Yes, I finished it, and even got round to the transparently patronising "mistakes we knew we were making". Seriously, i have never been so bored in my life. One of those books that you make yourself read because loads of dullards have said it's great. But you didn't realise they were that thick until you had read the book and by then it was too late.
Again, why is someone who doesn't like Dave Eggers a fool? I'm not alone on this. We're not talking one of the literary greats here, but rather a self-important yet self-depricating San-Fransisco "hipster" who thinks that an audition for MTV's "the Real World" will make an amazing and ironic metaphor for... well, for what? He ends up saying little more in this book than "aren't I clever and wasn't my life hard?" Piss off, Dave. If I want a punchy misery memoir, I'll read A Million Little Pieces. If I want someone to intelectually masturbate in my face, I'll speak to El Jefe....