I’m more than halfway through the book so far, and I’m delighted to see that things have taken a very Valley of the Dolls-like turn. Those little multicolored “dolls” have finally made their appearance, and our perfect heroine is eating them up like mealworms. Look, I’m not rooting for her to fail. I may be a bitch, but I’m not a monster. It’s just that the first half of the book was full of good tidings (okay, minus the death within the first 50 pages … and the divorce … and the family shunning…) that I felt it was about time to see the veneer crack a little. I do sympathize with Laura — I’ve had my fair share of rubberneckers waiting for my downfall (Yeah, I’m looking at you Hedgehog Central Forums). But God help me if I don’t love a good mental breakdown. Especially when it happens to someone pretty. If I wanted to read about a normal-looking person fuck up, I’d read a Gary Lutz story.
But yeah, I’m obviously into the book so far. As a hedgehog, I can relate to the fickle nature of Hollywood. We’ve been all the rage lately, but do you think if any of those fair-weather fans adopted one of us, they’d know a thing about caring for ‘hogs? They’re in love with the facade, that’s all. You think for a minute they’d know what to do with Wobbly Hedgehog Syndrome or our tendency to defecate when excited? Hell no. God, Laura Lamont: I understand. I understand more than most.