I moved from Italy to Oregon in the '80s - sort of like moving to the middle of a "Duck Dynasty" episode, which was massive culture shock to say the least.

Heterosexual men terrified me. I found them to be dangerous. Not all of them, of course, but it took me some time to learn to be comfortable.

Short-sightedness is killing us.

I just felt like, "Why would you discuss my body as if it's an object?" People will come up and say things like, "Are your breasts real?" I mean, people will come up and discuss my body as if I'm not human.

I like people who are fit. I figure if I work out, you can at least return the favor. Would I go out with a meathead? No.

I don't know how exactly but I'm maybe perverse in the sense that I like being disappointed in something on a daily basis. Because it means that I'm still not jaded.

I have great luck. I'm used to people dying and going away. Not used to it exactly - but I expect it. Like, whenever people go off on a trip, I save their phone messages because I think they might die.