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    Guts: The Endless Follies and Tiny Triumphs of a Giant Disaster
    Guts: The Endless Follies and Tiny Triumphs of a Giant Disaster
    Guts: The Endless Follies and Tiny Triumphs of a Giant Disaster
    Ebook204 pages3 hours

    Guts: The Endless Follies and Tiny Triumphs of a Giant Disaster

    By Kristen Johnston

    4/5

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    About this ebook

    The New York Times bestseller—a harrowing and hysterical memoir by the two-time Emmy Award-winning actress from the hit television show 3rd Rock from the Sun.

    “It felt like I was speeding on the Autobahn toward hell, trapped inside a DeLorean with no brakes. And even if I could somehow stop, I’d still be screwed, because there’s no way I’d ever be able to figure out how to open those insane, cocaine-designed doors.”

    Actress Kristen Johnston has written her first book, a surprisingly raw and triumphant memoir that is outrageous, moving, sweet, tragic, and heartbreakingly honest. Guts is a true achievement—a memoir that manages to be as frank and revealing as Augusten Burroughs, yet as hilarious and witty as David Sedaris. Johnston takes us on a journey so truthful and relatable, so remarkably fresh, it promises to stay with you for a long, long time.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherGallery Books
    Release dateMar 13, 2012
    ISBN9781451635072
    Author

    Kristen Johnston

    Kristen Johnston is an actress, a teacher, and now a celebrated writer. She is one of the founding executive directors of SLAM, and she splits her time between New York City and Los Angeles.

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    Reviews for Guts

    4/5

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    • 3/5
      I picked up this book because I loved the actress on Third Rock from the Sun. I thought it would be a funny memoir about acting, being beautiful, achieving success again and again. Instead, it's about Johnston overcoming her addiction. I guess I'm naive, but I didn't even know she had an addiction! She glosses over her childhood and even her beginning acting success, which originally bugged me, because that's what I wanted to read about. The book instead centers around her stomach actually ripping open and releasing acid into her body due to ingesting so much wine and medication. The majority of the book focuses on her period of recuperating in a London hospital, and finally getting sober after the fact. Pretty funny at times, kind of depressing and sad, but she has a fresh, honest way of approaching addiction that redeems it all.
    • 5/5
      Guts: The Endless Follies and Tiny Triumphs of a Giant Disaster by Kristen JohnstonA riveting memoir by Kristen Johnston on how she over came addiction . Told with quick-wit, humor and raw honesty, I was pulled in from the first page. At times I could relate to what she was saying, (as) part of what happened to her, has happened to me. I was always a fan of Ms. Johnston, and like her even more after (Reading) her soul baring, courageous story. A highly recommend to all.
    • 5/5
      excellent book! great story,, worth the read , , ,
    • 4/5
      I love Kristen Johnston and I loved this book. And hearing her narrate her story on the audio version was magic!

      She's hilarious, even while describing the worst moments of her life. She was an addict, and hit rock bottom really hard. This book is that story along with the start of her recovery from addiction.
    • 3/5
      Enjoyed this immensely. Johnston keeps a sort of breakneck pace through the depths of addiction and the slower, stumbling walk into the light of day...and retains an irreverent yet profound sense of humor about it all.
    • 2/5
      SUBTITLE: The Endless Follies and Tiny Triumphs of a Giant DisasterJohnston skyrocketed to fame with her role on the popular 3rd Rock From the Sun sitcom as “Sally” the alien who lost the best and had to come to earth as a woman. What few people knew, however, was that she was an alcoholic and a drug addict (painkillers). While her career ambition and focus had always been live theater, this detour to fame and tabloid scrutiny exacerbated her feelings of inadequacy and self-doubt. The result was a major medical disaster that nearly killed her. I applaud her honesty and her bravery in laying it all out there, but I’m not a great fan of her delivery. Really, does she need to constantly use such foul language? This was really not my cup of tea. It was a fast read, but I’m not sure I’d recommend it to anyone.Full disclosure: I knew her father quite well. He was my state representative, and I worked on his campaigns back in the day. He had a wonderful photo of his children that always put a smile on my face. This is back in the ‘80s and I remember how proud he was of Kristen when she got the part of Smitty in her high school production of How to Succeed In Business Without Really Trying. I joined a group of campaign staffers to watch her perform in that show. I could not help but think of Rod as I read her memoir.
    • 5/5
      I had no idea what to expect, but it wasn't this honest, insightful & well written book on Kristen Johnson's addiction and recovery....It had little to do with her fame & stardom and there was only the slightest mention of 3rd Rock....I did not find her descriptive narrative loathsome, boring, or pitiful... There was no "poor me", although she did describe the "poor me" attitude she held while recuperating in a London Hospital w/ ruptured ulcers/stomach, & intestines....As I stated, I liked the writing: clear and intelligent, not emotionalYea for Kristen Johnson ♥
    • 2/5
      This memoir of Kristen Johnston's (best known as Sally from 3rd Rock from the Sun) addiction to alcohol and hydrocodone reminded me of Portia de Rossi's book about her struggles with eating disorders and over-exercising. They have the same quality writing, they're about the same length, they can be read in one sitting, and they're by Hollywood actresses who are B-list in terms of fame. Both books are honest, free of trash-talk, and both women take responsibility for their problems, which is refreshing.

