My rating: 3 of 5 stars
As a memoir, it's nice and breezy. She quickly moves through her colorful life. What it was like to be an adopted spoiled Jersey girl, meeting her birth mother, leading the club kids, watching Madonna shamelessly rip everyone off, banging half of Milli Vanilli, going from being a pop star to working at a strip club and bouncing around as a morning radio show host.
But she holds a lot back. Except for a revelation that she helped Alaska Thunderfuck get sober and a brief mention of Carmen Carrera, she doesn't talk about her experience on Drag Race at all.
She's very honest about getting her boobs done, her aversion to drugs/alcohol, dealing with anxiety and overcoming an eating disorder. But she says very little about her husband and two daughters.
She slobbers all over RuPaul. That's the number one rule of the book. KISS ASS. Make the boss look good. She gushes about Ru being her best friend, but if you read between the lines, RuPaul comes across as very cold and cynical. There's no "drag family." Visage and the queens are there to make Ru look good. It's all about her brand.
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