I never pile a plate to the point where it overflows. I'd rather have a small plate with small portions and then get up for more if I'm still hungry.

I love the smell of freshly cut grass. It takes me back to summers in Maine.

There's nothing I hate more than gritty, linty, mysterious pocket schmutz in the cap of my lip moisturizer - or, even worse, on the applicator itself. I shudder at the thought.

How come I love having an episode of deja vu? It's akin to an out-of-body experience, I would think. It sits with me, happily, begging me to delve into my memory to find its match point.

I happen to be quite fond of staying out late and sleeping the day away.

I have smelled some very famous and undoubtedly sexy boys. And sometimes, as cute as they are, I'd rather have them as a friend - just because of the way they smell!

History is fickle. We know that. The good and bad come around and go around, and go around again. There are recessions and depressions and economic boom and bust.