Lies That Chelsea Handler Told Me by Handler Chelsea

Author:Handler, Chelsea [Handler, Chelsea]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Non-Fiction, Humor, Biography, Autobiography
ISBN: 9780446584715
Publisher: Grand Central Publishing
Published: 2011-04-30T23:00:00+00:00

Just then, it all made sense. Chelsea was continuing to fuck with me. From three thousand miles away. Impressive.

“Oh, my god, Zoughi, where is my iPad?”

“I don’t know. You packed it.”

I texted Chelsea. “Hey, did I leave my iPad there?”

No response for a few minutes. Then: “You’re a hot mess.”

And there was my answer. I had left my iPad in Chelsea’s room in the Bahamas and she had randomly e-mailed a bunch of people from my address book. Since Chelsea is electronically challenged, I was surprised she’d figured out how to use the iPad to begin with.

She’d created a real shit storm in my conservative, Catholic family, who now thought the reason I was getting married was because I was pregnant. For weeks everyone was talking about my shotgun wedding and how I needed to buy a new wedding dress that would flatter a pregnant belly. This, of course, was hilarious to Chelsea.

It wasn’t until everyone came back from the Bahamas that the sympathy cards for Zoughi started to make sense as well.

When I was at dinner with Ivory one night, she asked, “So how’s Zoughi doing?”

“He’s good. Back to work.”

“Well, that’s good. Does he need surgery?”

“For what?”

“His knee!”

Ivory could see by the look on my face that I had no idea what she was talking about. “Chelsea told us what happened,” she said, giggling.

“Well, why don’t you tell me what happened, since apparently I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Chelsea said that when he fell, he busted his knee.”

“He didn’t fall!”

“She said that night you left early, you and Zoughi had taken peyote and you guys were rolling—”

“Peyote?”

“Yeah. I thought it was weird, but she said there had been a resurgence in Middle Easterners using peyote.”

“Uh-huh.” I couldn’t wait to hear what line of bullshit was coming next.

“And that you guys had crazy sex and Zoughi fell off the bed and broke his knee.”

“From the peyote?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Ivory, peyote is for Native American Indians. Zoughi is fucking Persian. How do you think we would even get peyote in the Bahamas?”

“She said that Zoughi always travels with it. Like a ritual. Oh, my God, I can’t believe I am so stupid. What is wrong with all of us? Chelsea begged me not to tell you that I knew about the peyote.”

“And what else?” I asked her.

“And the reason you left early was because Zoughi had to be airlifted back to the mainland and then taken immediately to an American hospital because of his insurance or something. I guess he’s with an HMO?”

I just sat there staring at Ivory.

“None of this is true, is it?” she asked.

“No! We came back early to make it in time for Tanya’s New Year’s Eve party!”

“So Zoughi’s knee is fine?”

“Yes, his knee is fine. It’s like we’re dealing with a seven-year-old with Chelsea.”

“A seven-year-old with really big tits and a lot of money,” Ivory reminded me.

“This is true.”

Unbelievable. Chelsea had used my e-mail to screw me and my fiancé in our circle of friends and family.

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