It's pretty much all random unless, of course, you happen to be riding in the back seat in Dallas. Meanwhile, fools rush in and fools fall in love. We generally prefer the term "poet."
My plans to start a 12 step program for victims hit a snag this week when I discovered that the snappy moniker, VA, was taken. Back to the drawing board, I suppose. Is that further back than square one?
Do ends ever justify means? Do you suppose that loneliness is ever a legitimate alibi? Asking for a friend.
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