Everybody into the Pool: True Tales
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
Beth Lisick started out as a homecoming princess with a Crisco-aided tan and a bad perm. And then everything changed. Plunging headlong into America's deepest subcultures, while keeping both feet firmly planted in her parents' Leave It to Beaver values, Lisick makes her adult home on the fringe of mainstream culture and finds it rich with paradox and humor. On the one hand, she lives in "Brokeley" with drug dealers and street gangs; on the other, she drives a station wagon with a baby seat in the back, makes her own chicken stock, and attends ladies' luncheons. How exactly did this suburban girl-next-door end up as one of San Francisco's foremost chroniclers of alternative culture? Lisick explains it all in her hilarious, irreverent, bestselling memoir, Everybody into the Pool.
Fans of David Sedaris and Sarah Vowell will relish Lisick's scathingly funny, smart, very real take on the effluvia of daily living. No matter what community she's exposing to the light, Lisick always hits the right chord.
future together, exchanging Christmas presents, going to his senior prom together, and spending the summer frequenting the best restaurants around—Chili’s, TGI Fridays, you name it. We would dip curly fries in ranch dressing all the way across the valley. Then he would go off to college, a military academy which would enforce rules of strict gender separation and therefore deprive him of female contact for four years. Pining away for his girl back home, he’d write me long letters on cold nights
desire or money to remodel. As I saw it, the only thing I had going for me as a potential home owner was my ability to withstand excessive noise, urban eyesores, and illicit activity. I thought it would be smart to parlay these special skills into a unique investment opportunity. Let me loose in the most shitty neighborhood I could stand, and I would buy the nicest, biggest house I could afford. When I found a house that fit the bill, a beautiful 1912 Edwardian with a renovated kitchen and
on the rooftops. I thought it was important not to make waves. It’s also true that I wasn’t particularly looking forward to interacting with my neighbors, but I realized I couldn’t completely ignore them as I’d always done when I lived in San Francisco. This was a working-class, black neighborhood where some of the families had lived for over thirty years. Everybody made it their business to know what was going on and that scared me. The house was technically in Berkeley, which contrary to
loot from those shoe boxes in my closet, and I could clear over $375 this week. I was like a college student designing my own major, except I was thirty-five and designing my own minimum wage temp job. I had recently run into my old friend Chris, who had worked with me at the weekly newspaper ten years before. Back then I was a receptionist, and he was the assistant to the lady who sold advertising to booksellers and publishing companies. We both wanted to be writers. I remember being slightly
where I bought the greatest vacuum cleaner on earth for ten bucks. Here’s where I slept on a roof in a stranger’s sleeping bag. And here’s where I never dreamed I’d have you. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS Thanks to my editors Anna Bliss and Bridie Clark; also Kim Hadney, Richard Ljoenes, Kyran Cassidy, Vivian Gomez, Daniel Nayeri, and Paul Olsewski at ReganBooks; Diane Cook at This American Life; James Kass at Youth Speaks; Amy Sedaris; and my wonderful agent, Arielle Eckstut at the Levine Greenberg