Lauren (the other me), Mary, and I just went to dinner. We accidentally sat at (what turned out to be) the tri-delta table, and when they (the tri delts) started to come into the dining hall, they shot us looks and said hi, the combination of which actually meant that they saw us at their table and wanted to know what the hell we were thinking.
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and what? a poem about breast cancer? that's a downer.
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WARNING:
Anyone who reads this, that isn't Mallory, and visits my apartment, I will cover you in Smucker's strawberry jam, and feed you to the mice that the pied piper lead to my back lot. OR was it rats? Well I don't really know.
NO STALKERS.
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