My name's Flo. I'm 27, single, and I have a pet hamster. So yeah, my life basically sucks. I moved to New York a little while ago from England (hey, if you can "make it here, you can make it anywhere", right?) clutching my faux-leather briefcase, wide-eyed and full of hopeful naiveties and embarrassing dreams about finally becoming a success and proving my damned parents wrong for once, hoping to become a journalist. Well, so far I've managed to almost get fired (twice), turn in every article late, and set the coffee machine on fire in the typical American office where I work. I started keeping a journal in the hopes that I'd get it published one day (like Bridget Jones. Ooh, or Anne Frank!), and within these rusty pages contains a story that will BLOW. YOUR. MIND. Flo is 27, single and has a pet... Oh, wait, we've been through that already. Um. Flo is a slightly quirky, off-the-wall redhead (sorry, strawberry-blonde), trying to make her way in life. Follow her as she flirts with impossibly good-looking guys, only to find out they're gay; plays 'Wingwoman' to her best friend Duncan; and sit miserably in the corner of trendy bars, nursing a vodka, looking on enviously as her sexy, blonde-bombshell other best friend, Ashley, pulls handsome men.