      Johnston is a little grating. Her writing comes across as her trying too hard to be funny. I don't know if she is that funny: her character on 3rd Rock certainly was, but that part was written by other people (which isn't to say she didn't execute it beautifully -- she is a talented person). But her book was interesting enough to entertain me for three or four hours, and that's really all I wanted out of it. I didn't even know it was an addiction memoir until after I picked it up from the library, I just knew it was autobiographical, and I admit I'm fan of "that alien show."
    • 5/5

      Great book!!!!
    • 3/5
      This was an okay book. I was expecting more on her drug abuse and it was more on her hospital stay for a stomach problem. The surgery she needed was however, a complication brought on by her drug abuse. She never really touched on the "bottom" as most of these types books do. The depression she suffered and the feelings of self-loathing was talked about but I never could quite grasp how her addiction effected her. The story read like a scattered mind that is randomly telling things. The surgery she went through was ACK not something I would ever want to endure though.
    • 5/5
      Kristen Johnston has written a candidly open and honest book about her triumph over addiction. I was in awe as I read the events that compounded on her psyche until her only escape became drugs and alcohol. I knew Kristen had a story to tell but wasn't prepared for the emotion that jumped from the page in the laying bare of her life. I found myself wanting to be Kristen's protector, ass-kicker and biggest supporter at various times throughout the book.Within the pages of “GUTS” Kristen regales us with her now famous sharp tongued wit as she retells the story of coming-of-age as an “outsider” in school, to finding her outlet in comedic acting. She shares the torment and bullying that unfortunately has become a rite of passage in most of our educational institutions. When Kristen outlines the course of her addiction to drugs and alcohol, I, being someone who is at best addicted to coffee and a great pair of shoes, had absolutely no idea how quickly something that starts out as a social drink can become a puddle of quicksand that can drag you in over your head with nothing to hold onto. To say Kristen had a fall from grace would be crass. To have lived through what could have been the end of her life, and frankly our loss, and surface on the other side determined to break her addictions and claim back her life is nothing short of a triumph. She doesn’t candy coat the process or make it movie of the week pg rated. She tells it like it is making no apologies and owning up to her mistakes.Kristen has actually written this book. She hasn’t stood behind the shoulders of a ghost-writer watching them do all the work and taking the credit. She dug in her heals and pulled every detail from her GUTS good and bad. I have to say the woman has balls of steel and I applaud her for writing a book that anyone who addiction has touched needs to read.

    Book preview

    Guts - Kristen Johnston

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    I SEE NOTHING, I HEAR NOTHING

    sometimes people’s lives change because of the smallest thing: a song, a comment, a fight, a dark night of the soul, or simply a decision.

    I’m just a wee bit denser than that. I’m sure that there were many, many signs that I was killing myself, and I was probably given thousands of opportunities to change my life and make it wonderful, but once you’ve washed down a handful of Vicodin with a bottle or two of a full-bodied cabernet, even reading stop signs while driving a car becomes a tad tricky.

    I remember going for week after week to some poor therapist, sobbing about how shitty I felt, how awful my life had become, how alone I was. It did occasionally occur to me that perhaps I should clue her in to the fact that I was a raging alcoholic and drug addict, but I quickly banished that ridiculous thought. That stuff is private. I learned that a long, long time ago. Instead, I wasted hundreds of her hours (not to mention my cash), asking her (and anyone else stupid enough to be my friend at the time) the one question no one seemed able to answer: Why, oh why, am I so unhappy?

