Crazy, but not that crazy.

I know, it's nuts of me, but every time somebody mentions MySp@ce (or FaceB@ok), I go back and look through mine.

When Mom called to tell me that Neighbor Phil had said something about HR Managers checking "social networking sites" for photos of potential new hires, I even thought about taking down that one picture that has a beer bottle in it; but since the bottle is obviously in front of Clay, and it's one of very few really good pictures of us together, I left it there. Yes, we were at a bar, and yes, there may have been some sort of a glass not visible in the picture; but we were there to see a friend's band play and not to show off any titties, so I left it up. Out of three hundred and some, that one's the only picture that has alcohol in it.

This morning, there was a story in the newspaper about this wanna-be "gangsta." The story mentioned his MySp@ce page and pointed out that lovely default picture where he's posing with a gun.

Not that I'm "passing judgement" or anything, this is just my opinion: that wanna-be gangsta's page kinda puts out a message that reads a little bit like "Hello, I'm a Dumbass!"

In the interest of avoiding the dumbass factor, and because I almost always do this, I opened up my page and clicked through trying to look at it like a stranger would look at it, to try and see what my page says about me.

I'm never sure, but I like to think mine says most of the things my readers here already know -- I'm somewhere around 30, I'm wordy and reasonably educated, and not particularly interested in discussing politics. I've lived in the same area all my life and I love my little hometown. I work with my family. I'm not a very serious TV watcher, but I'm a big fan of PBS. I love obscure music, I race on the dirt, I love cars. I'm a little on the "butch" side but I Love a man. I knit, I read, I write, I proofread compulsively. Melted cheese makes me smile.

Oh, and one more thing, I almost always have a camera with me and I take a lot of pictures.

I've uploaded 359 of 'em to my MySp@ce account.

Three hundred and fifty nine. Wow.

So, I went through those 359 files (yes, again) just to see what all shows up in my pictures. Two are gif, the rest are jpg. In spite of my OCD-ish tendencies, I didn't count how many times I myself appear, but I did count Clay 34 times. Race cars make 63 appearances. Twelve pictures feature trucks, 36 of the ambulance, fourteen of various hearses. Keep in mind, I'm counting picture-by-picture, a shot with fourteen hearses and one ambulance counts as one picture... All together, there are 118 with vehicles. Twenty eight pictures have cats in 'em, including my Hannah kitty and the late ShadowCat, friends' cats, irresistible LOLCats, and one adorable grey kitty who belonged to an old boyfriend. One American Eskimo dog, one Chihuahua with cheeseburgers entitled "Warm, Cheesy Feets," and one teeny-tiny English Bulldog Puppy. Three frogs; one tree, one Kermit, and one teeny-tiny one. Sixty three pictures have birds, including baby parakeets from egg to fuzzy feathers to full-grown. Eight shots of Mom, seven shots of Dad, two with my brothers and me, one with one brother and me, three of the late Dave. There is one picture of Santa Claus holding a gift and kneeling down in front of Baby Jesus.

You'll see me in racing t-shirts, band t-shirts, motorcycle shop t-shirts, a couple polo shirts, a couple button-up shirts, a bit of flannel, some polar fleece, a flag uniform, a band uniform, a prom dress, and looking over one bare shoulder that may or may not involve a sleeveless top. You'll see all manners of hair; with clips, with ponytails, with sunglasses, with chopsticks, with clips. You'll see me holding all sorts of things; bottled water, Diet Dew, Diet Dr. Pepper, a five-gallon fuel jug, several baby animals, a camera, a screwdriver, a curtain rod, a leather handbag, a roll of masking tape, a can of paint, knitting needles, yarn, race car trading cards, the fender of a Kawasaki ATV, a flag on a five-foot pole, a 350-turbo bellhousing, baby animals, steering wheels...

You'll see all sorts of sick humor picked and chosen from various corners of the internet, a '72 Pantera, a sunflower, My Mom with a beehive, and me in a hot pink fur Bunny suit with my arm around a guy who looks a lot like Willie Nelson.

Somewhere I have a digital shot of me with a bartender in Oklahoma City who looked a lot like Freddy Fender, I keep thinkin' if I run onto that again I'll upload it too.

See?

I'm crazy-fun, not crazy-shooting-spree.

Wanna be my friend? http://www.myspace.com/twentycarlo

More later... _\,,/

Did somebody say El Charro?

