A Lot Of People Are

You Can't Possibly Fathom The Ins And Outs Of A Prepubescent Beauty Treatment Until You've Felt The Strange But Exhilarating Tingle Of A Cottage-cheese-and-pop-rocks Facial.

Every Time I Open The Drawer, It's A Trip Down Memory Lane, Which, If You Don't Turn Off At The Right Exit, Merges Straight Into The Masochistic Nostalgia Highway.

Ladies. Large Masses Of Girls Are Often Prone To This Salutation. I Hate Being Mollified With This Unsolicited "ladies" Business. I Know We're All Women. I Am Conscious Of My Breasts. Do I Have To Be Conscious Of Yours As Well? Do Men Do This? Do They Go, "men: Meet For Ribs In The Shed After The Game. Keg Beer, Raw Eggs, And Death Metal Only." I Would Imagine Not.

Sometimes We Don't Know What We Want Until We Don't Get It.

I Do Think New York Prepares You For The Crossection Of Personalities And Realities On Display When You Leave The Country, And I'd Live Somewhere Else If I Had A Reason Or Burning-the-the-point-of-discomfort Desire To Do So.