Frantically, I mouthed WWMKAAD (What would Mary-Kate and Ashley do?) to myself over and over until the rage subsided a bit.

Crime shows make you think every homicide will be solved thanks to a stray hair, a random skin cell. It wasn’t real. Nothing was as advanced as what we saw on TV.

Bloody Sarah, fashion killer. God, it sounded so good. Sarah could make anything sound good.

You know what they say—if you can’t join them, beat them.

Jack was fun, I liked him. And now I had to kill him. Why was making friends so hard as an adult?

Maybe next time someone helps you like I did, you won’t be such an ungrateful bitch. Oh, Merry Christmas.

Style bloggers were just so impermanent these days. One day they’re on top of the world, the next, they’re toe up in the morgue.

That night I set the building on fire and killed everyone inside. Just kidding. I watched three back-to-back episodes of Law & Order. A girl needed a release. It was all work and no play lately.

This was what friendship was: hugs, shopping, and some major lies.