the BRUTAL, UGLY truth of my FABULOUS, BEAUTIFUL life.



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12:48 p.m. + 2006-10-21 = who knows.

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my phone is broken.

i think it happened as the dj played rapture's W.A.Y.U.H.

cos that was the most dançaflailable.

goodnews: you can call me.
badnews: i can't call you.
v. badnews: neither of us can text.


oh. and i might've met a boy that i'd like to make out with again. i can't be certain; afterall, there was alcohol involved. but still, i'm not having that dirty-whore-aftermath feeling which typically epilogues fingerpainting-the-town-red nights. [just suffering a light headache that'll eventually diminish with the introduction of waters, sugars, and greasybreakfastfoods.] [[and i blame that on the Premo, not the boy.]]

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comments?? --->[thisaway]--->[[looks to me as though there are...]]---> 0 repercussions thus far

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[prologue] *** [epilogue] ***[plottwist!]

[[erstwhile]] ***** [[forthwith]]

reference desk

me
&
you
or
us
&
them
else...
immortality!



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