Lines For The Fortune Cookies, 2012

Homage to Frank O’Hara’s original 1962 poem, “Lines For The Fortune Cookies.”

Five pairs of shoes is entirely too many for one weekend away.

The world is not coming to an end, but your patience for the people in it will wear awfully thin.

Quit sleeping around, you chippy.

It’s election time again. Know what you must do.

Screaming at the game through your television set increases your team’s chances of winning by 8%. Keep up the good work!

Seven rounds of drinks is entirely too many for one night on the town.

You will frequently wind up kissing boys sitting next to the boys you should be kissing.

In the end, labels mean nothing. But haven’t you always fancied yourself in something Chanel?

Listening to rap music will not make you any less white.

Be kind to the other girls. Even the mean ones. They are very scared.

You will wake up on an unfamiliar bathroom floor with a throbbing head and bruised knees.

You will meet Chevy Chase in a crowded restaurant and find yourself at a stunning loss for words.

Someone in this room is faking their orgasms.

Speak less, listen more, write everything down.

Trenchcoats and wayfarers will never go out of style. Buy, buy, buy.

Swallowing your enthusiasm is actually more uncool than you can ever know!

Doling out insincere kisses is diluting the sincerity of your true ones.

Jesus may not come back, but Kurt Cobain most certainly will.

Make your bed, make some tea.

White flour kills. Processed sugar kills. Cigarettes are okay in moderation.

It’s time to retire that sweater you wear. You know the one.

How many men have you satisfied with “Under My Thumb” playing in the background? Reevaluate your goals.

Heaven help you if you buy that bottle of wine from 2004.

You are not in a fraternity. Act accordingly.

You are only on this carousel once. Grab that brass ring now.

Fortune cookie say: take it from where it comes.

Jeff Goldblum has a secret crush on you — you lucky, lucky girl.

Dance, sweet thing, dance. TC mark

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