January 24, 2009
I like monsters. Not real monsters, mind you, but fake, cute monsters that fake scare you. They don't lurk in closets, they sit on your dresser and smile at you when you put your contacts in. They guard your cds that you can't find space on the bookshelf for. They compliment your hair after you brush it, then tell you that cardigan doesn't match that shirt. They tell you that you look dashingly beautiful in that pink shirt with the lime green shirt under it, despite the fact you look like a watermelon. One has to wonder what they want.