Is This Place Called Virgins? Well, I

Is My Name Dorothy? No Then Why Do U Think Munchkins Could Help Me?

After Each Dream, Frankie Woke With A Start, Soaked In Tears. But She Found No Relief In The Peaceful Silence Of Her Room, Because There Everything Was Real. And The Guilt Was Too Immense To Bear. Each Time She Opened Her Eyes, She'd Quickly Shut Them. And Wish That She Had Woken Up For The Very Last Time.

Uh, I Thought Dvds Werne't Allowed At My Sleepovers. They're Not. Then Why Am I Watching The Lady And The Tramp?

This Is A Combo Between Taco And Burrito, Nacho!

Because Whipping An Atlas At Jackson's Head While He Was Flirt-touching That Frankie Girl In Geography Would Have Been Very Satisfying. And Beating Him With The Eiffel Tower Snowglobe While He Kissed Cleo In French Would Have Been Tres Cathartic. But She Hadn't. Instead She'd Been Egg-like: A Hard Shell On The Outside, And A Runny Mess On The Inside.