The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous roman candles across the night.
My life may be little and boring, but at least its mine--not some assembly line, secondhanded, hand-me-down life.
Here is a lesson in creative writing.First rule: Do not use semicolons. They are transvestite hermaphrodites representing absolutely nothing. All they do is show you've been to college.
I like... Grapes.
I'm a label whore.
Whether my feet are in stilettos or flippies, my toes will always long for the ocean.
I can't drink coffee.
I'm obsessed with my cats Dante and Camden and Kitler and Blendy Cat AKA Clementine.
I also adore my very small dog Jude.
My I-pod is surgically attached to my person.
I swear on Chanel and sometimes more important things.
Paris never sucks this time of year and Europe is always a good idea.
I take my eggs sunnyside up.
I'm addicted to burt's bees chapstick.
Being a muse is the highest compliment I can receive.
I'm a really bad speller, I don't know how I'd work at the paper without spellcheck.
I dramatically change my hair when I'm upset, sometimes I even get tattoos.
I wish I was Scarlet O'Hara.
I have a weakness for Latin music and I like to Cha-Cha while I'm cooking.
I almost got arrested once for cliff diving.
I'd rather be blindsided than bored. If Coldplay is aired on the radio, I will shush you, sing really loud and dance like a dork.
People never have lukewarm feelings about me.
I have a nemesis.
I love victorian houses that are falling apart.
I hate worn socks.
I love vintage clothes.
I hate, hate Bush.
I love french impressionism.
I hate the word moist.
I love walking with flowers wrapped in stiff paper.
I hate chipped nail polish.
I love off center, out of focus pictures of lovers kissing.
I hate when people drive the speed limit in the left hand lane.
I love to tell my husband how handsome he is everyday.
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