Face down in the pillow, is that a scream or is it silence?

Minnie mouse voice, caramel macchiato skin, frosted hair, Vera Wang cocktail dress with daddy's extra cash, and "hey look at me I'm playing dress up, I'm playing hollywood intellectual, I'm playing Oscar nomination."

Nails digging into cotton flesh too much tension and these fingers may break.

Four hours of Laguna Beach and I'm convinced that I should be at least one-hundred pounds lighter.

One-hundred pounds gone, and I would be a fashion statement underground.

A tenacious ball of tissue, limbs tucked underneath the torso, is this the smallest I can obtain?

Suburban eyes dripping from the blue strobe glare, this fatuous show is a cocaine feed, the remaining coffee drip of America's dream, and the only thing left for this industry to sell is terrorism.

Is this real?

"Strap these kids in tight, they may kick with too much exposure. All we need is a 6.9 rating, and the next season airs. Did Lexus ever get back with us, or are they going with the E! Celebrity installment?"

If you're convinced this is life, wake me up now.

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