Schumer - The Girl with the Lower Back Tattoo

NOTE TO READERS: Certain names and characteristics have been changed throughout the work, regardless of whether such changes are specifically identified.

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First published in the US by Gallery Books, an imprint of Simon & Schuster, Inc. 2016

First published in the UK by HarperCollinsPublishers 2016

FIRST EDITION

Amy Schumer 2016

Cover layout design HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2016

Front cover photograph Mark Seliger

A catalogue record of this book is

available from the British Library

Amy Schumer asserts the moral right to be

identified as the author of this work

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Sources ISBN: 9780008172374

Ebook Edition August 2016 ISBN: 9780008172404

Version: 2017-11-10

For Kimby and Jasy

Hey, its me, Amy. I wrote a book! This is something I have wanted to do for a long time because I love making people laugh and feel better. Some of the stories youll read in here will be funny, like the time I shit myself in Austin, and some will make you feel a little blue, like the time my sister and I were almost sold into sex slavery in Italy. JK. Neither of these stories are in this book, even though both actually happened, unfortunately.

Speaking of, everything in this book really happened. Its all true and nothing but the truth, so help me God. But it isnt the whole truth. Believe it or not, I dont tell you guys everything.

This book isnt my autobiography. I will write one of those when Im ninety. I just turned thirty-five, so I have a long way to go until I am memoir-worthy. But for now I wanted to share these stories from my life as a daughter, sister, friend, comedian, actor, girlfriend, one-night stand, employee, employer, lover, fighter, hater, pasta eater, and wine drinker.

I also want to clarify that this book has NO SELF-HELP INFO OR ADVICE FOR YOU. Over the last several years, Ive been asked to write articles on topics like how to find a man. Or how to keep a man. Or how to rub a mans taint at the right time. I dont know how to do any of that stuff. Im a flawed fuckup and I havent figured anything out, so I have no wisdom to offer you. But what I can help with is showing you my mistakes and my pain and my laughter. I know whats important to me, and that is my family (not all of them, for Christs sake, just some of them). And getting to laugh and enjoy life with friends. And to, of course, have an orgasm once in a while. I find at least once a day is best.

So anyway, I hope you enjoy my book, and if you dont, please dont tell anyone.

Wish me luck!

First of all, Im sorry. Second of all, youre welcome.

I know Ive put you through a lot. Ive had hot wax poured on you and the hair ripped from you by strangers. Some of the strangers have burned you even though I told them you have very sensitive skin. But its on me for going to a shady-looking place in Astoria, Queens, that you thought may have been a drug front. Ive been responsible for getting you yeast infections and UTIs and have worn stockings and Spanx for too long, knowing it could cause you problems. And I want to apologize for Lance on the lacrosse team, who treated you like you owed him money with his finger. That sucked, and Im totally with you in being pissed. But youve also had a lot of nice visitors, right? Huh? You have to admit weve had a lot of fun together. I even fought to be able to call you pussy, which I know you prefer, on television.

Ive honestly done my best as Ive gotten older to only let people visit who will be kind to you, and I feel like Ive done my part to keep you healthy. I know that sometimes I let people in you without a condom, but, in my defense, it feels better that way and it was only the people I was dating and trusted. Well, mostly. But we really have lucked out, havent we?

Im also sorry for the time I had sex with my new boyfriend and we couldnt find the condom afterward and then three days later I realized it was stuck in me and I had to bear down, as they say, and fish it out. That must have been a real bummer for you. Or maybe it was fun to have a visitor for so long? Either way, my bad!

So what do you say? Lets grab a beer together. Okay, fine, nothing with yeast. And youre buying.

Ive only had one one-night stand in my life. Yes, one. I know, Im so sorry to disappoint anyone who thinks I walk around at all times with a margarita in one hand and a dildo in the other. Maybe the misunderstanding comes from the fact that onstage, I group together all my wildest, worst sexual memories which is a grand total of about five experiences over the course of thirty-five years. When you hear about them all back-to-back it probably sounds like my vagina is a revolving door at Macys at Christmastime. But I talk about these few misadventures because its not funny or interesting to hear about someones healthy, everyday sex life. Imagine me onstage saying, So last night I got in bed with my boyfriend and we held each other in a supportive, caring embrace, and then he made sweet love to me. The crowd would walk out and Id walk out with them.

And besides, even I sometimes confuse my onstage sexual persona with my reasonable, sensible, real-life self. Sometimes I try to convince myself that I can have emotionless sex, the kind Im always hearing about from men and Samantha on Sex and the City. And I have my moments, but 99.9 percent of the time, Im not that way. Ive never even hooked up with a guy after one of my shows. Isnt that sad? Ive been touring for twelve years and not once have I met a guy after Ive performed, brought him home, and even made out with him. Nothing. I know some male comics who say theyve never gotten laid without the girl seeing them perform first. Its the exact opposite for me. Im not in this for the dick. I enjoy sex the normal amount, and most of the time its with someone Im dating, and I just lie there in Happy Baby pose making it sound like Im having a good time. When Im single and one-night stands present themselves, Im usually still a fairly self-protective chick, and the thought of some mystery cock entering me doesnt get my pulse going. Well, except for this one time

I was on the road doing a tour and traveling between two horrendous cities: Fayetteville, North Carolina, and Tampa, Florida. Im not scared about writing that and making those people mad, because I know for a fact that no one who lives there has ever read a book. JKJKJKJKJK, but kind of not K. When you go between cities like those two, you get the pleasure of flying on the tiniest short bus in the sky, which for some reason is still called a plane. You have to duck to get on, and you can hear the propellers the whole flight, and also the faintest sound of someone singing La la la la la bamba, but you hope that the latter is just in your head.