{"product_id":"ive-got-this-round-isbn-9780399576799","title":"I've Got This Round","description":"\u003cb\u003eHilarious, candid, and full of shenanigans: actress and comedian Mamrie Hart—author of \u003ci\u003eAll I Think About is Food \u003c\/i\u003eand the \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e bestselling \u003ci\u003eYou Deserve a Drink\u003c\/i\u003e—is back with more adventures. \u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e \u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWhen Mamrie simultaneously enters her thirties and finds herself single for the first time since college, the world is suddenly full of possibilities.\u003cb\u003e \u003c\/b\u003eEmboldened by the cool confidence that comes with the end of one’s twenties, plus the newfound independence of an attachment-free lifestyle, Mamrie commits herself to living life with even more spirit, adventure, and heart than before. Mamrie dives into new experiences at full tilt and seeks out once-in-a-lifetime opportunities (like meeting the Dixie Chicks), bucket-list goals (like visiting the Moulin Rouge), and madcap adventures (like going anchors-away on a Backstreet Boys cruise)—all while diving back into the dating world for the first time in a decade.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIn \u003ci\u003eI’ve Got This Round\u003c\/i\u003e, readers will find the same shameless honesty and I’ll-try-anything-once spirit they loved in Hart’s \u003ci\u003eNew York Times \u003c\/i\u003ebestseller \u003ci\u003eYou Deserve a Drink\u003c\/i\u003e. Mamrie doubles down on her strong female friendships, her willingness to engage in shenanigans, and her inimitable candor, taking the reader along for a wild and unforgettable journey through adulting.\u003cb\u003ePraise for \u003ci\u003eYou Deserve a Drink\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“My mom and I had Mamrie on \u003ci\u003eIn Bed with Joan\u003c\/i\u003e and we absolutely fell in love with her! She carries her wit in the palm of her hand, usually along with a delicious cocktail. In this book, Mamrie breaks into hilarious as easily as she drops into poignant. A girl who holds the torch for all the funny and smart ladies out there!”—Melissa Rivers\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“I loved this book. Mamrie Hart is hilariously brilliant, and really puts things in perspective with \u003ci\u003eYou Deserve a Drink\u003c\/i\u003e. Specifically that I do deserve a drink. And the only person I feel like having one with right now is her.”—Judy Greer, actress and author of \u003ci\u003eI Don’t Know What You Know Me From: Confessions of a Co-Star\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“You know that voice you have inside that tells you not to do certain things because they are reckless, embarrassing, or socially unacceptable? Mamrie Hart does not have that voice. She does it all and tells it all in \u003ci\u003eYou Deserve a Drink\u003c\/i\u003e.”—Rachel Dratch, SNL alum and author of \u003ci\u003eGirl Walks into a Bar . . . \u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“This book is way better than my book.”—Hannah Hart, \u003ci\u003eNew York Times \u003c\/i\u003ebestselling author of \u003ci\u003eMy Drunk Kitchen\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“\u003ci\u003eYou Deserve a Drink\u003c\/i\u003e is like a night out with Mamrie Hart: charmingly weird and hilariously memorable. All that’s missing is the hangover.”—Tyler Oakley, Youtube star \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Lowbrow\/brilliant.”—\u003ci\u003eNew York m\u003c\/i\u003eagazine’s “Approval Matrix”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“An entirely hilarious read that will delight her current fans . . . and entice new readers who have enjoyed recent books by other humor heavy-hitters (Tina Fey, Amy Poehler, Mindy Kaling).”—SheKnows.com\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Sassy, foul-mouthed, funny, and fearless . . . I like this book so much I can’t decide whom to loan it to first.”—\u003ci\u003eNews \u0026amp; Observer \u003c\/i\u003e(Raleigh, NC)\u003cb\u003eMamrie Hart\u003c\/b\u003e is an actress, comedian, and \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e bestselling author who established a standout presence in the pop-culture zeitgeist with her hit YouTube channel, \u003ci\u003eYou Deserve a Drink\u003c\/i\u003e. Reaching more than three million followers across her social media channels, and with more than eighty-four million views on YouTube, Mamrie’s influence as a creator earned her a coveted position on \u003ci\u003eVariety\u003c\/i\u003e’s annual list of Hollywood’s New Leaders 2016 and a spot on \u003ci\u003eThe Hollywood Reporter\u003c\/i\u003e’s 2017 Digital Disrupters list. In 2016, Mamrie wrote, executive-produced, and starred-in Lionsgate’s feature-length comedy \u003ci\u003eDirty 30\u003c\/i\u003e. Her other writing and acting credits include \u003ci\u003eCamp Takota\u003c\/i\u003e, a feature that outperformed Oscar-nominated films on iTunes’ top downloaded movies chart during the week leading up to the Academy Awards. Mamrie is from middle-of-nowhere North Carolina. She now lives in Los Angeles with her tiny hairless dog, Beanz.The Poc-oh-no's\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e A DISCLAIMER: Every good relationship I've had has started with      honesty . . . and usually a long night of drinking and creating      memories that could be used as future blackmail. But since they      wouldn't let me duct-tape a fifth of tequila to every copy of this      book, I'll just stick with being truthful instead. SO: This      chapter, out of the entire book, is the longest. Most authors      wouldn't do this. Most authors would kick off their book with a      snack of a story. Something to whet the appetite. Like an      amuse-bouche at a fancy restaurant or a mini Snickers in your car      before Chili's. But that's not my style. I respect you too much to      start you off with a quick bang. I wanted our first time to be      slow and attentive and leave you satisfied. That said . . . let's      get into some trouble, y'all!