I decide to release myself the only way I can imagine: I pee my pants.

Did you slip in some cheese? Did it make you hate cheese, which you had previously loved? Why not sue a cheese-maker? Sue him for all the cheese he's got, drive him out of the cheese-making business!

Did you burn your face with an iron? Why not sue Prometheus, the god that invented fire? Or an Iron Age chieftain, for having the temerity to popularise the metal.

Mmmmmm
I like that thing you do with your tongue. What do you call it? Speaking? Yeah, I dig it

I'm not a hypochondriac, but my gynaecologist firmly believes I am.

I have a phonetic fetish. All I want is to find a man whose last name ends in 'Vrski' and marry him.
Try saying VRSKI. Oh, don't be a tight-ass. SAY IT.
Don't you love the purring sound it makes in your mouth? It's the kind of name I love waking up to every morning - 'Good morning, BlahBlahVrski', the kind I can brag about on Facebook - 'Judy Balan has now changed her name to Judy SomethingVrski' and the kind I can scream in a fit of passion - 'Ohhhhh Vrrrrssskkkkiiiii!

I love therapy. I don't get the taboo about seeking therapy at all. It's exactly like taking Buzzfeed quizzes. At the end of the day, we all want to know what cocktail we are. But it means so much more when it comes from a shrink. It's like 'Ooh, I really am Liquid Cocaine!