I know I've done these before, but I'm doin' this one now 'cause when I read it over at Redneck Diva, I was smitten by the mention of El Charro. Mmmmmm... El Charro...

Four places that I go to over and over:
Clay's house.
Hobby Lobby.
The Library.
Quicktrip.

Four people who e-mail me (regularly):
Clayton
Jason
Kathy
Scott

Four of my favorite places to eat:
El Charro (still worth the drive, even though they closed the one in Glenpool)
The Minuteman (in Prattville, seriously the only place to get pizza)
South Of The Border (my "first love" when it comes to Mexican food, 51st & Memorial)
Pepper's Grill (The Tortilla Soup is heavenly, and they cook a great steak too)

Four places I would rather be right now:
In my comfy ol' chair, with some knitting.
Across the street, gettin' the Excursion hooked up to the scanner to find that miss.
In my bed, curled up under a warm blanket.
Anyplace warmer than it is in here.

Four TV shows I watch over and over:
"One Tree Hill"
"This Old House"
Laugh if you will, but I still love those old tapes of "Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman"
"Austin City Limits"

Four unusual things in the room I’m in:
A vintage "California Raisin" with a saxophone.
A tennis ball with a basketball needle stabbed into it.
Some kid's driver's license, which we fished out of a truck door.
A bottle of "Off," which I really hope I'm done with for the year.
(Hey, I'm at work, we've no shortage of unusual things here.)

Four concerts I’ve been to:
Southern Culture On The Skids (twice)
Widespread Panic (twice)
Willie Nelson & Bob Dylan
The Reverend Horton Heat (three times, I think, maybe more)

Four things on my calendar:
I really should see about getting a Flu shot...
My follow-up to decide yay-or-nay on Gallbladder Surgery. (Please God, say "nay.")
Another Reverend Horton Heat Show (on Clay's Birthday)
Another Salvation Army Car Auction (also on Clay's Birthday)

Four fears:
Ladders.
Large-ish (or larger) dogs.
People who drive while drunk or high.
Early death by violent means.

Four unusual things in my purse or wallet:
Cordless test-light. (If I leave it at work, it'll come up missing like the air-powered rivet gun & heat gun did.)
A box of raisins. ("Healthy," even if I have to force myself to call them a "snack.")
Two class rings, found in crashed cars here at work. (They're on CraigsList, I'm just waitin' for e-mails.)
That Idle-air adjustment screw that I bought at last year's racer's auction and never got around to installing.

Four chores I hate doing:
The cat's water dish - it gets so nasty I use Cool-Whip bowls so I can throw it out instead of trying to wash it.
Wrestling sheets onto the worlds fattest mattress. (but it's worth it 'cause it's sooooo soft!)
Dishes, if they've sat in the sink too long or somebody tossed one in there without scraping it off first.
Dusting, because it n-e-v-e-r ends.

Four favorite animals:
Hannah Kitty.
Clay's birds, the ones who don't draw blood. ;)
Anything that's cuddly...
I might think about getting another Hedgehog one of these days...

Four speed dials on my cell phone:
My Mom
Clayton
Line 4 here at work.
My Uncle Wayne. ;)

Four places I have called home:
An old house on West Edison in Tulsa.
The top of a hill between Claremore & Owasso.
The middle of "God's Country" out North of Sand Springs.
A rock house on a dead-end street between Owasso & Sperry.

Four websites (not blogs) I visit:
Discovercard.
Arvest Bank.
The Pond. :)
Blogger.

Four people who have been in my car:
Clayton, My Dad, My Mom, and Randy, who lets me mooch his scanner every now and then. ;)

Four things I am wearing:
Levi's 550's.
Soft, fuzzy socks.
Dark grey sweatshirt.
A bra that I freakin' hate.

Four things I am looking forward to:
Getting that set of plugs in the Excursion so I can go play with it!
Turkey & Cake, 'cause my birthday is on Thanksgiving this year. ;)
Trying to figure out what to do about Christmas. (buy or knit??)
I am almost always looking forward to the weekend!

Four favorite types of candy:
Nestle Crunch (in all forms, including melted & slurped!) ;)
Reese's Peanut Butter Cups
Miniature Butterfingers ('cause of the chocolate ratio, heh)
Brach's "Gum-Dingers" (the red ones!)

