Damn, why did I bite my nails off?
I really don't know how I feel about putting away the strappy sandals and sexy stilettos for the chunky shoes of Autumn.
Why is it that every time I see the new-and-improved Anna Nicole Smith, I think of Denise Brown, circa OJ Simpson trial?
What is the probability that my social life can subsist on Three Buck Chuck and netflix movies for the next four weeks until my London trip?
Maybe if I just stop eating, I can lose five pounds and look smokin' hot in my bridesmaid dress for the 30th.
I wish Blogger offered a feature so I could have a tune up on my page to reflect my mood.
Boy, an oil change can really do wonders for a car's disposition. Note to self: don't wait another five thousand miles to get one.
Should I be alarmed that I think a man from my past looks like Dwight Schrute?
Kate is now accepting volunteers who are interested in cleaning up her apartment. Grape peeling and fanning with banana leaves are optional.
And finally, something for the file labeled This is so wrong.