If this live journal were a celebrity magazine, and I were the editor of said magazine, as well as a paparazzo for said magazine, and a celebrity with whom said magazine was obsessed, I as the editor would fire myself as the "journalist" for not providing any details on me as the celebrity.
So here are some half-assed details. Sketchy in form but not content, minimalist grammar.
No longer live in Manhattan, live in Queens. Ditto for borough in which I am employed. Am a nanny.
Ehh, accidentally growing a dred. It will hopefully work itself out. If not, there are always scissors.
My pain is freaking hilarious
Does it count as schadenfreude if it's aimed at yourself?
- What, no quotations from 10-year-olds about sex or poems qualifying various forms of nudity?
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