Book Excerpt in Today's New York Daily News

The book comes out next week, and word is it's already in some stores, but if you'd like a preview the Daily News has a few small excerpts in today's paper.

Here's the first:

Jancee Dunn has been a writer for Rolling Stone since 1989. In her delightful new memoir, "But Enough About Me ... : A Suburban Jersey Girl's Unlikely Adventures Among the Absurdly Famous," she writes of growing up in Jersey, making her move to Manhattan and, just like the title says, interviewing the "absurdly famous."

Jancee had the honor of being invited into Star Jones' home, where she found a woman enjoying "the fruits of her labors."

(Excerpt begins)
Star Jones' upper East Side apartment was exactly what you would expect of a glamorous TV personality. The first sight that greeted me was a capacious oil painting in the stairway of - who else? - Ms. Jones herself. Every celebrity should have a giant oil painting of themselves in their house. I frankly feel a little insulted if there isn't one.

Everything was plush, abounding in gold and cream tones, accented with animal prints, and there was a large spread on the gleaming dining room table: fruit, crudités, meats. It was all assembled by Star's personal chef. Champagne was offered. The lights were dimmed. In swept the appropriately named co-host of "The View." She was wearing her off-duty clothes: a pink rhinestoned tank top and velour sweatpants combo with a fluffy tan robe. Who doesn't love a girl in sweatpants and full makeup? Diamonds glinted from her ears, fingers, and toe ring as she happily nestled into a couch and got the ambience going by grabbing a remote control to click on video footage of fish, which flitted tranquilly around the enormous TV screen.

We paged through an album of photos of her recent trip to the Bahamas with her then-fiancé, Al Reynolds, and some friends ("What a good-looking group of black people!" she had scribbled on one). Then, after a chat, it was time for one the most beautifully thorough house tours I've ever had. "I've got a bidet!" she cried, opening the bathroom door. "And look at this shower! Ten people could fit in it!" Another glamorous photo of her rested on the bathroom counter. As, I might add, it should.

On to the office, which had spangly gold stars on the walls and a chair with a large gold "S" on it, and then the bedroom, where she opened up a couple of drawers to display her towering pile of Louis Vuitton purses. If only every famous person opened up their drawers for you, what a wonderful world it would be.

"You want to see the closet?" she asked unnecessarily, flinging it open. Rows and rows and rows of shoes lay in the light-up, floor-to-ceiling closet, and yes, there were plenty of Payless among the Manolos and the Jimmy Choos.

We trooped downstairs, where her assistant awaited. "The gift bags are here from last night," he said. "Shall I load them in?" Load? What was in those things?

She grinned. "You know it!" she said with relish.