Oh, It Is Love.

I'm going to ask Michael Clarke to marry me, even though we've never met. That man is brilliant. Oh, Pup, how I adore thee.

No, seriously. I mean, he dismissed two of the Indian batsmen with consecutive balls, and then a third, two balls later. Three wickets, off 5 balls, with 8 minutes of play between a win or a draw. *sigh* He's lovely.



And even though Miri has managed to ruin a heap of fairy tales, I still have a crush on the Beast.


*whines* Everyone else's blogs are so much longer than mine. I don't know what else to write about. Miri is writing essays about Panic! and creepy fairy tales. Maybe I'll write one too. Or something.

Or maybe I'll be completely boring and complain about my life. Yay! Let's do it. Ahem.

So, there's this boy.

_{Max and Mike. Camping. Making myspace faces in the middle of fucking nowhere.}

And he's my best friend. And he's awesome. And we like to make faces at cameras together.

_{Formal (prom). In jackets and bowties.}


Unfortunately, I have this friend.

_{Stephy, my lovely. Being a loser.}


Don't get me wrong, I love her to pieces. We even share snacks.

_{Green snakes are fun.}

The problem is this. The boy, my best friend, likes my friend. And the problem with that is that she likes him. And the problem with that is that I like him. And the problem with THAT is that the whole damn situation makes me feel entirely the opposite to this:
_{Not happy, not happy at all. But the FOB hoodie I'm wearing here does make me feel pretty awesome.}


Blah. The End.