There will be all these fifty-year-old women wearing hot pants and squeezing themselves into pretzel shapes and then there will be me. Just reaching for my toes like they're China. 'Hello there! You're so far away, I can't get to you! Can you even hear me?

Sometimes it's a good idea to think about what you want from a situation, and try to get it, rather than just blurt out the first thing that comes into your head.

My problem is I can think whatever I think—girl power, solidarity, Gloria Steinem rah rah rah — but I still feel the way I feel. Which is jealous. And pissy about little things.

Because on some level, even though it never turns out to be true, and even though I should know better, I still expect life to be like the movies.

We shouldn't piss them off, explained Frankie, because who knows what they'll do now that they've united.

I know they're not getting divorced or anything, but when your parents argue it makes the whole universe seem like it's tipping, like everything could change if they got mad enough at each other, like the world isn't a safe place. And of course, that's true, isn't it? The world is not a safe place.

Dances are generally more fun to think about and get ready for than they actually are when you get there.