\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Reader, if there's something you need to know about me, it's that      I often get very obsessed with very dumb things, one of these      things being comically large items. Nothing makes me happier than      larger-than-life gags: giant whoopee cushions; water towers      painted to look like food items; roadside attractions, like the      world's largest ball of twine. This love for colossal crap started      early, thanks to a creative local business in my hometown. Where I      grew up, in Podunk, North Carolina, there were only a few      businesses in town: some gas stations, a VHS rental\/tanning bed      salon hybrid, and, situated right by the town's only intersection,      a silk-screening shop that took care of all your sports uniforms      and fund-raiser T-shirt needs.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Now, I'm no marketing exec, but one would think that the best way      to advertise this last business would be to put some jerseys in      the window. Ya know, show the people driving by the best examples      of your work. But not this place. Instead, they filled their      window with a ginormous pair of bright orange granny panties, at      least four feet wide, that read \"Home of the Whopper\" across the      ass. It killed me, and still does. To this day, it's my go-to      visual to make me laugh, like Peter Pan's happy thought to fly.      Home of the Whopper. SMDH.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e But despite all the oversize goods I've been around in my day,      there has always been one giant thing I've yet to find. My      comically large holy grail . . . no, but seriously, it is a grail,      because I'm talking about a giant champagne glass.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Let me take you back. When I was just shoulder high to a titmouse,      I saw a commercial for a romantic resort with a couple in a tub      shaped like a massive champagne glass. I couldn't believe my      freshly diagnosed nearsighted eyes! What a sight to behold. This      couple was happier than an eighties Newport cigarette ad, heads      cocked back, laughing as bubbles swirled all around them. I      immediately fell in love with that scene and that tub. I know what      you're thinking:\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e 1)    WTF does \"shoulder high to a titmouse\" mean? Stay tuned for      more confusing Southern colloquialisms!\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e 2)    What kind of child fantasizes about going to what is clearly      a lovers' resort?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e THIS one. I was a weird child who wanted to be an adult by about      age eight. While other kids were decorating their Barbie      Dreamhouse or out in the yard playing hide-and-seek, I had a      different routine. I would sit at my dining room table, ordering      \"Vodka Vavooms\" from an invisible waiter, which was really just      cran-grape in a martini glass. Then I'd take that 'tini to the      roof of my dilapidated barn, imagining it was a sexy rooftop bar,      drinking, and puffing away on a small twig as if it was a Capri      cigarette.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e This is all especially strange because neither of my parents ever      drank or smoked while I was growing up. Despite this, I was      basically a four-two Samantha Jones in the making, and so      naturally, when I saw that commercial, I felt I had to go. I even      asked to visit the resort as a birthday gift, which looking back      is amazing-a kid begging her mom to take her to a place that is      obviously made for people to have lots of sex? She said no and,      I'm assuming, started researching youth-size chastity belts.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Now, twenty-five years later (ouch), I found myself wondering if I      had just imagined this commercial as a kid. That is, until one      night when I was at a bar, socializing with friends scrolling      through my Instagram feed. There, in a pic drenched in likes, was      a shot of my friend Alan, down on one knee, proposing to his      girlfriend, in front of the very champagne tub from my memory!\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e It existed! Hallelujah! I was elated. Obviously for my friend      finding true happiness in another human but also because this      meant that I had not made up this place in my li'l horny brain and      that it was still open for business.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e In no time, I was texting Alan:\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Congrats on the engagement yada yada yada where on Earth is that      champagne glass?!\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Thanks Mame-dog. It's in the Poconos, at a resort called Cove      Haven. It's amazing, you gotta go!