trying to solve the mystery of women. Unlike most red-blooded, straight teenage boys, however, Paul Feig was sadly at a considerable disadvantage. He was tall and gangly. He had a love for musical theater. And, perhaps the death knell for his burgeoning sex life, Paul was a tap dance student. (And we have the pictures to prove it—see the front cover.)Infused with the same witty and infectiously readable style of his first book, Kick Me, Superstud chronicles the trials and tribulations of Feig’s young dating life with all the same excruciating detail as an on-air gastric bypass—and you just won’t be able to tear yourself away. Feig’s series of shudder-to-think but oddly familiar (come on—we’ve all been dumped by someone we didn’t even like that much) anecdotes include: his first date, at an REO Speedwagon concert with the most endowed girl in school, who leaves him sitting next to a puddle of puke; his first breakup, accomplished by moving across the country; his mortifying date with his secretly bigoted girlfriend; his discovery of a new self-love technique that almost lands him in the hospital; and his less-than-idealistic “first time,” which he nevertheless elevates to biblical proportions. In Superstud, Paul Feig tells all in a hilarious but true testament to geekdom, love, and growing up.

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