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In which I rub salt (into your imaginary wounds).

I will paint my face, and smoke, and drink (just a little, to make me brave), and (fingers crossed) make out with perfect strangers, and touch bad boy's hair.

Because I've got some strange vibe going on today (stares and comments), and I'd like to forget my life for a few hours, that's all.

So, I'll giggle, and talk shit, and smile that big smile (I save for when I mean it), and I'll talk to people I don't know, and they'll say, "Carie? Like the movie?" and I'll say, "Yeah. Now you won't forget me because of pig's blood."

(Just as long as I don't meet anyone with your name.)

Be good, kids. Someone has to.

6:17 p.m. - 2003-07-10


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