We Were Not A Hugging People. In

Maybe One Day, I Would Write A Story About Arguing In Public, And Those Would Come In Handy In Some Way.

What's Strange Is, The People Who Want To Be In The Position Are Never Asked To Be In The Position. Like, If You Don't Want To Do Something, Then People Really Want You To Do It. And The More You Say, "no, Really, I'm Sorry, It's Really Not For Me," The More They Want To Convince You That It Is, In Fact, For You, And That You'd Be Absolutely Perfect.

I Hoped Our Lives Would Continue This Way Forever, But Inevitably The Past Came Knocking. Not The Good Kind That Was Collectible But The Bad Kind That Had Arthritis.

Boys Who Spent Their Weekends Making Banana Nut Muffins Did Not, As A Rule, Excel In The Art Of Hand-to-hand Combat.

The Woman In Charge Of Costuming Assigned Us Our Outfits And Gave Us A Lecture On Keeping Things Clean. She Held Up A Calendar And Said, "ladies, You Know What This Is. Use It. I Have Scraped Enough Blood Out From The Crotches Of Elf Knickers To Last Me The Rest Of My Life. And Don't Tell Me, 'i Don't Wear Underpants, I'm A Dancer.' You're Not A Dancer. If You Were A Real Dancer You Wouldn't Be Here. You're An Elf And You're Going To Wear Panties Like An Elf.