Autorentext
Lauren Graham is an actor, writer, and producer best known for her roles on the critically acclaimed series Gilmore Girls and Parenthood. She is currently an Executive Producer on Mighty Ducks: Game Changers for Disney+, in which she also stars. She is a three-time New York Times bestselling author of In Conclusion, Don’t Worry About It; Talking as Fast as I Can; and the novel Someday, Someday, Maybe. She has been a successful actor for nearly three decades, appearing in TV, film, and on Broadway. She holds a BA in English from Barnard College and an MFA in acting from Southern Methodist University. Graham lives in New York and Los Angeles.

Zusammenfassung
**NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLER • From the beloved star of Gilmore Girls and the New York Times bestselling author of Talking as Fast as I Can comes an “insightful, honest, funny, and moving collection of captivating stories” (BuzzFeed).

“Graham is fast and furiously funny. . . . Where Graham leads, we will definitely follow.”—E! Online**

Lauren Graham has graced countless television screens with her quick-witted characters and hilarious talk show appearances, earning a reputation as a pop culture icon who always has something to say. In her latest book, Have I Told You This Already?, Graham combines her signature sense of humor with down-to-earth storytelling. Graham shares personal stories about her life and career—from her early days spent pounding the pavement while waitressing in New York City, to living on her aunt’s couch during her first Los Angeles pilot season, to thoughts on aging gracefully in Hollywood.

In “R.I.P. Barneys New York” Graham writes about an early job as a salesperson at the legendary department store (and the time she inadvertently shoplifted from it); in “Ryan Gosling Cannot Confirm,” she attempts to navigate the unspoken rules of Hollywood hierarchies; in “Boobs of the ’90s” she worries her bras haven’t kept up with the times; and in “Actor-y Factory” she recounts what a day in the life of an actor looks like (unless you’re Brad Pitt). 

Filled with surprising anecdotes, sage advice, and laugh-out-loud observations, these all-new, original essays showcase the winning charm and wry humor that have delighted Graham’s millions of fans.

Leseprobe
Ne Oublie

I’m certain I graduated from college, but I haven’t seen my diploma in over twenty years. I can’t find the parking ticket I got yesterday. It’s probably sitting in the same drawer alongside the one I can’t find from last week. At age 14, I remember holding my social security card for approximately five minutes before I misplaced it and never saw it again. Last week, I found a watch I thought I’d lost months ago inside of a shoe. Perhaps that’s why I’m pretty good at memorizing lines of dialogue and people’s phone numbers—I can’t be counted on to save the paper I wrote them on, and even if I put the info into my phone, it might take me a while to remember where I left it. I lose my phone, my wallet, and my keys multiple times a day. Sometimes, I’ll go into the kitchen to find that book I’ve been reading and two hours later I have organized the silverware drawer but have zero recollection of what I came into the kitchen for. “One fish goes this way, the other fish goes that way,” is how a friend once described these absentminded tendencies. I am a Pisces, after all.

Possibly, I got it from my dad. Growing up, I didn’t own a set of house keys. He probably lost his own set too many times before he gave up and decided it was easier just to leave the front door open (please don’t break into my dad’s house). As a teen, I was taught to leave car keys in the ignition, because how else was anyone supposed to find them? (Please don’t steal my dad’s car.) To this day, my father is well known for driving away with a coffee mug still on the roof of his car, and even though everyone in the family has bought him countless pairs of nicer sunglasses, the only ones he seems unable to lose are the neon-green mirrored ones intended for road biking.

But what my dad has lost in sets of keys, he’s made up for with his ability to paint vivid pictures of the past. As a keeper of the objects and details of the present, his record may be spotty, but as a minder of memories, he excels.

My father is an excellent storyteller with a tight repertoire. If his stories were songs, he wouldn’t have a ton of deep cuts, but he could fill an entire album of Greatest Hits. As a kid, I lived for the rotation of stories from his own childhood: the time he got separated from his mom in the grocery store and a neighbor found him and brought him home; the day his family became the first on the block to own a television; racing on the beaches of Long Island with his collie, King. Then there was an entire spinoff series about Dad and his childhood friend Georgie. Dad and Georgie taking the train to Coney Island to ride the Ferris wheel; Dad and Georgie dressing in trench coats and fedoras for their secret club in which they pretended to be Al Capone’s henchmen; Dad and Georgie going to the soda shop, where they’d sit at the counter after football practice and order an egg cream or a “suicide” (an ice cream sundae involving a scoop of every available flavor).

As I got older, the stories matured as well. There was the one about his senior prom date, Angela, who’d fallen asleep under the sunlamp that day and came to the door beet red and puffy from crying, my father reassuring her he couldn’t tell at all (he could tell). And the day he met my mom as she was moving into his same apartment building, and she asked if he wouldn’t mind letting her make a call because her phone hadn’t been hooked up yet. The year he spent after college in Vietnam working for the Agency for International Development, where the local kids would sometimes crawl under a cafe table where he was having lunch and pull at his leg hair, fascinated because they’d never seen such a thing.

One of my favorites, one I’d heard over and over since I was little, was about the day I was born. What kid isn’t fascinated by their own origin story? My mom was in labor all through the night, it began. In those days, the dads sat in the waiting room and smoked cigars through the whole thing, Mad Men–style, so it wasn’t until right after I was born that my dad visited my mom in her hospital room and saw me for the very first time through the glass of that weird baby holding area you’ve probably seen in old movies. After a nurse pointed out which blob was his, my proud dad headed out to get my mom something to eat. Outside, the sun was just coming up, and maybe because it was so early, there were hardly any cars in the parking lot yet. My dad got into his brand-new red VW Beetle, and somehow, even though he was driving very slowly, and even though there was plenty of space to navigate around it, plowed directly into a lamppost. As a kid, I found this hilarious. As an adult, it occurred to me this was a story of a very young, new dad, who was probably deeply freaked out. But I still found it funny and sweet, and marveled that a half-hour search for his car keys was not also part of the plot. But I could never have predicted how the story of the day of the lamppost would impact my future.

Last year, my friend Jane Levy gave me a reading with an astrologer named Kitty Hatcher as a Zoey’s Extraordinary Playlist Season One wrap gift. Jane is one of those people who knows who all the best people for everything are. We all need a friend like this. If …