One Day We'll All Be Dead, And

No More Humiliation For Me, Thanks Very Much. No More Swallowing My Anger. Honestly, I Couldn't Manage Another Mouthful. But It Was Delicious. Did You Make It Yourself?

What Doesn't Kill Us Makes Us Funnier.

I've Always Been Melancholic. At A Party, Everyone Would Be Looking At The Glittering Chandeliers And I'd Be Looking At The Waitress's Cracked Shoes.

Besides, I'd Seen A Really Nice Pair Of Shoes Yesterday In The Mall And I Wanted Them For My Own. I Can't Describe The Feeling Of Immediate Familiarity That Rushed Between Us. The Moment I Clapped Eyes On Them I Felt Like I Already Owned Them. I Could Only Suppose That We Were Together In A Former Life. That They Were My Shoes When I Was A Serving Maid In Medieval Britain Or When I Was A Princess In Ancient Egypt. Or Perhaps They Were The Princess And I Was The Shoes. Who's To Know? Either Way I Knew That We Were Meant To Be Together.

Here's How It Is: I Feel Guilty About Every Single Bite Of Food That Goes Into My Mouth.