She's (not) in parties.

My cordless phone quit working. It was purple. I adored that phone. I went looking for another one and the closest thing I found was the Disney princess phone which belts out various Disney themes upon an incoming call. But because of its pastel coloring, I purchased it.

Considering the fact that no one calls to talk with me, I will probably regret this decision long about the hundreth time my brother's friends wake me up in the morning to the tune of "Bippity Boppity."

Like the gothy guy whose been hitting on me for years says, "I can't believe you wear so much pink." Wouldn't he like to know about my phone. He never stops pointing out what a contradiction it is between who I am and who he thinks I should be. A lot of people do that to me. Hey you wear a lot of eyeliner and your hair is dark: you must be some sort of badly dancing, Bauhuas liking, gothic retardo. Let's go read Anne Rice and Johan Vasquez comics together, my emaciated gothic princess of the drugstore.

I hate to disappoint, I do.