“No! The ‘which Sex and the City girl are you’ survey said I’m Samantha. I’m so a Carrie!” Don’t beat yourself up, I got Miranda.

“He texted me three minutes into booty call hour, what should I do?” What are your instincts telling you? Okay, don’t do that.

I’m sorry you sprained your ankle and “aren’t hot anymore” but Chanel crutches don’t exist…yet. Thanks for another golden idea.

People ask what I’ll do if you move? Just like a break up: scream cry, grow a goatee, & eavesdrop on lesser girls at Pinkberry.

As I pressed PLAY to watch the Idol finale, you blurted out, “Now that she lost, I bet she wont get her teeth fixed.” And, DELETE.