Another beautiful bashful specimen of boyish charm. At first, he blushes and giggles and wonders what the joke is, but I overpower him with my newfound womanhood until he knows that what he feels is special and right.
And as I cling to him, he thinks "oh god, my chance has come at last," but then a strange fear grips him and he just can't ask. But now he can leave Comic Con and tell his friends at home what true love feels like, because he feels it this day, pressed against the warm bosoms of Girl Dave.
A nearby catgirl vogues exuberantly, but I think I need some time to get over striped shirt nerd guy. Maybe he was the one. Maybe I can somehow stay a girl forever and... no, it wasn't meant to be.
Sometimes I dream that I'm sitting in the back of the defunct Weinermobile as it careens driverless down the highway. At first I thought this was symbolic of the powerlessness I feel in life, but then I realized it's actually the Weinermobile's dream of being able to drive again.
Three years ago, when we were burying my uncle, Cleaver and some gross lady dog (Solstice???) showed up at the cemetery and starting going at it really loudly. It ruined everything and we had to have a "re-do" the next day and it cost a fortune. I've hated him ever since for that.
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