Four sports teams you like:
The ones with motors. ;)

Four things found in your fridge:
Diet Dew
Salsa
Cheese
Miracle Whip

Four rituals (not just a task) you do every day:
Blowdrier & round brush. (I'm still amazed by how Jacy rocked my world teachin' me that)
Log onto Google Reader.
Set my alarm(s) for the next day.
Lately, I fall asleep with my iPod instead of the TV.

Four things currently within reach:
My nearly-empty Diet Dr Pepper.
The MacBook's power adapter. (it's wwaaarrrmmm!)
My phone.
My car keys.

Four things you know how to cook (not bake or grill):
Totally bitchin' top-secret lasagna.
Pretty good Tortilla Soup.
Mom's Mexi-Melt.
Helper, but only with hamburger, I refuse to touch it with chicken due to a bad experience. ;)

A Wordy First.

My first piece of writing to be published somewhere other than here is up at The DRC.

I'm kinda scared to read it clear through again 'cause I'd probably find something I missed in the fifty-gazillion re-reads I've already done; so cross yer fingers for careful proofreading and go check it out!

More Soon...

_\,,/

Wait! Don't hit delete!

I'm still here, I'm just... Uhm... Processing. Yeah, that's the ticket. I can call multiple re-edit's processing, right?

I'm trying to get a story ready, but in true story-teller fashion, it's taking me several tries.

When it's done, I'll have a bit of fascinating news, it'll be pretty cool, I promise.

In the meantime, how'bout a little bit of humor?

Here ya go, it's from Magick Sandwich, and here it is!

Tweeeeeeet!!!

The third baby parakeet hatched today, and was apparently tossed out of the nestbox. After I discovered it squirming and peeping on the newspaper beneath the bottom of the cage, Clay scooped it up and put it back in the box -- the first two, hatched Wednesday and Thursday, are already twice the size of the brand-new baby.

Also, in bird-ish news, if ya didn't already know, I'm hooked on Twitter.



Tweet tweet!

More later... _\,,/

Undersphere!

Okay, here's the deal: Today, I officially un-linked The Blog from The Dot-Com.

This blog still links back to my site; there's just no straight-through way to get here from that site.

I know that most of my regular readers have come to appreciate the difference and surely understand that since the dot-com is on the back of The Twenty (and several other surfaces), it's seen by the HoMeSkOoLeRz and a few other family members, and with the recent acquisition of an e-mail address by a less-net-proficient family member, the dot-com may see a little more traffic soon.

When I say "less-net-proficient," I'm talkin' about that guy who saw me using an AOL CD as a coaster and freaked out about it, his exact words were "Holy Shit!!! Don't ruin that! It's got 1,040 FREE HOURS on it, I can put that in the Bronco!" I was too stunned to think of asking just how he was planning to use those "hours" in a car stereo, and I still wish I knew...

Good, bad, or indifferent, I'd rather that the eyes of said traffic not stumble onto this blog.

What I've done with the "Blog" button on the dot-com is this: I've made a screen-shot into a jpg file to display instead of linking directly here. My "Regular Readers," (I Love y'all) can still come to this URL for actual Blogger postings, as can other members of the Blogger/Blogging Community of which I try my best to be a functioning member -- but those who flip through the dot-com will get a jpg of a (supposedly) current post, possibly edited for content... I know the jpg may not be the most efficient way to go about that, but I'm working on a couple other methods, I just need to think 'em through and try 'em out.

What I think I'm trying to do here is just separate the two sites... I think...

I remember discussing this a time or two, and today I decided to just get-it-done. If there's something ya think I should do differently, by all means, please do share your ideas and I just might use some of 'em.

More Later... _\,,/

Oops. I missed "Blog Action Day."

But I'm still scared shitless.

Okay, okay, I'll be honest, I really hadn't paid any attention to "Blog Action Day" until Robin mentioned it... Whups. I read her post from yesterday this morning, so I missed it by a day.

Since The Environment is something to write about that's not a cheese sandwich, I'll get my thoughts on the topic out here anyway.

Here in Oklahoma, when somebody wrecks a car that ends up too bad to fix, the insurance company pays off on that car and it goes to an Auction. The only people who can go through the gate and into that auction to buy those crashed cars are people with Salvage Licenses, they won't even let ya in to look at 'em without the Identification Card issued by the state of Oklahoma.