\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Cove Haven, huh? It sounded like a short-lived Days of Our Lives      spin-off. But then he sent the website. I clicked the link and      scrolled through, mouth agape like a preteen boy seeing his first      nudie mag. It was glorious. Not only were there elaborately themed      suites, but there were multiple bars, performances every night,      laser tag, archery, you name it. There was so much adrenaline      coursing through my veins that I momentarily blacked out, and when      I came to, I had a Visa in my hands and booked a champagne suite      for Martin Luther King Jr. weekend, one month away. MLK had a      dream, and so did I. A dream to have my own dreams atop the      circular bed that was prominently featured on the resort's home      page.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I knew the perfect person to take with me: my dear friend and      former camp counselor buddy, Hayley. Now, those of you who read my      first book might remember Hayley from a few chapters, particularly      the one where we ate mushrooms and I kept accidentally setting my      faux fur coat on fire with my cigarettes at a Flaming Lips      concert. Long story short: I was so out of my gourd that night      that I thought the greatest way to ring in midnight would be to      pour all our bottles of bubbly into a tub and hop in before it      struck twelve. Glamorous in theory, but in reality, it was just a      girl tripping balls while sitting in four inches of cold AndrŽ.      Not my finest moment.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e But this would be so full circle. This wouldn't be a couple of      idiots in their early twenties sitting in a birdbath of grocery      store champs! This would be two idiots in their early thirties      lounging in a giant bubble bath champagne glass! So I texted her      with my plan.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Fuck yeah, Mamie!!! she texted back. I need this soooo bad. And      she did. Hayley is a mom and a wife, and her husband had just been      through a major health scare. In other words, Mama needed a      weekend of debauchery out of North Carolina. I knew she'd be the      perfect copilot, too. Hayley should be illegal in most states,      'cause that woman is a firecracker. Seriously, I consider myself      to be an exuberant, charismatic person, but Hayley makes me look      like a baked potato with a wig on.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e The plan was in motion. I would fly out from LA and meet her at      the closest airport to Cove Haven, in lovely Wilkes-Barre,      Pennsylvania, before heading to our luxurious weekend of love.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Three weeks later and there I am, waiting for Hayley in the      arrivals area, happy that my weed gummies passed as gummy vitamins      through security despite them being skunky as hell. But that      wasn't the only thing skunky at baggage claim. \"Mamie Rocket!!!!\"      Hayley screamed from across the room. She was rocking a new hairdo      of shaved dark sides and a bleached-out coif on top, like an edgy      PepŽ Le Pew. She started barreling toward me, and I say      \"barreling\" because she had clearly drank about a barrel of      whiskey on her Detroit layover.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e We embraced like I was a soldier coming home from war, Hayley      lifting me off the ground and spinning me in 360s.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Are you ready for the weirdest weekend ever?\" I asked.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e We piled into our rental, which might as well just have been a      go-kart with a car shell on top of it. I can't remember the exact      make or model, but something makes me think it was called a Dust?      Which was fitting because every time there was a breeze, it felt      as though the car was levitating. We were literal Dust in the      Wind, and I was terrified. But there was no time to worry about      being blown off the road in this wind sock of a car. I had my ride      and my ride-or-die chick beside me, and we were about to undergo      Operation: Acquire Alcohol.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e There are few things I know about Pennsylvania besides the fact      that the scenery can get real monotonous as you are driving      through the state. But here are a couple of nuggets I know that      will hopefully help you in bar trivia one day:\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e 1)    Bret Michaels, the lead singer of Poison and the person      whose scalp might be detachable-he's been hiding it under a      bandana for thirty years-is from there.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e 2)    Steelers fans are intense.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e 3)    Buttloads of Amish people.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e 4)    The alcohol laws are crazy strict.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e That last fact was the only thing that mattered to me in that      moment. In Pennsylvania, you have to buy your beer and wine from      restaurants and liquor from a sanctioned store. We were tired and      jetlagged, and the thought of having to seek out different      storefronts for booze made me want to drive into downtown Scranton      and quietly pull brown bags of Mad Dog out of sleeping bums'      hands. But rather than die by the hand of a vagrant's shiv that      night, I called the resort and put it on speaker.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Cove Haven, this is Barbara, how can I help you?