I wasn’t always a bad kid. Sure, I was a little anti-social and my penchant for wild bursts of Disco dancing made me a very lonely 3rd grader.

This morning the world tried its best to tuck me back in.

. . . there's no doubt about it, it's pure naiad scorn.

We consume what we must, to make it up. In this neighborhood, tact never stood a chance.

Into such an India I am born. As the firstborn daughter, I enjoy an enviable position in the family and am subject to huge amounts of pampering.

To me, being a slut meant being promiscuous, and being promiscuous meant being desirable, and being desirable meant being powerful.

It stretched its body from the roof of the cage to kiss her back as if the two were lovers.

I’ll watch anything with a Real Housewife in it. I say this with no pride and little understanding. I have no preferences.

"Oh, please. You're Andy Warhol. Let's have dinner, okay?"

  This is how you find your son who was hitchhiking home for spring break to surprise you and now he calls you because he and two friends are stranded in a deserted place called Pine Island and it’s getting dark.