Getting and/or keeping a Salvage License in Oklahoma involves jumpin' through a lot of hoops -- there are way too many other licenses that are too easy to get, but the Salvage License folks run a tight ship. The Salvage License involves examination of city permits, record-keeping, storage of cars & parts, and most importantly, the EPA's certification.

The EPA is very, very concerned about what's goin' on in Salvage Yards, mainly because cars give off a notable lot of non-environment-friendly substances, and even more mean-n-scary stuff flies out when they're taken apart. One of the strictest requirements for a Salvage License (the only one tougher than the paperwork for tracking the purchase of each car for theft prevention) is meeting the EPA's requirements. The EPA requires us, as Recycling Facility Operators, to track where all those car-related substances go when they leave our hands. Used oil from motors, fluid from transmissions (or grease from the manual ones), anti-freeze and other fluids, batteries, old tires, refrigerant from air conditioners -- just about every drop has to be accounted for. They've even started a campaign to collect and recycle switches and sensors, like that little light that comes on when you open the trunk, because they contain Mercury.

The EPA collects stormwater runoff from Salvage Yards and tests it for any myriad of substances; essentially, just about anything that comes from a car had better not be left layin' on the ground anywhere that it might get washed off the edge of the place, and anything that gets collected in containers to be sold off or sent somewhere else had better have paperwork so they can be sure it's not just washin' off the edge of some other patch of land into some other creek. Refrigerant must be collected for re-use, not just released into the atmosphere. Batteries go to a certified bulk buyer, used oil is collected for pickup by licensed buyers, anti-freeze is filtered for re-use in other vehicles, like the delivery trucks, or lot cars, or The Twenty because we can't just toss all that stuff in the garbage can or down the nearest drain.

For years and years, the only people who could get their hands on those severely crashed cars were the Salvage Yards, because once the good stuff if re-used or re-sold, Salvage Yards have the means for collection and disposal of the goo that's left over.

When November First gets here, it's all going to change. The State Of Oklahoma has passed a new law doing away with those ID Cards, and starting with the first Auction in November, anybody with the cash or a credit card can buy severely damaged cars at the Salvage Auctions.

I (and several folks from other Licensed Recycling Facilities) have several problems with this, but our phone calls and letters to elected officials were not enough to stop this law from getting passed.

FIrst, prices are goin' up at the auctions, and that's going to make it even harder for the folks who have been runnin' legitimate yards all this time. Money is what it's all about though, that's why the insurance companies had a much louder voice than Recyclers who were barely keeping their heads above water to begin with -- the insurance companies had the big bucks to spend on lobbying, and now they're going to make even more money from those auctions. Safety? Schmafety. If they cared about anyone's safety, they wouldn't have lobbied to take away one of the last safeguards against rollin' wrecks down the highway. If they cared about anyone else's money besides their own, they wouldn't be so quick to deny claims, would they? More Salvage-Titled cars on the road possibly causing more wrecks means they have greater chances of finding a reason to deny claims. Oh, and full-coverage insurance on a Salvage-Titled car? Good luck with that. And hey, what-do-ya-know, no full-coverage means no loans on 'em either.

Second, as the insurance lobby apparently did not consider, it's going to put the driving public at risk, 'cause now anybody can buy anything and attempt to put it back on the road whether they know what they're doing or not. Sure, some "totaled" cars can be re-built, but not all of 'em -- and everybody's got their own opinion on what it takes to be "too far gone," but who do you want making that decision for the used car you might buy and drive? A Licensed, Bonded Professional who's been in the business for several years, or some wanna-be-rebuilder who's just gotta sell this shitheap that he did a half-assed job on just to pay off the Visa bill from where he bid way too much on it without really lookin' it over?

Last but not least, where's all that stuff the EPA is watching for going to go? If that wanna-be rebuilder is bangin' away on that wreck in his garage and washing the mess down the driveway, it's going straight into the storm sewer or into the backyard to seep into the neighbor's yard or the creek; but the EPA isn't watching the houses, they're watching the Salvage Yards. Sure, the work-at-home rebuilders may think they're being careful and covering all their bases; but are they going to show up at their local "household pollutant collection event" to hand over a dozen half-mashed car batteries? Probably not; they'll just dump all of that stuff wherever they think they can get away with it, 'cause hey, the EPA won't see 'cause they're too busy keeping an eye on those evil scary Salvage yards.

I remember seeing a TV news show about shoddy rebuilders -- if you think it's a scary situation now, just wait!

