I like to pretend that I'm nonchalant, that I don't care.
Naturally this should automatically be warranted as some sort of self-defense mechanism, because I care.


A lot.

But thank you for those brief moments. I haven't been able to get my mind off of them.

Now....to prepare myself for an enticing week of faux-lesbianism.

So... I think you're like, totally cute, and adorable, and smart, and funny, and perfect, but I don't dare to say this to your face, as you'll probably brush it off as some retarded school girl crush, so I'll totally write it in here, keeping in mind the possibility that you may read this, become totally flattered, and call me up this weekend with vigorous intentions of molesting me to no end.

I am the queen and they are my worker bees.

Always is a shocker when that babyfaced freshman sitting across from you in photography class is in fact married with 5 kids and in his mid 40's. Nevermind that he's constantly asking me what my lingerie looks like while smelling my lotion. That isn't creepy at all.