No, she sees the person wearing a shirt with a ridiculous pattern and suddenly Yolanda has a whole story (of which she is wholly convinced) about that person's daddy issues relating to the family dog she poisoned with a chocolate cupcake. Each person she encounters she breaks down and analyzes, but not in a way that is sincere or even grounded in reality. The entire book is essentially Yolanda's never-ceasing and unrealistic, on-the-fly, B.S. I could see how this book might appeal to people who find its psychology fascinating, its distaste of small towns and the Midwest appealing, and its narrator less intolerable. I enjoyed this book more when I was sleep-deprived and filled with the giggles. You know the show Scrubs? You know how a portion of the show doesn't actually happen because it's just the images of JD's whimsical and humorous imagination? This book is a lot like that, but less comedic and more whacked-out.
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