Have you ever read this blog? No? Ah. Okay. One more question. No, really. Last one. Stop it! You're cute.
Do you understand how blogs work? No? Perfect. No more questions, your Sexiness. Yeah, I spelled that with a capital "S." Wanna kiss?
In case you haven't met me, I am your girlfriend. The reason I call this blog "I will be famous soon" is because you are so big and famous. No! You are! Stop it. You're cute. And sexy. Very, very sexy. And when we get together, because we are made from the same unicorn horn and it is destined to be so, I will be famous, too.
But I didn't name the blog "I will be famous, too" did I? No. I named it "I will be famous soon." Soon. SOON.
What's the rush? Oh, well, nothing. No. I really don't want to say. No. Stop it. You're cute. Wait. Let me show you a picture of me that my friend took. Here:
Wait. Close your eyes. Okay. Here it comes. Here:
Stop it! You're cute. Okay, for real this time. Here:
I know. I get that all the time. But we're not even related. What? The reason I need to be with you and get famous soon? Oh, shucks. I don't want to . . . okay. You talked me into it. Sexy.
The reason I need to get famous soon is that I am dying. Of . . . rickets. Yes. Rickets. I don't normally tell people I have rickets on the first date--what? Why, of course it's a date, silly! You were thinking the same thing but didn't want to say so? Well, I guess I'm just the blunt type. The sassy, forward, knows what she wants, hot as hell, blunt type.
Oh God. I can feel myself falling for you. I am really in trouble. Really, really in trouble. brb.
. . .
. . .
Sorry. I had pain in my spine, pelvis, and legs. No, no. I'm fine. I'll be . . . fine. As long as I have you.
As long as I have you.
BTW, what time is your game today? As long as my breastbone projection isn't acting up, I will try to drive up. Yes! I will! Stop it. You're cute. You are.
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