Oh, the ongoing love affair between hair and mouths. Hair always goes for the mouth. The mouth opens, and hair says, "I'm going in! I'm going in!" like a manic cave diver.

I could pretend, at least, and if I pretended long enough, maybe I could make it into a reality.

It was like the entire world was colluding to make me feel insane, and it was doing a really good job.

Fear can't hurt you," she said. "When it washes over you, give it no power. It's a snake with no venom. Remember that. That knowledge can save you.

He's been in love with Miss Gina since high school, but he doesn't really know how to talk to girls, so he's just been...staying around her since then. He just tends to go where she goes." "Isn't that stalking?" Jazza said. "Legally, no," I replied. "I asked my parents this when I was little. What he does is creepy and socially awkward, but it's not actually stalking.

The essay I had to read was called, "An Essay on Criticism" by Alexander Pope. The first challenge was that the essay was, in fact, a very long poem in "heroic couplets". If something is called an essay, it should be an essay.

And what else is she?" Jerome asked. Jazza didn't offer any reply so I chimed in with, "A bitchweasel?" "A bitchweasel!" Jazza's face lit up. "She's a bitchweasel! I love my new roommate.