Okay, if Philip Glass failed to energize me, I'm sure Mozart's Requiem will do.

Un dimanche de lundi de Pâques est sûrement une excellente occasion pour sortir draguer. Loin, là-bas, de l'autre côté de ma porte d'entrée.

Damn, I like tuna salad, but it's like you should never eat that at home unless you're willing to burn the place down afterwards.

I may or may not have meant synchronicity, I'm not sure. Damn. Somehow matooisms feel more acceptable in tweets than in blog posts.

I'm tired of dreaming of what I'd do if I won the lottery; it's time to switch to imaginary boyfriends.

I need to date a barman (or an alcoholic) so I can find out which booze I like.

I only ever see the same three or four neighbors. I'm sure they're paid actors, and the other doors are just cardboard props.