I can't take them anywhere.

Imagine you're a young woman out on a Saturday night in the city. You're in your mid-twenties, blond, good-looking, and you're enjoying your evening like everyone else in the bar: by watching a short gay man break it down (by himself, by the way) to "No Scrubs". And you're like, "Hey, it's Lakeview, we all love each other here. I'd love to explain it to you if I could."


Ha! It's funny you should say that! Just picture what happens next, when you're approached by these girls:

Imagine your surprise when one of them (the one who may not be wearing pants because she was in the back dancing and figured, "Hey, I have long johns on under my jeans - why don't I take them off?") yells, "Clarissa!" She hands you two napkins and the other says, "Can we have your autograph?"

Dear Girl Who Was Definitely Not Melissa Joan Hart,

I'm sorry my friends were drunk.

Love,

Tyler.