I told you to be patient.

I finally gathered up the courage to post the end to Queen Bees. It was tough to let go. I've been listening to The National constantly to help me cope.

Things that I love:

Wine.

Coffee. I have installed an IV.

The Boston Celtics.

Robert Downey Jr.

Neil Patrick Harris. He's my future gay boyfriend.

Kid Cudi. I'd fully blow him.

The Vampire Diaries. It makes me think I'm a vampire. And ohmygod Damon is hot.

Sleeping when I should be awake picking daisies.

Burberry perfume.

Cake, which is why birthdays are so awesome.

Interpol. I'm obsessive about Interpol.

Hazelnut. If I could marry a nut, it'd be hazelnut.

Caroline No. My future has already been written. My life is already published. And it's this song. I love Brian Wilson so hard.

Things I hate:

White bread. It's so racist.

Twilight.

Love triangles that aren't creatively written or don't favor one side or the other. And that go on for six years, becoming the triangle of doom. Lost, I'm looking at you.

The Emmys. You suck balls.

People who don't get sarcasm.

Perez Hilton.

The L.A. Lakers.

Milk. Lactation is just wrong.

The Jonas Brothers. Do I really need to expand? It should be quite obvious.

People who like every story they read on FF. Unless you're blind and have no feelings, that's humanly impossible. These people should be studied by NASA.

You. I kid. I hate that I love you so much!

Things that that I do:

Watch hours and hours of mindless television.

Read. All the time actually. I want to have the biggest vocabulary in the whole freaking world even though I hate people who use big words just to sound smart. I want to slay them with my pretend sword of internet death.

Write trashy stories that people love. It's so fulfilling.

Pretend I'm a doctor (this skill I have goes into overdrive after watching House and drooling over Hugh Laurie).

Ed Westwick. Maybe. Shh. It's a secret.

Laugh. All the time. At inappropriate times. And really loudly, like a seal crossed with a lawn mower. Yeah, it's attractive.

Listen to rap music even though I am insanely white. I'm asking to get beat down.

Drink. And not water.

Update to the Update: Now on to the part you care about: What the fuck I am writing about: And the end of Queen Bees is posted. The end is here, ladies and gentleman.

What's next: If you're mildly interested in me as a writer, you might be wondering what is next for my little phenom self. Well, I have a new story in the works and it deals with my favorite themes: love, hate and sex.

Current muse: Tragic people. Myself.

All the very best of us string ourselves up for love.

And let me say this America. Get there early cause hope don't park your mother fucking car.

~Jon Stewart

Queen Bees is so freaking gangsta. It gets blocked for 'weighted phrase limit.' Oh yeah. Don't hate!

You know, I dreamed about you for twenty-nine years before I saw you.