Hey, somebody farted. Let's get outta here.
This is the line i'm planning on picking up the man of my dreams with. British, and hippie, and musician. Or any of the above, really. He could even have plaid pants or a dorky notbeook obsession, as long as by the end of it, I haven't forgotten what intrigue feels like. Besides, I love cool noteooks and
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its because they are as exciting as reading the weekly sunday postsecret.
wow, i'm a sap. lol
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