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June 1, 2010


This internet dating thing is pretty constipated. The ones you don’t like make it so excruciating. The ones you do like have a profile but send “one liners” like “I don’t have a subscription yet. I will message you when I do.” I’m so pissed off I feel like going to Paris for the weekend at the exorbitant price of £309 and sleeping on at bench at the side of the canal – and I can take my patchwork quilt I’m working on with me.

Ergh, Hobart farted. If I didn’t want to die before I sure do now.

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