Cover image for I might regret this : essays, drawings, vulnerabilities, and other stuff / Abbi Jacobson.
I might regret this : essays, drawings, vulnerabilities, and other stuff / Abbi Jacobson.
First edition.
Publication Information:
New York : Grand Central Publishing, 2018.
Physical Description:
313 pages : illustrations ; 22 cm
Anecdotes, observations, and reflections collected during a solo cross-country drive.


Call Number
Material Type
Home Location
814.6 JAC Book Adult General Collection

On Order



New York Times Bestseller

From the co-creator and co-star of the hit series Broad City , a "poignant, funny, and beautifully unabashed" (Cheryl Strayed) bestselling essay collection about love, loss, work, comedy, and figuring out who you really are when you thought you already knew.

When Abbi Jacobson announced to friends and acquaintances that she planned to drive across the country alone, she was met with lots of questions and opinions: Why wasn't she going with friends? Wouldn't it be incredibly lonely? The North route is better! Was it safe for a woman? The Southern route is the way to go! You should bring mace! And a common one... why? But Abbi had always found comfort in solitude, and needed space to step back and hit the reset button. As she spent time in each city and town on her way to Los Angeles, she mulled over the big questions-- What do I really want? What is the worst possible scenario in which I could run into my ex? How has the decision to wear my shirts tucked in been pivotal in my adulthood?

In this collection of anecdotes, observations and reflections--all told in the sharp, wildly funny, and relatable voice that has endeared Abbi to critics and fans alike--readers will feel like they're in the passenger seat on a fun and, ultimately, inspiring journey. With some original illustrations by the author.

Author Notes

Abbi Jacobson was born in 1984, in Wayne, Pennsylvania. She has a degree in fine arts and a minor in video from the Maryland Institute College of Arts and trained at the Upright Citizens Brigade Theater in New York City. She has worked for AOL Artist. Her books include Color This Book: New York City, Color This Book: San Francisco, and Carry This Book. She is one of the stars of the Comedy Central series, Broad City. She also is one of the series creators and executive producers,

(Bowker Author Biography)

Reviews 2

Publisher's Weekly Review

In this often hilarious collection of personal essays, Jacobson, who stars in Comedy Central's Broad City, provides witty, self-deprecating recollections of her life as she drives cross-country from New York City to Los Angeles. Alongside her travels, Jacobson recounts events in her life: as she begins her trip in New York City, she recalls her first relationship and subsequent breakup with a woman; relaxing in Santa Fe, she contemplates her path to success, from an improv member of the Upright Citizens Brigade to creator of Broad City. Jacobson toggles between thoughtful reflection ("Why does the sight of the person you're in love with, wearing your clothes, feel so deeply good?" she wonders while driving to Memphis) and lighthearted asides ("At what point are ankles considered cankles? Is there a chart to reference?"). Those familiar with Jacobson will appreciate the details that link her real life to her character on the screen, including her affinity for Bed Bath & Beyond coupons and her frequent FaceTime calls with friend and costar Ilana Glazer. However, readers less familiar with her TV work may feel that the narrative rambles. Fans will delight in the peek into Jacobson's creative process and be touched by the strikingly raw emotions she shares throughout. (Oct.) © Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved.

