Dear Harriet Walter,
So my friend one of the Danielles found out today that she's been accepted by some academic study-abroad program and will be spending a semester studying in Oxford in the fall.
"I'm so jealous I could vomit," I said to her as we sat at dinner. "I could barf my chicken salad up all over your orange slices." I gestured at the fruit in her styrofoam to-go box.
She giggled even as her eyes flicked down to my mostly empty salad plate, estimating how much food I had consumed. "That'd be pretty gross," she said.
"It would be an illustration of the chaos and acid and anguish within my soul."
I don't even like barfing.