If I were a spoiled, bratty little Super Sweet Sixteen-er, this is what I'd totally demand from my parents. Ah, how quickly I forget all the headaches my (un)Lucky gives me on a daily basis. He really must be baby boy after all.
I'm just sad you didn't blog about the poem I wrote you. Are you so calloused from your high-powered corporate job that you can't even blog about the best poem evar?
I'm just sad you didn't blog about the poem I wrote you. Are you so calloused from your high-powered corporate job that you can't even blog about the best poem evar?
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