Amen,' I exclaim, accidentally spitting out a Raisinet. I pick up the chocolate with a Kleenex and stuff it in my purse. Ten bucks says a month from now I'll have forgotten about it and will finally have said heart attack when I assume a rat shat in there.

Some people are destined to be deep thinkers. I am not one of those people.

Owning a dog is slightly less expensive than being addicted to crack.

As a reader, I notice political views regardless of whether or not the book is fiction. What annoys me is when said views do nothing to advance the narrative.

Point? Maybe you aren't a Carrie or a Samantha or a Charlotte or a Miranda. Maybe you're just you.

This is terrific! What fun! Maybe tomorrow I can go to the prom with my brother. The day after, perhaps I can wear white pants and unexpectedly get my period.

Fletch then kisses me on the forehead before opening the cabinet under the coffeemaker to grab placemats and napkins. Retrieving these items is his job because I kind of don't like to bend. I also refuse to carry anything heavier than my purse.