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color me blind
There was a point to this story, but it has temporarily escaped the chronicler's mind. - So Long And Thanks for All the Fish by Douglas Adams |
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about the author
A female member of the homo sapiens species
(warm-blooded, omnivorous, currently alive) Diet includes walrus diarrhea, preserved portions of man-made worms cooked in boiling water and the outermost layer of flesh of eggs that have been incubated, raised, beheaded, plucked and fried in oil. Extremely unpredictable, high-five on sight. tagboard
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Design: doughnutcrazyIcon: morphine_kissed |
I'm here to blabber on about love again. Firstly. I believe that love is not felt, it's learned. Everyone has something worth loving for, and you can love just about anyone, but only if you're willing to. So those people who say you just have to hate this person, I doubt it. (This applies to people like *cough* Bella Swan as well. Her good point is that at least she didn't have premarital sex and had only one boyfriend. Zoey Redbird... I'll have to think about that for a moment.) Secondly. There's no such thing as 'true love'. Because if the feeling you call 'love' isn't true, then it's not worthy to bear the name love. Thirdly. Why do they call it making love? Their love is supposed to be there by then. It's not something they do to help them make love. Lastly, I have no idea how people have make out in the backseat. Unless they're dwarfs. And it's not romantic. I'm just ranting and romance novels in general. Again. edit: Ohyes. The lion bust was finished. It was pretty awesome. And the person who did it with me made an awesome cardboard violin. I just cut out a hummingbird. I hate those feathers. But after looking at those books I realize hummingbirds and spiky turtles and lizards are quite nice too. And falcons. |