Elizabeth would be annoying if she was, lets say… overweight or… ugly. But she’s pretty and has amazing side-boob in her little vivid-alt t-shirt.

She will meet her friends at a brunch place that plays really loud Euro house wearing new club clothes and a full face of make-up and they will take turns complaining about things like how her father is forcing the family to go to Finland on vacation again when she really wants to go to Miami.

I got fat bitches. I got small bitches. I got tall bitches. I got all bitches.

We didn’t need an indie soundtrack to control the mood. Or gogo dancers to heighten the senses. Or alcohol to make it mindless.

You’re free, you’re worldly and anything is possible if you’re asked with an American accent.

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“I’m not like that,” she said. She prefers post-war Dior. She collects vintage. Her dream is to be a clothes designer for “erotic pole dancers”. Pole dancing is a valid and respected profession here. Housewives take courses.

I used to love that band. They were my favorite band. A long time ago a friend introduced me to their music and I could tell that they were special. The first song that I fell in love with was ‘Cecilia’, a song about a prostitute and also one of their most obscure songs. The more songs I heard, the more I loved them. I wanted to keep them my little secret.

IT IS YOUR JOB TO KEEP PEOPLE PARTYING EVEN IF THEY ARE NOT PARTYING WITH YOU.