I swear, sometimes I am convinced my life is just a series of sketches for America's Funniest Home Videos, minus all that pants-dropping business. Except my life really isn't all that funny if you think about it.

There are nice, funny, totally good-looking guys out there. You just have to know where to look…and apparently, where NOT to look.

I can't kill someone!" "You hit your brother in the head with a fire extinguisher." "But that was family! And I didn't kill him.

And I like a good horror story as much as the next person so long as they kill off some men too and not just girls. But the voices Joan heard were real. There’s clear and substantiated proof they were real.

You'll blow up a helicopter, but you won't go out with me? What is wrong with you?

But I don't care what Megan Fox or Jessica Biel say: There are definite advantages to being the hottest girl on the planet. Number one was that I got paid for it. A lot.

It will hurt. Because deep down, I'll know there was someone.. someone I was supposed to have met. Only I'll never meet him. I'll go through my whole life waiting for him to come along, only he never will. What kind of life is that?