I Don’t Really Read Reviews… That’s Not

I'd Always Loved Movies, But It Wasn't Some Sort Of Desperate Love Of Celluloid. It Was Literally Like, "i Want To Write Things, And I Want People To See Them More."

Hell Hath No Fury Like A Woman Who Has Accidentally Napped.

Scandal Has Made Wine And Popcorn Seem Like A Viable, Even Healthful, Meal.

It's A Very Specific Body. Even Great Reviews Will Be Like: Chubby, Portly, Overweight. . . . Sometimes I'm Like, 'ugh, How Did I Make Myself The Guinea Pig For This?' But On The Other Hand, Hating My Body Has Not Been My Cross To Bear In This Life. Which I Feel Very Lucky About.

It Completely Sickens Me What Our Culture Is Doing To Women. Last Week I Wore A Big Top And Little Shorts And A Bunch Of Stuff Came Out Saying I Was Without Pants. 'the No-pants Look,' It Said. And I Didn't Go Out Without Pants, I Had Shorts On... If Olivia Wilde Had Gone To A Party With A Big Silky Top And Little Shorts She Might Have Been Told Her Outfit Was Cute... What It Was Really: 'why Did You Show Us Your Thighs?'