Feb. 15th, 2005
We (Brandy and I) were talking with the new neighbors, (the ones whose roomate I hate, because she's a sanctimonious, self-righteous, divabitch from hell) today while waiting for the car graveyard people to come pick up my Cutlass Ciera.
Anyway, she was asking about the bumpers stickers on it, and they and Brandy got to talking about how I'm the neighborhood freakygothperson, but in a very, very cool way. You know, the person who you wonder where they go at strange hours of the night, but you don't have a problem leaving your kids with them if something unexpected comes up during the day. (Don't ask me, I didn't get it either.)
Anyway, the chick asked me if I did anything normal, like gardening or shopping for shoes.
"Well, I collect dolls..."
Anyway, she was asking about the bumpers stickers on it, and they and Brandy got to talking about how I'm the neighborhood freakygothperson, but in a very, very cool way. You know, the person who you wonder where they go at strange hours of the night, but you don't have a problem leaving your kids with them if something unexpected comes up during the day. (Don't ask me, I didn't get it either.)
Anyway, the chick asked me if I did anything normal, like gardening or shopping for shoes.
"Well, I collect dolls..."