I regard romantic comedies as a subgenre of sci-fi, in which the world operates according to different rules than my regular human world.

The Internet also makes it extraordinarily difficult for me to focus. One small break to look up exactly how almond milk is made, and four hours later I'm reading about the Donner Party and texting all my friends: DID YOU GUYS KNOW ABOUT THE DONNER PARTY AND HOW MESSED UP THAT WAS? TEXT ME BACK SO WE CAN TALK ABOUT IT!

Sometimes I eavesdrop on people. I could rationalize it - oh, this is good anthropological research for characters I'm writing - but it's basically just nosiness. It also helps me gauge where I'm at: Am I normal?

That’s the one nice thing about being a dork about men: you can sometimes play it off as restrained and classy.

I stupidly memorize my credit card and use it about thrice weekly for online shopping. The only reason I don't bankrupt myself is that I return about 75% of what I buy.

For heaven’s sake, if you don’t know someone’s name, just pretend you do. Do that thing everyone else does, where you vaguely say, “Nice to see you!” and make weak eye contact.

I worship makeup. The basics are always: Stila shadows, LeClerc powder for my crazy shiny skin, Bobbie brown liner pot, Chanel mascara, and Koh Gen Do for foundation, Nars for colors and sparkles.