Every Time I Mention Her,

A Divorce Is Like A Controlled Explosion. Everyone On The Outside Is Ok.

There Are Some Things I Don't Understand About Jess And Never Will. No Wedding Dress. No Flowers. No Photo Album. No Champagne. The Only Thing She Got Out Of Her Wedding Was A Husband. (i Mean, Obviously The Husband Is The Main Point When You Get Married. Absolutely. That Goes Without Saying. But Still, Not Even A New Pair Of Shoes?)

If It's In The Bin, It's Public Property.

I've Always Had This Deep-down Conviction That I'm Not Like Everybody Else, And There's An Amazingly Exciting New Life Waiting For Me Just Around The Corner.

I’m Blushing At My Own Stupid, Nonsensical, Meaningless Thought Process, Which, By The Way, Nobody Knows About Except Me.