To myself.
On the bathroom mirror.
In lipstick.
Please still be my friend.
I'm the luckiest girl in the world. Seriously, the world loves me. I'm not sure why it does, but I love most of it right back. I love wrapping presents. Flowers are important. That TOTALLY wasn't me who prank called you, I swear. I love to grocery shop. My boyfriend loves to cook. I can't get enough of kissing him. My bicycle has streamers on the handles. I think if people wanna know about my faith, they'll ask. I look young, and sound old. I love chaos, so you'll always find pets and teenagers around my house. I always have at least one book in my purse. At camp in high school, I was voted "Most Talkative." UNANIMOUSLY. I dance at the slightest provocation. This blog is my mirror, my publicist, my calendar, and my most flattering angle. I am its pushy stage mother. And apparently, I'm important enough to get hate mail. Sweet.
Blogging from sunny San Diego
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4 Comments:
hey i totally did that once...
but the lipstick never came off...and my grandma thought the mirror was being fresh with her.
*gobble gobble*
Ah, Veaj, not much would make me not want to be your friend, at this point.
Actually, by now, every new thing I learn about you gets labelled "quirky and adorable" pretty much right away.
Yeah ... I been meaning to talk to you about that ... the letters are blocking the camera. It was cute when there were just a couple of words "kiss me" and "I want you" etc.
But, VJ, there's a freakin' novel on the mirror now.
I can't see anything.
*test mirror to see if it's two-way glass*
Oh. I see. It is.
So you're my neighbor? You're that tiny little asian nurse that smokes a cigarette precisely at 11pm, emits a weird nasal whistle when she yawns and gets up when she hears my shower in the morning?
Oh God.
*goes to check shower for peepholes*
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