I'm Quite Introverted But I'm

I Love Prada. Not So Much The Clothes, Which Are For Malnourished Thirteen-year-olds, But I Covet, With Covety Covetousness, The Shoes And Handbags. Like, I Love Them. If I Was Given A Choice Between World Peace And A Prada Handbag, I'd Dither. (i'm Not Proud Of This, I'm Only Saying.)

For Feel-good Fiction To Work, There Has To Be An Element Of Darkness.

I'd Rather Eat Nothing Than Eat A Carrot.

He Seemed Wild And Dangerous And Carefree--well, He Would, Would'nt He? What Were Motorcycles And Black Leather Pants If Not The Uniform Of A Wild, Dangerous And Carefree Man?

No More Humiliation For Me, Thanks Very Much. No More Swallowing My Anger. Honestly, I Couldn't Manage Another Mouthful. But It Was Delicious. Did You Make It Yourself?