What A Massage Is Like For Someone Who Can’t Relax
I lay face-down, trying to be calm. “Just relax,” he whispered. I have trouble doing that, relaxing, especially when someone is asking me to do so, but I tried. It’s a little easier because I’d just had some champagne in the locker room.
Can We Please Stop Using The C-Word?
And because of this, because of our insane obsession with people who happen to be thinner (or force themselves to be through a life of never knowing Nutella, God help them), we have somehow managed to concoct words that we can use to “address” the “interesting beauty” of a woman any bigger than, say, Adriana Lima.
My Answers To The Question, “Oh, So You’re A Writer? What Do You Write About?”
To a hot girl at the bar after about five drinks: “…Mostly about sex and power. And about the lies that we all tell ourselves.”
How To Puke
There was an enormous bowl of trashcan punch, and I told my friend, “Let me tell you a secret: I love fruit punch.” He said, “Well, that’s good because this has everclear in it.” I immediately recognized this as portentous news because a) I love fruit punch, b) I can’t stop drinking fruit punch, and c) My fragile baby girl physiology could only withstand maybe one cup of this fruit punch.
10 Songs I Never Want To Hear Again
Truth be told, I kind of love Avril. She makes unabashed catchy pop and makes no bones about the fact that she’s sort of a joke. But I can’t, won’t, don’t get behind the atrocity that is “Girlfriend.”
