My makeup pouch is my jetpack and I'm here to reduce the puffy circles of my Oscar, Emmy, Genie and Drama Desk Award nominated client. Unfortunately, I seem to have lost track of him.
The world is watching us, waiting... But can we respond tomorrow, maybe? I'm kind of tired tonight. I worked till like 6pm today and the season finale of "Ladies of London" is on.
Nothing says "thank you for sacrificing your hopes and dreams" like a mass-produced basket that's 80% tissue paper filling. It's what your mom would have wanted. She always puts you first!
If I got eaten, nobody would be sour on me anymore. They’d use words like “valiant” to describe my life and valiant death.
I don't see why we can’t continue to to do sex even though I’ve terminated our Facebook friendship. After all, it’s called "friends with benefits," not "Facebook friends with benefits."
Dear Broadway.com, sorry to bother you, but I’ve got a serious problem. Every time I Google the phrase “Wicked dubstep” I just get a bunch of awesome dubstep songs.
Get lots of bad press for golf, bad, but you’d spend most of your time golfing too if you were trying to distract yourself from everyone’s problems.
Fans are always writing me with the same question: “Liza, I’ve always wanted to travel the world and live an adventurous life like you do on your blog, but how do I do it?”
Are you ready to get spooked? Have you ever even HEARD of a scarecrow in the submarine?!
It takes 35 minutes to prepare but deconstructs the dinner party in mere seconds, allowing you to restore the cultural and economic sanctity of your home forever.
Just when the Facebook notifications about all your friends laying eggs finally slow to a trickle, here come the fucking baby pics of gelatinous larvae.
I didn't choose to be transported to a pre-historic age, but I did choose to become the teacher of the cavemen and women once I got there. No Neanderthal left behind!