I used to sing high. Then I sang low. Now, I don’t sing as much. I love high heels but I hate feet. Ryan Reynolds looks like an undercooked gerbil. I militantly re-use my Ziploc bags but would happily spend $1700 on a Gucci purse – if I could. Starbucks coffee makes me itchy. I love men who are smart, intellectuals who are quirky and eccentrics who use non-sequiturs with elan. My martinis are always dry and my lip gloss expensive. I have no heroes. I’m too disillusioned for heroes. Like many, I too get in the way of myself. That will change. I’m allergic to gluten. That will never change. I reluctantly speak German, refrain from passionate affairs with Italians and eat too many pickles. Looking at pigeons makes me nauseous. Escalators make me nervous. So do men with thin lips. I’m taller than some people and shorter than others.