I Won’t Tell You How I Managed

It’s My Own Fault, Really. For Believing In Fairy Tales. Not That I Ever Mistook Them For Actual Historical Fact, Or Anything. But I Did Grow Up Believing That For Every Girl, There’s A Prince Out There Somewhere. All She Has To Do Is Find Him. Then It’s On With The Happily Ever After. So You Can Only Imagine What Happened When I Found Out. That My Prince Really Is One. A Prince. No, I Really Mean It. He’s An Actual Prince.

...men Aren't In Touch With Their Emotions, And Don't Share Enough [?]

Sorry, Bex," Jason Said "you Don't Have The Recognizable Facial Characteristics - Such As A Huge Chin, Or A Large Amount Of Real Estate Between The Eyes - That Would Merit The Bestowing Of A Criminal Mastermind Nickname Such As Lockjaw Or Walleye. Whereas Crazytop Here...well, Just Look At Her." "atleast I Can Blow-dry My Hair Straight," I Pointed Out. "which Is More Than What I Can Say For Your Nose, Hawkface.

Unrequited Love Is All Right In Books And Things, But In Real Life, It Completely Sucks

Back In Middle School, Catherine And I Had Gone Through This Stage Where All We Would Read Were Fantasy Books. We'd Consume Them Like M&m's, By The Fistful, J.r.r. Tolkien And Terry Brooks And Susan Cooper And Lloyd Alexander. Susan Boone Looked, To Me, Like The Queen Of The Elves (there's Almost Always An Elf Queen In Fantasy Books). I Mean, She Was Shorter Than Me And Had On A Strange Lineny Outfit In Pale Blues And Greens.