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Well, I just erased the whole introduction to my diary. That was smart. Ah, well, now you can read a much shorter and non-humorous one. Lucky you! I've decided not to post everything that I ever wrote about myself from 1992-1998. Ha! I posted my whole diary for about a day, then actually read it over and thought "Bloody hell, this is personal!" so now it goes bye-bye. You are, however, privileged enough to read everything I wrote as a cute little kid. And if your lucky, maybe I'll add a bit extra. Wouldn't that just be jolly good? Now let's have a whoo and a phoo.

A lot of people were bothering me about how this link didn't work. Well, two people were bothing me. But why concern ourselves with semantics? Anyhoo, don't expect an exciting epic journey or anything, I really have a fairly boring life. But I decided to post it anyway, because I damn well feel like it. So get outta my hair! I'd rather you not have gotten in my hair in the first place, I already have enough little things crawling around in there. Lice city. Tick central. *nods* My backpack says it sticks like a tick. Doesn't that sound delightful?

Hmm… off track again. Well, there you have it, a sample of what my whole diary is like. Random babblings that spew from my mouth like a little creak in an peaceful pine forest that overflows because of El Nino. Wait, are we still blaming things on El Nino? Hell, I'll do whatever I want, it's my damn page! And I'll use as many goddamn colorful metaphors as I damn well want, too, even if I damn by the hell haven't the hang of it! Heh. Creative? No, insane.

BTW, if your not a friend of mine and your reading this, I fear and loath and despise you. Just remember that! And, uh, I know where you live. And you know where I live. But I have a whole army of other personalities backing me up! Well, except the personalities that leave me threatening notes and dress up in drag. Wait, can a girl dress up in drag? Oye, vey. Stop the train, we're off course to Keystone City! Hmmm… I wish I had a brick.


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All copyrights are acknowledged and those remain the property of the owners. Also these pages contain my opinions (unless otherwise specified), and thus, does not reflect the beliefs of others. The Garden of the Black Rose and its related pages are copyrighted (c)1998 by Ivy McKnight .