushing against her shirt as if they were ghostly fingers caressing her softly. I was close enough where I thought I could smell the powdery aroma of her perfume and the sweet scent of her shampoo, although its hard to say if it was coming from her or one of the many other girls crowded around us. But I was suddenly overwhelmed by it all as I continued to stare at the top of her head. To this day I dont know why I was so affected by the part in her hair, but I couldnt stop looking at it, at her. It somehow made her seem so human, so real and attainable, and I was overtaken with the strangest feelinga realization that if you could get a girl to fall in love with you and to become your girlfriend and marry you, you would possess that person, just like she would possess you. Not in a desperate way or in a way that meant she was something you owned, but in the sense that she was yours, that she was a fellow human who had dedicated her life to being with you, just as you had dedicated your life to being with her. You could be hers, and you would belong to each other. If I were to become her boyfriend, I thought, then I could see that part in her hair every day. I could reach out and touch it if I wanted to. I could kiss the top of her head and she would love me. And if I married her I would actually have a person in this world to whom I belonged. The thought so overwhelmed me that I literally felt everything else around the two of us melt away, as if she and I were the only people in the room. She obviously had no idea this was happening behind her and simply continued watching the band, swaying contentedly to the music. But I felt lighter than air as we stood there, and I didnt want the moment to end within my lifetime.

Next page
Light

Font size:

Reset

Interval:

Bookmark:

Make

Similar books «Superstud: Or How I Became a 24-Year-Old Virgin»

Look at similar books to Superstud: Or How I Became a 24-Year-Old Virgin. We have selected literature similar in name and meaning in the hope of providing readers with more options to find new, interesting, not yet read works.


Reviews about «Superstud: Or How I Became a 24-Year-Old Virgin»

Discussion, reviews of the book Superstud: Or How I Became a 24-Year-Old Virgin and just readers' own opinions. Leave your comments, write what you think about the work, its meaning or the main characters. Specify what exactly you liked and what you didn't like, and why you think so.