The first time a wheel flies off something and bounces into my windshield at highway speed, the first time a car battery washes up on the swimming beach at the lake, the first time a trash truck mashes the garbage and squeezes out a gallon or so of nasty used motor oil, I'm callin' up Stone Phillips and the folks at 20/20.

As A Part Of The Blogosphere...

I said I wasn't touchin' the Miss Teen Airhead thing, but I still can't help but think she might be a HoMeSkOoLeR; or, if she likes younger men at all, maybe she could be the best, most perfectly-matched girlfriend for one or the other of these two HoMeSkOoLeRz [tm]. Maybe they'll meet and fall in luv on MySpac3. eHeh.

But when it comes to interesting things in the Blogosphere, I can't help but touch on this interesting piece.

So, with all the odd stuff I know about myself, at least I can say I'm most-likely not depressed; best we can tell by the standards of that study, anyway -- and I can add a new facet to my people-watching notes as well.

I think I'm more likely to go with the commenters who said the study was seriously flawed though -- I agree with the folks who figure it's a result of being right-handed or left-handed and keeping the dominant hand free for other things that may need to be done. I'm sure that's why I've developed this habit of holding the phone to my left ear because I might need to write things down with my right hand -- and my job involves a lot of ten-key while on the phone, and there's no way I'd ever get anything done on the ten-key left-handed. It's got to the point that I don't feel like I'm getting the most of the conversation if I have the phone to my right ear, and it's not because I have any kind of hearing problem -- it's like being left-eared, my right ear just doesn't seem to get the job done as efficiently.

I'll admit I have minimal baby-handling on my resume', but most I can remember, I'm most comfy with 'em on my left arm. Same goes for the cat; I reach down and pick her up with my right hand and lay her onto my left arm 99.99 percent of the time. My purse, be it large or small, is always on my left shoulder; if I'm struggling with other stuff (like I was when I came back from lunch today) and it ends up on my right shoulder, it just doesn't seem to work right and I get all off-balance and awkward.

Knowing what I know about body mechanics (as an F-PTA, heh), I should know better, but if I'm gathering up lots of stuff, I still hang it all on my left shoulder, no matter how much it makes me lean to the right to compensate for the weight and width -- I've been known to head toward the door with my purse, my knitting bag, a backpack, and whatever else hung on my left shoulder, the laptop on my left arm, and nothing but my keys in my right hand.

Maybe it's a throw-back from all those years as a Band Kid -- I could make my way from the car to the Band Building with all my stuff on my left shoulder and the Trombone case in my right hand because the case was tough as hell and I'd figured out how I could usually catch the door with it and make my way in without having to put anything down to grab the door handle. That's probably a right-handed skill too though; which would also explain the keys in my right hand for aiming -- there's only one hole I can find left-handed, and no keys are goin' in that one.

My cell phone is always in my right front pocket, if I have a couple dollars or some coins to drop in a pocket, it's always my right back pocket. The Pretty-Butch-For-A-Straight-Chick-Pocket-Knife [tm] is always in my left front pocket; but there's usually not anything in my left back pocket. Maybe there's a study somewhere to analyze that... Unless it's due to always having my right hand free for intricate tasks, so it's always easiest to get the phone out of my pocket to answer it even if I'm carrying something on my left shoulder.

Now, if somebody could just figure out a way for me to know if the phone is ringing while it's out there on the charger in my car...

What Kind Of Noise?

What sort of sound does a Kiwi make? Do they honk or sing or tweet or squawk or what??

Here's mine, sittin' on the dash of The Short Bus right before I left for work this morning.



The pattern for this birdy is from BitterSweet, where there's also lots of other cute & fun stuff you might want to take a look at. I've finished my first one; I've started on a second one and maybe I'll be able to avoid my goof-up's this time. There's this odd little hole in the back of Kiwi #1's neck, it's only visible if ya really know right where to look, but I always look and wonder if that's some mistake I made. I also want to do a little something different when it comes to putting the eyes on the next one; my buttons & thread (totally against the designer's instructions, I apologize) just aren't quite like I wanted 'em to be.

As noted by the wire hanging out of the stock cassette deck, we're checkin' out Smodcast on the iPod; I'm a little behind and trying to catch up, I think I was just finishing up the one about Helen Keller -- which, by-the-way, I found quite interesting.

