Wayne McFarland wandered away from a small, mid-western town some years ago. With no planning at all, his history is one of stumbling into one bog after another from the Dakotas to California, from Pamplona to Paris. His main claim to fame is mostly and surprisingly not being dead, plus getting involved with a lot of strange stuff, usually unwillingly or by accident.

Yeah, this indeed is a memoir of sorts, if shark fishing in one’s underwear, roping a bear, getting drunk with your Grandfather, or losing ten grand at the Hollywood Sign is a memoir. The Day Johnny Cash Hit On My Wife is on the roster as well, for the only name drop in all the stories. There’s also a thing about getting shot in Arkansas and a road trip with a monkey.

I can’t deny these were life shaping events, but truth be told they all happened under the heading of “oops.”