Hey y’aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaall!

Are any of y’all even watching X-Files? I am not. I have to sit there alllllll day and people are just singing singing singing and it is boooooooring. The only thing even keeping me awake is that Kanye West might show up to visit Kim and a duet might break out and that would be really good for my career. You guys, think about it: what if Kanye West shows up at my job one night and looks at me and falls in love and we run off together? Life and Style would finally start returning my calls. ANYHOOZLE, I’m sure you’re wondering why I look so serious and somber and why I’m wearing a dress made of the remnants of Contempto Casual’s 1997 Holiday Collection and it is because I AM TO BE AN AUTHOR and authors always wear black because that’s how you know they’re having serious thoughts about adjectives and stuff. I decided I am going to call the book Lucky because it’s the story of a girl named Lucky (Lucky is me) and obviously she cries cries cries etc. I still need to figure out all the stuff in the middle that happens but obviously obviously at the end she either marries or murders “Jason,” this horrible horrible person with ridiculous hair who sings in a dumb band with a bunch of other dumb guys, except for Lance, who is totally nice and who ALSO didn’t get invited to Justin’s wedding and we decided yesterday we might be burn down his house. I mean, in the book we might burn down his house. Jason’s house. I have to go now.