Not All Shabby Is Chic, Just Like

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.

Suburbia Is Too Close To The Country To Have Anything Real To Do And Too Close To The City To Admit You Have Nothing Real To Do.

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 Truth Is, I Wrote A Novel When I Was 23. It's Hideously Bad. Truly Rotten.

Friendship Is A Spackle In Itself. You'll Forgive Your Friends A Lot, And If You're A Woman, You'll Forgive Your Straight Male Friends Even More. They Represent The Possibility Of Mutual Toleration Between The Sexes, A Keyhole Into The Mind Of The Other, And The Promise Of One Day Meeting Someone Just Like Them Except That You Want To Sleep With Them.