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Sleepwalk With Me_ And Other Painfully True Stories - Mike Birbiglia [0]

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Simon & Schuster

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New York, NY 10020

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Copyright © 2010 by Mike Birbiglia

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this

book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For information

address Simon & Schuster Subsidiary Rights Department,

1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020.

First Simon & Schuster hardcover edition October 2010

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Designed by Nancy Singer

Manufactured in the United States of America

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Birbiglia, Mike.

Sleepwalk with me and other painfully true stories / Mike Birbiglia.

p. cm.

1. Birbiglia, Mike. 2. Comedians—United States—Biography. I. Title.

PN2287.B45463A3 2010

792.7'6028092—dc22 2010018393

ISBN 978-1-4391-5799-2

ISBN 978-1-4391-7565-1 (ebook)

To my parents, Vincent and Mary Jean.

If it weren’t for your support of my many delusions, I

would not have been able to write this book.

Also, don’t read the chapters about yourselves.

Also, I love you.

CONTENTS

Don’t Tell Anyone

I Have Something to Say!

Delusional

Please Stop the Ride

Goddammit

Like Hell

Patti and the Bear

Going Places

The Deal

I Can’t Stop!

My Hero

Something in My Bladder

The Promise of Sleep

Sleepwalk with Me

One More Thing

Thank-Yous

It’s January 20, 2005, and I’ve just performed at a college in Walla Walla, Washington. Now I’m staying at a hotel called La Quinta Inn. Some people correct me when I say that. They’re like, “No, it’s La Keeen-tah.” I’m like, “That’s not fair. You can’t force me to speak Spanish. I didn’t press 2.”

I’m asleep, and I have a dream that there’s a guided missile headed toward my room and there are all these military personnel in the room with me. And I jump out of bed and I say, “What’s the plan?” And the soldiers say, “The missile coordinates are set specifically on you.” And I say, “That seems very bad.”

Well, the only difference between this dream and any other is that I literally leapt out of my bed, because a few years before that I had started walking in my sleep.

SLEEPWALK

WITH

ME

DON’T TELL ANYONE

I’m sitting at a Starbucks in Manhattan. Starbucks is the last public space with chairs. It’s a shower for homeless people. And it’s a place you can write all day. The baristas don’t glare at you. They don’t even look at you. Every once in a while they walk around with free samples of banana-chocolate something. “No thanks. Just the two-dollar coffee”—cheapest rent in New York. Plus, they sell CDs and even Christmas gifts. If this place sold toilet paper, I probably wouldn’t have to shop anywhere else.

Well, the reason I’m writing is that I want to tell you some stories. And they’re true. I always have to point this out because whenever I tell stories, people ask me, “Was that true?”

And I say, “Yeah.”

And they say, “Was it?”

And I don’t know how to respond to that. I guess I could say it louder. “Yeah!”

“It’s probably true. He said it louder.”

Growing up, I was discouraged from telling personal stories. My dad often used the phrase “Don’t tell anyone.” But not about creepy things. I don’t want to lead you down the wrong path. It would be about insignificant things. Like I wouldn’t make the soccer team and my father would say, “Don’t tell anyone.” And I would say, “They’re gonna know when they show up to the games and I’m not on the team and I’m crying.”

One time I built up the courage to ask him about this, which was tough because my dad is a very serious man. He’s a doctor—a neurologist. When he’s home, he spends most of his time

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