I don’t know what it is about New York women, with their bangs and their legs, and those faces unruined by sun damage. They’ve got sundresses with ribbons that hit their waistlines perfectly, and freckles on their knees that make train rides bearable.
So, why are they so unhappy?
Girls! You beautiful creatures with your one pant leg tight rolled or your pencil skirts and natty scarves! I love you! The world loves you! Why can’t you smile?
I love that this is titled Olivia the waitress.
I emailed her to read this but I think she thinks I’m psycho.
Maybe I am psycho, that’s why.
I’m actually really scared that one of these days she is gonna send me an email being all, “stop f-cking emailing me, u f-cking psycho\