New York Review of Books Review

THIS IS NOT JUST A BOOK about a cross-country road trip. It is also very much the cross-country road trip of books: a meandering adventure in which the main draw is spending time with the person in the driver's seat. On this particular journey, that would be Abbi Jacobson, the co-creator and co-star of the sketch comedy series "Broad City," Comedy Central's loopy love letter to female friendship. If "Laverne & Shirley" had experimented with pegging, the result might have looked a lot like "Broad City." Embarking on a road trip is the sort of beginning that tends to coincide with an end: of a job, of a relationship or, in Jacobson's case, both. Unencumbered thanks to a break in the show's production schedule and very much weighed down by the ambient misery of a recent breakup ("the nights were longer, leaving me more time to notsleep"), Jacobson plots a course from Brooklyn to California. "I knew the past year had cracked me open and changed my assumptions of what my life could be," she writes. "I was a workaholic and didn't exactly know why. I had never fallen in love, and then I did. I had never been heartbroken, and now I was. I had never dated a woman before and now I was . . . dating women." Westward, ho! As with any itinerary, some detours here are more rewarding than others. An essay on the relationship between feeling comfortable in your clothes and feeling comfortable in your skin is buoyant and effective. "It was like tucking in my shirt was me coming out as queer, to myself," she writes. (Jacobson, who's worn both tucked and untucked shirts, is bi-textile.) A stopover in Sedona, Ariz., where "a 10-year-old computer camera, Velcro'd to the screen of an old Dell desktop," photographs her aura, is a strange, surprising set piece. Her assessment of vertical indoor gardens is the only assessment of vertical indoor gardens I care to read: "I bet if you have one of these wall plants, it suddenly becomes the most significant thing about you." But not every roadside attraction is a must-see. The drawings of figs and protein bars and David Bowie record covers interspersed throughout the book give the impression of twee jetsam. It seems like artistic malpractice - or the setup to a joke about millennials - to drive through the Blue Ridge Mountains and put pencil to paper to capture the spectacular natural beauty of . . . an episode of "The West Wing" she's just watched on an iPad. For the most part, though, Jacobson is interested in talking about the things most readers are interested in hearing about, like her meet-cute with her "Broad City" co-creator, Ilana Glazer: "I'd been in New York for about a year, and I remember waiting for the subway on my way home that night, giddy - this was why I moved here, to meet people like her." If that meeting is love at first sight, so too is her introduction to improv around the same time. "I sat there in complete awe, paralyzed in a new way. This. This thing, whatever unexplainable thing they were doing on that stage, I wanted in," she writes. When it comes to improv, I generally want out. I have never done it, and barring some sort of strange punishment handed down by the state, I never will. I do not even enjoy watching improv for the same reason I did not enjoy the film "Man on Wire": At worst, I'm about to see someone die; at best, I'm about to watch someone do something stupid. Yet Jacobson writes about her performances with a propulsive, impish charm that is so contagious that even I end up liking improv, for absolutely no other reason than its ability to make the author this happy. Such is the appeal of this slim travelogue. Even Jacobson's grievances are somehow winning, like her field guide to the free food in TV network waiting rooms. (Amazon: an "abundance of pink and red Starburst." Hulu: "KASHI GOOD FRIENDS cardboard nonsense." HBO: "Nothing. . . . You're lucky if there's water on the conference table when you get inside.") This might seem like mere listicle, but do you realize the level of difficulty involved in complaining about the absence of snacks before your HBO pitch meeting while remaining relatable and funny throughout As an HBO employee and a picky eater lacking in self-awareness, I can speak personally to the heavy editorial liftrequired. That said, not even Jacobson possesses the literary prowess or the personality that would be required to sell readers on a minute-by-minute breakdown of insomnia. "1:18 a.m. Go to sleep right now. Just. Go. To. Sleep," she logs. "1:49 a.m. O.K. I'm going to sleep right now." One cure for insomnia: read a minute-by-minute breakdown of someone else's insomnia. But in daylight, Jacobson's hand is steady on the wheel throughout "I Might Regret This," which, it must be said, is in no way regrettable. Maybe because she's had some practice. Back in college, she decided to send letters to 20 strangers in 20 cities and "shared something personal with each of them, a story about myself that was in some way associated with where they lived." She invited the recipients to do the same. There was but a single reply, but "that one letter was enough" for her. Jacobson was seeking to establish a "small, meaningful connection with a stranger," and that's exactly what she did. And that is exactly what she's done here, with each one of her readers. As with any cross-country road-trip itinerary, some detours here are more rewarding than others. JULI WEINER is a staffwriter for HBO's "Last Week Tonight With John Oliver."