"Actors are flakes," announces Katie as we leave her apartment into the gray Brooklyn morning to fetch some brunch.
We walk down the street as I consider this, past the flea market as the vendors set up their tables. "Well," I say, "actors are flakes, and musicians are emotionally retarded, and writers are neurotic."
Without missing a beat, she replies, "I'm surprised you don't need your own parking place."
this made me lol. i believe i may be surrounded by people of your sort.
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