I'd write Kevin Smith an e-mail if I thought it would get read, but I've no doubt he gets a gob of messages every day and some chick from Oklahoma saying "Hey, take a Sign Language Class at that Community College ya mentioned, mine was fascinating," probably wouldn't get read. Even if I also told him how freakin' hot he is, my e-mail probably just wouldn't stand out enough to get noticed. I remember reading a kid-targeted book about Helen Keller when I was real young, but just like they said in the podcast, I didn't really think about it when I was a kid. It's probably quite a task to teach language to someone who niether hears nor sees; but the ASL class that I took really changed my way of thinking language and about communication in general.

Even in the midst of the world's biggest stinker, I don't think there was ever an occasion where a teacher took Helen Keller's hand and spelled out t-h-a-t--w-a-s--a--f-a-r-t; but I'm sure there was some sort of acknowledgement of rippin' one off, even though I'm not entirely sure what that sign would be. As native English speakers, we "think in English," which is where the "t-h-a-t" comes from. One of the profoudly fascinating things we learned in that ASL class was the huge difference between Sign Language and written or spoken English as we know it -- but even as the "wordy person" that I am, I appreciate the beauty of both. I remember an instructor who said "English is wide, ASL is deep." English uses lots of words to convey a concept, while Sign uses lots of expression and doesn't really need to rely on the extras like t-h-a-t.

I have no idea why I waded off into that, but I did, so I'm leavin' it there...

Is it time to go home and knit yet??

More later, _\,,/

Superficial sends a Postcard; Real sends a Letter...

Y'all know how I love PostSecret, right?

Well, this one really caught my eye:



Dear PostCardExBoyfriend:

It's okay, I'm fine, don't worry about me. I met someone, a man, not a junior-high boy, and he cares about me enough to love me for who I am, not what I look like. He's a great guy who's mature enough to know that dumping a girl because of what his buddies say is not the right thing to do -- and his friends respect him enough to understand that who he dates is none of their damn business.

You'll be fine too, I'm sure it won't be long before you find a nice thin girl that your friends approve of; but don't be surprised if she doesn't like your friends and tries to make you stay away from them so that she can choose your friends for you. Hell, one of your friends might even have a nice Barbie-lookin' girl in mind for you; probably some skank he's already been bangin'.

Go on, have your fun, enjoy that thin girl, 'cause hey, it's all about makin' your friends happy with your choices. She might be irritating, scared of your car, hate your taste in music and never ever get along with your family, but as long as your friends think she's cute, I guess that's good enough. She may not ever cook you any food that's fit to eat, and her little dog will probaby jump out of her purse and piss on your couch, but as long as she's not "a fat girl," I'm sure that'll be alright, won't it? She might not really care about you at all, and she may have three or four bastard kids that'll tear up your baseball cards and wreck all your model cars and shove a peanut butter sandwich into your VCR, but as long as she looks good in her short shorts, that'll be no problem, huh? She may want to move in with you after a couple dates and bring her Mom to live with ya'll too, and then she might have shitty credit and want you to put her name on your checking account just so she can drain it like she did the last several guys she was with. Sure, she's tiny & cute, but If you broke your leg tonight, could she get your ass into the truck to take you to the emergency room?

If she irritates the hell out of you but you let her stick around 'cause she's that girl that your friends like, are you really doing something to make yourself happy? If you can't stand her, then what are you really getting out of that situation, besides the risk of diseases?

True Friends will try to keep each other away from those lifesucking relationships, but some people never seem to learn.

If your friends don't respect you enough to shut their mouths about what your girl looks like, are they really the best choice for friends? I'll let you make the call on that one.

If you're not mature enough to let your own feelings dictate your relationships, are you really the best choice for me? No. If you're not willing to stand up for me and tell your friends to look into my eyes instead of at my ass, are you really the best choice for me? No.

If you're willing to dump me just because of what your friends say, were you ever really in love with me? No.

If you're willing to dump me because of what your friends say, have I really lost anything here? No.

Thanks so much for letting me see the real you before I got in too deep...

Best Wishes;
The Fat Girl.

PS: It's not that I hate all the "Thin Girls," some of 'em have beautiful hearts, but you'll never get to see real beauty if you don't learn to look for it... I didn't write a letter attacking "Thin Girls," I wrote a letter attacking your superficiality.





Love is about what you feel when you look into someone's eyes; and that's all I know to say about that...

More later... _\,,/