I'm Not Gonna Lie: and Other Lies You Tell When You Turn 50

I'm Not Gonna Lie: and Other Lies You Tell When You Turn 50

George Lopez

Language: English

Pages: 288

ISBN: 0451417100

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub


From one of the most celebrated and beloved comedians and actors of our time, George Lopez, comes this hilarious, touching, and often wacky chronicle of life after fifty.
 
George Lopez just hit the half-century mark and the reset button on his life. Newly single and ready to embrace life, George was excited to turn fifty. It would be a welcome new phase in his life, a chance to say goodbye to a decade that included a kidney transplant and a divorce. But when he looked around a room full of his childhood friends, all gathered to celebrate his birthday, many now bald or overweight, it suddenly hit him that he was old.
 
What happened? And more importantly, what was he going to do about it? George learns the hard way that when you turn 50, everything changes. You pull a muscle in your sleep. You avoid mirrors at all costs, and always, always wear a robe. You have to schedule an appointment to have sex. You have to dye your hair and buy a bathtub with a door.
 
As George learns to embrace life after fifty, he invites readers into his world, sharing the ups and downs of getting older—from his relationship with a much younger woman to a bizarre session with a pet psychic, to a trip behind-the-scenes at his tumultuous two years at Lopez Tonight, to an intimate look at his sacred ground, the golf course—and, for the first time, he reveals in moving detail, the story of the battle for his life against kidney disease.  
 
I’m Not Gonna Lie  will make you laugh at yourself, cry about yourself, and look at turning fifty in a way you never would’ve imagined—through the eyes of George Lopez.

Jillian

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softly pummeling my body. Now, a very important pointer: Everybody should have a robe. Doesn’t matter how old or young you are, you need a robe. If you’re young, then you can pretend you’re hiding something wonderful. A surprise. A gift. Even if you know what the gift is, it’s always better to wrap it up. Much more exciting that way. If you’re over fifty, don’t worry about giving anybody a gift. I’ve come to terms with the fact that I’m now at the age when I look better clothed than naked. So,

committed to publishing works of quality and integrity. In that spirit, we are proud to offer this book to our readers; however the story, the experiences and the words are the author’s alone. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party Web sites or their content. To my daughter, Mayan, the light of my life. CONTENTS INTRODUCTION: COUNTING FAIRWAYS POP GOES THE . . . WAIT, WAS THAT ME? YOU’RE NOT GONNA LIKE THE WAY IT SMELLS

in several outside forces. The course itself, for one. In basketball, for example, it doesn’t matter where you play; the court is always the same size. A twenty-foot jump shot in L.A. is still a twenty-foot jump shot in Boston or Miami. In golf, every hole you play is different, not only on every course, but on the same course. Plus you have to deal with all sorts of complications and distractions—sand traps, water hazards, trees, rough, wind, the glare of the sun, the cut of the grass, the

again, because it sounds so funny.” “That’s not the funny part. Here’s the funny part. You’re gonna run it with me.” “You’re right. That is funny. That’s hilarious. I don’t run. I hate to run; you know that.” “You have to.” “Really? And why is that?” “Because if I can do it, you can do it.” “That’s not a good reason, RJ. That’s a terrible reason.” “How’s this? You got heavy.” He had me there. I really didn’t want to run—I do hate running—but I thought that maybe in this case it might be

So I’ll take a bath. You add the steam, which is a treat, kinda like a wet, hot, sweaty dessert, plus the bath, count those each as a half, I’m up to five a day. I don’t think that’s too many. Figure it this way: You’ve got twenty-four hours in a day. Between sleeping and lounging around, I stay in bed for, say, nine hours. That means I’m out and about for fifteen hours a day, during which I take a shower, bath, or steam on average every three hours. What’s wrong with that? I promise you that

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