    On the long, bleak nights when my sorrows and fears were so unbearable that no amount of pills or booze would knock me out, I would stare wide-eyed into the darkness, begging it for an answer. Sometimes a blurry clue would start to form, but just as it started to come into focus, it would disappear, like a ghost. It teased me, always sneakily crawling way back deep inside to snuggle in the dark cavern where I hid all things I deemed unpleasant, scary, or a bummer.

    My father used to be obsessed with the TV show Hogan’s Heroes (alas, now you know the secret inspiration of my subtle comedic choices). There was a stupid, fat German guard named Schultz, who would nervously sing, I see nothing, I hear nothing! whenever he was accidentally made privy to the prisoners’ weekly escape plans.

    Basically, the small remaining part of myself that was still sane became Schultz. Which is not saying all that much for my sanity. I avoided thinking too much about the fact that no matter what I did or how many times I managed to wean myself off pills, eventually I couldn’t go more than a few excruciating days without them. Or that I was feeling worse and worse every day, suffering from agonizing bouts of searing heartburn. Or, that I was starting to look really, really bad.

    You know, it just occurred to me—I think I was beginning to look like Schultz. Oh my God. Listen, I wasn’t always this way, dammit! I wasn’t always some fat Nazi’s doppelgänger. I used to be the rowdy, fun girl at the bar, or the dinner party, who was chock-full of sassy, dry witticisms you might chuckle at the next day. I was just very, very social, that’s all.

    Who could’ve imagined that the totally together, funny, ambitious, generous, and smart girl would slowly morph into a lonely couch potato who spent her free time hiding her wine and pill bottles from her cleaning lady?

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    I’m pretty sure I’ve been an addict since I was born, but my love affair with chemicals started in high school. "I can totally slam that bottle of Wild Turkey faster than you, entire basketball team!" But, because it ebbed and flowed throughout the years—hiya, Schultz—I convinced myself that everything was fine.

    Or sort of fine. Kind of. Sometimes.

    I mean, when you’re in a play and all you care about is where you’re getting loaded afterward, that’s slightly worrisome. But if you can’t fucking wait for the fucking audience to get over it and stop giving you a standing ovation already, because you’re dying to get to the bar? Well, then—that’s just a whole other kettle o’ crazy.

    But it was all I knew, really. Plays were simply a conduit, an appetizer to the most important event of the entire day: getting hammered. Endless, sometimes heated arguments between the cast over which place had the best martinis would continue right up until entrances. (And sometimes even beyond.)

    Nowadays when I’m in a play, the first thing I do when we move into the theater is to grab a dark red lipstick (frosty pink just doesn’t have the same panache) and scrawl in my dressing-room mirror my new mantra:

    diagram

    Yeah, yeah, yeah, Shakespeare ’tis not. But that’s not the point. You see, it means something to me. Besides, one day at a time, while an excellent motto, doesn’t really work for me. I can’t help but picture Bonnie Franklin screaming Schneider! for the umpteenth time, to canned laughter. You’re more than welcome to borrow my mantra, but to be fair I must warn you about a scary potential mind-fuck—which really only applies if you’re a gay male and over forty. Whatever you do, please try not to think of the poster for the film The Main Event, which showcases a tightly-permed Barbra Streisand in one of the most nauseating costumes in all of celluloid history: boxing shorts and nude pantyhose.

    Or, if you are a gay male and over forty, perhaps that would help?

    Wait. Hold up. Am I a gay male and over forty?

    Regardless, I make sure to write THIS IS THE MAIN EVENT! as big as I can, so that as I get ready to go onstage, I will never again forget how lucky I am to be alive and that I get to do something I love with all my heart.

    But back when I was bat-shit crazy, I grew used to waking up having absolutely no recollection of the night before. Every morning, any triumphant performance I may (or may not) have had was consistently diluted by a queasy stomach and a grim fear of the unknown. However, it was far, far worse when I wasn’t in a play. Because then I was bored. And boredom and addiction are not friends. In fact, they are each other’s mortal enemy. It was right around 2001 when every night became lost to me, never to return. Of course, I never blacked out. I left that to tacky people and frat boys. I simply drank until I fell asleep. And on really naughty nights perhaps I’d oh-so-elegantly pass out. And, yes, there’s an enormous difference, I’m just still a bit unclear as to what it

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