Chapter Two, you tell her, you never, never, never wanna be apart,
In Chapter Three, remember the meaning of romance,
In Chapter Four, you break up, but you give her just one more chance,
Oh, I wonder, wonder who, be-dooo, who, who wrote the book of love?"
Dear Jerk-Wad and Silly-Dumb,
You are stupid, stupid boys.
I am getting a little cyclical here, and that makes me nervous because the tarot was all, "Rosalind! You best be stopping with the way you're always acting, with the mooning over the boys and the not doing of anything! Best be starting making the sacrifices!" Or somesuch. But the inherent flaw in this logic is that I can't sacrifice my coziness for definitive, positive action if I cannot figure out what I want!
If I knew what I wanted, I would know how to get it.
Anyway, I am living by the sisterhood of the Righteous Awesome Clubhouse of Ghostly Fun and forevermore vow never to lose my dinosaur sparkles, even if I have been supremely disappointed by the turn of events in How I Met Your Mother and the unsatisfying demise of the beautiful Robin-Barney relationship. (Really? That's the best way they could write off that relationship? Really?)
Girl needs to get her laser tag on!
It's a true story.
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