An East Coast girl goes Midwest on your ass.
And somewhere, a Brontë spins...
Why isn't anyone commenting on this?
Because unlike those who subscribe to cliquey, incestuous blog-tool providers where all of their cliquey incestuous frinds spend all day typing about the color of their nail polish and their happy, balanced lives, you, Andrew and I live in a blog vacuum where we spend all day talking about the color of your ukulele. We are a universe contained.
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