"I don’t tell fairy tales much." "Please? Just this once? Mommy always tells me fairy tales before I go to bed.” "I didn’t birth you, so I don’t think those rules apply to me." "C’mon, just this once. Please?” "Did you hear the one about the princess and the frog?" "Yeah. It’s a Disney movie." "Nothing is original these days. Fine. There was this—" "NO! You have to start with, ‘once upon a time’…" "FINE. ONCE UPON A TIME there was this princess who had really shitty taste in men. I mean, like, forget shining armor, these dudes were lucky if they had a frickin’ pair of clean boxers. There were no white horses, no roses, no jewelry, no surprise spontaneous serenading and choreographed dancing, no boom boxes under windows…nothing that every single movie or story themed at girls that you will watch or hear for the next 25 years of your life have. Because that is not real life. That is a fairy tale. And in fairy tales, Prince Charming does not give you herpes. Because as our princess found out, it’s really hard to sleep with a lot of douches and not contract something that makes you itch where you just shouldn’t. And while he lives happily ever after, spreading his gen-hep-2 to the rest of the female population stunned enough to have sex with him, she did not." "…you don’t ever need to tell me a fairy tale again." "I warned you. And so you know, Valtrex can only do so much, and stay away from artists. They’re like, the power-hungry magicians of the not-fairy-tale world. You’ll never be able to find that pair of underwear again. Under their bed is a black hole, and a genie. And your three orgasms were his three wishes, tricking you into feeding, clothing, and blowing that sad little excuse for a Jackson Pollock." "Goodnight! GOODNIGHT!" "Goodnight, sweetie. Sleep tight."