Alright. I’m not even going to review this book outside of the Goodreads review. What I’m going to do is provide a few of my favorite quotes below, and if those aren’t enough to convince you to read this book, then you’re sorely missing out.
Warning: this post include some crude but amusing quotes. Read at your own discretion.
From New York Times bestselling author and star of 2 Dope Queens , Phoebe Robinson, comes a new, hilarious, and timely essay collection on gender, race, dating, and a world that seems to always be a self-starting Dumpster fire.
Wouldn’t it be great if life came with an instruction manual? Of course, but like access to Michael B. Jordan’s house, none of us are getting any. Thankfully, Phoebe Robinson is ready to share everything she’s experienced in hopes that if you can laugh at her topsy-turvy life, you can laugh at your own.
Written in her trademark unfiltered and singularly witty style, Robinson’s latest essay collection is a call to arms. She tackles a wide range of topics, such as giving feminism a tough love talk in hopes it can become more intersectional; telling society’s beauty standards to kick rocks; and demanding that toxic masculinity close its mouth and legs (enough with the manspreading already!), and get out of the way so true progress can happen.
Robinson also gets personal, exploring debt she has hidden from her parents, how dating is mainly a warmed-over bowl of hot mess, and maybe most importantly, meeting Bono not once, but twice. She’s struggled with being a woman with a political mind and a woman with an ever-changing jean size. She knows about trash not only because she sees it every day, but also because she’s seen about one hundred thousand hours of reality TV and zero hours of Schindler’s List.
Everything’s Trash, But It’s Okay is a candid perspective for a generation that has had the rug pulled out from under it too many times to count, as well as an intimate conversation with a new best friend.
“Harassment is not just about harming you that one time; it’s about lingering around for every time afterwards and chipping away at you without you realizing it.”
“Not to get all Game of Thrones on ya, but you can call me Phoebe of the House Robinson, First of Her Name, the Blerd, Drinker of Rose and Also Chardonnay when Rose Is Not An Option, Khaleesi of Ignorance, Breaker of Chains, and Mother of Trash.”
“It was so hot that I get why the devil leaves hell to take an Airbnb vacation to the polar ice caps and melts them because he’s mad at living in such a hot-ass home.”
“…women are conditioned to waste hours, days, weeks, months (although, truth be told, it’s most likely years) doubting, undermining, and ultimately hating parts, if not all, of themselves based solely on “problems” with their bodies that can be solved by buying products from an industry that invented these problems in the first place. How fucking convenient. And when all is said and done, what is the prize for this self-torture? Fitting neatly within society’s destructive narrative about the female body.”
“For some women, the mere thought of a dong makes their vajeens let out the driest of coughs.”