It's amazing how I can just ramble on for hours, isn't it? And so unentertaining or uninteresting. But I can ramble on for hours. It's a sort of terrible gift, isn't it?
I'm often dating people, but I don't say it because you sort of know it won't last long.
My parents grew up working class, but in that way that working class families do, they spent a fortune on education to better me.
The people I want are very famous and very rich, and all I can offer them is a bit of exposure on TV and a bit of cash, so it's a miracle we get any guests at all. But we have been very lucky.
Straight men just can't imagine the bliss of being in a relationship with someone who finds farting as funny as they do.
All my day is spent dealing with other people. When I come home I like it to be empty. The presence of others in my house kind of annoys me. I love coming home and shutting the doors. I feel brain dead. I'm relatively available, but not to live with.