It's Never Good To Fall In Love

Unless You Are A Professional, You Will Find The Tart To Be A High-maintenance, Unforgiving Whistle-blower Of A Pastry.

Like Most Citizens Of Popular And International Urban Centres, I Don't Take Advantage Of The Cultural Opportunities. Perhaps This Comes From Growing Up In Suburbia. Home Is Where You Eat, Sleep, Read, Watch Television And Ignore Your Parents. It Is Not Where You Go To The Ballet And Then Attend A Heated Panel Discussion About It Afterwards.

The Children Were Overwhelmingly Morbid. Not A Single Adult Asked Me Where Butterflies Go When They Die, But This Question Was More Popular Than Pixie Sticks With The Under-four-foot Set. I Cursed Parents For Not Preparing Their Children. When I Was Five, My Mother And Sister Sat Me Up On The Kitchen Counter And Explained The Facts Of Life: The Easter Bunny Didn't Exist, Elijah Was God's Invisible Friend, With Any Luck Nana Would Die Soon, And If I Ever Saw A Unicorn, I Should Kill It Or Catch It For Cash. I Turned Out Okay.

I Have Nothing Against Canada. I Think That Canadians Might Know The Secret To All Existence, But To Us It Just Comes Off As Timid And Kind And Too Nice, And It Strikes Us As Lacking Edge. Unless You Are Hijacking Someone And Going On A Reality Show With Your Eight Kids And Wearing A Velour Pink Pantsuit, Then You Have No Edge To Us.

It Takes A Level Of Creative Depression To Hear 'girls Just Wanna Have Fun' And Weep.