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

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

Except...i Do. Of Course I Do. Because As His Hands Gently Cup My Waist, I Don't Make A Sound. As He Swivels Me Around To Face Him, I Don't Make A Sound. I Don't Need To. We're Still Talking. Every Touch He Makes, Every Imprint Of His Skin Is Like Another Word, Another Thought, A Continuation Of Our Conversation. And We're Not Done Yet. Not Yet.

The Thing About Lying To Your Parents Is, You Have To Do It To Protect Them. It’s For Their Own Good.

Jeez Louise. I Know Why Rich People Are So Thin: It's From Trekking Around Their Humongous Houses The Whole Time.

Obviously This Is Engagement Ring City. Couples Are Wandering Along And Girls Are Pointing Through The Windows And The Men Are Smiling But All Look Slightly Sick Whenever Their Girlfriends Turn Away.