"Kelly's" husband must be one lucky guy.
Oh the perils of being a goth! Don't bother reading this shit unless you're really bored or you have a high tolerance for pointless purple text.
The only thing better than a day in the life of a goth is a day in the life of a goth who can't spell worth a shit.
If you ever threw golf balls at a kid named "moonshine kat," I just want to let you know that your days are numbered, mister!
Coming up next: how NOT to pick up men.
Are you concerned that you may be a character trapped in a Tom Waits song? Be smart and learn the warning signs before it's too late. Also, it's too late. It has always been too late.
I'm haunted by a recurring vision of a skeleton flipping me off. To avoid seeing this terrifying image in bumper sticker form, I pay someone with a blank bumper to drive in front of me at all times.
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