\" The woman's      voice was so calming, so relaxed. Meanwhile, I responded with the      fervor of a woman who'd just been locked up in Thailand for drug      trafficking and was allotted ten seconds on the phone with her      lawyer. There was no time for punctuation.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Hi my name is Mamrie Hart and I am checking into a champagne      suite tonight I'm on the way there from the Wilkes-Barre Airport      and so we won't get there till eleven and I need to know if I can      buy wine to be put in the room before it's too late and also what      time does the bar close?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Slow down, Miss Hart,\" she replied sweetly. It was a bold move to      assume I was single, considering where I was staying for the      weekend. Perhaps the desperation to get liquored up in my voice      gave it away? \"The bar is open till one a.m. And yes, we'd be      happy to do that for you. Would you like red or white?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Umm, I guess a bottle of each? No. Make it two bottles of red and      one white? Wait, no. Two of each . . . and a bottle of champagne.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Let me get this right-you want two bottles of white, two bottles      of red, and one bottle of champagne?\" I looked at Hayley, who was      doing \"bring it home\" hand signals like a damn third base coach.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I could sense the judgment in Barb's voice, so I combatted it with      my ultimate weapon: my Southern charm. \"Five bottles total would      be wonderful, Barbara. And thank you in advance for your warm      hospitality and impeccable customer service. Looking forward to      seeing you shortly.\" I am 90 percent sure she had her hand pressed      to her chest from being so flattered before hanging up the phone.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Hayley and I spent the next hour catching up on life as I drove      through the light snowfall. The farther we drove, the more we      realized that we were in the middle of nowhere, passing town after      town of abandoned businesses and sketchy gas stations.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Is that it?\" I asked, pointing to a massive red heart-shaped sign      in the distance. We pulled up closer and, sure enough, the sign      read \"Cove Haven.\" \"What do you think the next-door neighbors      think of this place?\" Hayley said, nodding toward the yard across      the street covered in broken lawn tools and a rusted-out kids'      bouncy horse.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I turned into the gate. The driveway was so dark, it could've been      surrounded by water, or a rainforest, or a single-file line of      escaped convicts, and we would've had no idea. After what seemed      like forever, we pulled up to the check-in center, which from the      outside had all the glamour of a senior center, and ran in as fast      as we could out of the cold. Who knew that Pennsylvania would be      so freezing in January?!\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e The interior was not much of an improvement. We walked on the      old-school carpeting, past the fake champagne tub filled with      packing peanuts, to meet the sweet, smiling face of Barbara.      \"Welcome to Cove Haven!\" she said as we strutted in. \"You two are      the last guests to check in. We're fully booked this weekend.\" I      was taken aback. I didn't realize that so many people still even      came to this place. Were they here ironically? Maybe the word had      gotten out among Brooklyn hipsters about this frozen-in-time      novelty just a few hours away from NYC.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e We grabbed the keys to our suite from Barb and hightailed it up      the road. As we passed one drab brick building after the next, I      started to get nervous. There was not a soul in sight, despite      Barb saying they were fully booked. Finally, Hayley broke the      tension. \"Mamie, be honest with me, is this an extremely      complicated murder plot? 'Cause you could've just killed me at      home, in that case. I sleep very hard.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Oh come on,\" I said, trying to keep the faith. \"I'm sure everyone      is just passed out from making sweet, sweet love all day long.\" I      forced a smile as we continued driving through what looked like a      desolate community college, with row after row of redbrick,      ranch-style buildings that looked to be from the seventies.      Finally, we spotted our building number and pulled in without      saying a word. An abandoned shed with police tape lay on its side      in front of us.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e What the fuck have I gotten us into? I thought. I've taken my      friend away from her adorable daughter and husband, promising a      ridiculous adventure, and this is where we're staying? This place      was just plain creepy. And this is coming from someone who      understands middle-of-nowhere weirdness-after all, I hail from an      area that is the home of Andy Griffith and has a huge OxyContin      problem. The Land of Opie and Opiates!","brand":"Plume","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46299730968805,"sku":"NP9780399576799","price":16.0,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9780399576799.jpg?v=1767730286","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/products\/ive-got-this-round-isbn-9780399576799","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}