I sat in a Davis Square coffee shop curled up with a copy of Diablo Cody's Candy Girl: A Year in the Life of an Unlikely Stripper as I sipped my soy latte, engrossed in her biographical tale of a good girl gone bad. It was a blustery Sunday afternoon in January. The kind that chills you to the bone despite the most consciously applied layers of clothing. I gazed out of the steamed glass as generic compact cars whizzed past, drenched in slush and road salt, and asked myself: what would prevent any car from veering off of the slick road and come crashing through the plate glass?

Cody's Candy Girl does just that, shattering the ingrained image of what we think a clean-cut midwestern young woman should look like. At the ripe age of 24, she quite literally takes matters into her own hands, leaving the security of her job as a copy typist for a prosperous advertising agency to pursue the profession of sex — as a stripper, peep show performer and many things sans definition — at first as a moonlighting gig; eventually as an obsession. Her ascent up the corporate ladder as a copy typist led to her descent down the oft-slick brass pole in the many strip clubs she frequented as a dancer.

This isn't just another stripper's tale. Cody dredges through the dark side, shedding light on the masterminding club managers who take more than their share of a dancer's tips. She writes of the art of 'floor work' — a combination of decisive gyrating and exposure of private parts that turn even the most overtly sexual to faint at heart. And, of course, she details all the perverts, prostitutes and lost souls she meets along the way.

Cody weaves a fine thread of humanity throughout the entire memoir. She tries — and fails — to leave the industry on several occasions, and faces insurmountable levels of emotional, mental and physical burnout that leave the reader shaken with exhaustion. The memoir also offers an insight into her relationship with her now ex-husband, Johnny, who is strangely attracted to the idea of having his girlfriend manhandled, night after disco night.

The light at the end of the proverbial tunnel, of course, is Cody's eventual "retirement" from the pole once and for all, and, as true Diablo fans know, the production of Juno, Cody's award-winning 2007 movie. Such fans will delight in Juno (Ellen Page)-esque lingo eloquently laced throughout the story (there's even mention of the ubiquitous 'hamburger phone'), and relate to Diablo as the lovable-yet-quirky girl we should all have in our arsenal of friends.

Make no mistake: Cody does not, and should not, apologize for her decision to veer off the straight and narrow, which is perhaps more shocking than some of the graphic content itself. As a former bartender, I can wholly sympathize and ration with Cody's desire for more, more, more — and likewise, the choice to make do with less, less, less. In addition to those who hustle to bring home the bacon, this book will appeal to those hypnotized by the taboos that are placed directly under the reader's nose, time and time again.

Refreshingly spirited, Candy Girl is a solid reminder that we truly can be whatever we want to be — with or without panties.