I recently bought "Yvonne: An Autobiography," the reportedly juicy memoir written by Yvonne de Carlo, while drunk. It arrived in the mail today, and I have only had a chance to skim through a bit. In doing so I learned how Ms. de Carlo lost her virginity, and found the "F-word" once.
It's rather awkward for me, being subjected to the sex life of this woman. As a little girl I had no stable maternal authority figure. As a replacement, my young heart settled on the creepy, yet simultaneously cool, Lily Munster. So reading about Yvonne de Carlo's sexual exploits is something like listening to my own mother recount her glory, or, well, whore-y, days. Still, it is like those things you can't unsee. As much as you would love to look away, you just can't, because as disgusted as you are, the fascination wins you over.
All in all, from what I have read Yvonne seems honest, candid, and very witty. I look forward to finishing this book. I will post a full review once I complete reading the book.
Happy entrails! (Haha.)
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