Media & Reviews

5.0 out of 5 stars Like A Stiff Martini, September 25, 2013
By L. Pudding “Sammich Lover” (boston) – See all my reviews
This review is from: It’s Not My Fault: Self Discovery & Admission (Kindle Edition)
I’ve been following Wendi Bear’s blog (electrikkiss.com) for a few months now, and I’ve already inhaled the bulk of the content there like some sort of ravenous wildebeast. After reading It’s Not My Fault from cover to cover, I can only say…more, please? The book is structured like a series of essays, some as short as a few page and others considerably more substantial, all told from the perspective of our narrator. There is continuity throughout the book, however, and it’s fun to see how people and places are weaved throughout as Wendi takes us on a tour of her life. The content is consistently hilarious, sometimes disturbing, frequently ridiculous and suprisingly moving at times. Excessive boozing, screwing, drug abusing and general insanity runs throughout, and if you can’t relate to these things you may not connect with the book. You probably don’t have any friends, either. Highlights include her on-again, off-again romance with “Donut”, a stalker of a dwarf, men with mullets, things done with tongues, hilarious injuries and generally naughty behavior. Wendi pens her exploits in a way that is disarmingly honest, self-effacing, and truly funny. With any luck, she will bring us more adventures in the future.

Posted August 20, 2013

 Wow. So the concept of a scandalous sexy tell-all is nothing new

Wow.

So the concept of a scandalous sexy tell-all is nothing new, and no major new ground is broken with Wendi Bear’s It’s Not My Fault, but what surprises is how deftly and hilariously the sordid accounts are shared, without the slightest hint of irony or shame – it’s the sort of conversation you have with your own wanton friend, sitting across from your local dive bar as another trashy, sticky, sometimes even disgusting account is shared over tequila shots.

What’s also quite remarkable about this book is the clear affection Bear has towards some of the characters and situations written about, even when the stories veer towards the depraved.  Sexual partners are written about like old road trips – yeah the tire blew out, but what a view of the desert.  It’s a singular experience to find yourself alternately laughing maniacally in near-disbelief at some of the situations written about, then alternately smiling as you recall your own not-so-successful attempts at hooking up, or having drunk sex, or being the best judge of character.  This is a memoir about the sexual creature in all of us, told warts and all (literally), and although few of us can account to having had quite the libertine youth that Bear has had (few of us would dare!), we’ve all been drunk, we’ve all been careless, we’ve all been reckless and out of our element, and it’s refreshing to have these phenomena reflected on with a buzz and a joy and a gleefully naughty nostalgia with which they are rarely written.