Fortunately, all it takes for us to be of one mind is some buttercream frosting.

For the record? I have never been her baby. In fact, I reject the notion of coming out of her body. I prefer to believe I was hatched, or perhaps purchased.

I'm not lazy. I'm simply judicious about excess movement.

I'm such a fangirl when it comes to other writers. I read 250 books a year, and I'm always talking up books by other authors.

You can't all of a sudden go to sleep one night and wake up Martha Stewart. It's bit by bit by bit.

I would rather receive a Pap smear from Captain Hook than venture out on New Year's Eve.

Really? If I could hate my trainer? That would be ideal. I'd prefer to despise this person with the fire of ten thousand suns. So when I walk - nay, crawl - out of here at the end of my workouts, I want to lull myself to sleep by picturing my very talented and inspirational trainer getting hit by a bus. A bus that I am driving.