Sea glass will cut a bitch.
Victorian curly fries and horsey sauce. Awesome.
The inner mean girl says I’m just some mediocre blogger, not a real writer.
Facebook conversations with Facebook would be super awkward.
See more at College Humor.
My 1881 Victorian monster house is frozen and I am thinking about breaking up with it.
It’s kind of Pinteresty and buzzy looking and cute, isn’t it?
Writing: the narcissism of forcing your thoughts and feelings upon a world that does not care.
Start by being mistaken for a lesbian lover.
I wrote a motherfucking sonnet out of Air Supply lyrics in iambic fucking pentameter, bitches.
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