Synopses & Reviews
You know Judy Greer, right? Maybe from The Wedding Planner, 13 Going on 30, Carrie, Arrested Development, or The Descendants. Yes, you totally recognize her. And, odds are, you already feel like she’s your friend.
In her first book of essays, I Don’t Know What You Know Me From, Greer writes about everything you would hope to hear from your best friend: how a midnight shopping trip to Walgreens can cure all; what it’s like to wake up one day with stepchildren; and how she really feels about fans telling her that she’s prettier in person. Yes, it’s all here—from the hilarious moments to the
intimate confessions.
But Judy Greer isn’t just a regular friend—she’s a celebrity friend. Want to know which celebs she’s peed next to? Or what the Academy Awards are actually like? Or which hot actor gave her father a Harley-Davidson? Don’t worry; Greer reveals all of that, too. You’ll love her because, besides being laugh-out-loud funny, she makes us genuinely feel like she’s one of us. Because even though she sometimes has a stylist and a makeup artist, she still wears (and hates!) Spanx. Because even after almost twenty years in Hollywood, she still hasn’t figured everything out—except that you should always wash your face before bed. Always.
Synopsis
This is Judy Greer's story, from her self-described childhood as "Ugly Judy" in suburban Detroit-ish, Michigan, to trying out for drama school to get even with her frenemy, and then breaking into movies as the ultimate best friend. Judy is a refreshingly honest, self-deprecating, and totally relatable guide to Hollywood life, speaking candidly about what it's really like to shoot on location, to go to the Oscars, and to feel like you're building a tortoise career in a town full of hares.
Beneath the Spanx, Judy is like the best friend you've always wanted. She chills out with her giant, gassy bulldog, Buckley; meets the love of her life on a blind date; happily dives into being a stepparent; and through it all maintains an unshakeable belief in the restorative power of a late-night drugstore run.