Diary of a Mad Diva by Joan Rivers Read Free Book Online

us forty years to cross the desert.
    Constipation is a terrible thing. Why do you think so many of our top serial killers (Ed Gein, Jeffrey Dahmer and John Wayne Gacy, to name a few) come from Wisconsin and its neighboring states? Cheese, that’s why! Everyone knows this about cheese. I’ve always been surprised that those maniacs’ defense lawyers didn’t use this as an argument. I can just see Johnnie Cochran now: “If you eat the cheese, that revolver you’ll squeeze.”
    I was once clogged up for a week after reaching the bottom of the Olive Garden’s bottomless pasta bowl, and I was in such a foul mood that I contemplated taking out an entire Boy Scout troop right as they were practicing their knot-tying skills on their giggling, gay scout master.
    MARCH 28
    Dear Diary:
    Had to run to the store to pick up milk and tampons. I buy tampons so that the teenaged box-boy who works in the store will continue to look at me with both admiration and lust.
    And when the fuck did milk become $8,000 a gallon? Is there a shortage? Are the cows on strike or on a work slowdown? Did Elsie and Flossie unionize, protesting work conditions? They spend all day standing in a pasture, staring at nothing and eating—just like Kevin James—so what’s the problem? If I didn’t care about Cooper’s teeth and bones I’d cut out milk altogether and let him eat his cereal with gin or Jack, just like Grandma does.
    MARCH 29
    Dear Diary:
    Did press all day promoting Joan and Melissa: Joan Knows Best? and In Bed with Joan . I did as many TV and radio shows in the New York tristate area as my schedule and medications would allow. All went great, although I must say I hate going on shows where the interviewer just reads the questions, regardless of what’s being said. Me: “I just killed my mother.” Interviewer: “I understand you like shoes?” I hate that. At least link it up with, “Did you get your mother’s?”
    MARCH 30
    Dear Diary:
    I spent all day in bed watching the Discovery ID channel. All murders, all the time; it was like the good old days on A&E when it was Hitler 24/7. (No matter how lonely or how depressed I was, I knew I could always turn to that station and get a little touch of Adolf. I was in heaven.) Nothing makes me happier than watching the police find a family of five tied up together in their rec room, bound, gagged and stiffer than Martha Stewart. My favorite episode was a cliffhanger: all the victims were so fucking ugly that everybody in town had a motive to kill them. (Which begs the question: Who really was the victim here? The dead person or the townspeople who had to look at him every day?)
    I got hooked on true crime when I first read Truman Capote’s In Cold Blood , the story about two drifters in Kansas who slaughtered the Clutter family for no apparent reason. I take that back; the Clutters were simple, Christian, farm-folk—the drifters had a reason. I always hoped that Capote would have combined his two greatest works, In Cold Blood and Breakfast at Tiffany’s , into one sequel, and the drifters wouldn’t have just killed the Clutter family in that farmhouse cellar, * but they also knocked off Holly Golightly and her fucking cat, too. Now that book would’ve spent a lot of time on the bestseller list.
    MARCH 31
    Dear Diary:
    Today is Easter. Jesus came back from the dead. I don’t understand this. We’re both Jews but he comes back from the dead and I can’t get up before noon.



According to my accountant, I spend too much. According to me, I need a new accountant.

APRIL 1
    Dear Diary:
    I love everybody. I think Melanie Griffith is smart smart smart smart. And John Travolta is straight as an arrow. And Jackie Chan is hung hung hung. April Fool’s!
    Today is April Fool’s Day and I hate it because the people who play practical jokes on other people are usually assholes who think they’re funny and they’re not. (And to me, not being funny is a bigger sin than patricide, matricide and