Mare's Flirty Hemline Fund: $20.00
Daily Bread Food Bank Fund: $14.00
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I bought Clay Aiken's album. I'm not ashamed, I'm not embarrassed. And I'll probably always live in the suburbs.
Look, I could shake my head, and curse my age and squaredom, and wonder what I'm turning into. But that would be silly, because I've always been just the kind of girl to buy a Clay Aiken album. His voice makes me smile, you see. Also? Josh Groban's single, You Lift Me Up? Yeah, well, it makes me cry like a baby, especially when I sing along. And I always sing along. In fact, I wail the hell out of that song, pouring out all my mismatched notes until they harden and form sour little cinnamon heart candies that stick like burrs on my sleeve, and it makes me feel better than you can imagine. I'm even planning on playing it at my wedding. You know, once I find a husband. Or, you know, a date.
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I had a dream last night that the Evanescence guy with the goatee was in love with me, and his name was Daniel, and he thought I was clever and silly. Then, in my dream, my accountant handed me a bill for $6000.00 and that made me wake up sweating and in a panic. The Evanescence guy, whatever his name was, was gone, but the invoice wasn't. I don't understand... it's not like I ate anything spicy.
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I bought a pair of black trousers in December, thinking that my bottom was going to shrink a little. The pants actually do fit me, and 75% percent of the garment looks pretty passable. Unfortunately, my arse takes up that other 25% percent, and it's all sticky-outy, giving the illusion that I can rest a whole tea service on it, and maybe shelter some of the cast of Willow from the rain. So these gorgeous black trousers, bought in December, are still wearing their labels.
That's pretty stupid, isn't it?
I'm just going to wear the damn pants.
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