I have a bad boo-boo that I go into shock thinking about. I scared the man at the place. He looked like he was gonna go into shock too. He gave me plasters. I made a bunch of noises trying to apply them because the thought of anything touching my boo-boo makes me have the shivers.
And my car broke. And apparently I look corporate. And my work is killing me.
But I have money. I am going to start having contests whose prizes are year paid accounts. I bet some of you wanna compete.
There was a pretty boy named Matt who looks to be related to Chad Lindberg.
Stefan is going to tell everyone I'm dead, because wherever I am, people ask where he is, and vice versa. Maybe they will stop asking if I'm dead. We're not even an item.
But it used to be that way with Jessica and me, too. Somehow being hopelessly associated with a male is infuriating. I don't know where he is 24-7.
How many northern californians does it take to screw in a light bulb?