Whether she's locking herself out of her apartment twice in one day, baking a cookie in the shape of her boss' face to win her approval, or trying to determine which of her friends defecated on her bathroom floor, Sloane Crosley asserts herself as a new master of nonfiction situational comedy in I Was Told There'd Be Cake, her debut collection of hilariously uncomfortable personal essays. Unlike most books about twentysomething women in New York City — think Manolo-centric chick lit — Crosley's is completely relatable. (It helps that she seldom mentions her day job as a well-connected book publicist for Random House's Vintage imprint.)
''The funniest kind of humor is the laugh-because-it's-true humor,'' says Crosley, 29, who's now forgoing more stories of personal humiliation to work on a novel with a ''historical element to it.'' ''There just might be more to the world than me and my worldview,'' she jokes. ''I have the sneaking suspicion that that's accurate.''
