The Art of Making the Same Mistake Twice

you're so vain, you probably think this blog is about you.

even if i wanted to, i wouldn't know how to begin to get my groove on.

i think i am turning into a bitch.

the saddest sound is the sound of seltzer dying.

this is both irrelevant and irreverent.

people are giving up facebook for lent. facebook. for lent. jesus thanks you.

i wanted to be self-centered today, but then i got worried about how that might make people feel.

i hate when people speak in other languages on the phone. it always makes me think they are talking about me.

why was i not born with a dancers body?

do anyone know where i can get me some steroids?

i love it when lauren speaks to me like yoda...'here are the answers you seek'

the second i decide to save money there always seems to be a sale.

have you ever wanted to try pan handling?

i want to be a part of a come to jesus meeting.

why are you yelling?

i'm envious of people with big families they are close to. i wonder what it would be like to have cousins who are friends.

don't pee on the toilet seat. it's really not that hard.

viva viagra? really.

when it all falls apart, who will you blame? you should have a plan in place. and might I suggest a back up?

i think i might be turning into a bitch. i blame new jersey.

watching the 7 train leave the station at grand central makes me think of a ride at disney. it's so magical

i drove a camel while drunk.

my favorite thing about being on my own was that i could make plans at the last minute and not have to tell anyone about it. it took awhile for that concept to sink in, and for the first few months i would tell my roommates or call my mom or text my cat. i still get a bit panicked if i want to do something unexpected.

the dentist is terrifying

i wonder about people who talk about what they do so much. do they really love what they do? or are they just trying to convince themselves?

5, 5 dollar, 5 dollar footlooooong.

i asked for light mayo, which apparently means put half a bottle of regular mayo on my sandwich.

my name is not Irene, despite what my doctor's office thinks.

common decency is a lost art.

i thought things would have been clear by now

a pigeon dive-bombed my boyfriend.

its not my fault you have a baby.

mcdonald's should bottle that fry smell and sell it.

my father....twitters.

but my mom still doesn't have facebook, so i feel like i am still ahead

it is unbelievably eerie late at night on the subway to look out the window and see an empty train riding next to you.

which is better, chocolate or a good martini? Or a chocolate martini. i will get back to you on this one...